THE LIGHT IN THE WINDOW
Dunstan and Chase, startled, faced him.
"Well, what's the latest sensation?" cried Chase.
"Didn't you see it?"
"See what?" queried Dunstan, excitedly.
"A light--a light flashing in one of the windows of the château."
"A light flashing in one of the windows!"
"Yes, yes; as sure as I'm standing here I saw a streak of light."
Although neither Dunstan nor Chase had observed it they were by no
means incredulous. If some one had been in the château before, why not
now?
There was something very strange--very mysterious in the whole affair.
To the minds of the Red Cross men it became quite clear that the
person, or persons, had known of their presence in the building and
purposely kept out of their way, though for what reason, of course,
none could conjecture.
"And so the adventure continues!" exclaimed Chase, rather slowly.
"Curious--curious indeed!" murmured Dunstan.
Don Hale's eyes were dilated with excitement and interest.
"Yes, sir, I just happened to catch it!" he cried. "A bright spot
appeared for a single instant--then was gone. Shall we go back and
investigate?"
"I certainly haven't the slightest intention of doing so," responded
Chase, most emphatically. "Besides, what good would it do? Whoever is
there would probably keep out of sight the same as they did before."
Don thereupon appealed to Dunstan.
The latter, however, shook his head.
"I reckon Chase is right," he replied.
Full of the ardor of youth and possessing in addition an adventurous
spirit, the aviator's son, considerably disappointed, argued, pleaded
and protested, and it is very probable that but for Chase Manning
Dunstan would have willingly acceded to his wishes.
At length the youngest ambulancier, philosophically resigning himself
to defeat, declared:
"Boys, I won't rest until I find out what it all means."
"Then I think you'll have to go without rest for a mighty long time,"
quoth Chase.
Long and earnestly the three stared toward the château, expecting and
hoping to see a repetition of the light.
All the windows, however, remained but blank, gloomy patches of dark.
"Too little of this sort of thing is more than enough," declared Chase,
presently. "It may take a German marmite or two to drive you chaps
away, but not yours truly. En avant! Allons! Skip!"
"All right, mon generale," laughed Don. "Good-bye, old château!" He
bowed and waved his hand toward the building. "When shall we four meet
again?"
"I wonder!" said Dunstan, meditatively.
Down the gentle slope they went, soon discovering that the road,
deeply shadowed in places by the thick woods on either hand, swung
sharply around in a westerly direction. And not once during their
journey through the great park could another glimpse of the Château de
Morancourt be obtained.
The high ornamental wrought iron gate at the end of the carriage road
was securely locked, but the ambulanciers, being both nimble and
athletic, very easily climbed over the high stuccoed wall and lowered
themselves into a rather narrow and dusty highway.
Dunstan promptly consulted his map, and having determined what route to
follow, led the way.
To a stranger in the war zone that walk through the French countryside
would undoubtedly have been a memorable one; for every now and again
the booming of the artillery increased in violence, the sky flared with
strange lights and more than once the ears of the ambulanciers caught
the sinister scream of a shell; but familiarity with such things had
served to dull the boys' sense of danger.
A battery to the north suddenly started into action, fired a number of
rounds with tremendous rapidity, then relapsed into silence.
"We are living in a great age," declared Dunstan.
"It is certainly a little grating to some," said Chase.
A half hour's journey through a devastated country brought the Red
Cross men to a little one-street village.
During their sojourn in northern France both Don and Dunstan had seen
many ruined towns and villages, but in none was the destruction so
complete as here. The pale moonlight streaming over this once peaceful
little hamlet revealed indescribable havoc. Some buildings had been
blown to pieces; of others but a few bits of jagged wall remained;
almost everywhere piles of débris littered the ground and enormous
shell-holes lined the disused road. This village was indeed a forlorn
and melancholy-looking place. Not a sign of life! Not a sound to
indicate the presence of other human beings. And yet, as the steady
footfalls of the three Americans rang out on the cobbled pave, an
animal scurrying into view from behind a wall dashed across their path.
They had an instantaneous view of a pair of gleaming yellow eyes
turned inquiringly toward them. Then the animal continued its wild
course along the road, to disappear presently around the bend.
"Poor cat! What an eventful existence it must have had!" commented
Dunstan. "Just think of the sensations the creature probably
experienced when its intellectual superiors were pelting this place
with shells!"
"From the looks of things one might suppose that nothing else escaped
alive," remarked Don, walking across the street in order to gaze upon a
conspicuous sign placed on the front of a tottering wall.
"_Cave de Refuge_"
"An echo of something that has passed!" said Dunstan. "No doubt at
one time the cave, as the French call a cellar, served a very useful
purpose. Allons--allons!"
Turning the bend, the three unexpectedly came upon a huge camion[9]
resting on its side, the bluish-gray shadow of its massive form
streaking fantastically across the road.
[Footnote 9: Camion: truck.]
"Another symbol of the twentieth century!" growled Chase.
There could be no question as to what had happened: three wheels and
a part of the rear of the vehicle had been destroyed, and the days of
that particular camion were over forever.
The Red Cross men gathered around the battered object, once so
powerful, now so inert and powerless, and speculated as to the
consequences which had followed its destruction. What had happened to
the drivers? Was that camion a temporary monument marking the spot
where some obscure heroes had fallen?
"That's another thing we'll never know," said Dunstan, thoughtfully,
after Don had given expression to such reflections.
Even to the aviator's son and the art student, who had had many unusual
experiences in the war zone, there was something very strange and
unique in going through a village so absolutely devoid of life. The
utter silence, the wreck and ruin about them, the ghostly lights and
bluish shadows half revealing, half concealing the details, all seemed
to impart an air of curious unreality to the scene.
Continuing on, the ambulanciers were often compelled to climb over
piles of wreckage which stretched across the entire width of the
street, and their feet occasionally kicked up fragments of shells.
Toward the center of the village the destruction was even more
complete, and yet, strangely enough, not far beyond a roofless,
spireless little church stood a gray, stuccoed building almost intact.
Across the façade was painted in bold, black letters:
"_Au Cheval Noir
Café and Restaurant_"
"By George! What a kind fate has hovered over that place!" cried Don.
"Don't worry. Old Mars will get it yet," rejoined Chase.
"From the sublime to the ridiculous--the Château de Morancourt and the
Cheval Noir!" put in Dunstan. "Let us visit the place."
"Of course," laughed Don.
The boys had not the slightest difficulty in following out the plan,
as there was no door to bar their progress. Don led the way inside; and
the three had only advanced a few feet into the shadowy interior when
they heard an animal scurrying rapidly about, and the next instant a
dark form, but dimly seen in the gloom, dashed frantically across the
floor, whisked out into the roadway and was gone.
"Hello!--that cat again!" exclaimed Dunstan. "We seem to be seriously
disturbing the poor creature's peace of mind. Turn on the light, Don."
A click sounded; then the flash-light, cutting a passage through the
darkness, fell across a number of chairs and tables.
"Remarkable!" exclaimed Dunstan. "Apparently not a thing disturbed!"
"Yes, sir, it looks just exactly as if the Cheval Noir was open and
ready for business," declared Don.
"Too bad it isn't!" sighed Chase. "I'm just in the mood for a jolly big
meal."
"Oh, garçon, a bifteck aux pommes! Des haricots blancs! Une tasse de
café noir!" sang out Don.
"If you order any more beefsteak and potatoes, beans and coffee there's
going to be a right lively disturbance in the Cheval Noir," chuckled
the art student. "I didn't realize before how hungry I was. Be seated,
Messieurs. The treat is on me."
Thereupon the ambulanciers dropped into chairs which were ranged
alongside a marble-topped table.
The interior of the Cheval Noir was decidedly typical of French inns.
Facing the door stood a long counter, and its metal portions gleamed,
sparkled and shone as Don's light played across their surfaces. Even
the big clock which had once solemnly ticked off the passage of time
hung in its place on the wall behind the counter.
"Another unusual experience!" drawled Dunstan. "How odd it is to
be sitting here, monarchs of all we survey, and yet with nothing
but a cozy inviting appearance to give us cheer. Say what you will,
fellows, an air of comfort pervades these places that our up-to-date
establishments in the new world sometimes seem to lack."
"And by way of compensation they also lack the cobwebs and the
dirt," said Chase, dryly. "I can just imagine this inn in the heyday
of its existence. Around these tables were probably seated a noisy,
gesticulating lot of peasants, and chickens, enjoying the rights of
democracy, wandered in and out. Oh, yes--'twas the simple life, all
right, with the emphasis on the simple."
"Ecoutez--ecoutez!" broke in Don suddenly.
"But why should we listen, mon ami?" demanded Dunstan.
"Another sensation, I suppose!" cried Chase.
"I heard footsteps just outside."
"By all that's wonderful--footsteps in a deserted village!" cried
Dunstan.
"Yes--yes." The aviator's son raised his voice. "Hello--hello! Qui est
la?"
"Entrez--entrez, Monsieur, or Messieurs!" exclaimed Dunstan.
The Red Cross men did not wait to see whether their invitation would be
accepted or not but, rising, made a concerted and rather precipitous
rush for the door.
Before they had reached it, however, a tall dark form suddenly loomed
up in the opening, and the rays of Don's light fell full on the face of
a poilu.
Rather startled at being received in such an unceremonious fashion, the
soldier abruptly halted, then, recovering himself, exclaimed in a deep,
musical voice:
"Bon soir, Messieurs! From your accent I should judge that I have the
honor of addressing Americans."
"Yes," laughed Don. "We belong to the Red Cross."
The man was attired in the uniform of a private, but it forcibly
struck the aviator's son that not since he had come to France had he
encountered a private of such distinguished mien and bearing. The
Frenchman, tall and dark, wore a pointed Van Dyke beard. His features
were aquiline; his eyes sharp and piercing. It could be readily seen at
a glance that he was not one to be treated in an offhand and jocular
fashion.
"We have been taking possession of the Cheval Noir," exclaimed Dunstan.
"Will you not enter and keep us company for a while?"
"Quite willingly," assented the poilu, stepping inside.
The three reseated themselves at the table, while the soldier, pulling
out a chair at the end, made himself comfortable.
"I suppose you are off duty, and, as a relaxation from your dangerous
work, have been taking a stroll about the country?" he said, politely.
"Quite correct, Monsieur," replied Don.
Then the newcomer, in a suave and polished manner, began to make many
inquiries concerning their particular section of the Red Cross, as well
as about their personal experiences at the front. Finally Don, in his
turn, put a question to the poilu.
"Monsieur," he asked, "have you ever seen the Château de Morancourt?"
"Who in this locality has not?" responded the other, laconically.
"We had a very curious experience there to-night," pursued Don.
"Indeed! May I inquire the nature of it?"
"Bien sure, Monsieur."
Thereupon Don began a spirited description of the puzzling event, to
all of which the Frenchman, though by no means exhibiting the interest
which the boy had expected, listened with respectful attention. At his
conclusion the soldier laughed dryly and commented:
"As you say, quite a curious experience--the kind which would have a
tendency to jar one's nerves. But what is strange and weird in the
darkness and mystery of the night becomes by day the ordinary and the
commonplace. How is it, mes Americaines, that you came to visit the
château?"
"Because of the mystery," replied Don.
"The mystery?"
"Yes. Haven't you heard that a very valuable collection of paintings
and other things completely disappeared from the place, and that so far
no one has been able to discover the slightest trace of them?"
"And did you think you might help to solve such a perplexing problem?"
exclaimed the soldier, half banteringly. "Ah, les Americaines are
quite wonderful! And I might remark, en passant, that you ran a very
great risk--a very great risk indeed. It is undoubtedly true that the
Germans are keeping a watchful eye on the Château de Morancourt. But
you probably will not venture to go there again?"
"Of course we shall," laughed Don.
"And the reason?"
"Possibly we might be able to find some clue after all."
"You weigh curiosity against danger and decide on the former, although
knowing that the château may be destroyed at any moment?"
"Yes, Monsieur," said Don.
All the while the aviator's son had been wondering to what regiment
this very distinguished-looking soldier of France might belong, but
just as he was about to make some diplomatic inquiries the poilu rose
to his feet, saying:
"I am glad to have had the opportunity of meeting you. Now I must say
good-bye. Perhaps the hazards of war may bring us together again,
but if not, allow me to take this occasion of wishing you continued
immunity from shot and shell, as well as a safe return to your native
country."
And then, after shaking hands with each in turn, he quickly walked
outside.
"Quite an odd character!" pronounced Dunstan.
"And a very gentlemanly one," said Don.
"A little too high-toned for me," declared Chase.
The ambulanciers rose in a body, and presently, upon reaching the road,
saw the poilu headed in the direction of the château, and, strangely
enough, the cat was close at his heels.
"Ha, ha!" laughed Dunstan. "Not very complimentary to us, eh? We
terrified the poor cat, while it follows the Frenchman like a creditor.
I'd like to know where he's bound."
"To the Château de Morancourt, of course," drawled Chase.
"What makes you think so?"
"Take it from me, that, while he didn't say very much, Don's tale
impressed him a whole lot--enough, I'll wager, to make him 'weigh
curiosity against danger and decide on the former.'"
"That may be a pretty good guess," agreed Don.
The three idly watched the Frenchman until he had disappeared, and
then, refreshed by their rest, began walking at a lively pace along the
road.
The outskirts of the ruined village were soon reached and passed.
From the summit of a rather high hill they stopped to gaze upon an
extensive panorama of the surrounding country. The object which excited
their greatest interest was the upper portion of the wrecked tower of
the ancient château, which rose, a somber, grim patch, just above an
irregular line of shadowy and mysterious-looking trees.
"How fine it is!" exclaimed Don, enthusiastically.
"The only thing it lacks is a few spectral lights," declared Chase.
"And I have no doubt if we waited here long enough they'd appear,"
returned Dunstan.
The Americans turned away from the view, which even the growling of the
distant guns and the war rockets could not rob of a peaceful grandeur,
and continued their march.
Very soon a singularly picturesque and interesting scene appeared
before their eyes. On the slopes of the opposite ridges was an immense
encampment of soldiers--a little tented city, as it were. Row after
row of tents stood out pale and ghost-like in the moonlight, and from
innumerable camp-fires hazy columns of smoke floated upward, to lose
themselves against the steely-blue tones of the sky. Here and there
tethered horses, no doubt belonging to the artillery, could be seen,
though but few of the poilus were visible.
"Charming!" exclaimed Dunstan. "Perhaps that is the very place to which
our soldier visitor belongs."
"Perhaps," agreed Chase. "But I'm not going to do any more wondering
to-night."
"At any rate we have a story to tell that will set all the fellows at
the section to wondering," laughed the aviator's son.
Down the incline they went, branching off about a quarter of an hour
later into a military highway, though, owing to the clearness of the
night, there was little traffic moving in either direction. Now and
again, however, they heard the steady, rhythmic tramp of marching feet
and encountered small bodies of troops passing along. The moonlight
glistened on rifles and accouterments, and its rays were strong enough
to disclose dogged, grave expressions on the faces of these poilus,
some of whom, perhaps before very long, would take their places on the
firing line.
A railway ran by the side of the road, and occasionally miniature
locomotives and trains journeyed past, the puffing of the engines
blending with numerous other sounds which came over the air.
The ambulanciers did not hurry, and as every sentry stationed along the
road brought them to a halt by a demand to see their passes, the hour
was quite late when they finally saw the picturesque outlines of the
Hotel de la Palette looming up in the distance.
"We've had quite a day of it," quoth Don.
"We've had quite a night of it," said Chase.
"We've had some experiences we shall not forget in a hurry," declared
the art student.
Arriving at the section headquarters the three found that during their
absence a high-explosive shell had torn a big hole in the eastern wall
of the structure, whereupon Dunstan remarked, reflectively:
"Well, there's certainly nothing dull about life in the war zone!"