A CASE OF MISTAKEN IDENTITY
Early the next afternoon the picnickers sallied forth in two
automobiles, going first to the villa for the Countess Sophia and Madame
de Villiers, then the two cars sped along the country road in the
direction of the ostrich farm. Marian, Mollie, Mrs. De Lancey Smythe,
Miss Stuart, Barbara, Maud and the Count de Sonde were in the foremost
car, while the remainder of the party occupied the car first rented by
Mr. Stuart, with Ruth as chauffeur.
"Why don't you start a song?" called Ruth over her shoulder. "Grace,
sing something. Sing 'My Old Kentucky Home.'"
Grace sang the plaintive old melody in her sweet, high soprano voice.
The Countess Sophia was enchanted. "What a charming song!" she declared.
"What an exquisite melody. I have not heard it before. Is it not one of
your old southern songs?"
"Won't you sing, Countess?" begged Mr. Stuart.
The countess shook her head and smiled. "I do not care to sing alone,"
she avowed. "But I am sure Monsieur Duval has the throat of a singer.
Will you not sing a song of your country, Monsieur?"
"If you will sing a song of your land in return," answered the Frenchman
quickly. Could it be that he, too, was curious to discover to a
certainty the Countess Sophia von Stolberg's nationality?
The countess dropped her eyes under Mr. Duval's steady gaze.
"I do not sing without an accompaniment, Monsieur," she said briefly.
Madame de Villiers looked annoyed. Grace and Ruth wondered why the
countess should be so secretive. She spoke French, German and English
almost equally well. On her library table Ruth had discovered a number
of Italian books.
Monsieur Duval did not press his request. The Frenchman had very
polished manners. Instead in a full baritone voice he sang the
"Marseillaise." His audience was profoundly stirred. "You are a patriot,
Mr. Duval," Mr. Stuart remarked.
Monsieur Duval's expression changed. But he said nothing. It was
impossible to translate his peculiar look.
"Do sing for us, Countess," begged Grace later. "I know you have a
wonderful voice."
"Remember, you are to give us a song of your country," Mr. Duval
persisted.
The countess made no reply to him. But in a voice clear as a bell she
sang:
"Thou art like unto a flower."
"But that is an English song," expostulated Mr. Duval when the countess
had finished.
"Yes, but it was written first by a German poet: Du bist wie eine
blume," sang the countess, this time in German. "Shall I try it in
French and Italian for you? The little song has been translated into
every tongue."
It was evident to her listeners that the Countess Sophia von Stolberg
was proficient in half a dozen languages.
Grace thought she caught a glimpse of concealed amusement on Madame de
Villiers's face. But the stately old woman said nothing.
The motor party had now arrived at the ostrich farm. Mollie, the
countess and Bab ran on ahead. Ruth slipped her arm through Maud
Warren's. The count joined them, but Ruth did not withdraw her arm. Maud
did not seem to mind Ruth's "playing gooseberry." Maud was really
becoming fond of the "Automobile Girls." It was plain, however, that the
Count de Sonde had eyes only for Maud.
The Count de Sonde, who wore high heeled shoes to make him look taller,
walked with the two girls. He talked constantly, using his hands and
shoulders to emphasize his remarks.
"You see, Mademoiselle Maud," he explained. "My parents died when I was
a mere infant. Most of my life I have spent in Paris. I do not often go
to the Chateau de Sonde. But I love dearly the home of my ancestors."
"How much land have you around your castle, Count?" asked Ruth.
The count looked annoyed at the question. "It is a very large estate,"
he answered vaguely.
But Ruth was determined to secure definite information. "Is your chateau
on a hill or in a valley?" she next inquired.
The count shrugged his shoulders. "It is on the side of a mountain,
overlooking a valley," he declared.
The picnic party had now arrived in front of the cages containing the
ostriches. The great birds were strolling about in fine disdain.
But Ruth's mind dwelt on the Chateau de Sonde. She was frankly curious
about it. "Have you ever visited the Count de Sonde at his chateau, Mr.
Duval?" inquired Ruth, who happened to be standing next the Frenchman.
[Illustration: The Count Walked With the Two Girls.]
"A number of times, Miss Stuart," answered Monsieur Duval. "The count
and I are old friends."
"Is it built on a mountain or in a valley?" queried Ruth. She did not
know herself exactly why she repeated her question.
"The Chateau de Sonde nestles in the heart of a valley," was Monsieur
Duval's prompt answer.
He caught Ruth's eyes fixed on him with an expression of wonder. But it
was Ruth, not Monsieur Duval, who blushed furiously. The man's eyes were
gray and inscrutable. "Why do you ask, Mademoiselle?" he inquired.
"I don't know," Ruth answered lamely. The man frightened her. He seemed
so brilliant, so traveled, so strong, so dangerous. And yet, he had just
told Ruth a lie. Why should he pretend he had visited at the Chateau de
Sonde?
"Come, everybody; it is time for luncheon," called Mr. Stuart an hour
later, when his guests had finished their survey of the ostrich cages.
The "Automobile Girls" opened their immense lunch basket, which the
chauffeur had set under the trees. The Countess Sophia insisted on
helping the girls. She was all radiant smiles and gayety. She hummed a
song to herself full of delicious, bird-like trills, in a voice that had
been wonderfully trained. In every way the countess showed what pleasure
she felt in the picnic. So much so that she was easily the central
figure of the party.
Finally the entire company seated themselves in a circle on the ground,
Maud Warren and her father with flushed faces. They had evidently been
having a private altercation about the Count de Sonde. The count however
looked serenely unconscious of the fact.
A sense of tranquility and cheerfulness soon stole over every one. The
day was enchanting. The chicken and nut sandwiches and other eatables
tasted unusually good, and the party did full justice to the tempting
luncheon the Stuarts had provided.
All the guests laughed and talked at the same time. Suddenly the
countess began to sing again in a low voice: "Knowest thou the land?"
from "Mignon."
The others listened with delight.
Down the avenue a vehicle was heard approaching. There was a cloud of
dust enveloping it. It was impossible for the picnic party to
distinguish the occupants of the carriage. The countess's back was
turned toward the equipage. She did not look around. Mollie and Ruth
were glad that she did not turn, for they recognized the two foreigners
who had frightened the young Countess Sophia in the tea garden the
afternoon before.
The men drove up to a palm tree near the spot where Mr. Stuart's guests
were eating. They hitched their horse. Then they walked deliberately
over to the picnickers. Without a word one of the men reached down. He
touched the Countess Sophia von Stolberg on the arm.
Undoubtedly he was German. His face looked threatening and his manner
was insulting. His companion waited near him. The Countess Sophia
shuddered as the stranger touched her. She trembled and turned pale like
a frightened child.
"Madame," said the German, "you are wanted by the police. We have been
sent to arrest you."
Mrs. De Lancey Smythe gave a hysterical laugh of triumph.
But the young countess quickly recovered her self-control.
"You have made a mistake," she returned quietly, to the man, whose hand
still rested on her arm. "What have I done to be arrested? You have no
right to annoy me."
"You are the notorious swindler wanted by the police of two continents,"
accused the German. "I am here to take you back to France where you are
wanted."
Madame de Villiers now arose. She lifted her great mahogany cane, her
face dark with anger.
"You will regret this day's work," she announced. "Be gone!"
But she had hardly finished her speech, before Mr. Stuart was on his
feet. He seized the intruder by the collar, and before the man could
more than raise his hand from the Countess Sophia's arm, he was hurled
several feet away, landing in a heap on the ground.
"You foreign idiot," cried Mr. Stuart, forgetting his women guests in
his anger. "How dare you come here and create a disturbance among my
friends. You are without a warrant or a policeman. The Countess Sophia
von Stolberg is our friend. You shall pay dearly for your insolence.
Leave this place without a second's delay or I shall lay violent hands
on you."
The two strangers did not dare defy Mr. Stuart. Mr. Warren had also
risen and hurried to his friend's aid and the two Americans looked
thoroughly capable of enforcing their commands.
The foreigners went back to their carriage. After a slight delay they
drove off, still muttering veiled threats.
When they had disappeared down the avenue, Countess Sophia gave Mr.
Stuart her hand.
"I thank you, Monsieur," she said. "Madame de Villiers and I are alone.
It is good to have a protector. I do not know why those men attempted to
arrest me without a warrant. I assure you they had not just cause. I
believe they were sent by an enemy."
"Perhaps, Countess," replied Mr. Stuart, "those two men think you are
some one else. I know there is a notorious swindler at large at Palm
Beach. It is probably a case of mistaken identity."
The Countess Sophia made no answer. Barbara, who was watching her
closely, saw a look of unmistakable fear leap into her dark eyes at the
mention of the word "swindler." Bab glanced quickly about her and
encountered the eyes of Monsieur Duval. In them was an expression of
cruel triumph that made Bab feel certain that he was in some way
responsible for the late unpleasant scene.