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CHAPTER XIV
A GUEST OF THE HUNS

GRACE HARLOWE heard a guttural voice speaking in German, replied to by a woman’s voice in the same tongue.

Opening her eyes ever so little, the Overton girl looked cautiously about her. She was in a room that was peculiar in that the walls were of stone, and the windows very narrow and high. She felt sore all over, and to move hurt her, but her physical condition did not interest her so much at the moment as did the two persons who were speaking. The man was in the uniform of a German officer. The woman was receiving orders regarding the patient. Grace closed her eyes to listen without their being aware that she was awake.

“You will send for me as soon as the fraulein awakens,” he directed gruffly. “Should she try to leave the castle she must be prevented. She may have information of value to the Fatherland. As for the man, he will not talk. Being an officer we hesitate to force him to speak. Remember, we know nothing of the woman here. He has asked for her and is ugly because we profess to know nothing about her. She must speak as soon as she can. It was well that Rosa von Blum was watchful and informed us that the runaway balloon was headed in this direction, and better still that we were able to bring it down.”

“Will the Allies not bring reprisals upon us, Herr Colonel, for having shot the balloon down?”

“They cannot hold the Germans responsible for the act of a crazy peasant, as we shall so characterize it, and pass the incident off lightly. When the Americans get to the Rhine they may make all the inquiries they wish. We shall not be in the castle; almost no one knows we are here now, there will be no trail left for them to follow, and they will not be permitted to cross the river to look for one.”

“Did not Fraulein von Blum say who the woman is?” questioned the German woman.

“No. ‘Important woman in drifting balloon,’ was the message she sent. The man refuses to say who she is, so you must get it out of the woman herself.”

“You think she will come to soon?”

“Yes, she will be on her feet before the day is done.”

“Thank you,” whispered the subject of the dialogue. “I am glad to know that I am all right. Good boy, Major. I will take my tip from him. But who is this Rosa von Blum that they speak of? I don’t believe I ever heard of her, though somehow the name strikes a disagreeable note in my memory. There goes the colonel. I must get ready to wake up after a proper interval.”

Grace heard the woman step over to the bed and look down at her, after the departure of the officer. She stirred a little under that gaze, which seemed to burn into her, moaned and twisted her head from side to side several times. After a brief interval of quietness the Overton girl opened her eyes, closed and then opened them again, apparently with great effort. Grace was acting her part without the slightest slip. She gazed up blankly into the face of the German woman.

“Guten morgen, Fraulein Schmidt,” greeted the German.

“What is that you say? I am an American.”

“I said good morning, Fraulein Schmidt,” repeated the woman, this time in English, smiling encouragingly.

“You know me?” exclaimed Grace Harlowe, raising herself on one elbow, the effort giving her pain and causing her to make a wry face. “How did you know my name?”

“The Germans know many things. They are not the thickheads that the enemy would have the world believe them. You come from the American army?”

Grace said she did, and explained that they had gone adrift in the storm when she was with the balloon on invitation for the day, but in answer to a question as to what she did in the army, the Overton girl asked one for herself.

“Who are you and where am I?”

“You were hurt and a kind-hearted officer had you brought here. You will, I hope, be able to go out in a week or so.”

“So long as that?”

“Yes. You were very badly hurt and the Herr Doctor says you must be in bed for some time. To get up would mean your death.”

“Oh, please don’t tell me that,” begged Grace. “What is it you wish to know?”

“How many are with the American army that is marching on the Rhine?”

“Truly I cannot say, Frau.”

“Is it not true that they are planning to take revenge on the Rhine country when the Germans are helpless, having laid down their arms?”

“How do you mean?” demanded Grace.

“To turn the big guns on us?”

“No, my countrymen do not break their word, Frau.”

“I have heard that they plan to make it very hard for the peaceful Germans too. It would be wrong, it would be a crime, for the Germans are a kindly people. They love the Americans, but are sorry for them that they were so misled as to enter the war.”

“Sad to contemplate, isn’t it, Frau? I can almost weep over it myself. What has been done with the officer who was with me in the balloon?”

The German woman said she knew nothing about it, that she did not even know of the officer, which Grace was aware was not true.

“And the town on the other side of the river – what is it?”

“The Fraulein must ask no questions; such are my instructions.”

“I may ask when I am to be permitted to get up, may I not?”

“I have told the Fraulein what the Herr Doctor has said.”

“When I am able, I may get up?”

“Yes.”

“Then I think I will get up now.” Grace made a move as if to leave the bed, but the German woman thrust her back, a menacing look flashing into her eyes. “What do you mean by detaining me in this manner? Am I a prisoner?”

“No, no, Fraulein,” protested the woman.

“It looks very much as if I were. If such be the case look out for trouble.”

“The Fraulein threatens?”

“No. I simply warn you. If the Americans hear that a countrywoman is being held on this side of the Rhine against her will, perhaps you can imagine what they will do, whether or not they may know her or have ever heard of her. However, ask all the questions you wish. I shall reply to them or not as I feel inclined.”

“It is not that I care to know, Fraulein, but that I am interested. We on the Rhine are troubled, for we hear many things. If you can tell me the things that will bring peace to my soul, I in turn will do all for you. It is a fair bargain.”

“Let me tell you something, Frau. The Americans do not trust the Germans. That is why they are marching on the Rhine ready to go into battle at a moment’s notice. That is military information, but my countrymen are ready to fight you Germans, and I don’t care whether you or all of you know it. Their artillery is constantly trained on your retreating army. At the first sign of treachery the music will begin, but I warn you it will not be sweet music, even for German ears that profess to be so fond of music. It will be the music of the guns, Frau.” Grace felt that she could do her country and her cause no better service than by sounding this warning. She was by this time fully aware that the woman was a German agent, placed there to wring whatever information she could from the girl who had fallen into their hands from the skies. Grace too had gained a little information, but she hoped to obtain more of it.

The Frau pressed her on a variety of subjects connected with the approaching army, the tenor of which, as nearly as Grace could reason it out, was as to the secret plans of the Allies after they had occupied the Rhine bridgeheads, the territory that fed into the bridges that crossed the Rhine, the principal bridgeheads being at Mainz, Cologne and Coblenz, the three great bridgeheads of the Rhine. Grace was extremely cautious in answering questions where the answers might prove of military value to the enemy.

On the question of spies the German woman, several times in different forms, questioned the American girl as to whether they suspected that German spies were operating with the American forces. The Frau said she had heard that the Americans were complaining of this, but that it was a silly idea, for the war was ended, so why should there be need for spies in either army.

Grace agreed with her, but that was as far as her information went. Later in the day the Herr Colonel came in and after examining Grace he shook his head and pronounced her to be in a most serious condition. He told the Overton girl, still speaking in German, that she had sustained internal injuries that might prove fatal unless the utmost quiet of body was persevered in. He said that his first diagnosis had not revealed this because at the time she was unconscious.

During this monologue the Overton girl gazed blankly at the Herr Colonel, who plainly was a medical man, as well perhaps as an intelligence officer. She turned to the Frau.

“What is the man talking about?” she asked, though having understood every word he had uttered.

The German woman translated, and in the translation made Grace’s condition really a desperate one. Both were lying, as the American girl knew. She knew that she was badly shaken, bruised and scratched, but that there was not a serious hurt anywhere. After the Herr Colonel’s departure she was questioned still further. In the midst of it Grace turned her face to the wall and promptly went to sleep.

When Grace awakened it was late in the night. Her trench watch told her it was half after twelve o’clock. Grace listened a few moments to make certain that she was alone, then got out of bed. Standing on her feet hurt her all over. She had been more shaken than she thought. The girl groped her way about the room, feeling before each step, and finally finding that for which she was in search, her clothing. What she hoped to find was her flash lamp, but it was not there. The lamp had been taken away. Plainly they did not propose to leave her the means of signalling.

Trying the door, it was found to be locked, as she had expected it would be, but the windows were neither barred nor locked. Grace cautiously threw one open and looked eagerly out. The moon, somewhere back of her to the eastward, was in the sky and lighted up the valley before her, though none of the light penetrated the room. Before her lay a village, two villages in fact, but it was the one on the opposite side of the river that most interested her, and Grace studied its outlines in the moonlight for some time.

“I believe that is Coblenz,” she muttered. “This building is a castle and I am up in the air for certain. There is no necessity to bar these windows, for they know I can’t get down from here unless I fall down. I wonder why they wish to keep me a prisoner?”

Grace pondered over this for some time, going over all that had been said to her by the German woman and what she had heard the man and woman say to each other in their own language.

“It seems to resolve itself to this,” she decided. “Some one of the name of Rosa von Blum has warned them that an important woman was in a drifting balloon headed their way. Now this Rosa person must be somewhere in the American lines. It is my idea that this Rosa is a man. That would be just like a Hun scheme. Perhaps the word came by the pigeon route. The more I think of the pigeon incident the more convinced am I that a Chinaman is mixed up with it. Won Lue is the key to that mystery, and with that key I shall yet unravel the pigeon mystery. So much for that. To-morrow morning they will get another pigeon message unless some one shoots down all three of the birds, and that message will tell them who I am. The war being ended will they dare take their revenge on me now for exposing Madame de Beaupre and André? They will! Trust a Hun not to have sense enough to realize that he too will have to pay the price.”

Grace pondered for a long time.

“I am glad I woke up and have had time to think this matter over. I shall know how to conduct myself to-morrow when they speak my name. Of one thing I am glad. I am facing Coblenz, and sooner or later I may be able to attract the attention of some one who will be interested in what I have to say, though they will probably move me to some other less convenient room before the Americans arrive. Our troops should be at the Rhine to-morrow afternoon. To-night they will be but twelve miles from here, and even now an advance guard may be in the city. At least there are American intelligence officers there. I wonder where they have stowed the major away?” She sighed and concluded to go back to bed, knowing that she would be in need of all her strength for what might be before her on the morrow.

Grace got in gingerly, for bending her body hurt her. She floundered about for a moment, and rolling to the back of the bed came in contact with something hard that lay at the edge of the bed next to the wall. Her fingers closed over the object. She uttered an exclamation. The object was her flash light that undoubtedly had slipped from her pocket when they first placed her on the bed before undressing her.

“It works,” she whispered excitedly, and was out of the bed without thought of her aches and pains. “Only a chance, but it is worth while,” she muttered, giving a series of quick flashes with the lamp thrust out to the edge of the window casing.

This was the flash signal indicating that she was about to send a message.

“American woman prisoner in tower here. Drifting balloon victim,” was the message she flashed out slowly, then waited to see if there were a reply. There was none. After an interval she tried it again with the same result, not once giving her name, for there might be, and undoubtedly were, plenty of persons over there who could read the Morse code.

Several times in the next hour the girl sent the same message, keeping an attentive ear on the door.

“I fear it is a failure. No one read my message. I must hide the lamp and get to bed.” The bed appeared to offer the best hiding place. Opening a seam in the mattress the Overton girl thrust the lamp far in, packed the straw about it, replaced the mattress and the blankets and got into bed, first closing the window.

Grace lay in bed for some time, thinking over the events of the day, and was about to turn over and go to sleep when her attention was attracted by a slight noise. She sat up and listened. At first it sounded to her like the gnawing of a mouse, but upon second thought she realized that a mouse could not gnaw stone. A metallic click revealed the truth.

“Some one is at the door,” murmured the girl, and began groping for her flash lamp, but suddenly withdrew her hand and composed herself in a position from which she could observe the entire room.

The Overton girl did not have long to wait. The door opened ever so little, as she knew from the sound, and she could hear some one breathing. The door was pushed in further. A moment of silence followed, then cautious footsteps approached her bed. It was very difficult for Grace Harlowe to breathe regularly and naturally, the inclination being to hold one’s breath, but she overcame that inclination and waited, every faculty on the alert.

CHAPTER XV
AN INTERRUPTED INTERVIEW

“IT is the Frau,” thought Grace, with an effort repressing a long breath of relief.

The German woman, after satisfying herself that her prisoner was asleep, began a careful search of the room, first going to the window and finding it shut, then searching Grace’s clothing, after which she felt cautiously under the girl’s pillow. It was at that moment that Grace’s plans took form and definite shape.

Uttering a piercing shriek, the American girl leaped from the bed and hurled herself against the German woman, who had sprung back and in her fright started toward the door. Ere she had opportunity to collect herself, Grace’s hands were against the Frau’s back and the German woman was being “bounced” in the most approved manner. She ran because she couldn’t help it. To have stopped would have meant measuring her length on the floor.

They reached the door, Grace Harlowe still uttering those piercing screams, and there the Frau met disaster. She tripped on the doorsill and fell headlong into the corridor. Grace too went down, but was up like a flash and, darting into the room, slammed the door shut, securing it by bracing a tipped chair against it under the knob, whereupon the Overton girl sat down heavily on the floor and gave way to laughter that was almost hysterical, though so well repressed that the woman out there could not hear it.

“Oh, what a fright I gave her. I’ll warrant that frau doesn’t do any more prowling about in my room at unseemly hours. I should have thought of the chair before I went to bed.” Grace paused abruptly. Some one was pounding on the door.

“Who is it?” she called.

“It is I, Frau Woelber.”

“Oh!” Grace boldly threw open the door and as she did so the woman pressed a button and flooded the room with light. Her face wore an angry flush, but it moderated as she saw that Grace was breathing heavily and that her face wore a frightened expression.

“Oh, why did you frighten me so, Frau?” gasped the girl, still playing her part.

“You shall suffer for this,” threatened the woman. “You did it on purpose.”

“How – how can you say such a thing. Why did you creep into my room and startle me by tugging at my pillow? It was terrible! What do you wish?”

“It is like the American schweinhunde to be thus grateful. I came to see that you were well and you repay by assaulting me. Bah!” The woman turned on her heel and strode from the room, slamming the door after her, and locking it from the outside. Grace replaced the chair and returned to her bed.

“I think I will use the flash again,” she muttered. Once more the Overton girl sent out her message for help. “I hope some one does see it, for to-morrow I feel I shall be in still more trouble.”

Morning did bring trouble. She was awakened at an early hour by the German woman and ordered to dress. There was not even time to regain possession of her electric flash lamp nor to dress her hair.

After getting on her clothes the woman took her by the arm and led her from the room, down several staircases, the first of which was a spiral. The Overton girl was conducted into a room which she judged was on the side away from the river. There were no windows, and the room was dark, save for the faint light shed by a candle.

“You are a spy!” raged the woman, pointing an accusing finger at the American girl.

“It is not true,” answered Grace evenly. “Remember, I am not here on my own choice, and I shall be pleased to leave now. You see I am perfectly able to go. If you detain me longer you will be punished. The war is at an end, or is supposed to be, and you have no right to keep me a prisoner. Are you going to permit me to go back to my own lines?”

The German woman laughed harshly.

“The Herr Officer will see you. We shall see,” was the non-committal reply. The Herr Officer came in a few moments later, the woman occupying the interval by a repetition of her questions of the previous day. The officer-doctor examined Grace or pretended to, then turned to the Frau.

“Tell her she will die as the result of her getting up. She must not be permitted to go until we have the message. You have not heard?” he asked in German.

The woman shook her head.

“I will find out if anything has come since we spoke, and let you know. You will wait in the library.”

He nodded, gave the Overton girl a frowning appraising glance, and turning on his heel strode out, followed by the woman, who locked the door behind her. Both were back in a few moments, rather to the girl’s surprise.

“So?” said the woman nodding slowly. “It is Frau Gray?”

Grace regarded her inquiringly.

“What do you mean?”

“That it is not Frau Schmidt, but Frau Gray.”

“I did not tell you my name was Schmidt, for it is not. I am an American, not a Hun, nor do I admit that my name is Gray. The carrier pigeon was late in arriving this morning, eh?” Grace grinned broadly as she saw that the shot had gone home, for both showed their amazement. “Ah! I observe that the Herr Colonel understands English after all. A precious pair of enemy agents. What do you think will be done to you when my people find out about this – and about the pigeons?”

“Nothing! They will never know,” retorted the woman savagely.

“Do not be deceived. I have arranged that they shall, no matter whether I go back or do not go back.” She reasoned that no more pigeons would be used, now that the American army was nearing the river. Grace did not know that the army already had arrived. “It will not help your cause to detain me. It will have the opposite effect. Am I to go or stay?” continued Grace.

“You are to – ”

An orderly rapped on the door and saluted as the colonel wheeled on him.

“What is it?” demanded the officer.

“Orders, Herr Colonel. The enemy has heard that a woman is being detained here. Unless she is released and given safe conduct to the bridge before twelve o’clock to-day they threaten to come and get her.”

Grace understood every word of the conversation, but not so much as the flicker of an eyelash indicated that she did. She was not yet out of her difficulties and a slip, even in the face of that order, might prove her undoing.

“What shall you do, Herr Colonel?” demanded the German woman.

The colonel shrugged his shoulders.

“They would not dare to do it,” added the Frau.

“You do not know. They eagerly await the chance, the schweinhunde! See that she has safe conduct, but it must not be known that we have detained her here,” he said, turning to the orderly. “We shall have to give up our quarters and go elsewhere. Tell them, when the woman is turned over, that she was taken in seriously hurt, and that she was held only until she could safely go away. Tell them that she would have died had she been left uncared for. No names are to be mentioned. Understand?”

“Yes, Herr Colonel. I will go with her. Is she to go now?”

“Yes.” He turned savagely to Grace. “Frau Gray,” he announced in English that was quite broken, “had I known yesterday who you were you would not now be here. There are those who would not treat you as we have treated you, were they to know who you are. Do not presume to come to Germany again, intentionally or unintentionally. If you do you may not go back. That is all.” The Herr Colonel strode from the room, and the woman hurried after him. Then the orderly beckoned to Grace to follow him, after discovering that she “could not understand German.” Grace smiled and nodded and dutifully followed the soldier down the stairs.

It was quite a distance down, but not once during their journey to the outer air did Grace see a person. The old castle might have been deserted, and probably was. There was a difference when they got into the village. The streets were filled with chattering, gesticulating men, women and children. Some appeared to know who she was so far as her arrival in a parachute was concerned; others saw or had heard that she was an American.

That was not a pleasant walk for Grace Harlowe Gray, though it was an interesting one to her. The sidewalks were lined with spectators, some stolid and sullen, others quite the opposite. The latter were in the majority and the American girl frequently was jeered at and poked at with fingers. A woman slapped her, but, though Grace’s face burned, she did no more than look at the woman calmly, unemotionally. Several times she heard the word “spy” hurled at her in German and smiled to herself. It was an interesting study in psychology to Grace Harlowe, even if she were the object of the demonstration.

“Isn’t she pretty?” demanded a male voice in German.

Grace flashed a look in that direction to see who had uttered the words. She saw a German officer and an attractive-looking young woman backed up against a store front.

“Pretty? How can you say that of an American?” demanded the young woman. “She is as hideous and as ugly as no doubt her soul is black.”

“You are a true German, Fraulein,” exclaimed the German officer enthusiastically.

Grace grinned, though the characterization hurt her more than she cared to admit to herself. With every step after that she expected to encounter violence, but it was not until she neared the bridge that she did. Some one threw a stone. It was a small stone, but the thrower, as Grace concluded later when thinking over the occurrence, must have been a member of a Hun bomb squad. It hit and knocked the Overton girl down.

Grace got up dizzily. Blood was trickling down her cheek. Her escort appeared to be wholly indifferent to her plight, and did not even rebuke the one who threw the stone. Fortunately for Grace it was a small stone, else she would not have gotten up quite so readily.

“This is a sample of Hun ‘kultur,’ I presume?” she said in German, addressing her conductor.

The orderly glanced at her inquiringly.

“Sprechen Sie Deutsch?” he demanded.

“No, I wouldn’t speak the language if it were the only language in the world,” she retorted, again in German, but refused to utter another word in the language.

“The woman is to pass,” directed the orderly, presenting a pass to the sentry on duty at the bridge; then he turned abruptly and left Grace to get along as best she might.

“Courtesy appears to have been neglected in the education of these people,” muttered Grace. “However, I should not be amazed at that, knowing the Boches as I do after my many months on the western front. Thank goodness I am free, I hope, for good and all. Now I suppose I shall have a hard time getting into our lines.”

Grace did have a hard time. She was promptly halted by an American sentry, who, calling the corporal of the guard, turned her over to him. Grace demanded to be taken before Captain Boucher of the Intelligence Department, which was done because orders had been given to that effect.

Captain Boucher gazed at the ragged figure for a few seconds, his gaze traveling up to the face, from which the blood had not all been wiped away. He was on his feet in an instant.

“Mrs. Gray!” he exclaimed. “You are wounded!”

“Nothing to speak of, sir. Merely a little memento of Boche ‘kultur.’ In other words I was stoned out of Germany.” Grace smiled that winning smile that always won people to her. “I am quite all right, but my clothing and my hair are simply impossible. I wish it were dark, for I do dread to go through the streets here in my present disgraceful condition.”

“This is an outrage. Were I the general in command of this army I’d have those hounds down on their knees!” raged the captain.

“That is what they need, sir. Those people need to have the arrogance beaten out of them. I am not saying this in any spirit of revenge, nor for what they did to me.”

“I understand – I understand. I will call a car to take you to your billet. Your signal from the castle was seen by one of our agents before the army got here. Then later Major Colt escaped and swam the Rhine, and he too reported it. He saw your Morse message just as he reached the bank on this side. When you are able I shall wish you to tell me what occurred over there.”

“I will tell you now, if I may.” Grace took up the narrative from the time of her landing in the vineyard, giving him only such information as she knew to be of military interest. The Intelligence officer listened with close attention.

“You should be in the secret service,” he declared after she had finished. “By what means do you think the Germans got information about you?”

“Pigeon or spy, sir. Pigeon most likely. You have not found the guilty one, have you, sir?”

“We have not.” The captain pinched his lips together. “I think we shall have to ask you to run this spy matter down, Mrs. Gray.”