A MOUSE IN THE TRAP
The Intelligence officer spent some moments in profound meditation
after the departure of “Captain” Grace, but what his conclusions were
did not appear, either in words or in the expression of his face. The
captain ordered the package for Grace and, addressing it, left it with
his orderly to be turned over to any one bearing Mrs. Gray’s order.
It was a doughboy who called for the package later in the day and who
handed it to Grace on the street according to arrangement. She went
home with her package concealed in a bag of groceries which she had
purchased on her way.
After listening for some time and being convinced that there was no one
in the adjoining rooms, Grace covered the keyhole, pinned her overseas
cap on the wall, pulled down the shades and very carefully moved the
bed out a few feet from the wall. She then removed the tacks down one
side of the carpet at the back of the bed, and as many more from the
end of the floor covering at the head of the bed. She drew the carpet
back, estimated distances with her eyes and, putting the bit in its
stock, began boring a hole in the floor.
The auger went through the soft pine flooring with rather too great
ease and made a noise that led the girl to fear that she would arouse
the household. Not only that, but, should there chance to be some one
in the cellar, discovery would be certain.
“If any shavings have gone down to the cellar floor I am lost anyway,”
she muttered. Applying her eye to the hole she had made in the floor
Grace was relieved to find that only the point of the bit had gone
through the lower side of the pine flooring. The job could not have
turned out more to her satisfaction. She would have liked to make the
opening wider so that she could look into the cellar, but the Overton
girl was dealing, as she believed, with keen people, people who were
ever on the alert, and who would not hesitate at anything to protect
themselves and their interests.
“Now that I have made the hole, I must hide it,” reflected Grace.
This was easily done. A piece of cardboard was laid over the opening,
the carpet replaced and the tacks pressed back into place without a
sound that could have been heard a dozen feet away.
Having accomplished all this the Overton girl locked the hammer in her
trunk, removed her cap from the wall and also all traces that might
indicate that something unusual had been going on, after which she
wrapped the auger in paper and tucked it inside of her blouse, over
which she threw her cloak and walked out on her way to the canteen.
Elfreda and Marie, with the assistance of Won Lue, had arranged the
stock and were nearly ready to open, though it had been decided that
this should not be done until the following day for the reason that the
lights would not be in place that evening.
Just before leaving the canteen for home Grace wrote a note to Captain
Boucher in which she said, “The house is demolished, thank you.” This
she wrapped about the handle of the bitstock, enclosing the whole in
heavy wrapping paper, and gave it to Won.
“Captain Boucher,” she said in a low tone. “You savvy?”
“Me savvy, la.”
“You savvy nobody, see?”
Won chuckled and nodded. She turned to answer a question asked by
Elfreda and when she looked around again Won was not there, not even
Elfreda Briggs’ sharp eyes having seen him go.
“Those Orientals give me the creeps,” declared Miss Briggs. “Now you
see them, now you don’t. Did you send him on an errand?”
“Please don’t ask questions. Some one might hear. Marie is down in the
cellar and--”
Elfreda interrupted with a laugh.
“Marie is a thick-head. Don’t worry about her, Grace.”
“I am not worrying about any one. Just the same, think before you
speak, no matter if only a cat is within hearing. There is serious
business on foot; serious for our boys and for you and myself.”
“So serious as that, Grace?” whispered Elfreda.
“Captain” Grace nodded and gave her companion a warning look, for Marie
was faintly heard coming up the stairs. Grace said it was time to close
and go home.
“Marie, you have done well. Thank you. Madame should be pleased.”
“Nothing will please her,” complained the French girl.
Elfreda said she agreed with Marie, and declared that the maid was
a girl of good common sense, which made Marie smile, a thing she
seldom did. The three went home together, Grace engaging the maid in
conversation most of the way, asking her questions about her home in
France, her family and how she came to be with the Army of Occupation.
Marie said that Madame was billeted in her home and had asked her to
come along with the welfare workers.
Reaching the house Grace thrust a hand to the maid, a bright new
shining franc piece resting in the palm.
Marie Debussy drew herself up, shook her head, and smiled as she opened
the door and entered Mrs. Smythe’s apartment.
“My! What offended dignity,” exclaimed Elfreda when the girls had
gained their own room. “Did you see the look she gave you?”
“Yes,” answered Grace meekly, placing a finger on her lips and giving
Miss Briggs a warning glance. “Remember, Elfreda,” she reminded in a
low tone, “if I talk rather erratically at any time this evening and
place my finger on my cheek this way, you will understand that I have
a motive, and that you are not to express any opinions out loud,”
whispered Grace in her companion’s ear.
“It is my opinion that you have too many motives,” whispered Miss
Briggs in reply. “My head is swimming already. Well, here we are home
again,” she added out loud. “I’m sick of war and everybody in it.
Suppose we have some chow and forget war.”
“For the present, yes.”
They chatted over their meal, which was served on their center
table, on a white table cloth, with real silver and china which had
been supplied by the owner of the house. It was really homelike, so
different from what these two loyal girls had been accustomed to since
they had been on the western war front, and they gave themselves up to
the fullest possible enjoyment of the moment.
“Have you heard from Tom recently?” asked Elfreda.
“I had a letter from him two days ago. He tells me that he expects to
be ordered away on some military mission soon. What it is or where, I
do not know, but he says perhaps it may be possible for me to go with
him provided it is not too confidential a mission,” she added in a
lower tone. “You see officers’ wives are not supposed to be able to
keep a secret.”
“I know one who is,” declared Elfreda in a half whisper. “There are
others who know it, too.”
“Meaning?” inquired Grace.
“Oh, most any old person,” returned Elfreda. “I had a letter from Anne
this morning. She says she is just dying from loneliness, that she
hasn’t seen her husband in ages, and that unless this war ends pretty
soon she is either coming out to see us or desert. Jessica Brooks, she
says, had a visit from Reddy when he last had shore leave. She wishes
to know if any one has heard from Hippy, who she said, a flier told
her, had had a bad fall.”
“I don’t believe the report is correct,” declared Grace. “We would have
heard of it through Nora, who isn’t very far from here. Does Anne say
anything about the girls of the unit in Paris?”
“She said she had heard from them through Arline Thayer, whose letter
was mostly made up of remarks laudatory of _our_ daughter Yvonne. Grace
Harlowe, I believe I am actually getting jealous of that child, and I
don’t see how you can be so passive.”
“I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve, dear. I love that dear little
golden-haired darling more than I ever loved anything in my life,
outside of my dear mother and Tom, and I am looking forward with every
fiber of my being to the day when we three shall be together in our
beautiful Haven Home. I hope she will be happy there.”
“She will be, Loyalheart. Don’t worry about that. I wonder if the
doctor has come in?” she asked in a whisper.
“He came in as we were sitting down to our mess.”
“You must have ears in the back of your head. I never saw anything like
you in all my experience.”
Grace got up and stretched herself, placed a finger against her cheek
and faced the end of the room.
“Have you heard the rumor, Elfreda? It is said that the American
artillery is trained on the Germans, and that some hot-headed officers
are planning to shoot up our friends across the Rhine one of these
nights.”
“No? You don’t say!” cried Elfreda, speaking loudly enough to be heard
in the next room. “I hope they will not do anything like that.”
“So do I, but it appears to be a possibility.”
Grace winked at Elfreda and changed the subject. After the dishes were
washed and put away the two girls sat down to study their German, which
they had been studying for some time. Since coming to the Rhine Grace
had taken advantage of every opportunity to speak German, feeling
certain that it would prove to be a good investment. Her knowledge of
the language was destined to be very useful to her in the near future.
They turned in shortly after nine o’clock, Elfreda to go to sleep,
Grace to lie awake and think. Before getting into bed she had whispered
to Miss Briggs not to be alarmed if she were awakened suddenly in the
night with a feeling that something was wrong in the room.
“That something will be only unimportant little I. I may be walking in
my sleep for several nights to come.”
After ages of effort to keep heavy eyelids from falling, Grace was
rewarded by hearing the trap raised in the adjoining room and light
footsteps descending the cellar stairs. The Overton girl crept under
the bed at the sound of the opening trap, and ere the footsteps had
reached the cellar she had pulled aside the carpet just far enough for
her purposes, removed the cardboard and pressed her ear to the hole in
the floor. Every sound down there was almost as audible to her as if
she had been in the cellar.
“Now for the test of my plan,” she told herself.
Significant sounds were borne to her ears, then a human voice, speaking
in a low guarded tone, drifted up through the hole in the floor. What
she heard amazed even Grace Harlowe. She learned too that one mouse had
walked into the trap that had been cleverly set for it.