MORE SACRIFICES THAN ONE
Monsieur Lafrane had stepped out of the automobile, although the wagon
had now been backed so that the car could have easily passed. Its
engine was still throbbing.
Ruth Fielding was giving her full attention to the little scene at the
hencoop.
The tall, handsome major in his beautiful uniform made little
impression upon the old woman. She backed away from him, pressing
closer to the lathe coop.
"No, no! I will not come. My pullets--they will starve," she
reiterated endlessly.
"But the Germans may be coming," the major said patiently. "They will
kill your pullets and eat them."
"They did not do so before when they came," she shrieked. "I do not
believe they are coming. These wicked Americans want my pullets.
_That_ is what it is! I will not!"
"Tante----" the major interposed gently.
"I will not, I tell you!" she interrupted.
She had backed up against the gate of the coop and had been fiddling
behind her at its fastenings. Now, quick as a wink, she snatched the
gate open and, with wonderful celerity for one of her age, plunged into
the hencoop and slammed to the door.
There was a tumultuous flapping and cackling of the bewildered poultry,
and the air inside the coop was immediately filled with dust and
feathers. Then the chaos subsided and the old woman looked out
defiantly at the major and at the half-amused, half-pitying soldier
boys.
The major's shrug was characteristic. He turned to look at the
spectators, and Ruth saw that his eyes were moist. His pity for the
unfortunate old woman and his kindness to her had its effect upon the
American girl. She wondered what manner of man, after all, this
Frenchman could be.
Major Marchand said something in a low voice to the American corporal.
The latter gave an order to his men. They surrounded the coop, and
suddenly, at the word, the corners were torn apart and the walls of the
enclosure thrown down.
Aunt Abelard shrieked--and so did the pullets. Many of the latter were
caught on the wing by the soldiers. The major put his arm about the
old woman's shoulders. She was shrieking insanely, but he led her into
the house and there remained while most of the pullets were decapitated
swiftly and thrown aside, to be later carried to the field kitchens.
But when the tearful old woman was brought out with the last of her
possessions and bundled into the rear of the now loaded wagon, the
American corporal came with a pair of the nicest pullets, their legs
tied together, and placed them in the old woman's lap along with the
bird-cage one of the boys lifted up to her.
Ruth, watching closely, saw Major Marchand draw the corporal aside and
place a couple of twenty-franc notes in his hand, nodding toward the
old woman. It was to recompense her for the pullets, over whose
untimely fate she was still moaning.
The mystery of the major--or his character and what and who he really
was--disturbed Ruth. She was excited. Should she tell Monsieur
Lafrane of her suspicion that this officer of the French army was the
man whom she thought was Nicko's double?
For it was Major Henri Marchand Ruth believed she had seen enter
Nicko's garden and talk with him the evening before she left the field
hospital to return to Clair.
The major walked quietly away without even seeing Ruth. The chauffeur
of their car, after a nod from Lafrane, started again. They passed the
wagon, which was already trundling down the road.
This cot was the last one at which Ruth saw anybody during that ride.
For when they reached the hut of Nicko, the chocolate peddler, his
place was likewise deserted. There were no neighboring houses.
Lafrane got out at Nicko's cottage and searched the premises. His face
was grave when he came back to the car and told the chauffeur to hurry
on to the hospital.
Here Ruth was amazed to see many American soldiers at work. They were
piling sandbags about the various huts and over their roofs. She
understood now why the people were being entirely cleared out of this
sector. A great bombardment was expected.
Ruth did not get out of the car. M. Lafrane ran in, and, through the
open gateway, she saw that he entered Hut H. He had gone to take a
look at the occupant of Cot 24--the German officer.
He was occupied within some time and when he appeared at the door of
the hut Dr. Monteith was with him. The two stood talking for a while
before the secret agent returned to the gate. He got into the car
again with just a word to his chauffeur.
"Mademoiselle," said M. Lafrane, his face serious, indeed, "there are
many disappointments in life, as well as many sacrifices. We saw the
old woman torn from her home--and from her pullets--just now. The
pattern of life is complex for us all.
"I have come from Paris because you called me." Ruth started and
looked at him closely. "I hoped that you might have something of
moment to tell me. I shall always trust in your good sense."
Ruth felt a sinking of the heart.
"But, Monsieur! have I brought you here for nothing? I warned you it
might be a mare's nest."
"_Non, non_!" he replied eagerly. "It is not your fault. I believe
you did hand me a thread of a clue that might--under more fortunate
circumstances--have led to the disclosure of something momentous."
"But that in reality leads nowhere, Monsieur. Is that what you mean?"
"Mademoiselle, Fate tricks us! This Nicko is one of those thrust out
of this sector in haste because of military reasons. And the German
Hauptman, who lay so long ill in that Hut H--well, Mademoiselle, he has
died!"
Ruth was amazed, and for a time dumb. Should she bring Major Henri
Marchand into the matter? The secret agent knew him and respected him.
Ruth shrank from putting suspicion upon a possibly innocent person.
And yet, his height, his manner of bowing, an indefinite air about him,
had convinced Ruth that Nicko's double was Henri Marchand. Who else
could it be? Could there be some person who so resembled the countess'
younger son?
The thought roweled her mind. There was something in it to be
considered. Who else could the mysterious man be?
And then, of a sudden, it flashed into Ruth's mind. The older son of
the Countess Marchand was probably in appearance like his brother.
Count Allaire Marchand! And where was Count Allaire now?
The story was that the young count had disappeared from Paris. He was
believed to be in the pay of the Germans. He, like Henri, had been
educated in the Prussian military schools. No matter what the secret
agents thought of the countess the loyalty of her sons was questioned
by the peasants living about the chateau.
A determination grew in Ruth Fielding's mind. She would go to the
chateau and see if there was a picture of Count Allaire in his old
home. She wished to determine if he looked like Major Henri Marchand.
Meanwhile they rode swiftly over another road toward Clair. It was the
road beside which the little inn of Mother Gervaise was situated.
Even that had been stripped of the widow's possessions and she was
gone. Like every other cot in all this sector, and back for ten miles
from the battle front, the place was deserted.