A DESPERATE PLOT REVEALED
Elfreda had been informed of the proposed visit and carefully
instructed by her companion as to her part in it. The girls spent a
quiet evening until ten o’clock, when Grace got up and pinned her
blouse on the wall, then put out the light and raised the shade.
Peering out she saw a shadowy figure outlined in the darkness. After
observing it keenly for a moment the Overton girl cautiously raised the
window, that she had greased in the grooves to prevent squeaking. No
sooner had she done so than the figure moved forward quickly.
The visitor was Captain Boucher, in his stockinged feet. He peered up
into the face of Grace Harlowe, and climbed into the room with no more
disturbance than a cat would have made. Not a word had been spoken.
Grace lowered the window and stood motionless gazing out into the
darkness, which vigil she kept for several moments, then pulled down
the shade and lighted a candle.
“Take a seat,” whispered Grace. “Should any one knock, crawl under the
bed, and be sure to take your shoes with you. They wouldn’t look well
standing out in the middle of our room.”
The captain nodded and glanced curiously at the blouse pinned up on
the wall, but Grace pretended not to have observed his exhibition of
curiosity. She handed him a book, beckoned him to a chair, whereupon
she and Elfreda sat down and began chatting in their ordinary tone,
discussing their German study. Captain Boucher now and then would lay
down his book, to listen and observe the faces of the two girls, which
he found an interesting study, especially Grace’s with its rapidly
changing expression that left one in a state of bewilderment as to what
particular emotion was predominant.
A slight sound as of some one opening a door in the front room was
heard. Grace’s head turned ever so little, and though the expression on
her face did not change, attentiveness and intelligence swam instantly
into her eyes. The captain, observing, bent his own ears to the sound
that had arrested Grace Harlowe’s attention. She glanced at her watch,
nodded to Elfreda, and greatly to the amazement of her caller, got down
and crawled under the bed.
Grace emerged, a moment later, her face flushed, her hair in slight
disorder, and smiled radiantly at the visitor. She offered no
explanation to the captain, but nodding to Elfreda, the latter began
speaking of the girls of the Overton unit. It was half after eleven
when Grace, hearing movement again in the front room, got up and went
over to the captain. Leaning over him she placed her lips close to his
ear.
“You will please crawl under the bed,” she whispered. “You will find
the carpet drawn back, and by groping you will find a hole in the
floor, made by the auger that you so kindly loaned to me. Place your
ear to the hole and listen. Do not move and be sure to control your
breathing to the limit. Have a handkerchief ready in case you find you
have to cough or sneeze. I think you will hear something interesting.
Afterwards I will supply any points that may be required to explain
any remarks you may hear and not understand. Do not come out or move
until I snap my finger. Here! You forgot your shoes,” she reminded him,
picking up and handing them to him. The captain flushed and accepted
the shoes and the rebuke with a profound bow.
The Overton girls watched him with interest, and both were obliged
to admit that the captain was very agile. He wriggled under and out
of sight without making a sound, then all was silence. Listening as
intently as she might she failed to hear his breathing.
Grace then removed the blouse from the wall.
“Let’s turn in, Elfreda. I’m terribly sleepy,” yawned Grace.
Putting out the light the two girls threw themselves on the bed, and
apparently went to sleep. There was a long wait, without a sound coming
from the man under the bed.
Grace heard the trap raised, though she had not heard any one walking.
She snapped her fingers once, receiving a similar signal from the
man on watch at the auger hole. Silence settled over the house until
perhaps five minutes later the Overton girls heard the drone of a
far-away voice. It came from the cellar, and the chief of the Army
Intelligence Department was listening to every word that the voice
uttered.
Grace Harlowe found herself wishing that she might see the expression
on the face of Captain Boucher at that moment.