THE WORST IS TOLD
"But, Major Marchand? What of him?" Ruth asked, deeply interested in
what the countess had said.
"He, too, is in the secret work," responded the countess, smiling
faintly. "My older son claimed the right of undertaking the more
perilous task. Likewise he was the more familiar with the vicinity of
our summer estate at Merz, having been there often with his father."
"But Major Henri goes back and forth, along the front, both by flying
machine and in other ways?" Ruth asked. "I am sure I have seen him----"
She wanted to tell the countess how she had misjudged the major. But
she hesitated. There was the matter of Nicko, the chocolate peddler,
and the man who looked like him!
Could that disguised man have been the major? And if so, what was his
interest in the German officer who had so suddenly died in the field
hospital--the occupant of Cot 24, Hut H?
The girl's mind was still in a whirl. Had she called Lafrane to the
front for nothing at all? Had she really been stirring up a mare's
nest? She listened, however, to the countess' further observations:
"But yes, Mademoiselle, we all do what we may. My sons are hard at
work for la patrie--and brave Bubu!" and she laughed. "Of course your
American soldiers cannot be expected to take over the scouting on this
front, not altogether, for they do not know the country as do we
French. Yet some of your young men, Henri tells me, show marvelous
adaptability in the work. Is it the Red Indian blood in them, think
you, that makes them so proficient in scouting?" she added innocently.
But Ruth did not laugh. Indeed, she felt very serious, for she was
thinking of Tom Cameron. Major Henri Marchand must know about
Tom--where he was and what he was doing. That is, if it had been the
major who had dropped the message from Tom at her feet the day before.
She could not discuss this matter with the countess. And yet the girl
was so troubled regarding Tom's affairs that she felt equal to almost
any reckless attempt to gain information about him.
Before the girl could decide to speak, however, there was a step upon
the bare floor of the great entrance hall of the chateau. The ringing
step came nearer, and the countess raised her head.
"Henri! Come in! Come in!" she cried as the door opened.
Major Marchand marched into the room breezily, still in the dress
uniform Ruth had seen at Aunt Abelard's cottage.
"Ah, Mademoiselle!" he cried, having kissed his mother's hand and
suddenly beholding the girl who had shyly retired to the other side of
the hearth. "May I greet you?"
He came around the tea table and took her hand. She did not withdraw
it abruptly this time as he pressed his lips respectfully to her
fingers. But she did blush under his admiring glance.
"See, Henri!" his mother cried. "It is the good Bubu who has brought
it. In code. Can you read it?"
She thrust the whisp of paper, taken from the dog's hollow tooth, under
his eyes before pouring his cup of tea. Henri, begging Ruth's
indulgence with a look, sat down before the table, his sword clanking.
He smoothed the paper out upon the board and drew the reading glass to
him.
"Wait!" Countess Marchand said. "You have had no luncheon! You are
hungry, my dear boy?"
She hurried out of the room intent upon her son's comfort. Ruth
watched the countenance of the major as he read the code message. She
saw his expression become both serious and troubled.
Suddenly he turned in his chair and looked at the American girl. His
gaze seemed significant, and Ruth began to tremble.
"Mademoiselle?"
"Yes, Monsieur?"
"You have questions to ask me, _hein_?"
"It is true, Major Marchand," she murmured, struggling for
self-control. "I am eaten up by curiosity."
"Is it only curiosity that troubles you, Mademoiselle?" he said dryly.
"No! No! I am seriously alarmed. I am anxious--for a friend." Her
voice was tense.
"You received a certain message?" he asked.
"Oh, yes, Major Marchand! And that excites me," she replied, more
calmly now. "Was it really you who dropped the paper bomb at my feet?"
His eyes danced for a moment. "That was entirely--what you call--by
chance. Mademoiselle, I spied you, and having the written message of
your friend I inserted it in the bomb, twisted the neck of it, and let
it fall at your feet. You are, of course, acquainted with Lieutenant
Cameron?"
"He is the twin brother of my dearest friend," Ruth replied. "Helen is
in Paris--helping make soup for French orphans," and she smiled.
"Something that I have heard has worried me vastly about Tom." Her
smile disappeared and her gaze at the French major was pleading.
His own countenance again fell into serious lines, and he tapped the
table thoughtfully. Ruth clasped her hands as she waited. She felt
that something untoward was about to be made known to her. There was
something about Tom which would shock her.
"I am sorry, Mademoiselle," murmured the major. "Here is something
said about Lieutenant Cameron."
"In that message Bubu brought?" she asked slowly.
"Yes. It is from my brother. Did you know that Lieutenant Cameron was
working with the Count Marchand in Germany?"
"Oh, I did not know it until--until lately! There are such stories
afloat!"
"Ah!" He smiled and nodded understandingly. "Do not let those idle
tales annoy you. Lieutenant Cameron is a very able and a very
honorable young man. He volunteered for the dangerous service. Of
course, his comrades could not be told the truth. And it chanced he
was observed speaking to one of our agents who came from the German
side.
"At once it was decided that he would do well in the area of Merz,
where Count Marchand is in command. You understand? Lieutenant
Cameron's comrades were given the wrong impression. Otherwise,
knowledge that he was a scout might have been easily discovered by
German spies in this sector. Your friend speaks perfect German."
"Oh, yes," Ruth said. "He began to prattle to Babette, his
German-Swiss nurse when he was a child."
"So he has been of much help to us near Merz. But my brother informs
me now that a serious difficulty has arisen."
"What is it, Major Marchand?" asked the girl, with tightening lips.
"Lieutenant Cameron has been arrested. He is suspected by the Germans
at Merz. He was furnished the papers and uniform of a Bavarian
captain. The authorities are making an investigation. It may--I am
desolated to say it, Mademoiselle!--become fatal for Lieutenant
Cameron."