BECLOUDED
Erard disappeared suddenly. Nobody saw him go, but he was not to be
found.
Of course, it was his time for sleeping. His hours off duty were short
enough at the best. Somebody had gone to his cot to call him and he was
not there. The bed had not been slept in.
"_Ach!_" raved Corporal Baum. "What a pig it is! The crazy Frenchman is
not to be trusted. And you said he was faithful."
He said this to Belinda just before she left her ward for the night.
"He has been faithful to me," she told him. "If he has made one misstep
you must forgive him for my sake, Carl."
"_Ach!_ The drillmaster's whip should feel his back. Now I have to
detail one of my men to do his work."
"The night nurse is coming. See that you get a good man to help her."
Belinda went through the ward again to make sure all was right with
each of her wounded for the night, and found opportunity of whispering
to Frank, as she squeezed his hand under the blanket:
"'All quiet along the Potomac.' He's gone."
Carl had gone fuming back to his duty; but as Belinda came out into the
chill dusk of the March evening a cloaked figure awaited her.
"Paul!" she ejaculated, rather startled.
"It's I. And waiting for a girl like any yokel," and he laughed
bitterly--a laugh Belinda did not like to hear. It was so dark she
could not see her cousin's face; but she felt that he looked at her
strangely.
"I want you to walk with me, 'Linda," he said suddenly, coming closer
to her. "I wish to talk with you."
"On what subject, Paul? And where shall we walk? I am tired now and
am ready for my tea and bed. There are no 'lovers' lanes' or other
romantic walks about here."
"You laugh at me!" he ejaculated fiercely. "_Ach!_ when did I let a
girl laugh at me before? _I_ did the laughing."
"Possibly they all laughed at you," she said, much amused.
"_Ach!_ I left some of them in tears."
"I shall not weep, Cousin Paul, if you leave me now and let me go to my
waiting tea."
"You do not know what you are doing to me," he cried under his breath,
seizing her arm roughly. "I tell you, Belinda, I never met a girl
before who so moved me. I--I am a cold-heart. No woman before ever
mastered me as you have."
"Pooh, Paul! you have been aping your betters--or think you have. You
have thought it smart to go about making love to village flirts. I know
your kind. You have never _loved_ anybody."
"I tell you----"
"Be calm. You have never yet loved, I tell you; you have only played at
love."
"I love _you_," he said doggedly, almost as his cousin, Carl, would
have said it.
"You only think so," repeated Belinda. "You do not know yet what true
love means."
He halted, seizing her arm again and looking at her suspiciously. "Do
_you_?" he demanded.
"Yes," Belinda told him calmly, exultantly, her face raised to the
darkening sky. "I love, and am loved in return, Paul. Your tawdry
passion for every pretty face you see has nothing to do with love."
A heavy tread came close behind them. A harsh voice said:
"Nurse Genau, I require your presence in the operating ward--a serious
case. I cannot trust these other women in anything so delicate."
Paul had sprung to attention. Belinda's manner changed suddenly. Her
cousin noted it as she faltered:
"Very well, Herr Doktor."
Doctor Herschall gave the young man a harsh look as he strode past.
Belinda hurried to get certain necessary articles. Paul muttered:
"Can it be that black-looking surgeon? _Herr Gott!_ he spoke as though
he owned her. He has spent years in New York, they say. Belinda was in
a hospital there, she told me. Have they known each other before?
"_Tausend Teufel!_ I believe the girl is in love with somebody.
Certainly not with that blockhead, Baum. With whom, then? With the Herr
Doktor? _Ach!_ How foolish! One could not love the Herr Doktor more
than one could a stick or a stone. It must be somebody else and"--he
asked the same question Carl Baum had asked--"if she loves and is so
beloved, why did he let her come over to France to do this dangerous
work in the hospitals?"
Meanwhile Belinda had reached the receiving ward and was ready at
the operating table when Doctor Herschall arrived. There were other
surgeons to help him, for there was no rush of new cases at present;
and there were other nurses, too, if he needed them. Belinda knew it
was merely a crotchet upon the part of the Herr Doktor to demand her
presence here--especially after her long day's work in her own ward.
It was to show his authority--his power--over her that he had done
this. Or was it pique because he had seen her talking familiarly with
her cousin?
In any case it was out of the question for her to object. She knew that
well. It was in Franz Herschall's power to crush her utterly with a
word.
And not so much for her own safety did Belinda Melnotte bear this hard
duty with patience, but because of the young aviator lying helpless in
her ward--the man she loved and the man she must aid to escape from the
deadly peril that menaced him.
"Soh!" said Doctor Herschall with satisfaction, but speaking aside to
the nurse, when he had performed another surgical miracle, "this is
like many old occasions, Miss Belinda, is it not? Hum! I shall call on
you frequently hereafter. These other nurses are cows! If you like you
may give up your ward entirely. I can easily place another day nurse
there."
"Oh, no, Doctor!" she begged hastily. "I prefer to be busy. And my
wounded would miss me."
"What? Those beasts? They would miss their sausage and beer--nothing
more," he answered in contempt.
Belinda was as wearied as usual that night; she slept, however, but
little. How much had happened within twelve hours! Never in her life
had she passed so exciting a day.
Threatened from all sides with a danger that might at any time become
of deadly import, the Red Cross nurse had gone about her duties with
an apparently unshaken demeanor. And yet she was no braver than the
ordinary girl of her age and with her experience.
She remembered well one Red Cross nurse, martyred by the Prussians
in Belgium, for just what she was doing--indeed, for less! A vile
imprisonment, or the firing squad, might be just ahead of her.
Yet Belinda Melnotte glowed and was glad all through her being at the
thought of Frank's presence near by and what they now were to each
other!
She had utterly cast aside all her former doubts and prejudices. The
love to which she had finally given speech crowded down the warning
word of conscience.
No longer did Belinda Melnotte ask herself whether or no she was good
in thought as well as act. She was a loving woman--loved and beloved!
And nothing else in the world mattered.
She slept fitfully, but was up at dawn. During the night she had
worried much about Erard.
Had he been able to travel as far as Sanderson said the rendezvous with
Renaud was, and without being apprehended? And when would he return? If
the man did not come back, how would they know if he met the French spy
or if the latter was safe? All that forenoon she kept a watch upon the
entrance gate of the hospital enclosure.
"The guardhouse for that harelipped rascal of yours when he does
come," Carl Baum promised Belinda. "I cannot save him--nor can that sly
fox, Paul Genau. If he is only sent back to a detention camp he will be
lucky."
The nurse had but little opportunity to speak in private with Sanderson
during the morning, for Jacob was her principal assistant. But their
stolen glances told each other much.
There was a little bustle at the gate about noon. Belinda, watchful as
ever, ran out of her ward.
Into the enclosure staggered the recreant Erard, a wine bottle in one
hand and a dead pullet by the legs in the other. Ah, but he was the
very picture of a devil-may-care fellow, roaring drunk!
Carl Baum made a rush for him, sputtering maledictions in
German--threatening the little lame man with dire punishment.
"Hold!" commanded Erard pompously. "This," and he held up the scrawny
pullet, "is for the Herr Lieutenant. Touch it at your peril!"
"_Schweinhund!_" thundered Carl.
"Who are you?" demanded Erard scornfully. "A soldier--therefore a
slave. _I_ am a free man. _Vive la_----" He tipped the bottle to
his lips and swallowed some of the _vin ordinaire_. "Have a drink,
brother?" he added, holding the bottle out to Carl with tipsy
hospitality.
The corporal broke the bottle and seemed about to break the
_infirmier's_ head as well. Belinda ran out to save him. "You must not
ill-treat the poor fellow, Carl," she declared.
"A wonderful tenderness you have for this drunken little beast,"
growled her cousin. "Come on! You go to the Herr Lieutenant," he added
roughly to Erard.
"_Oui, Monsieur!_ Here is the fine _poulet_ for that same Herr
Lieutenant." He bowed low before the troubled nurse. "But yes," he
said boldly. "I am a man, _me_! I am no slave of a soldier. I have
accomplished all that I set forth to do."
Belinda caught her breath. She knew the man was speaking directly
to her--was reassuring her; although what he said seemed merely the
vaporings of wine.
"Come!" cried Carl again.
"Pardon, Monsieur," said Erard politely. "Is that the way to leave a
lady? I kiss your hand, Mademoiselle. I am relieved of that so-dirty
work of the ward for a season--is it not?"
He spoke French. He bowed low before her and carried literally into
action his words by raising her hand to his lips.
Swiftly he pressed a bit of paper between her fingers. She held it
tightly--breathless, shaken--while Carl marched the staggering little
man away.
She went slowly back to her ward. Secretly she looked at the tiny note.
The envelope was of rice paper--two cigarette papers sealed together
with green wax. It seemed to her as she examined it, that the seals
had been tampered with; yet if so, the note had been reinclosed.
Within was written in pencil on a third paper folded so that it could
not be read through the envelope, a single line in English:
"Trust not Rabbit-mouth too far."
It was a warning--a warning referring to Erard, but brought by the
_infirmier_ himself! Although it was not signed, the line must have
been written by Renaud, the spy.
Erard had tried to read it, too. But Belinda was well aware the lame
man could not read English. The mystery troubled her exceedingly.
Erard had met the spy and certainly must have told Renaud of
Sanderson's plight. The spy's peril was imminent. His task of getting
out of the enemy's country was enormous. And yet he considered it
necessary to warn the American airman against trusting Erard too far!