A MYSTERY
Sally's little cry of astonishment must have awakened the soldier.
The terror on his face when he first beheld her took away any thought of
fear from the girl. Besides it was all too strange! Why should he, a
soldier, be afraid, and of her? And why should he be in hiding in this
queer tumble-down old place? For he _was_ in hiding, there was no
doubt of this from his furtive manner.
Some instinct in Sally, or perhaps the fact that she had seen so much
hunger since her arrival in this portion of France, made her immediately
take out her little package of bread which Mere 'Toinette had given her
and thrust it forward.
She was standing framed in the arch made by the two fallen walls, not
having moved since the moment of her amazing discovery.
The soldier's hunger was greater than his fear, for he almost snatched
the food from Sally's hands and, as he ate it she could not bear
watching him. There is something dreadful in the sight of a human being
ravenously hungry.
Afterwards, when he did not speak, Sally found herself making the first
remarks, and unconsciously and stupidly, not realizing what she was
doing at the moment, she spoke in English.
The next instant, to her surprise, the soldier replied in the same
tongue, although it seemed to Sally that he spoke with a foreign accent,
what the accent was she did not know. Sally had not a great deal of
experience, neither was she particularly clever.
"What are you doing here?" is what she naturally inquired.
The soldier hesitated and placed his hand to his forehead, looking at
the girl dazedly.
"Why am I hiding here?" he repeated. Then almost childishly he went on:
"I am hiding, hiding because no one must find me, else I would be shot
at once. I don't know how long I have been here alone. I am very cold."
"But I don't understand your reason," Sally argued. "Why don't you find
some one to take care of you? You cannot be living here; besides you
could not have been here long without food or water or you would have
died."
"But I have had a little food and water," the soldier replied. "I found
a few cans of food in a closet and there is water in one of the rooms."
His voice had a complaining note which was an expression of suffering if
one had understood. Then his face was feverish and wretched.
"But you don't look as if you had used much water," Sally remarked in
her usual matter-of-fact fashion. She had a way of pursuing her own
first idea without being influenced by other considerations.
"It is hard work when one's arm is like this," the soldier returned
fretfully.
Again Sally surveyed the soiled bandage with disfavor. Apparently it had
not been changed in many days, since it was encrusted with dirt and
blood and having slipped had been pulled awkwardly back into place.
Temprementally, Sally Ashton hated the sight of blood and suffering. In
the years of the Camp Fire training she had been obliged to study first
aid, but she had left the practical application to the other girls. Her
own tastes were domestic and she therefore had devoted her time to
domestic affairs.
Now something must be done for the soldier whose presence in the old
chateau and whose behavior were equally puzzling, and as there was no
one else, Sally had no idea of shirking the immediate task. In her Camp
Fire kit she always carried first aid supplies.
"If you will go to the room where you found the water and wash your arm
as thoroughly as you can I will put on a fresh bandage for you," she
offered. "Don't argue and don't be long, for something simply has to be
done for you, you are in such a dreadful condition."
Even in the midst of feeling a little like Florence Nightingale, Sally
preserved a due amount of caution. She had no idea of wandering about a
tumble-down chateau with a strange soldier. In reality she was not so
much afraid of him as of the house itself. She had the impression that
the walls were ready to topple down and bury her.
When the soldier did not move, Sally beckoned him imperiously toward the
open arch where she had remained standing just outside the walls.
"You are to come here, while I take off the old bandage. No one will see
you and I am afraid to enter so dangerous a place."
The man obeyed, and Sally cut away the soiled linen, trying not to get
too distinct an impression of the wound underneath. Yet what she saw
alarmed her sufficiently, for she knew enough to realize that the wound
required more scientific treatment than she felt able to give. "Now go
and wash your arm," she directed, and without a word he went off.
During the ten minutes her self-imposed patient remained away, Sally
seriously considered his puzzling situation and determined upon the
advice she would offer.
In the first place, so far he had given her no explanation for his
conduct.
Why was he in concealment? The possibility that the soldier might have
committed a wrong which made it incumbent that he hide from justice did
not occur to Sally. She simply determined that they would discuss the
subject to some satisfactory end on his return.
The young man did look much better, having made an effort to cleanse his
face as well as his wound, but as Sally took hold of his hand before
beginning her task, she was startled to discover that he was suffering
from a fever through neglect of his injury. This made her the more
determined. Although appreciating her own inefficiency and disliking the
work, there was nothing to be done at present but to go ahead with her
own simple first-aid treatment. She had a bottle of antiseptic and clean
surgical gauze.
As she wound the bandage, wishing she had taken the trouble to learn the
art more skilfully, Sally announced:
"You must see a physician about your arm as soon as possible. You never
have explained to me why you are hiding here. But in any case you cannot
remain when you are ill and hungry and cold and require a great deal of
attention. You must go into one of the villages to a hospital. While you
were away I have been thinking what to do. You look to me too ill to
walk very far and, as I am living not more than half a mile away, I will
go back to our farm and tell my friends about you. Later I think I can
arrange to come back for you in a motor and then we will drive you to
one of the hospitals. I don't know as much about the French hospitals as
my friends do, but of course everybody is anxious to do whatever is
possible for the Allied soldiers."
Sally placed a certain amount of stress on the expression "Allied
soldiers," but never for an instant believing in the possibility that
her patient could belong to an enemy nationality.
"If you tell anyone you have discovered me here in hiding, it will be
the last of me," the soldier declared.
By this time Sally was beginning to be troubled. Why did the young man
look and speak so strangely? He seemed confused and worried and either
unable to explain his actions, or else unwilling. Yet somehow one had
the impression that he was a gentleman and there need be no fear of any
lack of personal courtesy.
It was possible from his appearance to believe that he might be
suffering from a mental breakdown. Sally recalled that many of the
soldiers were affected in this way from shell shock or the long strain
of battle.
"I suppose I must tell you something. In any case, I have to trust my
fate in your hands and I know there is not one person in a thousand who
would spare me. I was a prisoner and escaped from my captors. I don't
know how I discovered this old house. I don't know how long I have been
wandering about the country before I came here, only that I hid myself
in the daytime and stumbled around seeking a place of refuge at night.
If you report me I suppose I will not be allowed even a soldier's death.
I shall probably be hung."
Suddenly the soldier laughed, such an unhappy, curious laugh that Sally
had but one desire and that was to escape from the chateau and her
strange companion at once and forever. Yet in spite of his vague and
uncertain expression, the soldier's eyes were dark and fine and his
features well cut. He was merely thin and haggard and dirty from his
recent experiences.
From his uniform it was impossible to guess anything; at least, it was
impossible for Sally, who had but scant information with regard to
military accoutrements.
But even in the face of his confession she was not considering the
soldier's nationality. He looked so miserable and ill, so like a sick
boy, that the maternal spirit which was really strongly rooted in Sally
Ashton's nature awakened. He could scarcely stand as he talked to her.
"Please sit down. I don't know what you are to do," she remonstrated. "I
don't know _why_ you ran away or from whom, but no fate could be
much worse than starving to death here in this old place alone. Yet
certainly I don't want to give you up to--to anybody," she concluded
lamely, as a matter of fact not knowing to whom one should report a
runaway soldier.
This was a different Sally Ashton from the girl her family and friends
ordinarily knew. The evanescent dimple had disappeared entirely and also
the indolent expression in her golden brown eyes. She was frowning and
her lips were closed in a firmer line.
At her suggestion the soldier had returned to the chair which he had
been occupying at the moment of her intrusion. But Sally saw that
although he was seated he was swaying a little and that again he had put
up his uninjured arm to his head.
"Perhaps I can get away from here, if you will help me. I have escaped
being caught so far. I only ask you to bring me a little food. Tomorrow
I shall be stronger."
Unconsciously Sally sighed. What fate had ever driven her forth into
this undesired adventure?
She did not like to aid a runaway prisoner, nor did she wish him to meet
the disagreeable end he had suggested through any act of hers.
Any other one of the Camp Fire girls, Sally believed, would have given
the soldier a lecture on the high ideals of patriotism, or of meeting
with proper fortitude whatever fate might overtake him. At least he
would have been required to divulge his nationality, and if he were an
enemy, of course there could be no hesitation in delivering him to
justice.
However, Sally only found herself answering:
"Yes, I suppose I can manage to bring you something to eat once more.
But I cannot say when I can get here without anyone's knowing, so you
must stay where you can hear when I call. Afterwards you must promise me
to go away. I don't know what I ought to do about you."
Sally had gone a few yards from the chateau when she glanced back an
instant toward the old stone ruins. The atmosphere of the afternoon had
changed, the sun was no longer shining and the chateau lay deep in
shadow.
A cold wind was blowing across the desolate fields. Sally was not
ordinarily impressionable, yet at this moment she felt a curious sense
of foreboding.