Kitabı oku: «Grace Harlowe with the American Army on the Rhine», sayfa 8
CHAPTER XVI
ELFREDA HAS A SUSPICION
THE billet to which Grace had been assigned was the home of a German doctor, where she had a comfortable, large room extending all the way across the rear of the house. The owner, as she later learned, occupied a large front room with a small communicating room on the left-hand side of the house, a similar apartment on the other side of the house being occupied by some one else.
Elfreda Briggs was busy getting her hand in at canteen work when Grace arrived at the billet with her credentials, without which no one could obtain lodgings in Coblenz, now that the Americans had taken possession of the place and were at work setting it in order. The Overton girl found her belongings already there, including her mail. There was mail from home, but a letter from Emma Dean got first reading and put Grace in a happy frame of mind.
“My Darling Grace (This goes for all of the Overton Unit),” wrote Emma:
“We haven’t had a letter from you in so long I don’t believe we should recognize your handwriting. There isn’t a thing new in Paris except military news that I hear over the wire, which of course I can’t tell you. By the way, I did hear that William the First had been called before a court-martial for insubordination and ungentlemanly language to a superior officer. My! what a narrow escape I did have. Think what a terrible mistake I should have made had I married him. Thank heaven my present William is not that sort of a fighter. By the way, I learned over the wire only yesterday that he too is on his way to Coblenz. I am glad of that, for, you being a married woman, I can trust you to chaperon him and see that he doesn’t fall in love with one of those rosy-cheeked Gretchens on the Rhine. I am told that they are inclined to favor the American doughboys. They’d better not favor my William.
“By the way, that daughter of yours surely has made a place for herself at Madame Duchamp’s school. They will spoil that child. We had Yvonne over to stay all night with us and spend Sunday last week. The yellow cat was with her. If I am well informed the yellow cat is a lady-mouser, so you can imagine how shocked we were when Yvonne told us that she had named the cat Tom Gray after her adopted father, but that she called her Tom for short. I know your Tom will be delighted with the great honor that has come to him. It’s up to your Tom to give his namesake a handsome present. Might send on a shell-case of mice. I understand they have plenty of them out near the front. What a lovely present to send to a young ladies’ boarding school. What?
“Arline Thayer, Mabel Ashe, Ruth Denton and the rest of this Overton unit are simply expiring to see you. Ruth thinks she is in love with a Y secretary. For myself I prefer a fighting man – I don’t mean one that will fight me – leave that to the Huns – but who will fight another man when he crowds me off the walk. I heard a story over the wire the other day about Hippy Wingate. It seems that one of those secretary fellows – I don’t know what organization he belonged to – got quite friendly with Nora Wingate, all in the nicest possible way. But you know Hippy. Hippy heard of it, so one day he dropped in on the Salvation hut and found Nora singing for the secretary. She said he wanted to try her voice. Well, Hippy he – as I was saying, Hippy invited the fellow to take a flight with him – a hop, I believe they call it – the secretary wasn’t permitted to refuse and up they went. It seems they have some sort of telephone arrangement between the pilot and the observer, and after a little the secretary discovered that he had no safety belt on and he called Hippy’s attention to it rather anxiously. Hippy, according to the reports I got over the wire, said he was sorry, for he was going to do some loops, to see how many he could do. One of his squadron had done thirty-seven, but Hippy was of the opinion that he could do at least thirty-seven and a half. ‘But I’ll fall out,’ protested the secretary. ‘Sure you will,’ agreed Hippy, ‘but I’ll turn the loops right over the Salvation hut. When you fall out, if my wife thinks you’re worth saving she’ll catch you.’ Well, the secretary begged, and finally Hippy relented and said he would let his passenger out before he looped. They landed. The secretary took the hint and ‘beat it,’ as the doughboys would say. I understand he hasn’t been seen around the Salvation canteen since. Isn’t that just like Hippy?
“Now that the war is over I suppose we all will soon be on our way to the good old United States. I know I shall die if I have to go back before my William does. I have been afraid that he might be appointed on the Peace Commission, for I know he must stand very high with the President, even if he is only a lieutenant. Well, good-bye. Remember me to Tom, and tell him I hope that when he gets home he will make it his business to see that his most attractive wife stays home and washes the dishes rather than go scouting all over America and half of Europe driving ambulances and things.
“Yours lovingly, Emma.”
Grace sat back and laughed until the tears came, laughed until she was interrupted by a cry from the doorway. It was Elfreda, but instead of throwing herself into Grace’s arms, J. Elfreda stood off and surveyed her with disapproving eyes.
“Grace Harlowe Gray, you surely are a sight. I am not at all surprised. What does make me marvel is that you have come back at all. Tell me about it. Have you been crying? Your eyes are red.”
“I have been laughing. I have a letter from Emma.”
“Enough said. Tell me the story. You were a prisoner, I understand.”
“A sort of prisoner. No, I was not hit with a bullet, but with a stone. The Huns are such gentle creatures. The state of my clothing is due to the fact that I got mixed up with a vineyard when I came down in the parachute. I suppose you had your information from Major Colt?”
“Yes. I have a lot of other information too; but that will keep until I hear your story.”
Grace, to save time, told the story from the time they left the ground in the sausage balloon right down to the moment when she got back into the American lines.
“What do you propose to do next for thrills?” demanded Elfreda finally.
“I am not looking for thrills. I am in hope that I shall be permitted to go back home before very long – that is, if Tom goes.”
“He won’t. They are planted here for months to come, provided we do not go on into the enemy country.”
“How is Mrs. Smythe?” Grace smiled.
“No change. I understand from her that you are to be placed on canteen work, drawing hot chocolate and the like. She will have you mopping out the place next. Chad is in a rage most of the time, except when her latest friend is with her. Oh, I didn’t tell you about that. The day before you went over by the air route, a most charming young lady appeared on the scene. Mrs. Smythe said it was a very old friend of hers of the name of Molly Marshall. I don’t know who she is or how she got into the lines, but I have been told by those who ought to know, that she is an American woman who has been a prisoner of the Germans; that she got by the German sentries and reached our lines after suffering all sorts of hardships. She doesn’t look the part, I am free to say.”
Grace was interested at once.
“You are suspicious of her, Elfreda?” she demanded.
“Of course I am. I am suspicious of any one who takes up with Chad. I don’t know where Molly is to-day. I haven’t seen her since last evening. She is billeted with Chad.”
“Where does Mrs. Smythe live?”
Elfreda regarded her frowningly.
“I forgot that you had been in the air so long. Chad occupies the front room on this floor. We are all in the house together, but if trouble doesn’t make us wish we weren’t, I shall be much mistaken. Won Lue comes over to ask about you. He appears to have something on his mind. Have you any idea what it is?”
“Plidgins,” answered Grace laughingly. “What is it you suspect about this woman Marshall?”
“I do not suspect her any more than I do some other persons. I am beginning to believe that our supervisor isn’t as loyal to the cause as she might be. That feeling has been strengthened since Miss Marshall appeared so mysteriously.”
“Elfreda, you know how I feel toward Mrs. Smythe, but for all that I must stand up for her. With all her faults she is an American. Her presence at the front is sufficient evidence of that to satisfy me as to her loyalty. As I have said before, she is a vain and jealous woman, a fair type of the newly rich. As for the other woman, I hope to see her and form my own opinion of her. I think the Intelligence Department is considerably disturbed over spy activities. There is something else going on here too, though I haven’t yet learned what it is. I have some queer fancies in the back of my head, Elfreda, and – ”
“You always did have.”
“They are not yet sufficiently clarified to make it prudent for me to speak of them, but remember what I have said. Some day I shall tell you the story that I now warn you of. Whose house is this?”
“It is occupied by a Doctor Klein, a scientific, studious-appearing fellow, and apparently very friendly to Americans. He says the Germans have been in the wrong in this war and – ”
“I should be suspicious of that man, Elfreda. Either he is not a German or else he isn’t telling the truth. What is the attitude of the people of Coblenz?”
“Some appear to be afraid of the Americans, while others – these are in the majority – are sullen. The situation appears to me to be very tense, likely to result in an explosion at any moment. There are very few German men of military age here. I think our people are treating the inhabitants very leniently.”
“That is a mistake,” declared Grace with emphasis. “Mark me, the Huns can’t understand and appreciate humane treatment. They will take advantage of that attitude, believing that the Americans are afraid of them. Then we shall have to put pressure on them, and that will cause more trouble than were we to be severe with them now at the outset. I must get about and see what the lay of the land is.”
“You keep out of it, Loyalheart; that is my advice to you. Haven’t you had enough yet?”
“No, I never shall until my country has no further use for my services, my dear. When that time comes, I shall be ready to settle down to the simple life in beautiful Haven Home and enjoy a real home-life with Tom and my beautiful adopted daughter. Elfreda, that child is entwining herself about my heartstrings more and more as time goes on.”
“She is doing the same thing to me,” declared Elfreda. “You will have to divide her with me – I mean share her with me, Grace. I am as much her mother as you are, am I not?”
“You are, of course, though my claim is a prior claim, which you as a lawyer must recognize.” They had a hearty laugh over this.
It was late in the afternoon when Grace went out, first having knocked on Mrs. Smythe’s door but receiving no response. Grace inquired her way to the canteen, looking in the shop windows as she passed, enjoying the sight of stores once more. There were few of these left in rural France where she had been, and those that were left ordinarily bore the marks of shell fire.
The supervisor was not at the canteen where Grace understood she was to be stationed, but Marie Debussy, the supervisor’s maid, was there and at work. Grace greeted her cordially and the girl appeared equally glad to see Grace.
“How is Madame behaving?” she questioned.
“There is no change, but I am here most of the time and do not see so much of her.”
“You are satisfied here then, Marie?”
“Oh, yes, it will do. The war will soon be over and I shall go back to my beloved France. Bah! These Germans! I like them not.”
“None of us do, Marie. Is Miss Marshall with Madame?” asked Grace carelessly. Marie gave her a quick glance, a keener glance than Grace had ever seen from those eyes, after which the eyes lapsed into their former dullness.
“I have not seen her since yesterday. I do not know. Do you know her?”
Grace said she did not, and giving Marie a smile, stepped behind the counter and began her work as a canteen server. It was not the free life of the ambulance driver, but it was service, and Grace Harlowe was satisfied. But there was plenty of excitement ahead of her, even though life moved on in Coblenz much the same as before and during the war. Shopkeepers were overcharging the American soldiers, others were robbing them, and the situation was lax to an extent that disturbed Grace Harlowe.
She said as much to Major Colt, who called at the canteen that evening to see her, and he agreed with the Overton girl, but said that the American officers were awakening to the possibilities and that something would be done. The major told Grace of his experience with the Germans after they dragged him from the Rhine, she in turn relating her own. He told of having seen her signal and of reading the message, and he was filled with admiration for Grace’s resourcefulness and cleverness.
“I told Captain Boucher about that. He declared that you ought to be in the Secret Service and that he was going to have you there if his advice prevailed with those higher up. How would you like that?”
“Not at all,” answered Grace smilingly. “Is the captain still disturbed over the activities of spies with the Army of Occupation?”
Major Colt flashed a quick glance at her.
“So, you do know about it, eh?”
“Perhaps I may have surmised some things, sir – and I know the Hun and his ways rather well,” she added. “May I ask you, sir, if you know a Miss Marshall who entered camp the day before we went up?”
“No. I have heard of her. Why?”
“Just a woman’s curiosity.”
“I would suggest that you ask Captain Boucher about that. You will be somewhat amazed at what he will tell you – if he tells you anything,” laughed the officer. “There’s a real mystery for you, eh?”
Grace shrugged her shoulders.
“There are many others more worth while, sir,” she made reply, turning to hand a doughboy a bar of chocolate. “I – ”
Grace did not finish the sentence. An explosion that seemed to be splitting the earth wide open crushed in one end of the canteen and blew off part of the roof, bringing a good part of the structure down on the heads of the occupants of the building.
CHAPTER XVII
THE TREACHERY OF THE HUN
FORTUNATELY for those in the canteen the heavy framework of the building stood up under the blast, so though they were buried in the wreckage it was comparatively light wreckage.
Major Colt and one soldier suffered the most, the major being hit on the head with a piece of galvanized iron roofing and knocked unconscious. It was Grace Harlowe who raised the piece from his body and dug him out of the mess, though she herself was dazed almost to the point of losing herself. In the midst of the confusion she found herself thinking of Elfreda, who had not yet come on for the evening, though darkness had fallen, and Grace was thankful.
After getting the officer out, Grace plunged into the wreckage again, for the canteen had caught fire and there were still others to be rescued. By this time doughboys had rushed to the scene, two grabbing her and fairly throwing her out. They ordered her to stay out, but not before she had dragged out Marie and made her as comfortable as possible.
Major Colt had recovered consciousness by the time she got to him.
“Wha – at was it?” he asked weakly.
“Ammunition dump, I think.”
“Hun work!” he growled.
“Looks like it. I hope our people will get busy now. Is there anything I can do for you? If not I must look after Marie. She got a hard rap on the head, same as you did.”
“If you will have some one help me to my quarters I think I shall be all right. Did you get me out?”
“Yes. Here, Buddy, will you please give Major Colt a lift?” she called to a passing soldier, and a moment later, after pressing Grace’s hand, the balloonist was being guided to his billet. Grace, in the meantime, had assisted Marie to her feet and was leading her toward the house in which the welfare workers were living.
Only a short distance away from the canteen shells were going up with loud bangs, and this racket kept up for half an hour, until the last of the ammunition dump had been destroyed, wounding many persons, but fortunately having killed only two men. Doughboys soon put out the fire in the canteen, but all gave the ammunition dump a wide berth.
Reaching the house the Overton girl was met by Elfreda, who had been considerably shaken up by the explosion, which had crashed every window in the house.
“Ammunition dump blown up,” Grace informed Elfreda in answer to the latter’s glance of inquiry. “Here we are, Marie. I will put you to bed, then I must hurry back. Elfreda, you had better go out with me. We may be needed, if they should wish to transfer the canteen to-night.”
Mrs. Smythe was in her room. Grace observed that her face was pale and lined.
“Wha – wha – what has happened?” she gasped.
“Nothing very much except that an ammunition dump has blown up. I have seen many of them go up, but never one quite so near. The canteen is wrecked, Mrs. Smythe. Have you orders for us?”
“N – n – n – no!” stammered the supervisor. “Y – ye – yes. Go out and find out all you can, then come back and report to me.”
“About what?” demanded Grace politely.
“About what is to be done.”
“Very good. I will leave Marie in your hands. She is badly shaken up and should be put to bed at once.”
“That’s her affair,” observed the supervisor, beginning to get control of her nerves. “Are you going?”
Grace nodded and stepped out into the hall, where she found Elfreda awaiting her, and together they hurried away.
“Absolutely unfeeling,” declared Grace heatedly. “She will make that girl put herself to bed, and Marie can scarcely stand.”
“Tell me about it,” urged Miss Briggs.
“I know nothing at all about it except that the building fell in on us. I assisted Marie and the major out, the latter having received a bang on the head that completely knocked him out. By the way, do you know a Chinaman who carries a red birthmark on the left side of his face?”
“I do not,” returned J. Elfreda, elevating her chin a little. “I do not associate with those animals.”
“Be sensible, Elfreda.”
“Why do you ask?” demanded Elfreda.
“I have my reasons. Some queer doings in Coblenz; and the end is not yet.”
“Do – do you think the Boches blew up the dump?”
“I cannot say that. My natural impression, of course, is that they did. I was asking the major about Miss Marshall about the time the blow-up occurred, and he suggested that I ask Captain Boucher, intimating that if the captain would talk he would give me information that would amaze me.”
“H – m – m – m! That sounds interesting. He will talk to you, all right. Every one does. Oh, look at the canteen!” she cried when they came within sight of the wrecked building. A squad of men, with an officer in charge, were at work, clearing away and salvaging such of the supplies as had not been destroyed.
“Here, Mrs. Gray, I am glad you have come over. What are we to do with this stuff?” demanded the officer.
“I am not in charge, Lieutenant. Mrs. Smythe is the supervisor.”
“Then why isn’t she here attending to her duties?”
Grace said she could not answer for that.
“I would suggest, sir, if you will, that you have the supplies taken on a truck to the Number Two Canteen. To-morrow the supervisor can make such disposition of them as she sees fit.”
“Very good. I commission you to take charge of removing and caring for the goods. You are under orders.”
Grace saluted and asked the officer to order a truck to the scene, which he promptly did. Grace then got to work. Her salvaging was thorough. There were many boxes of chocolate bars that had been crushed, in some instances to powder. These she had carefully removed, saving every possible grain of the sweets for melting over. Observing that she was handling the situation properly, the officer went away.
After two hours of hard work the supplies were collected and loaded on the truck. Grace thanked the men who had worked so well for her, and climbing to the seat of the truck, rode with it to its destination. The Number Two Canteen was located some distance from the scene of the explosion, but it had suffered the loss of most of its windows just the same, as had many of the buildings in Coblenz.
Number Two Canteen being open, Grace informed the worker in charge that the supplies were to be left there until Mrs. Smythe gave orders for their distribution. Grace then started for home.
Reaching her billet Grace tapped on the door of Mrs. Smythe’s room, wishing to report what had been done. The supervisor bade her enter.
“Oh, I beg pardon,” exclaimed Grace, observing that Mrs. Smythe was not alone.
A well-groomed man, wearing a vandyke beard, slightly gray, rose and extended a hand to the Overton girl.
“Mrs. Gray, I believe.”
“Yes, sir,” she answered. “And you?”
“I am Dr. Karl Klein. Being the guest of my home it is well that we should know each other. I trust you are quite comfortable.”
“Thank you. I am sure that I shall be after I have had opportunity to compose myself.” A sudden aversion to this suave German fairly overwhelmed Grace Harlowe. He jarred on her, aroused a feeling of antagonism that would not down. He was altogether too smooth, too polite and courteous for a Hun, was the reason that Grace felt that way.
“Mrs. Smythe – you will pardon me, sir – acting upon the orders of an officer, I had the supplies, such of them as we were able to salvage, removed to Number Two Canteen, where they are to be held awaiting your orders.”
“What! You gave orders over my head?” demanded the woman sternly.
“I acted under the orders of an officer, Madame.”
“You will return at once, take the things back where they were, pile them up and have a guard placed over them.”
“I think you are mistaken, Mrs. Smythe,” answered Grace sweetly, though there was little sweetness in her heart at that moment. She had been humiliated before Doctor Klein, and even though he were an enemy, the cut was felt keenly.
“What is that you say?”
“That, so far as I am concerned, the supplies will remain where they are for the rest of the night. It undoubtedly will rain before morning and the supplies will be ruined if left out. Furthermore, I acted under the orders of an American officer. It is true that you are my superior, but he is the superior of both of us.”
“You dare to disobey my orders?” shouted the supervisor.
“If you choose to so construe it, yes, but with no intention of being impertinent or disobedient. I beg to remind you that you have your remedy, should you feel that I am guilty of insubordination. It is your privilege to report me. I bid you good-night.”
Grace bowed to the doctor, and turning on her heel walked from the room.
“Whatever is the matter with you?” demanded Elfreda when Grace walked into their quarters. “You are as pale as the proverbial ghost.”
“Matter? J. Elfreda, I never was so humiliated in my life. Madame is furious because I had the supplies removed under the orders of the lieutenant.”
“Take it easy now, Loyalheart,” soothed Miss Briggs. “Let her do her worst, which can be no more than reporting you.”
“That is just the trouble. After a time our superiors will begin to believe that where there is such a smudge there must be at least a few coals if not a real fire. Who and what is this man?”
“What man do you refer to?”
“Doctor Klein.”
“Beyond the fact that he is our landlord, I have no information about him. Why?”
“I do not trust him. There is something queer about the man.”
“Perhaps it is you who are queer, Loyalheart. I call the doctor a most courteous gentleman for a Hun.”
“Exactly! That is what I mean – in part. He is too courteous for his kind. Furthermore, my intuition tells me that there is something wrong with him. I seem to be getting into a perfect maze of contradicting elements. I wish I did not have such an imagination. I see more mystery everywhere since we came to Coblenz than I can express in words. How is Marie? I was so upset over the way Madame went at me that I forgot to ask.”
“Asleep when I went in to inquire. I don’t believe she is much hurt. My advice to you is to get into bed and go to sleep. You are worn out and your nerves are upset, which is not surprising when one considers that you fell out of the skies the day before yesterday.”
“At least my equilibrium was upset,” grinned Grace. “Yes, I will turn in, but I know I shall have bad dreams to-night, and that our friend the doctor will be the principal character in them. To add to my troubles I presume I shall be called upon for an explanation to-morrow. Madame is certain to report me, nor do I blame her so very much in the circumstances. Good-night. Do you know, I don’t think you are much of a lawyer or you wouldn’t let your one and only client get into such perplexing situations.”
“Thank you. I agree with you on the main issue. What I should do is to have a commission in lunacy appointed for you and then browbeat them into believing that you are an unsafe person to be allowed to remain at large.”
“Good-night,” laughed Grace, getting into bed. “Please don’t blow out the gas in your excitement.” Elfreda was trying to do this very thing. “In my craziest moods, I never was so afflicted that I tried to put out the gas by blowing it out.”
Grace was soon asleep, but hers was not a wholly restful night, dreaming as she did of plots against herself and her country, in which Molly Marshall, Won Lue and Mrs. Chadsey Smythe were inextricably entangled, with Doctor Klein as the chief figure in the conspiracy.
