RENAUD
Belinda saw no more of her cousins that day. Indeed, she felt that she
never wished to see them again.
And yet--Belinda was forced to confess it--the quarrel between Carl and
Paul had arisen because of her. She had brought their boyish bickerings
to this desperate pass.
This burden of anxiety in addition to all her other troubles broke down
even Belinda Melnotte's calm. She scarcely dared go near Sanderson
for more than a moment at a time during this day for fear he would
apprehend trouble from the expression of her countenance.
In her present state of mind, too, she began to chide herself for
imaginary faults and a lapse of morals which, at another time, she
would have been bold enough to ignore.
Were not these anxieties that so burdened her mind and humbled her
spirit the punishment, the logical and natural outcome of her wrong
doing? Had she not committed a sin against her higher nature in so
fully giving herself mentally at least to Frank Sanderson and in
allowing him to lavish his affection upon her when there was a barrier
between them which neither the laws of God nor man could ignore?
The memory of "Stella" and "the kiddies" which she had put aside so
determinedly arose again like a wraith in her secret thoughts.
The apparent cheerfulness of the American aviator seemed a mockery to
Belinda, knowing what she did. With Doctor Herschall in possession of
Sanderson's canteen, its inscription perfectly readable to anybody with
the knowledge the Prussian surgeon already had, the nurse expected the
blow to fall at any moment.
All that seemed to trouble the aviator, however, was the return of
Ernest Spiegel. "There is something behind that," he whispered to
Belinda. "The wretched boy thinks he knows something. Has he been put
back here to spy?"
The visiting physician seemed in no way suspicious of Sanderson. He
talked hopefully of the aviator's shoulder coming out of the plaster
soon. He had been patient and that virtue was to be rewarded, the
doctor said.
Evening came at length. At the calling of the roll Erard was supposed
to report at the guardhouse. But there was still much to do about the
ward and the orderly who was to take charge for the night had not
appeared.
With verbal permission from a passing officer, the harelipped man
remained to complete his duties and to help Belinda. But he went out
ahead of her.
It was already dark--a raw, cloudy spring night. There was a lull in
the booming of the guns and the horizon to the east, west and south
was streaked only intermittently with the glare of the flare-bombs and
rockets.
For forty-eight hours the battle seemed to have stood still. The two
armies, like two stags, had locked horns and neither seemed to be able
to push the other aside.
The raw wind that swept across the hospital yard had driven everybody
but the sentinels indoors. And none of them was stationed near the door
of Ward Three. The night orderly came in yawning. As there were no
serious cases at present in this hut there was no regular night nurse
assigned.
"That fellow will be asleep and snoring in half an hour," Belinda
thought. "However, there is Jacob, who may be awakened."
She stepped out and was about to hurry to the nurses' quarters when
something moving in the shadow of the hut startled her. Was it the
outline of a human figure, or----
"Erard!" she called in a low voice.
"_Oui_, Mademoiselle!" responded the _infirmier_.
"What is that?" she demanded. "What did you roll under the porch?"
"Sst! Mademoiselle will forget?" he begged, coming closer. "It is
perhaps the blanket-roll you mean--and it may yet be of use----"
An approaching step was heard.
"Good-night, Mademoiselle," Erard said clearly. "I am due at the
guardhouse--and a plank bed. Good-night."
He started away through the gloom, dragging his twisted foot. Belinda
hesitated a moment only. She did not wish to be questioned. And there
was possibly nothing wrong. Yet--"_Trust not Rabbit-mouth too far_."
Renaud's written warning returned to her mind with insistence as she
went her way.
Nor was all the nurse's fear unfounded. The lout of an orderly was
indeed asleep and snoring within half an hour of her departure. Ward
Three lay wrapped in gloom, for there was but a single shaded light on
the table at the head of the room. Sighs--a few low moans--then the
stertorous breathing of most of the occupants of the cots proclaimed
the fact that the orderly was not alone asleep. The rest of these
wounded and broken men were perhaps uneasy, for their dreams could not
be happy ones.
Separated from their families, from all they loved and held dear;
led by their overlords like sheep to the shambles; then, broken and
suffering, brought from the trenches to this makeshift hospital, here
to be made over into further food for the thundering cannon. Could men,
under such conditions, sleep peacefully?
Sighing, turning, sometimes crying out in the nightmare of a
remembrance of their wounds, the early hours of the night dragged by.
If they woke it was to groan, seek to turn to a more restful position
and then to sink back into troubled dreams again.
The swinging door of the ward was pushed quietly open. A figure crept
in--a hoop-shouldered, apparently emaciated figure. With dragging step
it shuffled down the ward past the sleeping orderly, who lay back in
his chair with his mouth wide open, choking and snorting in his heavy
sleep.
Dragging, dragging the step went down the aisle. It was a familiar
sound to any who might be awake.
At the bed of the aviator it halted. Sanderson was already awake.
"Erard!"
A sharp hiss closed Sanderson's mouth. Ernest, across the aisle, raised
cautiously from his pillow. He needed the use of both ears, for it was
too dark for his eyes to be of much value to him.
The boy lay thus listening to catch the murmured words. They were
neither German nor French phrases he overheard. He dared not betray a
more active interest in the secret conference.
Then the dragging step up the ward again. The retreating figure
appeared for a moment between the window and the gaze of the watching
boy. Did it seem larger--taller--than Erard's?
At the end of the room it stood for a moment in the dim glow of the
hooded lamp. The orderly sat up with a start and at a most inopportune
moment.
The marauder seemed suddenly to tower above him. The orderly's lips
opened to utter a cry of fear. The deadly weapon descended with awful
force while the marauder's left hand seized the loose shirt collar
of the stricken man to ease him back into the chair so that the body
should not fall to the floor.
From a distance the orderly seemed still to be sleeping. In a moment
the marauder glided through the door. Ernest, gasping, stifling his
sobs in his pillow, cowered on his cot.
When Belinda arrived at her ward in the morning the first excitement
was passed. Jacob had discovered the dead orderly in his chair, with
the terrible wound in his head and the blood congealed upon the floor.
Then Erard had arrived and he had called to a passing soldier. The body
was removed and Erard had wiped up the stains as well as he could.
When the nurse came she had to exercise all her authority to quiet the
patients. Only Ernest Spiegel, strangely enough, said not a word.
The mystery of the killing of the orderly had already been well
canvassed. Was he known to have an enemy who had crept in during the
night and had done the deed? For surely nobody within the ward could
have accomplished this murder.
Later Belinda served Frank Sanderson his breakfast. His look assured
her that he knew something about the mystery unrevealed to the other
patients.
Jacob called for Ernest to get up and lend him a hand about some of his
duties. The boy obeyed grumblingly. Erard was serving breakfasts at the
other end of the room.
"What is it, Frank?" the nurse whispered.
"Renaud."
She repeated the name of the spy wonderingly. "He was not _here_? He
did not kill that man?"
"Listen," Sanderson explained as she cracked his egg. "I thought it was
Erard when he came creeping down the ward. Ah! a wonderful man is that
Renaud. If the other wounded heard him they would not mind Erard. You
see?"
"And he dared come here?"
"Yes. Good fellow! He means to bring about our escape. He is already
assured of his own through the German lines to-day. We talked it all
over. Even the day and hour is set. I shall then be able to walk about
with my arm in a sling.
"I know the rendezvous. We shall escape together, Belinda--you and I,"
and he smiled upon her lovingly.
"Ah! but shall we?" she murmured, yet did not dare to put into words
her fear of Doctor Herschall.
The effect of the mysterious happening of the night upon Erard was to
make him for the first time since Belinda had known him quite silent.
And he kept away from Sanderson's end of the ward.
This was an occurrence--the death of the orderly--that must be
investigated by both the regimental commander and Doctor Herschall. But
the black-browed surgeon came into the ward alone.
He said not a word when he entered. His eyes glittered. His air seemed
more threatening as he passed down the aisle between the cots than it
had ever before seemed to Belinda.
The nurse, startled and afraid, stood suddenly beside Sanderson's bed.
It was as though she were attempting to shield the aviator from the
surgeon's baleful look.
With a stern hand Doctor Herschall put her aside, so that he might have
an unobstructed view of Sanderson's countenance.
"We are about to relieve you, Herr Lieutenant, of that uncomfortable
cast you wear," the surgeon said harshly. "Sit up."
The aviator, not at all prepared for what was to follow, obeyed the
order. Swiftly Doctor Herschall unbuttoned the loose shirt Frank wore
and stripped bare the young man's muscular shoulder. But it was the
left shoulder he uncovered!
Belinda sprang forward with a muffled cry. The Herr Doktor's long digit
was planted firmly upon the puckered, red scar on the aviator's bared
shoulder--the mark of the wound treated in the hospital in New York
eight months and more before.
"_Ach!_" Doctor Herschall said. "So I thought." He turned and looked
at Ernest, who had come back to his cot and sat there, watching the
surgeon with frightened eyes.
"Well!" the Herr Doktor exploded, "what is it? What happened here last
night? What do you know of this murder?"
"He--he," stammered Ernest, pointing to the aviator. "A man came into
the ward when all were asleep. He came to Thirty-four and woke him.
They talked."
"In German?"
"No, Herr Doktor. Nor in French. In that strange talk they say is
_Amerikanisch_."
"Hum!" ejaculated the surgeon, working his fingers spasmodically. "What
more?"
"The--the man went back up the ward. The orderly awoke before the
man could escape. He sprang at the orderly and struck him down with
something in his hand, Excellency."
"Hum! Is that all?"
"All I heard and saw, Excellency."
"Could you see the murderer clearly? Would you know him again? Describe
him," commanded Doctor Herschall, while the intake of breath on the
part of the listeners was audible.
"I--I could not see the man clearly. But I know him," whispered Ernest.
"How do you know him? Are you positive?"
"Absolutely, Herr Doktor," said the boy with more confidence. "By his
step. I heard him clearly--it is not to be mistaken."
"Ah!" It was a chorused murmur from all over the ward.
Erard had come down the aisle. He stood in full view of the frightened
Ernest.
"That is the man!" shrilled the boy suddenly. "He drags his foot. He it
was who came here, and who killed the orderly to make his escape."
Belinda, recovering her speech; cried aloud:
"Wicked boy! It could not be Erard. He was in the guardhouse."
The little Frenchman raised his hand in salute as he stepped forward
a single pace, dragging that twisted foot, to face the scowling Herr
Doktor. He smiled at Belinda, saying:
"It is quite true, Mademoiselle. They are asleep, those _Boches_ at
the guardhouse. It was I who came here in the night. I knew the Herr
Lieutenant had money under his pillow and I tried to steal it. The boy
misunderstood the nature of our conversation. The Herr Lieutenant,
in his generosity, let me go; but I was observed by the orderly,
and--so----"
"Never!" gasped Belinda.
The Herr Doktor pounded upon the floor with his cane. A file of
soldiers entered with Corporal Baum at their head.
"Take this man to the cage, Corporal," commanded Doctor Herschall,
pointing with his stick to Erard. "And leave two men to escort the Herr
Lieutenant Gessler"--he lingered over the name in a sinister way--"to
the military court as soon as he is dressed."
Erard, smiling still, was close to Belinda as he turned to go with the
soldiers. His twisted lip writhed with the almost inaudible phrase:
"For France!"