DEVOURING SUSPICION
She had been at the field hospital for a week. It seemed to Ruth
Fielding at last as though she could not remain "holed up" like a
rabbit any longer.
At Clair she had been used to going out of the hospital when she liked
and going anywhere she pleased. Here she found it was necessary to
have a pass even to step out of the hospital compound.
"And be careful where you walk, Miss Fielding," said Dr. Monteith, as
he signed her pass. "Do not go toward the battle front. If you do you
may be halted."
"Halted!" repeated Ruth, not quite understanding.
"And perhaps suspected," he said, nodding gravely. "Even your Red
Cross will not save you."
"Oh, dear me!" exclaimed the girl. "Is everybody suspected of spying?
I think it has become a craze."
"We do not know whom to suspect," he said. "Our closest friends may be
enemies. We cannot tell."
"But, Doctor Monteith, who are in this district save our soldiers and
the French inhabitants?" asked Ruth.
"True. But there may be a traitor among us. Indeed, it is believed
that there has been," and Ruth winced and looked away from him. "As
for our allies here--well, all of them may not be above earning German
gold. And they would think it was not as though they were betraying
their own countrymen. There are only United States soldiers in this
sector now, as you say, Miss Fielding."
"I cannot imagine people being so wicked," sighed the girl.
"No matter how it is done, or who does it, the enemy is getting
information about our troops and condition, as the last two attacks
have proved. So take care where you go, Miss Fielding, and what you
do," he added earnestly.
She promised, and went away with her pass. It was late afternoon and
her duties were over for the day. She would not be needed at the
supply hut until morning. And, indeed, the girl she was breaking in
was already mastering the details of the work. Ruth could soon go back
to her own work at Clair.
She walked nimbly out of the compound gate, making sure that she was
following a road that led away from the front. Nobody halted her.
Indeed, she was soon passing through a little valley that seemed as
peaceful and quiet as though there was no such thing as war in the
world.
The path she followed was plainly but a farm track. It wound between
narrow fields that had not been plowed the season before--not even by
cannon-shot. Somehow the big shells had flown over this little valley.
The sun was setting, and the strip of western sky above the hills was
tinged with his golden glories. Already pale twilight lay in the
valley. But in this latitude the twilight would long remain. She did
not hasten her steps, nor did she soon turn back toward the field
hospital.
She saw a cottage half hidden behind a hedge of evergreens. It stood
in a small square of muddy garden. There was a figure at work in this
patch--the tall, stoop-shouldered figure of a man. He was digging
parsnips that had been left out for the frost to sweeten.
He used the mattock slowly and methodically. With the cottage as a
background, and the muddy bit of garden, the picture he made was
typical of the country and the people who inhabited it.
Suddenly she realized that she recognized the ragged blue smock and the
old droop-brimmed hat he wore. It was Nicko, the chocolate vender.
This must be his place of abode.
Ruth hesitated. She had felt some shrinking from the man before; now
she realized she was afraid of him. He had not seen her and she stood
back and watched him.
Of a sudden another man appeared from around the corner of the cottage.
Ruth was more than glad, then, that she had not shown herself. She
turned to retrace her steps.
Then she looked again at this new figure in the picture. She almost
spoke aloud in her amazement. The newcomer was dressed exactly as
Nicko was dressed--the same blue and ragged smock, shapeless trousers,
wooden shoes, and with a hat the twin of the one the first Nicko wore.
Indeed, it was a second Nicko who stood there in the bit of garden
before the laborer's cot.
But amazement and suspicion did not hold her to the spot for long. She
did not wish to be discovered by the pair. She was confident now that
there was something altogether wrong with Nicko the chocolate
peddler--and his double!
Out of view of the cottage she hurried her steps. Through the gloaming
she sped up the path in the valley toward the high-road on which faced
the hospital stockade.
Her thoughts were in a tangle of doubt. Yet one clear thread of
determination she held. She must give her confidence to somebody--she
must relate her suspicions to some person who was in authority.
Not the medical chief of staff at this field hospital. Nor did she
wish to go to the commanding officer of this sector, whoever he might
be. Indeed, she almost feared to talk with any American officer, for
Tom Cameron seemed to be entangled in this web of deceit and treachery
into which she believed she had gained a look.
There was a man whom she could trust, however; one who would know
exactly what to do, she felt sure. And it would be his business to
examine into the mystery. The moment she returned to Clair Ruth would
get into communication with this individual.
Thus thinking, she hurried on and had almost reached the highway when
something made her look back. Not a sound; for even the sleepy birds
had stopped twittering and there was no rustle of night wind in the
bare shrubbery about her.
But mysteriously she was forced to turn her head. She looked down the
path over which her feet had sped from the laborer's cot. There was
something behind her!
Ruth did not scream. A form came up the track swiftly and at first she
saw it so indistinctly that she had no idea what it really was. Had
she been spied by the men in the garden, and was one of them following
her?
She trembled so that she could not walk. She crouched back against the
hedge, watching fearfully the on-rush of the phantom-like apparition
coming so swiftly up the path.