A GUEST OF THE HUNS
Grace Harlowe heard a guttural voice speaking in German, replied to by
a woman’s voice in the same tongue.
Opening her eyes ever so little, the Overton girl looked cautiously
about her. She was in a room that was peculiar in that the walls were
of stone, and the windows very narrow and high. She felt sore all over,
and to move hurt her, but her physical condition did not interest her
so much at the moment as did the two persons who were speaking. The
man was in the uniform of a German officer. The woman was receiving
orders regarding the patient. Grace closed her eyes to listen without
their being aware that she was awake.
“You will send for me as soon as the fraulein awakens,” he directed
gruffly. “Should she try to leave the castle she must be prevented.
She may have information of value to the Fatherland. As for the man,
he will not talk. Being an officer we hesitate to force him to speak.
Remember, we know nothing of the woman here. He has asked for her and
is ugly because we profess to know nothing about her. She must speak
as soon as she can. It was well that Rosa von Blum was watchful and
informed us that the runaway balloon was headed in this direction, and
better still that we were able to bring it down.”
“Will the Allies not bring reprisals upon us, Herr Colonel, for having
shot the balloon down?”
“They cannot hold the Germans responsible for the act of a crazy
peasant, as we shall so characterize it, and pass the incident off
lightly. When the Americans get to the Rhine they may make all the
inquiries they wish. We shall not be in the castle; almost no one knows
we are here now, there will be no trail left for them to follow, and
they will not be permitted to cross the river to look for one.”
“Did not Fraulein von Blum say who the woman is?” questioned the German
woman.
“No. ‘Important woman in drifting balloon,’ was the message she sent.
The man refuses to say who she is, so you must get it out of the woman
herself.”
“You think she will come to soon?”
“Yes, she will be on her feet before the day is done.”
“Thank you,” whispered the subject of the dialogue. “I am glad to know
that I am all right. Good boy, Major. I will take my tip from him. But
who is this Rosa von Blum that they speak of? I don’t believe I ever
heard of her, though somehow the name strikes a disagreeable note in
my memory. There goes the colonel. I must get ready to wake up after a
proper interval.”
Grace heard the woman step over to the bed and look down at her, after
the departure of the officer. She stirred a little under that gaze,
which seemed to burn into her, moaned and twisted her head from side
to side several times. After a brief interval of quietness the Overton
girl opened her eyes, closed and then opened them again, apparently
with great effort. Grace was acting her part without the slightest
slip. She gazed up blankly into the face of the German woman.
“Guten morgen, Fraulein Schmidt,” greeted the German.
“What is that you say? I am an American.”
“I said good morning, Fraulein Schmidt,” repeated the woman, this time
in English, smiling encouragingly.
“You know me?” exclaimed Grace Harlowe, raising herself on one elbow,
the effort giving her pain and causing her to make a wry face. “How did
you know my name?”
“The Germans know many things. They are not the thickheads that the
enemy would have the world believe them. You come from the American
army?”
Grace said she did, and explained that they had gone adrift in the
storm when she was with the balloon on invitation for the day, but in
answer to a question as to what she did in the army, the Overton girl
asked one for herself.
“Who are you and where am I?”
“You were hurt and a kind-hearted officer had you brought here. You
will, I hope, be able to go out in a week or so.”
“So long as that?”
“Yes. You were very badly hurt and the Herr Doctor says you must be in
bed for some time. To get up would mean your death.”
“Oh, please don’t tell me that,” begged Grace. “What is it you wish to
know?”
“How many are with the American army that is marching on the Rhine?”
“Truly I cannot say, Frau.”
“Is it not true that they are planning to take revenge on the Rhine
country when the Germans are helpless, having laid down their arms?”
“How do you mean?” demanded Grace.
“To turn the big guns on us?”
“No, my countrymen do not break their word, Frau.”
“I have heard that they plan to make it very hard for the peaceful
Germans too. It would be wrong, it would be a crime, for the Germans
are a kindly people. They love the Americans, but are sorry for them
that they were so misled as to enter the war.”
“Sad to contemplate, isn’t it, Frau? I can almost weep over it myself.
What has been done with the officer who was with me in the balloon?”
The German woman said she knew nothing about it, that she did not even
know of the officer, which Grace was aware was not true.
“And the town on the other side of the river--what is it?”
“The Fraulein must ask no questions; such are my instructions.”
“I may ask when I am to be permitted to get up, may I not?”
“I have told the Fraulein what the Herr Doctor has said.”
“When I am able, I may get up?”
“Yes.”
“Then I think I will get up now.” Grace made a move as if to leave the
bed, but the German woman thrust her back, a menacing look flashing
into her eyes. “What do you mean by detaining me in this manner? Am I a
prisoner?”
“No, no, Fraulein,” protested the woman.
“It looks very much as if I were. If such be the case look out for
trouble.”
“The Fraulein threatens?”
“No. I simply warn you. If the Americans hear that a countrywoman is
being held on this side of the Rhine against her will, perhaps you can
imagine what they will do, whether or not they may know her or have
ever heard of her. However, ask all the questions you wish. I shall
reply to them or not as I feel inclined.”
“It is not that I care to know, Fraulein, but that I am interested. We
on the Rhine are troubled, for we hear many things. If you can tell me
the things that will bring peace to my soul, I in turn will do all for
you. It is a fair bargain.”
“Let me tell you something, Frau. The Americans do not trust the
Germans. That is why they are marching on the Rhine ready to go into
battle at a moment’s notice. That is military information, but my
countrymen are ready to fight you Germans, and I don’t care whether
you or all of you know it. Their artillery is constantly trained on
your retreating army. At the first sign of treachery the music will
begin, but I warn you it will not be sweet music, even for German
ears that profess to be so fond of music. It will be the music of the
guns, Frau.” Grace felt that she could do her country and her cause
no better service than by sounding this warning. She was by this time
fully aware that the woman was a German agent, placed there to wring
whatever information she could from the girl who had fallen into their
hands from the skies. Grace too had gained a little information, but
she hoped to obtain more of it.
The Frau pressed her on a variety of subjects connected with the
approaching army, the tenor of which, as nearly as Grace could reason
it out, was as to the secret plans of the Allies after they had
occupied the Rhine bridgeheads, the territory that fed into the bridges
that crossed the Rhine, the principal bridgeheads being at Mainz,
Cologne and Coblenz, the three great bridgeheads of the Rhine. Grace
was extremely cautious in answering questions where the answers might
prove of military value to the enemy.
On the question of spies the German woman, several times in different
forms, questioned the American girl as to whether they suspected that
German spies were operating with the American forces. The Frau said she
had heard that the Americans were complaining of this, but that it was
a silly idea, for the war was ended, so why should there be need for
spies in either army.
Grace agreed with her, but that was as far as her information went.
Later in the day the Herr Colonel came in and after examining Grace he
shook his head and pronounced her to be in a most serious condition. He
told the Overton girl, still speaking in German, that she had sustained
internal injuries that might prove fatal unless the utmost quiet of
body was persevered in. He said that his first diagnosis had not
revealed this because at the time she was unconscious.
During this monologue the Overton girl gazed blankly at the Herr
Colonel, who plainly was a medical man, as well perhaps as an
intelligence officer. She turned to the Frau.
“What is the man talking about?” she asked, though having understood
every word he had uttered.
The German woman translated, and in the translation made Grace’s
condition really a desperate one. Both were lying, as the American girl
knew. She knew that she was badly shaken, bruised and scratched, but
that there was not a serious hurt anywhere. After the Herr Colonel’s
departure she was questioned still further. In the midst of it Grace
turned her face to the wall and promptly went to sleep.
When Grace awakened it was late in the night. Her trench watch told her
it was half after twelve o’clock. Grace listened a few moments to make
certain that she was alone, then got out of bed. Standing on her feet
hurt her all over. She had been more shaken than she thought. The girl
groped her way about the room, feeling before each step, and finally
finding that for which she was in search, her clothing. What she hoped
to find was her flash lamp, but it was not there. The lamp had been
taken away. Plainly they did not propose to leave her the means of
signalling.
Trying the door, it was found to be locked, as she had expected it
would be, but the windows were neither barred nor locked. Grace
cautiously threw one open and looked eagerly out. The moon, somewhere
back of her to the eastward, was in the sky and lighted up the valley
before her, though none of the light penetrated the room. Before her
lay a village, two villages in fact, but it was the one on the opposite
side of the river that most interested her, and Grace studied its
outlines in the moonlight for some time.
“I believe that is Coblenz,” she muttered. “This building is a castle
and I am up in the air for certain. There is no necessity to bar these
windows, for they know I can’t get down from here unless I fall down. I
wonder why they wish to keep me a prisoner?”
Grace pondered over this for some time, going over all that had been
said to her by the German woman and what she had heard the man and
woman say to each other in their own language.
“It seems to resolve itself to this,” she decided. “Some one of the
name of Rosa von Blum has warned them that an important woman was in
a drifting balloon headed their way. Now this Rosa person must be
somewhere in the American lines. It is my idea that this Rosa is a
man. That would be just like a Hun scheme. Perhaps the word came by
the pigeon route. The more I think of the pigeon incident the more
convinced am I that a Chinaman is mixed up with it. Won Lue is the
key to that mystery, and with that key I shall yet unravel the pigeon
mystery. So much for that. To-morrow morning they will get another
pigeon message unless some one shoots down all three of the birds, and
that message will tell them who I am. The war being ended will they
dare take their revenge on me now for exposing Madame de Beaupre and
André? They will! Trust a Hun not to have sense enough to realize that
he too will have to pay the price.”
Grace pondered for a long time.
“I am glad I woke up and have had time to think this matter over. I
shall know how to conduct myself to-morrow when they speak my name. Of
one thing I am glad. I am facing Coblenz, and sooner or later I may be
able to attract the attention of some one who will be interested in
what I have to say, though they will probably move me to some other
less convenient room before the Americans arrive. Our troops should
be at the Rhine to-morrow afternoon. To-night they will be but twelve
miles from here, and even now an advance guard may be in the city. At
least there are American intelligence officers there. I wonder where
they have stowed the major away?” She sighed and concluded to go back
to bed, knowing that she would be in need of all her strength for what
might be before her on the morrow.
Grace got in gingerly, for bending her body hurt her. She floundered
about for a moment, and rolling to the back of the bed came in contact
with something hard that lay at the edge of the bed next to the wall.
Her fingers closed over the object. She uttered an exclamation. The
object was her flash light that undoubtedly had slipped from her pocket
when they first placed her on the bed before undressing her.
“It works,” she whispered excitedly, and was out of the bed without
thought of her aches and pains. “Only a chance, but it is worth while,”
she muttered, giving a series of quick flashes with the lamp thrust out
to the edge of the window casing.
This was the flash signal indicating that she was about to send a
message.
“American woman prisoner in tower here. Drifting balloon victim,” was
the message she flashed out slowly, then waited to see if there were
a reply. There was none. After an interval she tried it again with
the same result, not once giving her name, for there might be, and
undoubtedly were, plenty of persons over there who could read the Morse
code.
Several times in the next hour the girl sent the same message, keeping
an attentive ear on the door.
“I fear it is a failure. No one read my message. I must hide the lamp
and get to bed.” The bed appeared to offer the best hiding place.
Opening a seam in the mattress the Overton girl thrust the lamp far in,
packed the straw about it, replaced the mattress and the blankets and
got into bed, first closing the window.
Grace lay in bed for some time, thinking over the events of the day,
and was about to turn over and go to sleep when her attention was
attracted by a slight noise. She sat up and listened. At first it
sounded to her like the gnawing of a mouse, but upon second thought she
realized that a mouse could not gnaw stone. A metallic click revealed
the truth.
“Some one is at the door,” murmured the girl, and began groping for her
flash lamp, but suddenly withdrew her hand and composed herself in a
position from which she could observe the entire room.
The Overton girl did not have long to wait. The door opened ever
so little, as she knew from the sound, and she could hear some one
breathing. The door was pushed in further. A moment of silence
followed, then cautious footsteps approached her bed. It was very
difficult for Grace Harlowe to breathe regularly and naturally,
the inclination being to hold one’s breath, but she overcame that
inclination and waited, every faculty on the alert.