THE TREACHERY OF THE HUN
Fortunately for those in the canteen the heavy framework of the
building stood up under the blast, so though they were buried in the
wreckage it was comparatively light wreckage.
Major Colt and one soldier suffered the most, the major being hit
on the head with a piece of galvanized iron roofing and knocked
unconscious. It was Grace Harlowe who raised the piece from his body
and dug him out of the mess, though she herself was dazed almost to
the point of losing herself. In the midst of the confusion she found
herself thinking of Elfreda, who had not yet come on for the evening,
though darkness had fallen, and Grace was thankful.
After getting the officer out, Grace plunged into the wreckage again,
for the canteen had caught fire and there were still others to be
rescued. By this time doughboys had rushed to the scene, two grabbing
her and fairly throwing her out. They ordered her to stay out, but
not before she had dragged out Marie and made her as comfortable as
possible.
Major Colt had recovered consciousness by the time she got to him.
“Wha--at was it?” he asked weakly.
“Ammunition dump, I think.”
“Hun work!” he growled.
“Looks like it. I hope our people will get busy now. Is there anything
I can do for you? If not I must look after Marie. She got a hard rap on
the head, same as you did.”
“If you will have some one help me to my quarters I think I shall be
all right. Did you get me out?”
“Yes. Here, Buddy, will you please give Major Colt a lift?” she called
to a passing soldier, and a moment later, after pressing Grace’s hand,
the balloonist was being guided to his billet. Grace, in the meantime,
had assisted Marie to her feet and was leading her toward the house in
which the welfare workers were living.
Only a short distance away from the canteen shells were going up with
loud bangs, and this racket kept up for half an hour, until the last
of the ammunition dump had been destroyed, wounding many persons, but
fortunately having killed only two men. Doughboys soon put out the fire
in the canteen, but all gave the ammunition dump a wide berth.
Reaching the house the Overton girl was met by Elfreda, who had been
considerably shaken up by the explosion, which had crashed every window
in the house.
“Ammunition dump blown up,” Grace informed Elfreda in answer to the
latter’s glance of inquiry. “Here we are, Marie. I will put you to bed,
then I must hurry back. Elfreda, you had better go out with me. We may
be needed, if they should wish to transfer the canteen to-night.”
Mrs. Smythe was in her room. Grace observed that her face was pale and
lined.
“Wha--wha--what has happened?” she gasped.
“Nothing very much except that an ammunition dump has blown up. I have
seen many of them go up, but never one quite so near. The canteen is
wrecked, Mrs. Smythe. Have you orders for us?”
“N--n--n--no!” stammered the supervisor. “Y--ye--yes. Go out and find
out all you can, then come back and report to me.”
“About what?” demanded Grace politely.
“About what is to be done.”
“Very good. I will leave Marie in your hands. She is badly shaken up
and should be put to bed at once.”
[Illustration: Grace Rescues Major Colt.]
“That’s her affair,” observed the supervisor, beginning to get control
of her nerves. “Are you going?”
Grace nodded and stepped out into the hall, where she found Elfreda
awaiting her, and together they hurried away.
“Absolutely unfeeling,” declared Grace heatedly. “She will make that
girl put herself to bed, and Marie can scarcely stand.”
“Tell me about it,” urged Miss Briggs.
“I know nothing at all about it except that the building fell in on us.
I assisted Marie and the major out, the latter having received a bang
on the head that completely knocked him out. By the way, do you know a
Chinaman who carries a red birthmark on the left side of his face?”
“I do not,” returned J. Elfreda, elevating her chin a little. “I do not
associate with those animals.”
“Be sensible, Elfreda.”
“Why do you ask?” demanded Elfreda.
“I have my reasons. Some queer doings in Coblenz; and the end is not
yet.”
“Do--do you think the Boches blew up the dump?”
“I cannot say that. My natural impression, of course, is that they did.
I was asking the major about Miss Marshall about the time the blow-up
occurred, and he suggested that I ask Captain Boucher, intimating that
if the captain would talk he would give me information that would amaze
me.”
“H--m--m--m! That sounds interesting. He will talk to you, all right.
Every one does. Oh, look at the canteen!” she cried when they came
within sight of the wrecked building. A squad of men, with an officer
in charge, were at work, clearing away and salvaging such of the
supplies as had not been destroyed.
“Here, Mrs. Gray, I am glad you have come over. What are we to do with
this stuff?” demanded the officer.
“I am not in charge, Lieutenant. Mrs. Smythe is the supervisor.”
“Then why isn’t she here attending to her duties?”
Grace said she could not answer for that.
“I would suggest, sir, if you will, that you have the supplies taken on
a truck to the Number Two Canteen. To-morrow the supervisor can make
such disposition of them as she sees fit.”
“Very good. I commission you to take charge of removing and caring for
the goods. You are under orders.”
Grace saluted and asked the officer to order a truck to the scene,
which he promptly did. Grace then got to work. Her salvaging was
thorough. There were many boxes of chocolate bars that had been
crushed, in some instances to powder. These she had carefully removed,
saving every possible grain of the sweets for melting over. Observing
that she was handling the situation properly, the officer went away.
After two hours of hard work the supplies were collected and loaded on
the truck. Grace thanked the men who had worked so well for her, and
climbing to the seat of the truck, rode with it to its destination.
The Number Two Canteen was located some distance from the scene of the
explosion, but it had suffered the loss of most of its windows just the
same, as had many of the buildings in Coblenz.
Number Two Canteen being open, Grace informed the worker in charge that
the supplies were to be left there until Mrs. Smythe gave orders for
their distribution. Grace then started for home.
Reaching her billet Grace tapped on the door of Mrs. Smythe’s room,
wishing to report what had been done. The supervisor bade her enter.
“Oh, I beg pardon,” exclaimed Grace, observing that Mrs. Smythe was not
alone.
A well-groomed man, wearing a vandyke beard, slightly gray, rose and
extended a hand to the Overton girl.
“Mrs. Gray, I believe.”
“Yes, sir,” she answered. “And you?”
“I am Dr. Karl Klein. Being the guest of my home it is well that we
should know each other. I trust you are quite comfortable.”
“Thank you. I am sure that I shall be after I have had opportunity
to compose myself.” A sudden aversion to this suave German fairly
overwhelmed Grace Harlowe. He jarred on her, aroused a feeling of
antagonism that would not down. He was altogether too smooth, too
polite and courteous for a Hun, was the reason that Grace felt that way.
“Mrs. Smythe--you will pardon me, sir--acting upon the orders of an
officer, I had the supplies, such of them as we were able to salvage,
removed to Number Two Canteen, where they are to be held awaiting your
orders.”
“What! You gave orders over my head?” demanded the woman sternly.
“I acted under the orders of an officer, Madame.”
“You will return at once, take the things back where they were, pile
them up and have a guard placed over them.”
“I think you are mistaken, Mrs. Smythe,” answered Grace sweetly, though
there was little sweetness in her heart at that moment. She had been
humiliated before Doctor Klein, and even though he were an enemy, the
cut was felt keenly.
“What is that you say?”
“That, so far as I am concerned, the supplies will remain where they
are for the rest of the night. It undoubtedly will rain before morning
and the supplies will be ruined if left out. Furthermore, I acted under
the orders of an American officer. It is true that you are my superior,
but he is the superior of both of us.”
“You dare to disobey my orders?” shouted the supervisor.
“If you choose to so construe it, yes, but with no intention of being
impertinent or disobedient. I beg to remind you that you have your
remedy, should you feel that I am guilty of insubordination. It is your
privilege to report me. I bid you good-night.”
Grace bowed to the doctor, and turning on her heel walked from the room.
“Whatever is the matter with you?” demanded Elfreda when Grace walked
into their quarters. “You are as pale as the proverbial ghost.”
“Matter? J. Elfreda, I never was so humiliated in my life. Madame is
furious because I had the supplies removed under the orders of the
lieutenant.”
“Take it easy now, Loyalheart,” soothed Miss Briggs. “Let her do her
worst, which can be no more than reporting you.”
“That is just the trouble. After a time our superiors will begin to
believe that where there is such a smudge there must be at least a few
coals if not a real fire. Who and what is this man?”
“What man do you refer to?”
“Doctor Klein.”
“Beyond the fact that he is our landlord, I have no information about
him. Why?”
“I do not trust him. There is something queer about the man.”
“Perhaps it is you who are queer, Loyalheart. I call the doctor a most
courteous gentleman for a Hun.”
“Exactly! That is what I mean--in part. He is too courteous for his
kind. Furthermore, my intuition tells me that there is something wrong
with him. I seem to be getting into a perfect maze of contradicting
elements. I wish I did not have such an imagination. I see more mystery
everywhere since we came to Coblenz than I can express in words. How is
Marie? I was so upset over the way Madame went at me that I forgot to
ask.”
“Asleep when I went in to inquire. I don’t believe she is much hurt. My
advice to you is to get into bed and go to sleep. You are worn out and
your nerves are upset, which is not surprising when one considers that
you fell out of the skies the day before yesterday.”
“At least my equilibrium was upset,” grinned Grace. “Yes, I will turn
in, but I know I shall have bad dreams to-night, and that our friend
the doctor will be the principal character in them. To add to my
troubles I presume I shall be called upon for an explanation to-morrow.
Madame is certain to report me, nor do I blame her so very much in the
circumstances. Good-night. Do you know, I don’t think you are much of
a lawyer or you wouldn’t let your one and only client get into such
perplexing situations.”
“Thank you. I agree with you on the main issue. What I should do is to
have a commission in lunacy appointed for you and then browbeat them
into believing that you are an unsafe person to be allowed to remain at
large.”
“Good-night,” laughed Grace, getting into bed. “Please don’t blow out
the gas in your excitement.” Elfreda was trying to do this very thing.
“In my craziest moods, I never was so afflicted that I tried to put out
the gas by blowing it out.”
Grace was soon asleep, but hers was not a wholly restful night,
dreaming as she did of plots against herself and her country, in which
Molly Marshall, Won Lue and Mrs. Chadsey Smythe were inextricably
entangled, with Doctor Klein as the chief figure in the conspiracy.