CHAPTER XIII
AN UNEXPECTED MEETING
Monsieur Lafrane Ruth could count as one of her friends. Not manymonths before she had enabled the secret service man to solve acriminal problem and arrest several of the criminals engaged in aconspiracy against the Red Cross.
She had not been sure that he would so quickly respond to her telegramto the elderly prefect of police at Lyse, who was likewise her friendand respectful admirer.
This secret agent was a lean man of dark complexion. His manner wascordial when he rose to greet her. She knew that he was a very busyman and that he had responded personally to her appeal because he tooka deeper interest in her than in most people aside from those whoseacts it was his duty to investigate.
They were alone in the small office of the hospital. He said crisplyand in excellent English:
"Mademoiselle has need of me?"
"I have something to tell you, Monsieur--something that I think may beof importance. Yet, as we Americans say, I may be merely stirring up amare's nest."
"Ah, I understand the reference," he said, smiling. "Let me be thejudge of the value of what you tell me, Mademoiselle. Proceed."
Swiftly she told him of her visit to the field hospital so much nearerthe battle line than this quiet institution at Clair, and, in addition,told him of Nicko, the chocolate peddler, and his dual appearance.
"There are two of the men. They dress exactly alike. I was suspiciousof the peddler the very first time I saw him. No Frenchman--not even aFrench soldier--bows as I saw him bow."
"Ha!" ejaculated the secret agent.
"He bows from the hips--the bow of a German military man. I--I haveseen them bow before," Ruth hesitated, remembering Major HenriMarchand. "You understand?"
"But, yes, Mademoiselle," said the Frenchman, his eyes flashing.
"Then," she went on, "I saw the man--or supposedly the same man--asecond time. He bowed very differently--just as an ordinary humbleFrench peasant might bow."
"Could it not be that he forgot the second time you saw him?" queriedM. Lafrane.
"I doubt it. There is something quite distinct in the air of the twomen. But I understand that whichever comes to the hospital with thebasket of sweets always has a word with the German officer in Hut H,Cot Twenty-four. You can easily find out about him."
"True," murmured the secret agent eagerly.
Then she told him of her walk in the gloaming and what she had seen inthe garden of the peasant's cot--the two men dressed exactly alike.One must be the half-foolish Nicko; the other must be the spy.
M. Lafrane nodded eagerly again, pursing his lips.
"Mademoiselle," he said quietly, "I will ask the good madame if you maybe relieved for the day. I have a car outside--a swift car. Can youshow me that cottage--Nicko's dwelling? I will bring you backimmediately."
"Of a surety," she told him in his own tongue, as he had spoken."Wait. I will get my hat and coat. I may not know the nearest way tothe place. But----"
"I am familiar with this territory," he said dryly. "We can strike it,I have no doubt, Mademoiselle. But I need you to verify the placeand--perhaps--to identify the man."
"Not the spy?" she gasped.
"Nicko, the peddler."
"I see. I will be with you in the courtyard at once, Monsieur."
When she came out he was ready to step into a two-seated roadster, hunglow and painted a battleship gray. A man in uniform on the front seatdrove. Ruth got in, was followed by the secret agent, and they started.
She had much more in her heart and mind; but she doubted theadvisability of telling M. Lafrane.
There was what she suspected about Major Henri Marchand. Could sheturn suspicion toward the son of her good friend, the countess? Andhis brother who, it was said, had run away?
Ruth felt that she had already told much that might cause the majortrouble. She did not know. She only suspected.
As for Tom Cameron's trouble--and the mystery surrounding him--she didnot feel that she could speak to the secret agent about that. Tom'saffairs could have nothing to do with the work of this French criminalinvestigator. No. She hugged to her heart all her anxiety regardingTom.
As soon as they left the hospital courtyard Ruth found that she wastraveling with a chauffeur beside whom Charlie Bragg's reckless drivingwas tame indeed. Besides, Charlie's lame car could not arrive at suchspeed as this racing type of automobile was capable of.
By looking over the back of the front seat she obtained a glimpse ofthe speedometer, and saw the indicator traveling from sixty to seventy.After that she did not wish to look again. She did not want to know ifthey traveled faster.
The road over which they went was strange to Ruth Fielding. It was bya much shorter way Charlie Bragg had taken her to the field hospital,and over which she had returned.
They began before long to meet farmers' wagons, piled high withhousehold goods, on which sat the strange, sad-eyed children of the warzone, or decrepit old people, often surrounded by their fowls. Foreven the poorest and most destitute of the French peasants manage tohave "poulets."
The processions of moving people amazed Ruth. She remembered what theDupays had said about Aunt Abelard, and she began to see that there wasa general exodus being forced from the country nearer the front in thissector.
It was a fact that the people did not look happy. Now and then one ofthe American military police walked beside a wagon, as though he hadbeen sent on with the movers to make sure that they kept moving.
The girl asked M. Lafrane nothing about this exodus. Perhaps he knewno more the reason for it than Ruth did.
They came to a little dale between hills at last, and in this placestood a cottage and barns--a tiny homestead, but very neat, and onethat had been unmarred by the enemy. There were even fruit treesstanding.
There was a huge wagon before the door, and into it must go thehousehold goods and the family as well--if there was a family. Itseemed that the wagon had just arrived, and the American soldiers withit scarcely knew what to do in this case. There was nothing packed,ready for removal, and an old woman--the only person about thefarmstead--was busy feeding her flock of chickens.
"You must come, _vite_, Tante," Ruth heard the corporal in charge ofthe squad say to the old woman. The automobile had stopped, for theroad was too narrow for it to pass the wagon.
The old woman seemed to understand the American's mixture of Englishand French. She shook her head with emphasis.
"But I cannot leave my pullets," she said, aghast. "They will starve.You will go along, you Americans, and leave me alone."
"You must come; Tante," repeated the corporal, inflexibly. "You shouldhave prepared for this. You were warned in time." Then to his men:"Go in, boys, and bring out her goods. Careful, now. Don't messanything up."
"You cannot take my things. Your cart is already full," shrilled theold woman. "And my pullets!"
The American soldiers entered the cottage. Between her anger at themand her fear for the safety of her chickens, the old woman was in apitiful state, indeed. Ruth looked at M. Lafrane.
"Oh, can we not do anything for her?" she asked.
"Military law knows no change--the laws of the Medes and Persians," hesaid grimly. "She must go, of course----"
Suddenly he sat up more stiffly beside the American girl and his handwent to his cap in salute. He even rose, and, before Ruth lookedaround and spied the occasion for this, she knew it must foretell theapproach of an officer of importance.
Coming along the road (he had been sheltered from her gaze before bythe laden wagon) was a French officer in a very brilliant uniform.Ruth gasped aloud; she knew him at a glance.
It was Major Henri Marchand, in the full panoply of a dress uniform,although he was on foot. He acknowledged M. Lafrane's salutecarelessly and did not see the girl at all. He walked directly intothe yard surrounding the cottage. The corporal of the American squadwas saying:
"I am sorry f
or you, _ma mere_. But we cannot wait now. You shouldhave been ready for us. You have had forty-eight hours' notice."
The old countrywoman was quite enraged. She began to vilify theAmericans most abominably. Ruth suddenly heard her say that theAbelards had been rooted here for generations. She refused to go forall the soldiers in the world!
Then she shrieked again as she saw the men bringing out her best bed.Major Marchand took a hand in the matter.
"_Tante_," he said quietly, "I am sorry for you. But these men are inthe right. The high authorities have said you must go. All yourneighbors are going. It is for _la patrie_. These are bitter timesand we must all make sacrifices. Come, now, you must depart."
Ruth wondered at his quiet, yet forceful, manner. The corporal stoodback, thankful to have the disagreeable duty taken out of his hands.And the American girl wondered, too, at the respect Monsieur Lafranehad shown this French officer. Had he saluted the uniform, or wasMajor Marchand a very important personage? Her brain was in a whirl ofdoubt.