"THOSE EYES--THAT HAND!"
"Soh! I find you thus?"
The words, the sneering lash of the Herr Doktor's tone, held the
American aviator and nurse silent.
"Treachery is afoot. These cousins of yours, Fräulein Belinda--the
sergeant-major and the corporal--they are in this conspiracy, too? I
have had my eye on them. The evidence I may put before Herr Major von
Brandenburg will be of a most convincing character."
He had entered and closed the door behind him. He stood with his cloak
thrown back and now counted off upon his fingers the points of his
case quite as though he were instructing a hospital class of fledgling
surgeons.
"First: An American aviator, flying for France--'Frank Sanderson,
_Pilote Aviateur_'--is found within our lines, dressed in the uniform
of a German officer, claiming the name and honors of the most
unfortunate Herr Lieutenant August Gessler. What is this American? A
spy! His punishment? Death!
"Second," pursued the sonorous if harsh voice of the Herr Doktor:
"Erard, a Frenchman, a party to this vile conspiracy, knowing the
American aviator; having already paid the just penalty for the murder
of the orderly Vontromp."
His words were punctuated by several dull but near-by explosions in
succession. Belinda shuddered and again cowered close to Sanderson's
side. The latter's arm supported her.
"Do not be so disturbed, Fräulein Belinda," Herschall said. "They are
only bombs being dropped by the dastardly French. An air attack is
being made in this direction. If they blow us all up in this château so
much the better. Yes?"
As Herschall spoke, he glanced from the high barred window as though to
sight the squadrons of the air.
It was what Renaud had promised. He thought he could bring it about. An
air attack in force in the vicinity to frighten the Germans and give
the aviator and the nurse a chance to make for the wood.
"Third and fourth," went on the doctor: "Two young fools whom you claim
as cousins, Fräulein. Whether your relationship to them is such or
not, you have evidently quite turned their heads. I caught one of them
just now standing guard at the door of this room. He dared even try to
forbid my entrance.
"They, too, are in this conspiracy. They lend their assistance to
enemies of the Empire. With this American, and the Frenchman already
passed on, I may include these young cousins in the category of my
accusation to the Herr Major.
"What say you, Fräulein Belinda. Shall I do this?"
He waited for her answer; but the girl could not speak. Sanderson's lip
curled with disdain as he gazed upon the Prussian.
"Why do you wreak your petty malice on a woman, mein Herr?" he asked.
"I have but one good arm, and that my left one. But it can hold a sword
or a pistol, whichever you may choose. Let us have it out like men."
"Oh, Frank!" gasped Belinda clinging more tightly to him.
"Fear not, Fräulein Belinda," retorted the surgeon, raising his right
hand and working the clever fingers as though they were clutching at
his enemy's throat. "These eyes of mine are not to guide a sword; that
hand wields more delicate instruments than a pistol. I enter into no
brawl with you, Herr Sanderson. Why should I fight? There is nothing to
fight for. I hold the fate of all of you in my hand," and he clenched
it in the empty air again.
Again a bomb exploded. This time it must have been within the premises
of the château.
"I will not fight Herr Sanderson," the surgeon said directly to
Belinda. "But you may save him, and with him your cousins, if you
choose."
"How?" the girl gasped.
"Pay no heed to the dog," said Sanderson quickly.
"And save yourself," pursued the Prussian.
Sanderson was silenced. Again the hysterical girl cried:
"How? Tell me how?"
"By leaving that man there," said the surgeon pointing. "By coming to
me. By showing me some favors, Fräulein Belinda.
"You well know my admiration for you, and of its duration you are
informed. A man like me loves but once; and if he loves, the object
of his affection cannot be denied him. I have been patient. I have
waited. You sought to escape me by leaving New York. But you see, it
was impossible. Fate--whatever you care to call it--brought us together
here.
"Ah, Fräulein Belinda! I am the man for you--your fit mate. No
weakling, who cannot help himself save by offering to fight. Pah! A
bully and a baby, both. The strong man takes what is his own--_and I
take you_."
"Not by threatening my life, nor those of her cousins--you dog!"
Sanderson broke in. "Pay no attention to him, Belinda. I would not
accept my life on such terms--nor would Paul and Carl, I feel sure,
accept theirs."
Doctor Herschall laughed. Again a falling bomb exploded, the shock of
it deafening them for a moment.
"The offer is not made to you, Herr Sanderson. Therefore you may not
refuse it," said the surgeon when he could be heard.
"Fräulein Belinda must choose. And forget not I have a fifth division
to my theme. A word from me and you, my fair Fräulein, will join that
man and your cousins before the military court. And we Prussians, _Gott
sei dank!_ give spies a short shrift."
"Now you over-reach yourself, Herr Doktor," Sanderson interposed with
an appearance of confidence he was far from feeling. "You can only
accuse Miss Melnotte of being a Red Cross nurse who bravely remained to
care for wounded Germans at that hospital station when the French fled."
"Under an assumed name," snarled Herschall.
"Using the German part of her name, which she was advised to do by a
German soldier. In addition, you who knew her at once, waited till now
to betray her to the military authorities.
"So, Herr Doktor," concluded Sanderson calmly, "whatever you may make
out against me or against her cousins, your case against Miss Melnotte
falls to the ground."
"Soh!" exploded the surgeon, glaring at them. "You think to flout me,
do you? What of _this_?"
He suddenly held forth for them to see the A. D. F. and bar of the
French army--the insignia it had been Belinda's right to wear.
"Found in her private locker in Ward Three," snarled the doctor. "Worn
continually as I can prove by at least one witness before we advanced
and seized the hospital station.
"You see, Herr Sanderson, Miss Belinda is an officer of the French
Army--rightfully a lieutenant. She is a spy, as you are a spy. And if I
recite these facts to the Herr Major, her fate will be your fate."
He had stunned them. All Sanderson's sophistry in striving to cheer the
nurse was borne down. She turned swiftly and placed her arms about his
neck and never while Frank Sanderson lived could he forget the look
glowing in her eyes.
"I do not care, Frank," she said softly. "I would rather die with you
than live alone!"
There was the sharp, shrill, growing whistle of a shell. The Herr
Doktor cried out hoarsely, wheeling toward the window.
At the impact of the aerial projectile just above the stone-encased
window, the château seemed to rock. Bursting inward broken stone and
twisted iron clattered to the floor of the chamber. A great gap was
torn in the outer wall.
Belinda and Sanderson were driven back into the far corner. The Herr
Doktor, facing the bursting shell, received a part of its scattering
contents in face and body.
He shrieked--an awful, soul-harrowing cry. Staggering backward, his
face was revealed again to the cowering aviator and the nurse.
Blood streamed from his eyesockets. His right arm, to which that
wonderfully clever hand with its dexterous fingers had been attached,
was merely a bleeding stump--severed by the shell below the elbow.
The horrified nurse could not utter a sound, but Sanderson leaped to
aid the falling surgeon. Herschall sank upon the American's left arm
and so, muttering and moaning, slipped to the littered floor of the
chamber.
"Gone! Gone!" Herschall whispered, and sank into unconsciousness.
Sanderson rose slowly from his knees and looked at Belinda.
Retreating cries, hoarsely given commands, the tramp of men, the
rolling of wheels, the snorting of the motors sounded clamorously
outside the château. As Sanderson caught at the hand of the Red Cross
nurse a bandaged head and a full, red face was thrust in at the
aperture in the wall where the plaster was sifting down.
"Cousin Belinda! Herr Lieutenant! Paul told me you would be here.
Come quickly. The French are dropping bombs as thick as _Wurst im
Schornstein_. No time to lose. Come!"
"Carl! Cousin Carl!" cried the nurse, an expression of renewed hope in
her voice.
She and the aviator stepped over the mercifully unconscious man on the
floor. Frank, explaining in a few words Renaud's plans, helped the girl
over the broken masonry. There was nobody to halt them. The Germans,
panic-stricken, were fleeing from the front of the château.
Led by Carl, a comical enough looking figure with his bandaged head,
they escaped from the vicinity, reaching without mishap the road that
passed near the wood where Sanderson and the German airman had fallen.
The German troops chanced not to be following this road. But there were
many of them, stubbornly fighting the French between the Americans and
safety. Baum halted.
"I must return to my company, or be marked for punishment. Paul will
be able to save me from that if I report at once. He is as much your
friend as I am, Cousin Belinda, though our people are at war."
The boy was frankly weeping.
"If I take you with me, dear Cousin, I take you and your--your
sweetheart into deeper trouble. For you are both under suspicion."
"But you and Paul?" Sanderson asked quickly.
"Fear not for us, mein Herr," the corporal said. "We shall get out of
the scrape all right. Trust _der schlaue Fuchs_, Paul, for that. And
me--am I not sure to get the Iron Cross for last night's work? Or, so
they tell me," he added proudly. He thrust a pistol into the aviator's
hand. "Take this," he said. "It may be useful."
The aviator wrung his hand. Belinda kissed him warmly.
"I do not wish to know where you go or your plans," Baum added
hurriedly. "We retreat. It is a strategy of the great von Hindenburg
they say. However, our ways separate here. _Auf Wiedersehn!_"
The corporal wheeled abruptly and marched away. He did not again look
back at them--at his cousin and the man she loved standing at the
cross-roads, hand in hand.