LOVE AT WAR
Without a pang--without the first compunction of conscience--Belinda
had shown the wounded aviator her heart. Nor had he accepted the
revelation with any question.
This was no time for qualm or quibble. They had come to a vital grip
with a horrid and scarcely-to-be-averted peril.
Sanderson flung to the winds the caution and hesitancy that had marked
his attitude in the first of his intercourse with Belinda. Now he even
ignored his brother Jim's advice.
Upon Belinda's part there was no question as to whether the aviator was
deserving or not. _She loved him._ Therefore she must save him.
"How can we get word to this Renaud?" the nurse asked softly, her
glowing eyes devouring the face of the aviator.
"Oh, Belinda! how lovely you are!" he whispered. Then: "Isn't there a
faithful Frenchman left about the place? Were you alone of all the old
corps of attachés abandoned when the Germans advanced?"
"My little _infirmier_ would not desert me. They have made a cook of
him--these Germans."
"The man with the lame foot and the harelip?"
"Erard. Yes."
"Send him to me. Some way must be found to save Renaud."
"But you will be risking your own safety," she warned him. "Oh, Frank,
I am at my wits' end to think how to get you free."
"Never mind me, Belinda," he said. "Renaud comes first. He will carry
important papers and much information of value to the French commander."
"But--but," stammered the girl, "this is only to help the French. And
you risk your safety. You are an American, Frank!"
"That I am an American makes it all the more necessary that I should
help France," he whispered. "My heavens, girl! didn't we both come over
here for that purpose? At any rate I feel myself to be one of those
Americans who are helping uphold the hands of France while my people
are awakening to the peril of an autocracy that menaces the world. No,
Belinda, I must do my part though the heavens fall!" and once more the
old-time smile overspread his countenance and mirth again danced in his
eyes.
"Oh, Frank----"
She was forced to leave him suddenly, for there was a call for her
at the other end of the ward. Their conference had been brief but
illuminating.
As the aviator turned his head on the pillow he saw fixed upon him
a pair of hungry eyes from a cot across the aisle. The face was
emaciated, and a silky yellow fuzz of whisker the patient wore betrayed
his youth.
This was Ernest, Belinda's single unruly patient. Frank was conscious
that this youth fixed him with an attention that seemed almost uncanny.
Had the American, easily wearied in his weakened state, not dropped
asleep almost immediately he might have been made anxious by the glare
of the young German.
Meanwhile Belinda looked for somebody to carry a request to Erard.
Courteously as she had been thus far treated by the Germans, she had
noted even her Cousin Carl's evident determination to give little Erard
and herself small opportunity for private conversation.
It was possibly not founded upon any suspicion of herself, but the
_infirmier_ was a Frenchman and had been an attendant at the station
under the former administration. The Prussian military mind overlooks
nothing. The lame man might have been left behind to spy upon the
conquerors.
Erard was used to helping Belinda when she did dressings of importance,
and if she insisted they sent him to her, as Jacob could not do
everything. She asked a passing private to send her Corporal Baum, her
cousin; but Sergeant-major Genau appeared instead.
"How now, Cousin Belinda?" he greeted her gaily. "It strikes me that I
have not seen you for some time and that Carl is getting an advantage
over me. It will never do--never do at all! I'll never allow another
man--let alone a _dumme Esel_--get the inside track of me with any
pretty Fräulein."
"I wish you would stop your nonsense, Paul," returned the girl
scornfully. "Will you never grow up?"
"Indeed, ancient dame? So you look upon me as unfledged, do you? Carl
is that."
"And you are quite as bad--quite," she declared. "Remember, at least,
that we are cousins. If these others hear you flout me so they can have
no respect for me. Your comrades, I mean."
"_Ach!_ you wrong me, sweet Cousin."
"No more, Paul. Find me my little _infirmier_, Erard. I must have
somebody who knows how to assist at a dressing. You are wasting my
time."
"Ah, Belinda, why are you so cross?" cried the sergeant-major, with a
pleading note in his voice. "Why so harsh with one who admires you so?"
"Tut, tut, Paul! Save your love making for village maidens," Belinda
told him tartly. "Nor are we rehearsing a scene from a comic opera.
This is serious business, this hospital work----"
"And I'd have you know," said Paul with sudden fierceness, "that I am
serious, too, Cousin Belinda. I presume that _Schafskopf_, Carl Baum,
has poisoned your mind against me. The scum! I hate a backbiting dog.
You surely cannot let any person like him form your opinion of a man
like me."
"Certainly not, Paul. I am forming my own opinion of you right now--as
you talk. Go find Erard. Do not delay," she said sternly, "or I shall
be forced to appeal to your Herr Lieutenant."
"_Tausend Teufel!_ and what if I told him you were a Melnotte instead
of a Genau?" hissed the suddenly enraged sergeant-major, his choler
rising.
Belinda was just now menaced by greater peril (or so she thought) than
any with which this angry boy could threaten her. She retorted sharply:
"And so put yourself, too, under the lash? I have the writing in which
you advised me to make the change in my name. Forget not that, _mein
Knabe_."
He tramped away angrily enough, but Erard soon came limping up the yard
to the door of Belinda's ward.
The nurse stood in the open doorway that she might be sure nobody
within or without would overhear her first words to the Frenchman.
"Erard! Stoop down and fix your shoe. There is something the matter
with it."
"_Oui, oui, Mademoiselle! Ça y est!_ What is it?" and he stooped
without a glance or start of surprise and fumbled with his shoestring.
"The aviator who was brought in this morning--who fell last night in
the grove yonder. You know?"
"_Oui_, Mademoiselle. I saw the fight. Glorious!" he murmured.
"He is not German," whispered Belinda. "It is the German who died."
"_Nom de Dieu!_ Is this one then the French brave?"
"American. You saw him when he visited the hospital before--with the
old sea captain."
"_Oui!_ Your young man, Mademoiselle," he said, simply. "I quite
remember. Good! We will save him from _les Boches_."
"It is more than that, Erard," she told him softly. "We have to save
another man--a spy. Monsieur Sanderson left him at a place--he will
tell you. To-morrow morning Monsieur Renaud will be waiting the return
of the airplane."
"Monsieur Renaud?" repeated Erard. His face suddenly expressed some
emotion that Belinda could not understand. "The great Renaud of the
detective police?"
"I believe so. He must be warned. It is most important that he should
get through the German lines as soon as possible."
"For France!" gasped Erard, suddenly drawing himself erect.
"For France," repeated Belinda softly. "Now you will help me. I shall
be called away while we are with Monsieur Sanderson. He will then tell
you all. Be circumspect."
"_Oui!_ For France," agreed the _infirmier_. Then, in a lower tone
unheard by the nurse: "_Le bas Renaud!_"
Erard assisted at the important dressing, as was his custom. Really,
he acted as orderly while Jacob performed some of the duties of
_infirmier_.
Sanderson's shoulder was immovable in plaster. There really was nothing
of consequence to be done for him; but the nurse ordered Erard to bathe
him while she went about other duties.
Erard set up the screen and brought the water grumblingly. Oh, Erard
was a good actor!
Sanderson had awakened from his sleep refreshed and buoyantly hopeful.
Naturally of a sanguine temperament, the American was inspired by
Belinda's present attitude toward him with roseate visions upon other
subjects. He believed Erard patriotic and trustworthy, as well as
shrewd.
The lame man's, "Oh, yes, Monsieur! I can escape from the enclosure and
return drunk in the morning. It is not an uncommon practice and will
yield me but a six-day march perhaps up and down the yard here between
the huts," wholly satisfied the aviator.
Whispering in French they made final arrangements and Frank trusted
the little man with the password that should identify him to Renaud.
At the other end of the ward Belinda busied herself with little duties
which enabled her still to see that nobody approached the screen about
Sanderson's cot. Ernest was restless and got half out of bed before the
nurse swooped down on him like a hawk.
"You are getting very lively indeed, my boy," she told him. "I shall
speak to the doctor about you. You would better be in some convalescent
hospital, where you will be made to knit or to roll bandages until you
are fit to go back to the trenches."
Ernest showed his teeth.
"There are ways of escaping the trenches, Nurse," he declared. "Am I a
dog?"
"An ungrateful boy, at least," she returned sharply.
The man on the next cot admonished the troublesome one. "The least you
can do is to be quiet when the good Fräulein has so much to do," and
Ernest subsided, muttering.
The incident, small in itself and seemingly unimportant compared with
the greater things that troubled her, remained in her thought. It was
as though, in passing along a rocky way, a serpent had coiled and
struck at her. Ernest's nature was treacherous; she felt it.
Carl Baum, relieved of duty, put his head in at the door. His face was
flushed and his eyes angry.
"Do you want me _now_, Cousin 'Linda?" he asked.
"'Now'?" she repeated, forgetting at first that she had sent for him.
"_Ach_, that Paul Genau! _Der schlaue Fuchs_ gets the better of me
always. He heard the man ask where I was and he comes first, after
shutting the messenger's mouth. But I heard of it and came as soon as I
was off duty. When I next meet that Paul Genau----"
"Hush!" commanded Belinda. "Do not make a mountain of a molehill,
Cousin Carl. I merely sent him on an errand."
"What right has he to run errands for you, Cousin 'Linda?" cried the
excited young fellow. "Am I not your servant? I will not endure his
interference. No!"
"But he is our cousin. You boys must not fight," Belinda said
soothingly, yet suddenly feeling that this rivalry between her cousins
was no longer a matter to laugh at. "Remember, you have your corporal's
stripes to lose. And if Paul is such a sly fox as you say, he would put
you in the wrong light if you attacked him. Besides, it is wrong to
fight."
"_Donnerwetter!_" gasped Carl, suddenly bursting into laughter. "And
here we are at war!" He recovered his temper quickly. "A small pot
soon hot," his Cousin Paul called him. "Ah, but Cousin 'Linda, I am a
jealous one."
"You should not be," she told him rather absently.
"Yes! But you do not tell me that you care for me at all."
"I care for you a great deal, Cousin Carl, but not in the foolish way
you suggest."
"Foolish!"
"Yes. We are too much like brother and sister. I could not by any
possibility love you in the way you suggest," she said with sudden
frankness.
"_Ach!_ that Paul----"
"Hush! I love him not at all," she cried. "He is simply my cousin--as
you are."
"Ah, 'Linda," the boy pleaded, "take time to think of it. Of course,
any day I may be shot----"
"God forbid, Carl!"
"Then you _do_ care?"
"As your cousin--yes. As your sister, if you will have me----"
"That Paul!" he began again heatedly.
"You have heard me say it is _not_ Paul," she declared.
He grasped at her unintended hint. His eyes actually clouded with mist.
He said huskily:
"But there is somebody? You have a lover? Somebody you have long known?
Somebody in America?"
She bowed her head in silent affirmation. But Carl suddenly propounded
a question she had not expected:
"But if that's so, why did he let you come over here to work in this
horrid war?"
"Suppose--suppose he came, too?" she said hastily, almost recklessly.
"Suppose----"
"To fight for Germany?" gasped Carl. "And _you_ were in a French
hospital?"
"He is an American."
"_Ach_, those accursed Americans! Do they not all fight against us? If
they dared they would go to war as a nation against us."
"Carl! you must not talk so. You offend me. I have confided in you and
I expect you to treat my confidence as a gentleman should."
Erard brought away the screen and bucket from Sanderson's cot.
"No more now, dear Carl," she said hastily to the downcast young
fellow. "Another time. And you will remain my friend, Cousin Carl?"
"Soh!" Carl blew a mighty sigh. "Well, as long as it is not Paul
Genau!"