A MAN-HUNT
Some time previously a certain projectile had left a certain gun
situated a certain distance to the rear of the German trenches, and
this shell, no doubt owing to the correct calculations of a certain
artillery officer, had exploded so near the Château de Morancourt as to
destroy the upper portion of the tower. Perhaps it was this very same
shell which had caused the French to decide that the château could no
longer be used as an observation post.
"Let Americans not rush in where French officers fear to tread!"
chuckled the aviator's son, as they entered the doorway leading to the
tower.
Yet, notwithstanding his levity, the boy felt a certain sense of
awe--of solemnity. There they were, in a place which only recently the
Germans had made a target for their shells, and he fully realized that
should suspicion be aroused, even in the slightest degree, it would
mean another bombardment.
Had the builders of the ancient tower designed it for the purpose of
giving the beholder a vivid impression of a prison they had succeeded
well. The solid masonry and the long, narrow windows, heavily barred,
through which the light feebly sought admittance, were all calculated
to produce that effect.
As a matter of precaution, Don shut off the light, then headed the
advance up the circular flight of stone steps.
"Remember--eternal vigilance is the price of life," exclaimed Dunstan.
"Oh, cut out such theatrical stuff," broke in Chase, impatiently.
The ambulanciers ascended higher and higher until they reached the
summit, which was broken and jagged.
"Thus far shalt thou go, and no further," chanted Chase, in sepulchral
tones.
With the utmost caution, Don Hale peered over the wall.
How high up it seemed!--higher by far than he had ever imagined. From
his lofty position he could look over the roof of the main building
and wings and see the moonlight gleaming here and there. Then his eyes
took in a portion of the rear walls, deep in shadow, their base and the
porte-cochère, so far below, losing themselves in the darkness.
"Magnificent!" he exclaimed.
The far-reaching view embraced the ranges of rolling hills to the
east. Between the Red Cross men and that wide sweep of ridges, patched
with soft, indefinite masses of lights and shadows, wherein charm and
mystery rested in equal degrees, lay that stretch of territory known as
"No Man's Land"--the most dangerous spot on the globe. On one hand it
was bounded by the French trenches; on the other by the German.
"And all along its tortuous course of hundreds of miles through Belgium
and France there is but ruin and desolation!" exclaimed Dunstan
Farrington, in thoughtful tones. "Farms, villages, towns and forests
have paid the penalty for being in its sinister path. Sometimes it
sweeps forward, then moves back again, as surprise assaults and
counter-attacks are made by one side or the other. Every day, perhaps
every hour, its position is responsible for some new horror and
tragedy."
"Yes," said Don, slowly.
"Then, just think of all the devices for causing destruction and
sudden death which lie concealed everywhere on its narrow width," put
in Chase. His morose manner returned in full force. "Nothing that the
ingenuity of man can conceive of has been neglected."
"But even that isn't enough to prevent patrols of French and German
infantrymen from crawling beyond their own wire entanglements during
the night on reconnoitering expeditions," interjected Don. "Whew!" he
shivered slightly. "What courage--what sang-froid it must require!"
"Excuse me from trying it," said Chase.
The guns had never ceased rumbling, and occasionally the sharp cracking
of rifles or the staccato reports of machine guns, astonishingly clear,
jarred over the air.
"Dunstan--your field-glass, if you please!"
It was the aviator's son who spoke.
Silently Dunstan drew the instrument from its case and passed it to his
companion.
The boy immediately raised the glass to his eyes and gave a little gasp
of pleasure.
Beyond the park, in fact, far beyond the point where its limitations
were marked by a row of tall poplars, which, like grim and forbidding
sentinels stood by the boundary walls, he could see a field of wheat,
waving and rippling in the breeze.
Why did a sort of thrill run through him?
Because the aviator's son felt reasonably sure that he looked upon a
portion of that famous area between the lines. The proof was this:
On the slopes of the hill which hemmed it in the powerful glass
brought into view a faint, irregular row of whitish objects, a wall of
sand-bags crowning the German trenches.
In rapt silence, Don gazed upon the distant landscape. How strangely
serene and beautiful it appeared in the silvery light of the moon! And
just as he was about to utter some of the thoughts which the poetic
scene evoked in his mind, he gave a slight start, lowered the glass and
faced Dunstan Farrington.
"What was that?" Don exclaimed.
"What was what?" demanded the other.
"Didn't you hear a noise?"
"No."
"Where?" asked Chase, interestedly.
"Down below--in the château itself."
"In the château itself!" repeated Manning. A suspicious note crept into
his voice. "You're joking, son!"
"No sir, I'm not," asserted Don, emphatically. "It was very faint, but
distinct, and sounded exactly like something falling."
"It's a case of nerves," declared Chase, a little disagreeably. "Forget
it."
Don Hale, however, couldn't be convinced that he was mistaken, though
perceiving how skeptical the others were he wisely made no attempt to
argue about the matter.
Chase took an observation through the field-glass, so did Dunstan, and
each was as interested as Don Hale in seeing "No Man's Land" seemingly
brought so close to their eyes.
"Now I'm through with the Château de Morancourt," declared Chase,
finally. "What's the use of tempting fate any longer? There wouldn't
be very much glory in letting a marmite get us while we're engaged in
sightseeing, eh?"
"I've decided objections to it," chuckled Don.
"There has been a wonderful change in the splendor of warfare," said
Dunstan, who appeared not to have heard these observations. "No longer
the dashing cavalry charges led by officers with waving swords; no
longer troops, victorious and triumphant, surging in irresistible
masses across the smoke-filled battle-field in hot pursuit of their
routed enemy, but foes invisible to one another plugging away, using
scientific calculations to attain their ends!"
"But the picturesque is now more extraordinary than ever, mon ami," put
in Chase. "Think of the firework displays! See!--there is a trifling
manifestation of their possibilities before us!"
A red signal rocket had suddenly shot up, illuminating the surroundings
with a strange, lurid glow. Then a white and a blue flare followed it
into the sky.
"You are quite right, Chase," assented the art student. "Ah, how
that transforms the appearance of the landscape! Now it suggests a
wonderfully imaginative picture. Hello!--going?"
Chase was already on the way. His two companions followed him, and as
the three descended the stone steps every sound of voice or movement
was weirdly increased in volume by the confining walls.
Don Hale's thoughts were still on the noise which had reached his ears.
It vaguely conveyed to his mind an impression that others besides
themselves were in the ancient château--an unpleasant reflection,
conjuring up visions of unseen eyes watching them from the gloomy
shadows.
By this time the somberness and depressing air which everywhere lurked
within the walls of the Château de Morancourt had affected all three
alike--each was longing to get out in the open air.
Therefore, after stepping from the tower, the Red Cross men made only a
brief inspection of the rooms on the upper floor, and these they found
comported well with the general elegance of the rest of the structure.
At length the three started down the grand stairway, with Don Hale's
flash-light guiding the way. Reaching the foot they crossed the hall
and pushed aside the heavy curtains hanging at the entrance to the next
apartment.
And at the very instant Don Hale passed the portal he gave utterance to
a loud exclamation of surprise.
"Look, look!" he cried.
The others at once grasped the significance of his words. The rays of
light were streaming over the chair with which Chase had collided, but
the piece of furniture was not in the place they had seen it last.
"Great Julius Cæsar!" blurted out Chase.
"Strange--strange!" murmured Dunstan.
"Now maybe you won't think I was right!" exclaimed the aviator's son.
"Somebody must have bumped into that chair, Monsieur Manning, and
knocked it over."
"What other explanation could there be?" agreed Dunstan.
"Which means to say that we haven't been the only prowlers in the De
Morancourt palace to-night," muttered Chase, his voice betraying a most
uncomfortable state of mind.
"No."
The proof was conclusive--there could be no question about it: some
person or persons had been in that very room while the ambulanciers
were up in the tower. Now there was, indeed, something quite startling
in this thought. Who could the other, or others, have been? What was
their object in entering? And did they still linger in the château?
For a perceptible interval of time the boys stood in silence. The
weirdness and loneliness of the situation, with only a narrow band
of light between them and the deepest gloom, intensified a curious
tingling sensation which the discovery had produced in the nerves of
each.
"What can it mean?" exclaimed Dunstan.
Don's light was swiftly flashing and criss-crossing in every direction,
and not a single portion of the great apartment had escaped its glare
when he declared:
"Fellows, there's certainly no one besides ourselves in this room."
"Can there be no hiding places?"
"It seems not."
"If there is any one within the sound of my voice let him step
forward!" exclaimed Chase.
His voice, raised so as to penetrate far beyond, rang out with
startling distinctness.
A moment of great expectancy followed.
No answer was received.
"Come on, fellows! Let's get busy," burst out Don, impatiently.
This proposition did not at all appeal to Chase Manning, but he made no
protest, his fear of ridicule being greater than his fear of the unseen
and the unknown.
So, instead of leaving the Château de Morancourt at once, as they had
intended, the three ambulanciers began a tramp from one great hall to
another, searching--searching. And though the "man-hunt," as Don Hale
dubbed it, proved both interesting and exciting it brought forth no
result.
After the lapse of three-quarters of an hour they were back in
the apartment which they had first entered, and Dunstan thereupon
straightened himself up, exclaiming:
"No use, boys--the other visitors have probably gone."
"I'm not so certain about that," declared Don.
"The only thing I'm certain about is that I intend to go," cried
Chase, "and any one who tries to prevent it will have the privilege of
bringing an assault and battery charge against me."
"The Château de Morancourt has been the center of too many stormy times
for us to start another," chuckled the aviator's son.
Dunstan, standing by the big oak table, tapped upon its surface.
"Chase has stood it better than I thought," he rapped in the Morse code.
The answer he received was this:
"Yes, after a while he may surprise us all with his courage."
"You chaps are incorrigible," jerked out Chase. "I never knew before
that woodpeckers kept at it both day and night."
So speaking, he made a break for the window.
Don and Dunstan trailed after him, and all lost no time in climbing
outside.
"A jolly interesting experience, I call it!" exclaimed Don.
"Altogether too much so," grunted Chase, laconically.
"Suppose we return by a different route," said the art student.
They started along a wide carriage road which led between broad, level
lawns dotted here and there with groups of statuary.
Before descending the slope on the opposite side of the hill, the
three, with a common impulse, halted to take a last look at the
ancestral home of the De Morancourts looming up against the moonlit sky.
"Maybe I wouldn't give a whole lot to know who was the second bumper
into that chair!" declared Don.
"Not any more than the rest of us," said Dunstan dryly. "But there's no
earthly chance of our ever knowing."
"Of course not," snapped Chase. "Just add it to the list of things one
might as well forget."
It was very delightful out there in the midst of the big park, with
the moon and stars shining so brightly overhead and beautiful vistas
here and there opening out before their eyes, and even the desultory
reports of the guns and the occasional sight of star-shells rising
heavenward contributed a peculiar sort of charm to the situation. The
ambulanciers, busily conversing, lingered longer than they had intended.
Suddenly, Don Hale, breaking off in the middle of a sentence, blurted
out loudly:
"I say, fellows, I say--just gaze at that!"