The thought made his heart throb painfully.

What, then, had become of Julie?
He stopped before the cathedral, and looked up at the lofty Gothic spire which seemed to tower above the whirling snow.

As well as he could see some damage had been done to the roof by shells, but the beautiful stained-glass windows were uninjured.

He stood there gazing, and he knew in his heart that he was looking for a sign, like that which he and Lannes had seen on the Arc de Triomphe when the fortunes of France seemed lost forever.
A stalwart figure suddenly emerged from the white gloom and heavy hands were laid upon him.

John's own fingers in his overcoat pocket tightened over the automatic, but the hands on his shoulders were those of friendship.
"Ah, it is thou, Monsieur Scott!" exclaimed a deep voice.