_The Locked Door_
"But she seems to me a very unusual person to be a servant, Gene,"
Barbara remarked argumentatively. "Of course, I know she was wearing a
maid's apron and cap so that her hair was completely hidden, and her
dark glasses concealed her eyes. Still, I could see very plainly the
woman you call 'Louise' is not an everyday servant. She spoke to Dick
and me with perfect self-possession, although she did seem nervous. But
it is ridiculous to think one can hide a personality under such a slight
disguise."
Barbara spoke pettishly. She and Eugenia were wandering about the big
house together. They were looking over the arrangements Eugenia had made
for her recently acquired family. These were, of course, of the most
primitive kind. There were about eighteen army cots in the bedrooms,
some light coverings, and a few wooden chairs. In the big front room
downstairs long planks had been laid across wooden supports. This formed
a large and informal dining room table. Yet by accident this same room
contained a magnificent Flemish oak sideboard that had been left in the
house by the former owners of the place.
However, Barbara and Eugenia were in Eugenia's own bedroom when the
present conversation started. They had already seen the lower floor of
the house, where Barbara had been introduced to Eugenia's cook, who was
a plain Flemish woman. But it was the history of the housemaid, a woman
of between forty and fifty, whose identity Barbara was questioning.
In reply Eugenia gazed at her friend earnestly for a few moments and
then slowly shook her head.
"These are war times, Bab. I thought you and I had agreed long ago to
ask no unnecessary questions."
Eugenia had seated herself on the side of her cot bed, Barbara was on a
high wooden box, which served as a chair, near the window.
She did not reply at first, but this was merely because she was
thinking, not because she intended to consider Eugenia's suggestion.
She had one foot crossed under her, while the other swung in the air.
Her brow was wrinkled into a painfully heavy frown for so miniature a
person. Unconsciously Barbara pulled meditatively at a brown curl that
had escaped from the knot at the back of her head.
During her long study Eugenia smiled at her guest. She too could not
grow accustomed to considering Barbara as responsible a person as the
rest of the Red Cross girls. This was only because of her appearance,
for she had learned to have faith in her.
All of a sudden Barbara began talking again, just where she had left
off.
"It is all very well to preach, Gene, about not asking unnecessary
questions because we are living and working in war times. But you know
very well we never expected that point of view to apply to asking
questions of each other. We came abroad as strangers, except that
Mildred and I knew each other slightly, but since then we have become
friends. At least, we care a great deal about each other's interests.
Now I don't think for a minute we have the right to keep secrets from
one another. That is, unless they happen to be of a kind one simply
can't bear to tell." And at this Barbara hesitated for an instant.
"But about this woman, this 'Louise', we were discussing. Eugenia, you
know perfectly well she isn't a real servant. I am dreadfully afraid you
are hiding some one and it may get you into serious trouble," the
younger girl continued, making no effort to hide her anxiety. "Really,
you ought to be careful, Gene. You came to Europe to act as a Red Cross
nurse, not to interfere with questions of government. If you do, you may
be put into prison, or something else dreadful. Do you know I thought
all along it was funny your deciding so suddenly to give up your Red
Cross work and then knowing exactly where to find a house. Well, I might
as well tell you," Barbara now got off her stool and came over and put a
hand on either of her friend's shoulders, "I mean to find out what you
are trying to hide if I possibly can," she concluded.
Eugenia did not stir. But she let her own dark eyes rest gravely upon
Bab's blue ones.
"Please don't," she asked. "I suppose I might have guessed that you
would have discovered there is something unusual about my family. But,
Bab, I want you to promise me on your honor that you will not mention
your suspicion to any one--not to Nona, or Mildred, or Dick Thornton. I
am trying in a fashion to help some one who is in deep trouble. As you
have guessed, she is a woman, and that was her little boy, Jan, whom you
saw standing by me when you arrived. But if questions are asked of you,
Barbara, you know absolutely nothing of this. I prefer to manage my own
affairs."
Eugenia made this announcement in her haughtiest fashion. However, her
companion was not deceived. Eugenia simply meant that if disaster
followed her attempt to shield a prisoner, she alone must bear the
penalty.
Quietly for another moment, still with her hands on the older girl's
shoulders, Barbara continued to consider the situation.
"I won't make you any promises, Gene," she answered at last. "I must
decide what to do later. But I won't tell Nona, or Mildred, or Dick, as
I can't see any special point in confiding in them at present. However,
I am not willing to stand aside and let you run deliberately into
danger. It was all very well your taking care of Captain Castaigne. He
was desperately ill. Your finding him wounded on the battlefield was so
romantic. But this is quite a different affair. We were under certain
obligations to the Countess Amelie, while this 'Louise' and her 'Jan'
are utter strangers. I think I'll go this instant and tell the woman she
has no right to make you undergo such risks."
Again Eugenia did not stir, but this time neither did Barbara.
"You will do no such thing, my dear; you must let me manage my life for
myself," she declared quietly instead. "Of course, I am not going to
take any more chances than I must. Come now, let us go downstairs and
have tea. You and Dick were angels to have come on such a long journey
and you must be nearly famished. I have managed to get a few supplies in
Brussels and I have sent to Boston for a great many more. So when you
girls are able to visit me, we can at least regale ourselves with a
Boston Tea Party."
Eugenia put an arm across Barbara's shoulder as they moved toward the
door.
A few feet further on the younger girl stopped. "Are you very rich,
Eugenia Peabody?" she demanded. "Unless you are, it is perfectly mad for
you to have undertaken the expenses of this household. Most of these
children have not had anything to eat for a year and must be nearly
famished."
Eugenia nodded. "I suppose I am fairly wealthy, although I find it hard
to realize it, as I grew up such a poor girl."
"Then why--why, Eugenia (I have been simply dying to ask you this ever
since you told us you were rich)--why did you wear such
old-fashioned--if you will excuse me--such perfectly awful clothes?"
Barbara fairly shuddered, recalling how she and Nona and Mildred had
suffered over Eugenia's ancient Alpine hat.
But Eugenia only laughed. She had been sensitive enough over the other
girls' attitude toward her appearance when they first knew one another.
But Barbara's way of expressing things was too absurd.
"I told you I had been so poor I didn't know how to spend money," she
explained. "Besides, I have always been so plain it never occurred to me
that clothes could make much difference in my appearance."
"Goose!" Barbara looked up at Eugenia searchingly. "If ever this
wretched war is over, I mean to go with you to Paris and make you spend
heaps and heaps of money on clothes. Nona and I have decided that we
could make you look quite stunning if we had the money to spend. Then I
should insist that you pay a visit to the Chateau d'Amelie. The Countess
insisted you never could look like anything but a New England old maid,
no matter what exquisite toilets you wore."
Then the younger girl's cheeks grew so hot that she could actually feel
the tears being forced into her eyes.
"I wonder if I shall ever learn what to say and what not to say, Gene?"
she asked wretchedly. "Oh, don't tell me you don't mind what I say. That
is not the point. The trouble is I can't learn when to hold my tongue. I
only wish the Countess could have seen you when Dick and I arrived
today."
Eugenia was not wearing her nurse's uniform. Instead, she had fished an
old gray crepon dress out of her trunk. But in order to make it more
attractive for her little guests, she wore a white fichu about her neck.
Then her hair was wound in two heavy braids around her head.
"There isn't any particular reason why I should deny being an old
maid," she returned. "Only I am sorry that you girls discussed my
appearance with a stranger."
Again Barbara flushed. "The Countess isn't a stranger to us, Gene," she
apologized, "and I don't think you should feel that way toward her since
you and Captain Castaigne have grown to be good friends. I don't see how
you can still consider him unattractive. But you are terribly
prejudiced, Eugenia."
The two girls had left Eugenia's bedroom and were now walking toward the
back stairs.
All of a sudden, when Eugenia chanced to be unconscious of her
companion, Barbara moved away. She at once placed her hand on the knob
of a door leading into a room at the back of the house.
"Whose room is this, Eugenia? May I go inside and see?" she queried.
Her hand was upon the knob, but, of course, she made no effort to enter
the room, awaiting the other girl's reply. She was interested merely
because this seemed to be about the only room that Eugenia had not
exhibited.
But Eugenia immediately looked unaccountably angry. Yet she had kept her
temper perfectly through all Barbara's annoying speeches!
"Please don't attempt to go in that room, Barbara!" she ordered sharply,
quite in the manner and temper of the former Eugenia. "If I had desired
you to see the room I should have taken you into it myself."
"Oh, I beg your pardon," Barbara replied, angry with herself for the
sudden lump that had risen in her throat. "I suppose this room is
Bluebeard's chamber, or the place where you keep your ghost locked up. I
did not mean to interfere."
"The room is not locked and is entirely empty," Eugenia replied.
However, she must have parted with her New England conscience at the
moment of making this statement. For Barbara had distinctly heard some
one moving about inside the room. And quite by accident, as her hand
turned the knob, she realized that the door _was_ locked.
In the yard the two girls found Dick Thornton playing with the
children. He had discovered some ivy growing on one side of the old
house. Therefore, each girl and boy had been decorated with an ivy leaf,
as if it were a badge of honor. Moreover, Dick also wore a leaf in his
buttonhole.
"Louise" soon brought the tea, which Dick drank with satisfaction.
Barbara tried to pretend that she enjoyed hers, but it was extremely
difficult. Not that she was angry with Eugenia, for her discomfort went
deeper than that. The fact is she was frightened for her.
Some one more important than "Louise" was being guarded by Eugenia. Who
on earth the man or woman could be, Barbara could not even hazard a
guess. Yet it must be some one whose safety her friend considered of
great importance, for had she not deliberately lied to her?
Certainly Eugenia was facing a grave situation! At present no one
suspected her of treason. She was simply regarded as an eccentric
American woman, who desired to spend her money in caring for the
destitute Belgian children. No outsider had yet visited her "Hotel des
Enfants." But, of course, once the news that something unusual was going
on in her establishment reached the German authorities, Eugenia could
not hope to escape their vigilance a second time.
On the trip back into Brussels Dick Thornton found his companion
unusually quiet. He was under the impression that it was because of the
change in her once friendly attitude toward him. He was sorry, because
he very much wanted to talk to her about a personal matter, but never
found a sufficiently intimate moment.
Only once did she arouse herself in the effort to make conversation.
"Why do you happen to be wearing that spray of ivy so proudly, Dick?"
she inquired carelessly. "I was amused at your decorating all the
Belgian children with leaves."
Dick glanced carefully about, but the tram car was almost empty.
"Don't you understand what the ivy means?" he asked. "I expect it _was_
pretty absurd of me. But the other day the German commandant ordered
that no Belgian should wear his national colors. Indeed, they were not
to be displayed anywhere. Well, the result is, that almost everybody one
meets upon the street has been wearing a leaf of ivy lately."
Dick took the ivy spray from his coat and handed it to his companion.
"Do you know what ivy stands for?" he asked. "It means attachment,
faithful unto death. Won't you wear this?"
But although Barbara took the shaded, dark green leaf into her hand and
looked at it for a moment, she slowly shook her head.
"There is something charming and pathetic in the idea, Dick. Remember to
tell the story to Mildred and Nona. And give the ivy to Nona; I am sure
she would love to have it," Barbara finished, as she gave the leaf back
to her companion.