"Look, look!" cried Susie. "There it is!" and she clapped her glasses to
her eyes again.
Far out against the horizon appeared a smudge of smoke, which grew and
spread until those with glasses could perceive beneath it the low, dark
lines of a man-of-war. It was true then! Some had permitted themselves
to doubt the story spread so industriously by Monsieur Pelletan and his
friend, the notary--the proprietor of the Grand Hotel Splendide had
counselled scepticism. Now they could doubt no longer, and they drew a
deep breath. A ship of war at Weet-sur-Mer!
Straight toward the beach she steamed, looming larger and ever larger;
then her speed slackened, slackened, until at last she lay rolling
quietly a quarter of a mile off-shore. A shrill piping came over the
water as the crew was mustered amidships and the boarding-stairs
lowered.
"Well, he _must_ be a swell!" said Sue, "or they wouldn't take all that
trouble. There goes the boat."
And splash it went into the water, the crew tumbled in, and two men
slowly helped another down the stairs, while the crew stood at
attention. Some baggage was lowered, then the oars dipped together and a
little spurt of foam appeared under the bow.
"Why, it's like a moving-picture machine!" cried Susie, with a little
gasp of enjoyment.
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