CHAPTER XXX
"PRIVATE TRENT"
Before Trent went to enlist, he had an understanding with Mrs. Kinney asto the Kennebago camp. She was to live there and keep the house andgardens in good order until he returned. He had none of thosepremonitions of disaster which some who go to war have in abundance. Nowthat the danger of his arrest was gone and Kaufmann could never againentrap him he felt cheerful and lighthearted.
"I shall come back," he told the old woman, "I feel it in my bones. Butif not there will be enough for you to live on. I am seeing my lawyerabout it this morning."
On the way to the recruiting station, Trent met Weems.
"What branch are you going in?" he asked upon learning of Trent's plans.
"Where I'm most needed," Trent said cheerfully. "Infantry I guess."
"You can get a commission right away," Weems cried, a sudden thoughtstriking him. "It was in last night's papers. It said that men holdingthe B.S. degree were wanted and would be commissioned right off thereel. You're a B.S. You wait a bit. Be an officer instead of an enlistedman. I bet the food's better."
He was a little piqued that Anthony Trent betrayed so little pleasure atthe news. It so happened that Trent had given a deal of thought to thisvery thing. And his decision was to allow the chance of a commission togo. There was a strain of quixotism about him and a certain fineness offeeling which went to make this decision final. He loved his country inthe quiet intense manner which does not show itself in the waving offlags. To outward appearances and to the unjudging mind, Weems wouldseem the more loyal of the two. Weems wore a flag in his buttonhole andshouted loudly his protestations and yet had made no sacrifice. Trentwas to offer his life quietly, untheatrically. And he wanted to wear noofficer's uniform in case his arrest or discovery would bring reproachupon it. In his mind he could see headlines in the paper announcing thatan officer of the United States Army was a notorious--he shuddered atthe word--thief. And again, there was no certainty in his mind that hewould give up his mode of life. In the beginning he had set out toobtain enough money to live in comfort. That, long ago, had beenachieved. Then the jewels to adorn his lamp occupied his mind and nowthe game was in his blood. He wanted his camp for recreation but itwould not satisfy wholly. When the war was over there would be Europe'sfertile fields to work upon.
There were many things to aid him in his feeling that the turning overof a new leaf would be useless. Nothing could ever undo what he haddone. Try as he might he would never face the world an honest man. Hewould go to war. He would be a good soldier.
It was in the infantry that they needed men and Camp Dix received himwith others. So insignificant a thing was one soldier that he presentlyfelt a sense of security that had been denied him for years.
The experiences he went through in Camp were common to all. They wereeasier to him than most because of his perfection of physical condition.On the whole it was interesting work but he was glad when he marchedalong the piers of the Army Transport Service, where formerly Germanlines had docked, and boarded the _Leviathan_. Private Trent was going"over there."
It was common knowledge that the regiments would not yet be sent toFrance. What they had learned at Camp Dix would be supplemented by apost-graduate course in England.
Curiously enough Trent found himself on the Sussex Downs, those rollinghills of chalk covered with short springy aromatic grasses and flowers.Here were a hundred sights and sounds that stirred his blood. Fivegenerations of Trents had been born in America since that adventurousyounger son had set out for the Western world. The present Anthony wascoming back to the ancient home of his family under the most favorablecircumstances. He was coming back with his mind purged of ancientenmities fostered so long by Britain's foes to further alien causes;coming back to a country knit to his own by bonds that would not easilybe broken.
It was curious that he should find himself here on the high downsbecause it was from this county of Sussex that the Trents sprang. Notfar from Lewes was an old house, set among elms, which had been theirsfor three hundred years. When he was last in England he had made apilgrimage to it only to find its owner salmon fishing in Norway. Thehousekeeper had shown him over it, a big rambling house full of oddcorridors and unexpected steps and he had never failed to think of itwith pride. On that visit he had been disappointed to find the villagechurch shut; the sexton was at his midday dinner.
Trent had been under canvas only a few days when he obtained leave for afew hours and set out to the church. He counted three Anthony Trentswhose deeds were told on mural tablets. One had been an admiral; one abishop and the third a colonel of Dragoons at Waterloo. He sauntered bythe old house and looked at it enviously. "If I bought that," hethought, "I would settle down to the ways of honest men."
He shrugged his shoulders. There were many things yet to be done. It wasonly since he had been in England and seen her wounded that he realizedwhat none can until it is witnessed, the certainty that there must bemuch suffering before the end is achieved.
The men in his company were not especially congenial. They were friendlyenough but their interests were narrow. Trent was glad when the trainingperiod was over and he embarked in the troop train for Dover _en route_to the Western front. He made a good soldier. More than one of his matessaid he would wear the chevrons before many weeks but he was anxious forno such distinction.
At the time his regiment arrived in France the American troops were atgrips with the enemy. It was the first time that they held as a unitpart of the line. The Germans, already making their retreat, left inthe rear nests of machine gunners to hamper the pursuers. To clear thesenests of hornets, to search abandoned cellars and buildings where men orbombs might be lying in wait was a task far more deadly thanparticipation in a battle. Only iron-nerved men, strong to act and quickto think, were needed. There was a day when volunteers were asked for.Anthony Trent was the first man to offer himself. Under a lieutenantthis band of brave men went about its dangerous task. The casualtieswere many and among them the officer.
He had made such an impression on his men and they had gained suchfavorable mention for gallant conduct that there was a fear lest the newofficer might be of less vigorous and dashing nature. It was work, thisnest clearing danger, that Trent liked enormously. He had come to knowwhat traps the Hun was likely to set, the tempting cigar-box, the fieldglasses, the fountain-pen the touching of which meant maiming at theleast. And against some of these trapped men Trent revived his oldfootball tackle and brought them startled to the ground. It was the moststirring game of his life.
But one look at the new officer changed his mood. He looked at hislieutenant and his lieutenant looked at him. And the officer licked hislips hungrily. It was Devlin whom he had laughed at in San Francisco.Instinctively the men who observed this meeting sensed some pre-warhatred and speculated on its origin. Recollecting himself Trent saluted.
"So I've got a thief in my company," Devlin sneered. "I'll have towatch you pretty close. Looting's forbidden."
It was plain to the men who watched Devlin's subsequent plan of actionthat he was trying to goad the enlisted man into striking him. In Francethe discipline of the American army was taking on the sterner characterof that which distinguished the Allies.
No task had ever been so difficult for Anthony Trent as this continualcurb he was compelled to put upon his tongue. Devlin had always dislikedhim. He was maddened at the thought that Trent had taken the Mount Aubynruby from under his nose. It was because of this, Dangerfield haddischarged him from a lucrative position. And in the case of theTakowaja emerald it was Anthony Trent who had laughed at him. Many anhour had Devlin spent trying to weave the rope that would hang him. Andin these endeavors he had gathered many odds and ends of informationover which he chuckled with joy.
But first of all he wanted to break his enemy. There was no opportunityof which he did not take advantage. Ordinarily his superior officerswould have witnessed this policy and reprimanded him; but conditionswere such that their special dutie
s kept Devlin and his men apart fromtheir comrades. Devlin was a good officer and credit was given him formuch that Trent deserved.
It chanced one night that while they waited for a little wood to becleared of gas, Devlin and Trent sat within a few feet of one another.It was an opportunity Devlin was quick to seize.
"Thought you'd fooled me in 'Frisco, didn't you?"
Trent lighted a cigarette with exasperating slowness.
"I did fool you," he asserted calmly. "It is never hard to fool a manwith your mental equipment."
"Huh," Devlin grunted, "you've got the criminal's low cunning, I'lladmit that, Mr. Maltby of Chicago."
He made a labored pretence of hunting for his cigarette case.
"Gone!" he said sneering; "some one's lifted it but I guess you knowwhere it is. Oh no, I forgot. You weren't a dip, you were a second storyman. Excuse me."
He kept this heavy and malicious humor going until Trent'simperturbability annoyed him.
"What a change!" he commented presently. "Me the officer and you theenlisted man who's got to do as I say. You with your fast auto and yourgolf and society ways and me who used to be a cop."
Winning no retort from his victim he leaned forward and pushed Trentroughly. He started back at the white wrath which transfigured theother's face.
"Look here, Devlin," Trent cried savagely, "you want me to hit you soyou can prefer charges against me for striking an officer and have medisciplined. Listen to this: if you put your filthy hand on me again Iwon't hit you, I'll kill you."
Towering and threatening he stood over the other. Devlin, who knew menand the ways of violence, looked into Trent's face and recognized it wasno idle threat he heard.
"That would be a hell of a fine trick," he said, a little unsteadily,"to empty your gun in my back."
"You know I wouldn't do it that way," Trent retorted. "Why should I letyou off so easily as that?"
"Easily?" Devlin repeated.
"When I get ready," Trent said grimly, "I shall want you to realizewhat's coming to you."
"Is that a threat?" Devlin demanded.
Trent nodded his head.
"It's a threat."
Devlin thought for a moment.
"I'll fix you," he said.
"How?" Trent inquired. "You've tried every way there is to have mekilled. If there's a doubtful place where some boches may be hiding withbombs whom do you send to find out? You send Private Trent. I'm notkicking. I volunteered for the job. I came out to do what I could. Myone disappointment is that my officer is not also a gentleman."
Devlin's face was now better humored.
"I'll fix you," he said again, "I'll see Pershing pins a medal on youall right."
Trent wondered what he meant. And he wondered why for a day or twoDevlin goaded him no more. Instead he looked at him as one who knewanother was marked down for death and disgrace. It was inevitable thatAnthony Trent could never know how near to discovery he was. The oddsare against the best breakers of law. The history of crime told him thatthe cleverest had been captured by some trifling piece of carelessness.Had Devlin some such clue, he wondered?