TOUCH AND GO
When Belinda finally found time to speak at length to Sanderson he had
already received from Erard a full account of the lame man's meeting
with the French spy, Renaud.
"We shall hear from Monsieur Renaud again," the aviator said
confidently. "He is a really wonderful man, Belinda--a man of countless
disguises and subterfuges. When I set him down in that field four days
ago he drew on a peasant's smock, put his feet in sabots, and before I
got my plane in the air again he was hobbling toward the village, the
true picture of one of these old peasants, so decrepit and lame that
even the Prussians fail to set them to work.
"I must get out of this bed and get my shoulder out of its plaster-cast
as soon as possible. For in some way, by some means, I believe Renaud
will give me a chance to escape. And with me, you, of course, Belinda.
You must not remain longer in this perilous situation."
The nurse did not share in his sanguine feelings. But she hid her fears
as best she could and, leaving the bedside of the wounded aviator,
busied herself as usual about the ward.
She had spoken to the visiting physician previously about Ernest
and that very morning the order came for the boy's removal to the
convalescent camp. Jacob told him, and the unfortunate Ernest gave
way to a violent fit of temper just as the Herr Doktor unexpectedly
appeared on a round of visits.
Fortunately everything in Belinda's ward was in order. The Herr Doktor,
in helmet, boots and cloak, and with his shining ebony cane, strode
down the ward in his usual masterful manner. He asked a question here
and there, but at the empty cot numbered seventeen he did not halt.
That case had gone back to the operating table and was recorded in the
annals of the hospital as one of the most successful operations of the
Herr Doktor Herschall. But the patient had died.
Forewarned, Frank Sanderson was his usual calm self when the surgeon
approached. But the aviator had his part to play. He sat up in bed and
punctiliously saluted with his left hand when the inspecting surgeon
drew near.
"Good day to you, Herr Lieutenant Gessler," said the surgeon
sonorously. "I have a good report of you."
"Thank you for your interest, Herr Doktor," Sanderson responded. "Yet I
shall not partake long of your hospitality here, I hope."
"No? That is a good word. Hum! I shall hope to see you----_Was zum
Teufel?_" He turned swiftly, roaring his annoyance. Ernest had tugged
at his cloak. "What do you mean, you young dog? Can you not wait your
turn?"
"They send me to the convalescent camp, Herr Doktor," the boy cried.
"Then it will be back to the trenches soon--_I_ know. I cannot stand
it. I will not----"
"Be still!" commanded Doctor Herschall with a sudden calmness that
should have warned even Ernest of his danger. "Can you not see I am
speaking with the Herr Lieutenant Gessler?"
"He? He?" repeated Ernest in his shrill voice. "He is no more the
flying-man than I am."
Belinda turned toward Sanderson, a look of terror in her eyes.
The Herr Doktor's heavy cane delivered two cruel strokes across the
boy's shoulders. Ernest shrieked, rolling on the floor. Belinda's
intake of angry breath at this brutality was unnoticed by the enraged
Herr Doktor as he wheeled and marched back up the ward.
The nurse, fearing the American would express in words the contempt and
anger his features showed for the man who had committed the cruel act,
sprang forward and placed her hand upon the aviator's lips, standing
there while Doctor Herschall strode out of the hut.
"Get up on your bed, you little fool!" growled Jacob to Ernest. "Will
you never learn to keep your mouth shut?"
But Belinda could not bear to see the boy suffer. She brought warm
water and a lotion and succeeded in bathing the cruel-looking welts
while Ernest continued to sob into his pillow.
"He does not deserve it, Fräulein," grumbled Jacob; but Sanderson
beamed upon her from across the aisle.
An orderly appeared and read at the head of the ward: "Case
Thirty-three to report in half an hour at the desk, for transportation
to the rear." Jacob got the weeping Ernest up and helped him to dress.
Glancing from the window Belinda saw Carl Baum coming across the
enclosure from the direction of the Herr Doktor's lodge--once the
office of the kindly _médecin chef_. Wrung by sudden anxiety the nurse
ran out to intercept the corporal.
"Good-morning, Cousin Belinda," was Baum's greeting, his round face
asmile. "Does all go well with you?"
"I fear all will soon go ill with me, Carl," she said, unable to
disguise her anxiety. "Where have you been?"
"The sly fox Paul sent me on a detail for the Herr Doktor, but told me
to report first to _him_. He wished as usual to take all the credit,"
and Carl chuckled. "But I am a step ahead of him for once."
"Oh! what did you do?" cried Belinda under her breath.
"I was ordered to search for any personal property of either of the
aviators abandoned there in the wood where they fell. It is a deserted
place; nobody had disturbed the ruins of the aeroplanes."
"What did you find, Carl?" she asked hurriedly.
"Why, nothing much, Cousin. Just some odds and ends. A belt buckle with
the Herr Lieutenant Gessler's identification badge upon it. A shoe that
must have been the Frenchman's, for it is American made. Oh, yes! and
his metal water bottle."
"Whose bottle?"
"The Frenchman's. It must be his. Here!" said Paul, showing her a
paper. "I copied this that was painted on it--a part of his name."
Belinda was for the moment speechless. Before Carl could comment upon
her troubled countenance Jacob called to her from the doorway of the
ward. Ernest was departing.
The orderly signed her book. Indeed, the boy went as a prisoner. Men
were too precious at this stage of the war for the Prussian military
system to mislay a single individual.
Carl waited, troubled by his cousin's evident distress. He strolled to
the door where she stood watching Ernest and the orderly depart.
"Is not all right, 'Linda? Are you worrying over that boy--where he
goes?"
"No, Carl, I am not worrying over Ernest. It is something of much
greater import."
"Your sweetheart!" murmured Carl. "Where is he? Is he in trouble? Does
he know you were left behind when the crazy French retreated?"
"He must know that," she said absently.
"Where is he, Cousin 'Linda?" asked the boy. "Is he a very fine young
man? One of those millionaires we have all read about as being so
plentiful in America?"
"I never thought to ask whether he was rich or not," Belinda confessed.
"No? _Ach!_ then you must love him indeed," Carl declared quickly. "I
wish I might know him, Cousin 'Linda," he added wistfully.
She turned to him suddenly. "Do you mean that, Carl?"
"Why not?" he repeated wonderingly. "If you love him----"
"Suppose he were here--in peril of capture? Suppose he might be
apprehended as a spy?"
"_Ach!_ Do not talk so crazily, 'Linda!"
"But if he were? Would you help me to save him, Cousin Carl?" Belinda
demanded recklessly.
"_Herr Gott!_ A spy?" repeated the corporal. "But that would be a bad
business. But for you, Belinda----_Ach!_ if you love him----Well,
perhaps I might be tempted for your sake to be so far untrue to the
Fatherland. _Gott!_ Who knows?"
Around the corner of the hut stormed suddenly Sergeant-major Genau.
"What are you lingering here for, Corporal Baum?" he demanded. "Were
you not to report to me immediately on your return?"
"It was a command of the Herr Doktor. I have reported to him already,"
growled Carl, but not forgetting to salute his superior.
"_Tausend Teufel!_ Did I not tell you to report first to me--to show me
all that you found? _Dummkopf!_ See, Belinda," he turned to address the
nurse, "what it means to trust this Baum with even a simple detail. And
it was for your sake I chose him to go, and told him what to do."
"Oh, Carl!" murmured Belinda reproachfully. "You might have saved----"
The corporal lost his temper completely. "What do you mean? What is
this secret? Something between you, Paul, and our cousin? And you blame
me if it has gone wrong, eh?"
"What if it were our secret? There are many matters past your
comprehension, Carl," retorted Paul bitterly. "It was for Belinda's
sake--at her request--I told you to report your success or failure to
me. Did you find anything belonging to the Herr Lieutenant or to the
other aviator?"
"Yes, yes! He found something!" broke in Belinda, unwisely. "He has
told me. A canteen, with a name painted on it."
"Here!" growled Carl, glowering at them both and thrusting the paper
under Paul's eyes. "Do you make anything of _that_? And what is it all
about?"
"Be still--fool!" commanded Paul, studying the paper.
"Oh, but Doctor Herschall will make something of it," the nurse broke
in once more, wringing her hands, quite beside herself with fear and
excitement.
"See, blockhead, what you have done," snarled Paul.
"Call me no more names, scoundrel!" roared Carl. "I have fought you at
school and beat you. And--_Herr Gott!_--I can do it again!"
He whipped out the saber he wore on duty and sprang at his cousin. Paul
drew his pistol from its sheath--a deadly weapon.
"For that you are a dead man, Carl Baum!" he vowed, and would have shot
his cousin through the heart on the instant.
Belinda, uttering a horrified cry, threw herself between the enraged
young men.
She was aroused as she had never been aroused before. These men bent
upon each other's murder were but boys in her eyes. She remembered them
as joyous playfellows in pinafores; later as promising youths who vied
for her favor.
Now she had been thrown in contact with them again and found them grown
men--full of the faults--perhaps of the virtues, too--of soldiers.
What this awful war had done to them, to change them so utterly, smote
upon Belinda Melnotte's mind with withering force.
"Boys! Boys!" she cried. "What would your mothers say? And you, who
have been companions and friends for so long--like brothers! What would
you do?
"_Kill each other?_ Is there not enough blood being shed? Are you not
at war with all the world? Is it not enough that torn and bleeding
bodies are brought into this hospital every day that you, Carl Baum,
and you, Paul Genau, must add to the awful sum of human misery?
"Stop! I will not have it. You rave of being fond of me--you two--and
then act like this? Oh, you wicked ones! How dare you call me your
cousin? Would I own you as cousins of mine, do you think, if you were
guilty of the crime you each contemplate?
"And this it is to be German. The thirst for blood has seized upon you,
as it has upon everybody entangled in this awful war.
"Thank God! I am an American!"
There was a sonorous shout from across the enclosure. The Herr Doktor
had appeared suddenly at the door of his lodge.
"Hi! Ho! Hold that convalescent, Ernest Spiegel, Thirty-three of Ward
Three. I want him. Do you hear, Sergeant Genau?" he added, catching
sight of Paul. "Bring that boy back. Bring him to my office here at
once."
Paul's left hand had been out-stretched to draw the girl aside. Carl
had given no sign in his face of a better intention. Belinda thought
with sinking heart that her pleading seemed to have made no impression
upon the young hot-heads.
But the voice of authority spoke in the Herr Doktor's command. The
young men came to attention. Carl's saber went back into its scabbard;
Paul's weapon into its sheath.
The sergeant-major wheeled and started instantly for the gateway.
Belinda staggered to the door of her ward, weeping in abandonment.
"Oh, Cousin! Cousin 'Linda!" begged the corporal, at length moved by
her tears. "I am sorry. To offend you so----"
She heeded him not at all, but went within and the door swung shut. She
crouched in her own little booth at the end of the ward, seeking to
recover her self-control before Sanderson should see her.
Belinda still sat there when a soldier brought Ernest Spiegel to the
hut from the Herr Doktor's office. The boy was very pale and subdued.
He had nothing to say for himself.
"It is an order, most gracious Fräulein," said the soldier, passing her
a paper.
The order read, in the Herr Doktor's chirography:
"Put him back in Cot Thirty-three."