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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/5748.txt b/5748.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e0c3938 --- /dev/null +++ b/5748.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11484 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of In Secret, by Robert W. Chambers + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: In Secret + +Author: Robert W. Chambers + +Posting Date: September 10, 2012 [EBook #5748] +Release Date: May, 2004 +First Posted: August 23, 2002 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN SECRET *** + + + + +Produced by David Moynihan, Charles Franks and the +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + + + + + + + +IN SECRET + +by + +ROBERT W. CHAMBERS + +AUTHOR OF "THE COMMON LAW," "THE RECKONING," "LORRAINE," ETC. + +NEW YORK + + + + + + +DEDICATION + + + + + + + A grateful nation's thanks are due + To Arethusa and to you--- + To her who dauntless at your side + Pneumonia and Flue defied + With phials of formaldehyde! + +II + + Chief of Police were you, by gosh! + Gol ding it! how you bumped the Boche! + Handed 'em one with club and gun + Until the Hun was on the run: + And that's the way the war was won. + +III + + Easthampton's pride! My homage take + For Fairest Philadelphia's sake. + Retire in company with Bill; + Rest by the Racquet's window sill + And, undisturbed, consume your pill. + +ENVOI + + When Cousin Feenix started west + And landed east, he did his best; + And so I've done my prettiest + To make this rhyme long overdue; + For Arethusa and for you. + +R. W. C. + + + + + + +IN SECRET + +CHAPTER I + +CUP AND LIP + + + + + +The case in question concerned a letter in a yellow envelope, which +was dumped along with other incoming mail upon one of the many long +tables where hundreds of women and scores of men sat opening and +reading thousands of letters for the Bureau of P. C.--whatever that +may mean. + +In due course of routine a girl picked up and slit open the yellow +envelope, studied the enclosed letter for a few moments, returned it +to its envelope, wrote a few words on a slip of paper, attached the +slip to the yellow envelope, and passed it along to the D. A. +C.--whoever he or she may be. + +The D. A. C., in course of time, opened this letter for the second +time, inspected it, returned it to the envelope, added a memorandum, +and sent it on up to the A. C.--whatever A. C. may signify. + +Seated at his desk, the A. C. perused the memoranda, glanced over +the letter and the attached memoranda, added his terse comment to +the other slips, pinned them to the envelope, and routed it through +certain channels which ultimately carried the letter into a room +where six silent and preoccupied people sat busy at six separate +tables. + +Fate had taken charge of that yellow envelope from the moment it was +mailed in Mexico; Chance now laid it on a yellow oak table before a +yellow-haired girl; Destiny squinted over her shoulder as she drew +the letter from its triply violated envelope and spread it out on +the table before her. + +A rich, warm flush mounted to her cheeks as she examined the +document. Her chance to distinguish herself had arrived at last. She +divined it instantly. She did not doubt it. She was a remarkable +girl. + +The room remained very still. The five other cipher experts of the +P. I. Service were huddled over their tables, pencil in hand, +absorbed in their several ungodly complications and laborious +calculations. But they possessed no Rosetta Stone to aid them in +deciphering hieroglyphics; toad-like, they carried the precious +stone in their heads, M. D.! + +No indiscreet sound interrupted their mental gymnastics, save only +the stealthy scrape of a pen, the subdued rustle of writing paper, +the flutter of a code-book's leaves thumbed furtively. + +The yellow-haired girl presently rose from her chair, carrying in +her hand the yellow letter and its yellow envelope with yellow slips +attached; and this harmonious combination of colour passed +noiselessly into a smaller adjoining office, where a solemn young +man sat biting an unlighted cigar and gazing with preternatural +sagacity at nothing at all. + +Possibly his pretty affianced was the object of his deep revery--he +had her photograph in his desk--perhaps official cogitation as D. +C. of the E. C. D.--if you understand what I mean?--may have been +responsible for his owlish abstraction. + +Because he did not notice the advent of the yellow haired girl until +she said in her soft, attractive voice: + +"May I interrupt you a moment, Mr. Vaux?" + +Then he glanced up. + +"Surely, surely," he said. "Hum--hum!--please be seated, Miss Erith! +Hum! Surely!" + +She laid the sheets of the letter and the yellow envelope upon the +desk before him and seated herself in a chair at his elbow. She was +VERY pretty. But engaged men never notice such details. + +"I'm afraid we are in trouble," she remarked. + +He read placidly the various memoranda written on the yellow slips +of paper, scrutinised! the cancelled stamps, postmarks, +superscription. But when his gaze fell upon the body of the letter +his complacent expression altered to one of disgust! + +"What's this, Miss Erith?" + +"Code-cipher, I'm afraid." + +"The deuce!" + +Miss Erith smiled. She was one of those girls who always look as +though they had not been long out of a bathtub. She had hazel eyes, +a winsome smile, and hair like warm gold. Her figure was youthfully +straight and supple--But that would not interest an engaged man. + +The D. C. glanced at her inquiringly. + +"Surely, surely," he muttered, "hum--hum!--" and tried to fix his +mind on the letter. + +In fact, she was one of those girls who unintentionally and +innocently render masculine minds uneasy through some delicate, +indefinable attraction which defies analysis. + +"Surely," murmured the D. C., "surely! Hum--hum!" + +A subtle freshness like the breath of spring in a young orchard +seemed to linger about her. She was exquisitely fashioned to trouble +men, but she didn't wish to do such a-- + +Vaux, who was in love with another girl, took another uneasy look at +her, sideways, then picked up his unlighted cigar and browsed upon +it. + +"Yes," he said nervously, "this is one of those accursed +code-ciphers. They always route them through to me. Why don't they +notify the five--" + +"Are you going to turn THIS over to the Postal Inspection Service?" + +"What do you think about it, Miss Erith? You see it's one of those +hopeless arbitrary ciphers for which there is no earthly solution +except by discovering and securing the code book and working it out +that way."7 + +She said calmly, but with heightened colour: + +"A copy of that book is, presumably, in possession of the man to +whom this letter is addressed." + +"Surely--surely. Hum--hum! What's his name, Miss Erith?"--glancing +down at the yellow envelope. "Oh, yes--Herman Lauffer--hum!" + +He opened a big book containing the names of enemy aliens and +perused it, frowinng. The name of Herman Lauffer was not listed. He +consulted other volumes containing supplementary lists of suspects +and undesirables--lists furnished daily by certain services +unnecessary to mention. + +"Here he is!" exclaimed Vaux; "--Herman Lauffer, picture-framer and +gilder! That's his number on Madison Avenue!"--pointing to the +type-written paragraph. "You see he's probably already under +surveillance-one of the several services is doubtless keeping tabs +on him. I think I'd better call up the--" + +"Please!--Mr. Vaux!" she pleaded. + +He had already touched the telephone receiver to unhook it. Miss +Erith looked at him appealingly; her eyes were very, very hazel. + +"Couldn't we handle it?" she asked. + +"WE?" + +"You and I!" + +"But that's not our affair, Miss Erith--" + +"Make it so! Oh, please do. Won't you?" + +Vaux's arm fell to the desk top. He sat thinking for a few minutes. +Then he picked up a pencil in an absent-minded manner and began to +trace little circles, squares, and crosses on his pad, stringing +them along line after line as though at hazard and apparently +thinking of anything except what he was doing. + +The paper on which he seemed to be so idly employed lay on his desk +directly under Miss Erith's eyes; and after a while the girl began +to laugh softly to herself. + +"Thank you, Mr. Vaux," she said. "This is the opportunity I have +longed for." + +Vaux looked up at her as though he did not understand. But the girl +laid one finger on the lines of circles, squares, dashes and +crosses, and, still laughing, read them off, translating what he had +written: + +"You are a very clever girl. I've decided to turn this case over to +you. After all, your business is to decipher cipher, and you can't +do it without the book." + +They both laughed. + +"I don't see how you ever solved that," he said, delighted to tease +her. + +"How insulting!--when you know it is one of the oldest and most +familiar of codes--the 1-2-3 and _a-b-c_ combination!" + +"Rather rude of you to read it over my shoulder, Miss Erith. It +isn't done--" + +"You meant to see if I could! You know you did!" + +"Did I?" + +"Of course! That old 'Seal of Solomon' cipher is perfectly +transparent." + +"Really? But how about THIS!"--touching the sheets of the Lauffer +letter--"how are you going to read this sequence of Arabic +numerals?" + +"I haven't the slightest idea," said the girl, candidly. + +"But you request the job of trying to find the key?" he suggested +ironically. + +"There is no key. You know it." + +"I mean the code book." + +"I would like to try to find it." + +"How are you going to go about it?" + +"I don't know yet." + +Vaux smiled. "All right; go ahead, my dear Miss Erith. You're +officially detailed for this delightful job. Do it your own way, but +do it--" + +"Thank you so much!" + +"--In twenty-four hours," he added grimly. "Otherwise I'll turn it +over to the P.I." + +"Oh! That IS brutal of you!" + +"Sorry. But if you can't get the code-book in twenty-four hours I'll +have to call in the Service that can." + +The girl bit her lip and held out her hand for the letter. + +"I can't let it go out of my office," he remarked. "You know that, +Miss Erith." + +"I merely wish to copy it," she said reproachfully. Her eyes were +hazel. + +"I ought not to let you take a copy out of this office," he +muttered. + +"But you will, won't you?" + +"All right. Use that machine over there. Hum--hum!" + +For twenty minutes the girl was busy typing before the copy was +finally ready. Then, comparing it and finding her copy accurate, she +returned the original to Mr. Vaux, and rose with that disturbing +grace peculiar to her every movement. + +"Where may I telephone you when you're not here?" she inquired +diffidently, resting one slim, white hand on his desk. + +"At the Racquet Club. Are you going out?" + +"Yes." + +"What! You abandon me without my permission?" + +She nodded with one of those winsome smiles which incline young men +to revery. Then she turned and walked toward the cloak room. + +The D. C. was deeply in love with somebody else, yet he found it +hard to concentrate his mind for a while, and he chewed his +unlighted cigar into a pulp. Alas! Men are that way. Not sometimes. +Always. + +Finally he shoved aside the pile of letters which he had been trying +to read, unhooked the telephone receiver, called a number, got it, +and inquired for a gentleman named Cassidy. + +To the voice that answered he gave the name, business and address of +Herman Lauffer, and added a request that undue liberties be taken +with any out going letters mailed and presumably composed and +written by Mr. Lauffer's own fair hand. + +"Much obliged, Mr. Vaux," cooed Cassidy, in a voice so suave that +Vaux noticed its unusual blandness and asked if that particular +Service already had "anything on Lauffer." + +"Not soon but yet!" replied Mr. Cassidy facetiously, "thanks +ENTIRELY to your kind tip, Mr. Vaux." + +And Vaux, suspicious of such urbane pleasantries, rang off and +resumed his mutilated cigar. + +"Now, what the devil does Cassidy know about Herman Lauffer," he +mused, "and why the devil hasn't his Bureau informed us?" After long +pondering he found no answer. Besides, he kept thinking at moments +about Miss Erith, which confused him and diverted his mind from the +business on hand. + +So, in his perplexity, he switched on the electric foot-warmer, +spread his fur overcoat over his knees, uncorked a small bottle and +swallowed a precautionary formaldehyde tablet, unlocked a drawer of +his desk, fished out a photograph, and gazed intently upon it. + +It was the photograph of his Philadelphia affianced. Her first name +was Arethusa. To him there was a nameless fragrance about her name. +And sweetly, subtly, gradually the lovely phantasm of Miss Evelyn +Erith faded, vanished into the thin and frigid atmosphere of his +office. + +That was his antidote to Miss Erith--the intent inspection of his +fiancee's very beautiful features as inadequately reproduced by an +expensive and fashionable Philadelphia photographer. + +It did the business for Miss Erith every time. + +The evening was becoming one of the coldest ever recorded in New +York. The thermometer had dropped to 8 degrees below zero and was +still falling. Fifth Avenue glittered, sheathed in frost; traffic +police on post stamped and swung their arms to keep from freezing; +dry snow underfoot squeaked when trodden on; crossings were greasy +with glare ice. + +It was, also, one of those meatless, wheatless, heatless nights when +the privation which had hitherto amused New York suddenly became an +ugly menace. There was no coal to be had and only green wood. The +poor quietly died, as usual; the well-to-do ventured a hod and a +stick or two in open grates, or sat huddled under rugs over oil or +electric stoves; or migrated to comfortable hotels. And bachelors +took to their clubs. That is where Clifford Vaux went from his +chilly bachelor lodgings. He fled in a taxi, buried cheek-deep in +his fur collar, hating all cold, all coal companies, and all +Kaisers. + +In the Racquet Club he found many friends similarly +self-dispossessed, similarly obsessed by discomfort and hatred. But +there seemed to be some steam heat there, and several open fires; +and when the wheatless, meatless meal was ended and the usual +coteries drifted to their usual corners, Mr. Vaux found himself +seated at a table with a glass of something or other at his elbow, +which steamed slightly and had a long spoon in it; and he presently +heard himself saying to three other gentlemen: "Four hearts." + +His voice sounded agreeably in his own ears; the gentle glow of a +lignum-vitae wood fire smote his attenuated shins; he balanced his +cards in one hand, a long cigar in the other, exhaled a satisfactory +whiff of aromatic smoke, and smiled comfortably upon the table. + +"Four hearts," he repeated affably. "Does anybody--" + +The voice of Doom interrupted him: + +"Mr. Vaux, sir--" + +The young man turned in his easy-chair and beheld behind him a club +servant, all over silver buttons. + +"The telephone, Mr. Vaux," continued that sepulchral voice. + +"All right," said the young man. "Bill, will you take my cards?"--he +laid his hand, face down, rose and left the pleasant warmth of the +card-room with a premonitory shiver. + +"Well?" he inquired, without cordiality, picking up the receiver. + +"Mr. Vaux?" came a distinct voice which he did not recognise. + +"Yes," he snapped, "who is it?" + +"Miss Erith." + +"Oh--er--surely--surely! GOOD-evening, Miss Erith!" + +"Good-evening, Mr. Vaux. Are you, by any happy chance, quite free +this evening?" + +"Well--I'm rather busy--unless it is important--hum--hum!--in line +of duty, you know--" + +"You may judge. I'm going to try to secure that code-book to-night." + +"Oh! Have you called in the--" + +"No!" + +"Haven't you communicated with--" + +"No!" + +"Why not?" + +"Because there's too much confusion already--too much petty +jealousy and working at cross-purposes. I have been thinking over +the entire problem. You yourself know how many people have escaped +through jealous or over-zealous officers making premature arrests. +We have six different secret-service agencies, each independent of +the other and each responsible to its own independent chief, all +operating for the Government in New York City. You know what these +agencies are--the United States Secret Service, the Department of +Justice Bureau of Investigation, the Army Intelligence Service, +Naval Intelligence Service, Neutrality Squads of the Customs, and +the Postal Inspection. Then there's the State Service and the police +and several other services. And there is no proper co-ordination, no +single head for all these agencies. The result is a ghastly +confusion and shameful inefficiency. + +"This affair which I am investigating is a delicate one, as you +know. Any blundering might lose us the key to what may be a very +dangerous conspiracy. So I prefer to operate entirely within the +jurisdiction of our own Service--" + +"What you propose to do is OUTSIDE of our province!" he interrupted. + +"I'm not so sure. Are you?" + +"Well--hum--hum!--what is it you propose to do to-night?" + +"I should like to consult my Chief of Division." + +"Meaning me?" + +"Of course." + +"When?" + +"Now!" + +"Where are you just now, Miss Erith?" + +"At home. Could you come to me?" + +Vaux shivered again. + +"Where d-do you live?" he asked, with chattering teeth. + +She gave him the number of a private house on 83d Street just off +Madison Avenue. And as he listened he began to shiver all over in +the anticipated service of his country. + +"Very well," he said, "I'll take a taxi. But this has Valley Forge +stung to death, you know." + +She said: + +"I took the liberty of sending my car to the Racquet Club for you. +It should be there now. There's a foot-warmer in it." + +"Thank you so much," he replied with a burst of shivers. "I'll +b-b-be right up." + +As he left the telephone the doorman informed him that an automobile +was waiting for him. + +So, swearing under his frosty breath, he went to the cloak-room, got +into his fur coat, walked back to the card-room and gazed wrathfully +upon the festivities. + +"What did my hand do, Bill?" he inquired glumly, when at last the +scorer picked up his pad and the dealer politely shoved the pack +toward his neighbour for cutting. + +"You ruined me with your four silly hearts," replied the man who had +taken his cards. "Did you think you were playing coon-can?" + +"Sorry, Bill. Sit in for me, there's a good chap. I'm not likely to +be back to-night--hang it!" + +Perfunctory regrets were offered by the others, already engrossed in +their new hands; Vaux glanced unhappily at the tall, steaming glass, +which had been untouched when he left, but which was now merely half +full. Then, with another lingering look at the cheerful fire, he +sighed, buttoned his fur coat, placed his hat firmly upon his +carefully parted hair, and walked out to perish bravely for his +native land. + +On the sidewalk a raccoon-furred chauffeur stepped up with all the +abandon of a Kadiak bear: + +"Mr. Vaux, sir?" + +"Yes." + +"Miss Erith's car." + +"Thanks," grunted Vaux, climbing into the pretty coupe and cuddling +his shanks under a big mink robe, where, presently, he discovered a +foot-warmer, and embraced it vigorously between his patent-leather +shoes. + +It had now become the coldest night on record in New York City. +Fortunately he didn't know that; he merely sat there and hated Fate. + +Up the street and into Fifth Avenue glided the car and sped +northward through the cold, silvery lustre of the arc-lights hanging +like globes of moonlit ice from their frozen stalks of bronze. + +The noble avenue was almost deserted; nobody cared to face such +terrible cold. Few motors were abroad, few omnibuses, and scarcely a +wayfarer. Every sound rang metallic in the black and bitter air; the +windows of the coupe clouded from his breath; the panels creaked. + +At the Plaza he peered fearfully out upon the deserted Circle, where +the bronze lady of the fountain, who is supposed to represent +Plenty, loomed high in the electric glow, with her magic basket +piled high with icicles. + +"Yes, plenty of ice," sneered Vaux. "I wish she'd bring us a hod or +two of coal." + +The wintry landscape of the Park discouraged him profoundly. + +"A man's an ass to linger anywhere north of the equator," he +grumbled. "Dickybirds have more sense." And again he thought of the +wood fire in the club and the partly empty but steaming glass, and +the aroma it had wafted toward him; and the temperature it must have +imparted to "Bill." + +He was immersed in arctic gloom when at length the car stopped. A +butler admitted him to a brown-stone house, the steps of which had +been thoughtfully strewn with furnace cinders. + +"Miss Erith?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Announce Mr. Vaux, partly frozen." + +"The library, if you please, sir," murmured the butler, taking hat +and coat. + +So Vaux went up stairs with the liveliness of a crippled spider, and +Miss Erith came from a glowing fireside to welcome him, giving him a +firm and slender hand. + +"You ARE cold," she said. "I'm so sorry to have disturbed you this +evening." + +He said: + +"Hum--hum--very kind--m'sure--hum--hum!" + +There were two deep armchairs before the blaze; Miss Erith took one, +Vaux collapsed upon the other. + +She was disturbingly pretty in her evening gown. There were +cigarettes on a little table at his elbow, and he lighted one at her +suggestion and puffed feebly. + +"Which?" she inquired smilingly. + +He understood: "Irish, please." + +"Hot?" + +"Thank you, yes," + +When the butler had brought it, the young man began to regret the +Racquet Club less violently. + +"It's horribly cold out," he said. "There's scarcely a soul on the +streets." + +She nodded brightly: + +"It's a wonderful night for what we have to do. And I don't mind the +cold very much." + +"Are you proposing to go OUT?" he asked, alarmed. + +"Why, yes. You don't mind, do you?" + +"Am _I_ to go, too?" + +"Certainly. You gave me only twenty-four hours, and I can't do it +alone in that time." + +He said nothing, but his thoughts concentrated upon a single +unprintable word. + +"What have you done with the original Lauffer letter, Mr. Vaux?" she +inquired rather nervously. + +"The usual. No invisible ink had been used; nothing microscopic. +There was nothing on the letter or envelope, either, except what we +saw." + +The girl nodded. On a large table behind her chair lay a portfolio. +She turned, drew it toward her, and lifted it into her lap. + +"What have you discovered?" he inquired politely, basking in the +grateful warmth of the fire. + +"Nothing. The cipher is, as I feared, purely arbitrary. It's +exasperating, isn't it?" + +He nodded, toasting his shins. + +"You see," she continued, opening the portfolio, "here is my copy of +this wretched cipher letter. I have transferred it to one sheet. +It's nothing but a string of Arabic numbers interspersed with +meaningless words. These numbers most probably represent, in the +order in which they are written, first the number of the page of +some book, then the line on which the word is to be found--say, the +tenth line from the top, or maybe from the bottom--and then the +position of the word--second from the left or perhaps from the +right." + +"It's utterly impossible to solve that unless you have the book," he +remarked; "therefore, why speculate, Miss Erith?" + +"I'm going to try to find the book." + +"How?" + +"By breaking into the shop of Herman Lauffer." + +"House-breaking? Robbery?" + +"Yes." + +Vaux smiled incredulously: + +"Granted that you get into Lauffer's shop without being arrested, +what then?" + +"I shall have this cipher with me. There are not likely to be many +books in the shop of a gilder and maker of picture frames. I shall, +by referring to this letter, search what books I find there for a +single coherent sentence. When I discover such a sentence I shall +know that I have the right book." + +The young man smoked reflectively and gazed into the burning coals. + +"So you propose to break into his shop to-night and steal the book?" + +"There seems to be nothing else to do, Mr. Vaux." + +"Of course," he remarked sarcastically, "we could turn this matter +over to the proper authorities--" + +"I WON'T! PLEASE don't!" + +"Why not?" + +"Because I have concluded that it IS part of our work. And I've +begun already. I went to see Lauffer. I took a photograph to be +framed." + +"What does he look like?" + +"A mink--an otter--one of those sharp-muzzled little animals!--Two +tiny eyes, rather close together, a long nose that wrinkles when he +talks, as though he were sniffing at you; a ragged, black moustache, +like the furry muzzle-bristles of some wild thing--that is a sketch +of Herman Lauffer." + +"A pretty man," commented Vaux, much amused. + +"He's little and fat of abdomen, but he looks powerful." + +"Prettier and prettier!" + +They both laughed. A pleasant steam arose from the tall glass at his +elbow. + +"Well," she said, "I have to change my gown--" + +"Good Lord! Are we going now?" he remonstrated. + +"Yes. I don't believe there will be a soul on the streets." + +"But I don't wish to go at all," he explained. "I'm very happy here, +discussing things." + +"I know it. But you wouldn't let me go all alone, would you, Mr. +Vaux?" + +"I don't want you to go anywhere." + +"But I'm GOING!" + +"Here's where I perish," groaned Vaux, rising as the girl passed him +with her pretty, humorous smile, moving lithely, swiftly as some +graceful wild thing passing confidently through its own domain. + +Vaux gazed meditatively upon the coals, glass in one hand, cigarette +in the other. Patriotism is a tough career. + +"This is worse than inhuman," he thought. "If I go out on such an +errand to-night I sure am doing my bitter bit. ... Probably some +policeman will shoot me--unless I freeze to death. This is a vastly +unpleasant affair.... Vastly!" + +He was still caressing the fire with his regard when Miss Erith came +back. + +She wore a fur coat buttoned to the throat, a fur toque, fur gloves. +As he rose she naively displayed a jimmy and two flashlights. + +"I see," he said, "very nice, very handy! But we don't need these to +convict us." + +She laughed and handed him the instruments; and he pocketed them and +followed her downstairs. + +Her car was waiting, engine running; she spoke to the Kadiak +chauffeur, got in, and Vaux followed. + +"You know," he said, pulling the mink robe over her and himself, +"you're behaving very badly to your superior officer." + +"I'm so excited, so interested! I hope I'm not lacking in deference +to my honoured Chief of Division. Am I, Mr. Vaux?" + +"You certainly hustle me around some! This is a crazy thing we're +doing." + +"Oh, I'm sorry!" + +"You're an autocrat. You're a lady-Nero! Tell me, Miss Erith, were +you ever afraid of anything on earth?" + +"Yes." + +"What?" + +"Lightning and caterpillars." + +"Those are probably the only really dangerous things I never +feared," he said. "You seem to be young and human and feminine. Are +you?" + +"Oh, very." + +"Then why aren't you afraid of being shot for a burglar, and why do +you go so gaily about grand larceny?" + +The girl's light laughter was friendly and fearless. + +"Do you live alone?" he inquired after a moment's silence. + +"Yes. My parents are not living." + +"You are rather an unusual girl, Miss Erith." + +"Why?" + +"Well, girls of your sort are seldom as much in earnest about their +war work as you seem to be," he remarked with gentle irony. + +"How about the nurses and drivers in France?" + +"Oh, of course. I mean nice girls, like yourself, who do near-war +work here in New York--" + +"You ARE brutal!" she exclaimed. "I am mad to go to France! It is a +sacrifice--a renunciation for me to remain in New York. I understand +nursing and I know how to drive a car; but I have stayed here +because my knowledge of ciphers seemed to fit me for this work." + +"I was teasing you," he said gently. + +"I know it. But there is SO much truth in what you say about +near-war work. I hate that sort of woman.... Why do you laugh?" + +"Because you're just a child. But you are full of ability and +possibility, Miss Erith." + +"I wish my ability might land me in France!" + +"Surely, surely," he murmured. + +"Do you think it will, Mr. Vaux?" + +"Maybe it will," he said, not believing it. He added: "I think, +however, your undoubted ability is going to land us both in jail." + +At which pessimistic prognosis they both began to laugh. She was +very lovely when she laughed. + +"I hope they'll give us the same cell," she said. "Don't you?" + +"Surely," he replied gaily. + +Once he remembered the photograph of Arethusa in his desk at +headquarters, and thought that perhaps he might need it before the +evening was over. + +"Surely, surely," he muttered to himself, "hum--hum!" + +Her coupe stopped in Fifty-sixth Street near Madison Avenue. + +"The car will wait here," remarked the girl, as Vaux helped her to +descend. "Lauffer's shop is just around the corner." She took his +arm to steady herself on the icy sidewalk. He liked it. + +In the bitter darkness there was not a soul to be seen on the +street; no tramcars were approaching on Madison Avenue, although far +up on the crest of Lenox Hill the receding lights of one were just +vanishing. + +"Do you see any policemen?" she asked in a low voice. + +"Not one. They're all frozen to death, I suppose, as we will be in a +few minutes." + +They turned into Madison Avenue past the Hotel Essex. There was not +a soul to be seen. Even the silver-laced porter had retired from the +freezing vestibule. A few moments later Miss Erith paused before a +shop on the ground floor of an old-fashioned brownstone residence +which had been altered for business. + +Over the shop-window was a sign: "H. Lauffer, Frames and Gilding." +The curtains of the shop-windows were lowered. No light burned +inside. + +Over Lauffer's shop was the empty show-window of another shop--on +the second floor--the sort of place that milliners and tea-shop +keepers delight in--but inside the blank show-window was pasted the +sign "To Let." + +Above this shop were three floors, evidently apartments. The windows +were not lighted. + +"Lauffer lives on the fourth floor," said Miss Erith. "Will you +please give me the jimmy, Vaux?" + +He fished it out of his overcoat pocket and looked uneasily up and +down the deserted avenue while the girl stepped calmly into the open +entryway. There were two doors, a glass one opening on the stairs +leading to the upper floors, and the shop door on the left. + +She stooped over for a rapid survey, then with incredible swiftness +jimmied the shop door. + +The noise of the illegal operations awoke the icy and silent avenue +with a loud, splitting crash! The door swung gently inward. + +"Quick!" she said. And he followed her guiltily inside. + +The shop was quite warm. A stove in the rear room still emitted heat +and a dull red light. On the stove was a pot of glue, or some other +substance used by gilders and frame makers. Steam curled languidly +from it; also a smell not quite as languid. + +Vaux handed her an electric torch, then flashed his own. The next +moment she found a push button and switched on the lights in the +shop. Then they extinguished their torches. + +Stacks of frames in raw wood, frames in "compo," samples gilded and +in natural finish littered the untidy place. A few process +"mezzotints" hung on the walls. There was a counter on which lay +twine, shears and wrapping paper, and a copy of the most recent +telephone directory. It was the only book in sight, and Miss Erith +opened it and spread her copy of the cipher-letter beside it. Then +she began to turn the pages according to the numbers written in her +copy of the cipher letter. + +Meanwhile, Vaux was prowling. There were no books in the rear room; +of this he was presently assured. He came back into the front shop +and began to rummage. A few trade catalogues rewarded him and he +solemnly laid them on the counter. + +"The telephone directory is NOT the key," said Miss Erith, pushing +it aside. A few moments were sufficient to convince them that the +key did not lie within any of the trade catalogues either. + +"Have you searched very carefully?" she asked. + +"There's not another book in the bally shop." + +"Well, then, Lauffer must have it in his apartment upstairs." + +"Which apartment is it?" + +"The fourth floor. His name is under a bell on a brass plate in the +entry. I noticed it when I came in." She turned off the electric +light; they went to the door, reconnoitred cautiously, saw nobody on +the avenue. However, a tramcar was passing, and they waited; then +Vaux flashed his torch on the bell-plate. + +Under the bell marked "Fourth Floor" was engraved Herman Lauffer's +name. + +"You know," remonstrated Vaux, "we have no warrant for this sort of +thing, and it means serious trouble if we're caught." + +"I know it. But what other way is there?" she inquired naively. "You +allowed me only twenty-four hours, and I WON'T back out!" + +"What procedure do you propose now?" he asked, grimly amused, and +beginning to feel rather reckless himself, and enjoying the feeling. +"What do you wish to do?" he repeated. "I'm game." + +"I have an automatic pistol," she remarked seriously, tapping her +fur-coat pocket, "--and a pair of handcuffs--the sort that open and +lock when you strike a man on the wrist with them. You know the +kind?" + +"Surely. You mean to commit assault and robbery in the first degree +upon the body of the aforesaid Herman?" + +"I-is that it?" she faltered. + +"It is." + +She hesitated: + +"That is rather dreadful, isn't it?" + +"Somewhat. It involves almost anything short of life imprisonment. +But _I_ don't mind." + +"We couldn't get a search-warrant, could we?" + +"We have found nothing, so far, in that cipher letter to encourage +us in applying for any such warrant," he said cruelly. + +"Wouldn't the excuse that Lauffer is an enemy alien and not +registered aid us in securing a warrant?" she insisted. + +"He is not an alien. I investigated that after you left this +afternoon. His parents were German but he was born in Chicago. +However, he is a Hun, all right--I don't doubt that.... What do you +propose to do now?" + +She looked at him appealingly: + +"Won't you allow me more than twenty-four hours?" + +"I'm sorry." + +"Why won't you?" + +"Because I can't dawdle over this affair." + +The girl smiled at him in her attractive, resolute way: + +"Unless we find that book we can't decipher this letter. The letter +comes from Mexico,--from that German-infested Republic. It is +written to a man of German parentage and it is written in cipher. +The names of Luxburg, Caillaux, Bolo, Bernstorff are still fresh in +our minds. Every day brings us word of some new attempt at sabotage +in the United States. Isn't there ANY way, Mr. Vaux, for us to +secure the key to this cipher letter?" + +"Not unless we go up and knock this man Lauffer on the head. Do you +want to try it?" + +"Couldn't we knock rather gently on his head?" + +Vaux stifled a laugh. The girl was so pretty, the risk so +tremendous, the entire proceeding so utterly outrageous that a +delightful sense of exhilaration possessed him. + +"Where's that gun?" he said. + +She drew it out and handed it to him. + +"Is it loaded?" + +"Yes." + +"Where are the handcuffs?" + +She fished out the nickel-plated bracelets and he pocketed his +torch. A pleasant thrill passed through the rather ethereal anatomy +of Mr. Vaux. + +"All right," he said briskly. "Here's hoping for adjoining cells!" + +To jimmy the glass door was the swiftly cautious work of a moment or +two. Then the dark stairs rose in front of them and Vaux took the +lead. It was as cold as the pole in there, but Vaux's blood was +racing now. And alas! the photograph of Arethusa was in his desk at +the office! + +On the third floor he flashed his torch through an empty corridor +and played it smartly over every closed door. On the fourth floor he +took his torch in his left hand, his pistol in his right. + +"The door to the apartment is open!" she whispered. + +It was. A lamp on a table inside was still burning. They had a +glimpse of a cheap carpet on the floor, cheap and gaudy furniture. +Vaux extinguished and pocketed his torch, then, pistol lifted, he +stepped noiselessly into the front room. + +It seemed to be a sort of sitting-room, and was in disorder; +cushions from a lounge lay about the floor; several books were +scattered near them; an upholstered chair had been ripped open and +disembowelled, and its excelsior stuffing strewn broadcast. + +"This place looks as though it had been robbed!" whispered Vaux. +"What the deuce do you suppose has happened?" + +They moved cautiously to the connecting-door of the room in the +rear. The lamplight partly illuminated it, revealing it as a +bedroom. + +Bedclothes trailed to the floor, which also was littered with dingy +masculine apparel flung about at random. Pockets of trousers and of +coats had been turned inside out, in what apparently had been a +hasty and frantic search. + +The remainder of the room was in disorder, too; underwear had been +pulled from dresser and bureau; the built-in wardrobe doors swung +ajar and the clothing lay scattered about, every pocket turned +inside out. + +"For heaven's sake," muttered Vaux, "what do you suppose this +means?" + +"Look!" she whispered, clutching his arm and pointing to the +fireplace at their feet. + +On the white-tiled hearth in front of the unlighted gas-logs lay the +stump of a cigar. + +From it curled a thin thread of smoke. + +They stared at the smoking stub on the hearth, gazed fearfully +around the dimly lighted bedroom, and peered into the dark +dining-room beyond. + +Suddenly Miss Erith's hand tightened on his sleeve. + +"Hark!" she motioned. + +He heard it, too--a scuffling noise of heavy feet behind a closed +door somewhere beyond the darkened dining-room. + +"There's somebody in the kitchenette!" she whispered. + +Vaux produced his pistol; they stole forward into the dining-room; +halted by the table. + +"Flash that door," he said in a low voice. + +Her electric torch played over the closed kitchen door for an +instant, then, at a whispered word from him, she shut it off and the +dining-room was plunged again into darkness. + +And then, before Vaux or Miss Erith had concluded what next was to +be done, the kitchen door opened; and, against the dangling lighted +bulb within, loomed a burly figure wearing hat and overcoat and a +big bass voice rumbled through the apartment: + +"All right, all right, keep your shirt on and I'll get your coat and +vest for you--" + +Then Miss Erith flashed her torch full in the man's face, blinding +him. And Vaux covered him with levelled pistol. + +Even then the man made a swift motion toward his pocket, but at +Vaux's briskly cheerful warning he checked himself and sullenly and +very slowly raised both empty hands. + +"All right, all right," he grumbled. "It's on me this time. Go on; +what's the idea?" + +"W-well, upon my word!" stammered Vaux, "it's Cassidy!" + +"F'r the love o' God," growled Cassidy, "is that YOU, Mr. Vaux!" He +lowered his arms sheepishly, reached out and switched on the ceiling +light over the dining-room table. "Well, f'r--" he began; and, +seeing Miss Erith, subsided. + +"What are you doing here?" demanded Vaux, disgusted with this +glaring example of interference from another service. + +"What am I doing?" repeated Cassidy with a sarcastic glance at Miss +Erith. "Faith, I'm pinching a German gentleman we've been watching +these three months and more. Is that what you're up to, too?" + +"Herman Lauffer?" + +"That's the lad, sir. He's in the kitchen yonder, dressing f'r to +take a little walk. I gotta get his coat and vest. And what are you +doing here, sir?" + +"How did YOU get in?" asked Miss Erith, flushed with chagrin and +disappointment. + +"With keys, ma'am." + +"Oh, Lord!" said Vaux, "we jimmied the door. What do you think of +that, Cassidy?" + +"Did you so?" grinned Cassidy, now secure in his triumphant priority +and inclined to become friendly. + +"I never dreamed that your division was watching Lauffer," continued +Vaux, still red with vexation. "It's a wonder we didn't spoil the +whole affair between us." + +"It is that!" agreed Cassidy with a wider grin. "And you can take it +from me, Mr. Vaux, we never knew that the Postal Inspection was on +to this fellow at all at all until you called me to stop outgoing +letters." + +"What have you on him?" inquired Vaux. + +Cassidy laughed: + +"Oh, listen then! Would you believe this fellow was tryin' the old +diagonal trick? Sure it was easy; I saw him mail a letter this +afternoon and I got it. I'd been waiting three months for him to do +something like that. But he's a fox--he is that, Mr. Vaux! Do you +want to see the letter? I have it on me--" + +He fished it out of his inside pocket and spread it on the dining +table under the light. + +"You know the game," he remarked, laying a thick forefinger on the +diagonal line bisecting the page. "All I had to do was to test the +letter by drawing that line across it from corner to corner. Read +the words that the line cuts through. Can you beat it?" + +Vaux and Miss Erith bent over the letter, read the apparently +innocent message it contained, then read the words through which the +diagonal line had been drawn. + +Then Cassidy triumphantly read aloud the secret and treacherous +information which the letter contained: + +"SEVEN UNITED STATES TRANSPORTS TO-DAY NEW YORK (BY THE) NORTHERN +ROUTE. INFORM OUR U-BOATS. URGENCY REQUIRES INSTANT MEASURES. TEN +MORE ARE TO SAIL FROM HERE NEXT WEEK." + +"The dirty Boche!" added Cassidy. "Dugan has left for Mexico to look +up this brother of his and I'm lookin' up this snake, so I guess +there's no harm done so far." + +"New York. + +"January 3rd. 1916. + +"My dear Brother: + +"For seven long weeks I have awaited a letter from you. The +United-States mails from Mexico seem to be interrupted. Imagine my +transports of joy when at last I hear from you today. You and I, +dear brother, are the only ones left of our family--you in Vera +Cruz. I in New-York--you in a hot Southern climate, I in a Northern, +amid snow and ice, where the tardy sun does not route me from my bed +till late in the morning. + +"However, I inform you with pleasure that I am well. I rejoice that +our good health is mutual. After all, the dear old U. S. suits me. +Of course railroads or boats could carry me to a warm climate, in +case urgency required it. But I am quite well now, and my health +requires merely prudence. However, if I am again ill at any instant, +I shall leave for Florida, where all tho proper measures can be +taken to combat my rheumatism, + +"Ten days ago I was in bed, and unable to do more than move my left +arm. But the doctors are confident that my malady is not going to +return. If it does threaten to return I shall sail for Jacksonville +at once, and from there go to Miami, and not return here until the +warm and balmy weather of next spring has lasted at least a week. +Affectionataly your brother. + +"Herman." + +He pocketed the letter and went into the bedroom to get a coat and +vest for the prisoner. Miss Erith looked at Vaux. + +"Cassidy seems to know nothing about the code-cipher," she +whispered. "I think he rummaged on general principles, not in search +of any code-book." + +She looked around the dining-room. The doors of the yellow oak +sideboard were open, but no book was there among the plated knives +and forks and the cheap dishes. + +Cassidy came back with the garments he had been looking for--an +overcoat, coat and vest--and he carried them into the kitchenette, +whither presently Vaux followed him. + +Cassidy had just unlocked the handcuffs from the powerful wrists of +a dark, stocky, sullen man who stood in his shirt-sleeves near a +small deal table. + +"Lauffer?" inquired Vaux, dryly. + +"It sure is, ain't it, Herman?" replied Cassidy facetiously. "Now, +then, me Dutch bucko, climb into your jeans, if YOU please--there's +a good little Boche!" + +Vaux gazed curiously at the spy, who returned his inspection coolly +enough while he wrinkled his nose at him, and his beady eyes roamed +over him. + +When the prisoner had buttoned his vest and coat, Cassidy snapped on +the bracelets again, whistling cheerily under his breath. + +As they started to leave the kitchenette, Vaux, who brought up the +rear, caught sight of a large, thick book lying on the pantry shelf. +It was labelled "Perfect Cook-Book," but he picked it up, shoved it +into his overcoat pocket en passant, and followed Cassidy and his +prisoner into the dining-room. + +Here Cassidy turned humorously to him and to Miss Erith. + +"I've cleaned up the place," he remarked, "but you're welcome to +stay here and rummage if you want to. I'm sending one of our men +back to take possession as soon as I lock up this bird." + +"All right. Good luck," nodded Vaux. + +Cassidy tipped his derby to Miss Erith, bestowed a friendly grin on +Vaux. + +"Come along, old sport!" he said genially to Lauffer; and he walked +away with his handcuffed prisoner, whistling "Garryowen." + +"Wait!" motioned Vaux to Miss Erith. He went to the stairs, listened +to the progress of agent and prey, heard the street-door clash, then +hastened back to the lighted dining-room, pulling the "Perfect +Cook-Book" from his pocket. + +"I found that in the kitchenette," he remarked, laying it before her +on the table. "Maybe that's the key?" + +"A cook-book!" She smiled, opened it. "Why--why, it's a +DICTIONARY!" she exclaimed excitedly. + +"A dictionary!" + +"Yes! Look! Stormonth's English Dictionary!" + +"By ginger!" he said. "I believe it's the code-book! Where is your +cipher letter, Miss Erith!" + +The girl produced it with hands that trembled a trifle, spread it +out under the light. Then she drew from her pocket a little pad and +a pencil. + +"Quick," she said, "look for page 17!" + +"Yes, I have it!" + +"First column!" + +"Yes." + +"Now try the twentieth word from the top!" + +He counted downward very carefully. + +"It is the word 'anagraph,'" he said; and she wrote it down. + +"Also, we had better try the twentieth word counting from the bottom +of the page up," she said. "It might possibly be that." + +"The twentieth word, counting from the bottom of the column upward, +is the word 'an,'" he said. She wrote it. + +"Now," she continued, "try page 15, second column, third word from +TOP!" + +"'Ambrosia' is the word." + +"Try the third word from the BOTTOM." + +"'American.'" + +She pointed to the four words which she had written. Counting from +the TOP of the page downward the first two words were "Anagraph +ambrosia." But counting from the BOTTOM upward the two words formed +the phrase: "AN AMERICAN." + +"Try page 730, first column, seventh word from the bottom," she +said, controlling her excitement with an effort. + +"The word is 'who.'" + +"Page 212, second column, first word!" + +"'For.'" + +"Page 507, first column, seventh word!" + +"'Reasons.'" + +"We have the key!" she exclaimed. "Look at what I've written!--'An +American who for reasons!' And here, in the cipher letter, it goes +on--'of the most'--Do you see?" + +"It certainly looks like the key," he said. "But we'd better try +another word or two." + +"Try page 717, first column, ninth word." + +"The word is 'vital.'" + +"Page 274, second column, second word." + +"'Importance!'" + +"It is the key! Here is what I have written: 'An American who for +reasons, of the most vital importance!' Quick. We don't want a +Secret Service man to find us here, Mr. Vaux! He'd object to our +removing this book from Lauffer's apartment. Put it into your pocket +and run!" And the pretty Miss Erith turned and took to her heels +with Vaux after her. + +Through the disordered apartment and down the stairs they sped, out +into the icy darkness and around the corner, where her car stood, +engine running, and a blanket over the hood. + +As soon as the chauffeur espied them he whisked off the blanket; +Miss Erith said: "Home!" and jumped in, and Vaux followed. + +Deep under the fur robe they burrowed, shivering more from sheer +excitement than from cold, and the car flew across to Fifth Avenue +and then northward along deserted sidewalks and a wintry park, where +naked trees and shrubs stood stark as iron in the lustre of the +white electric lamps. + +"That time the Secret Service made a mess of it," he said with a +nervous laugh. "Did you notice Cassidy's grin of triumph?" + +"Poor Cassidy," she said. + +"I don't know. He butted in." + +"All the services are working at cross-purposes. It's a pity." + +"Well, Cassidy got his man. That's practically all he came for. +Evidently he never heard of a code-book in connection with Lauffer's +activities. That diagonal cipher caught him." + +"What luck," she murmured, "that you noticed that cook-book in the +pantry! And what common sense you displayed in smuggling it!" + +"I didn't suppose it was THE book; I just took a chance." + +"To take a chance is the best way to make good, isn't it?" she said, +laughing. "Oh, I am so thrilled, Mr. Vaux! I shall sit up all night +over my darling cipher and my fascinating code-book-dictionary." + +"Will you be down in the morning?" he inquired. + +"Of course. Then to-morrow evening, if you will come to my house, I +shall expect to show you the entire letter neatly deciphered." + +"Fine!" he exclaimed as the car stopped before her door. + +She insisted on sending him home in her car, and he was very +grateful; so when he had seen her safely inside her house with the +cook-book-dictionary clasped in her arms and a most enchanting smile +on her pretty face, he made his adieux, descended the steps, and her +car whirled him swiftly homeward through the arctic night. + + + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE SLIP + + + + + +When Clifford Vaux arrived at a certain huge building now mostly +devoted to Government work connected with the war, he found upon his +desk a dictionary camouflaged to represent a cook-book; and also +Miss Erith's complete report. And he lost no time in opening and +reading the latter document: + +"CLIFFORD VAUX, ESQ., + +"D. C. of the E. C. D., + +"P. I. Service. (Confidential) + +"Sir: + +"I home the honour to report that the matter with which you have +entrusted me is now entirely cleared up. + +"This short preliminary memorandum is merely to refresh your memory +concerning the particular case herewith submitted in detail. + +"In re Herman Laufer: + +"The code-book, as you recollect, is Stormonth's English Dictionary, +XIII Edition, published by Wm. Blackwood & Sons, Edinburgh and +London, MDCCCXCVI. This book I herewith return to you. + +"The entire cipher is, as we guessed, arbitrary and stupidly +capricious. Phonetic spelling is indulged in occasionally--I should +almost say humorously--were it not a Teuton mind which evolved the +phonetic combinations which represent proper names not found in that +dictionary--names like Holzminden and New York, for example. + +"As for the symbols and numbers, they are not at all obscure. +Reference to the dictionary makes the cipher perfectly clear. + +"In Stormonth's Dictionary you will notice that each page has two +columns; each column a varying number of paragraphs; some of the +paragraphs contain more than one word to be defined. + +"In the cipher letter the first number of any of the groups of +figures which are connected by dashes (--) and separated by vertical +(|) represents the page in Stormonth's Dictionary on which the word +is to be found. + +"The second number represents the column (1 or 2) in which the word +is to be found. + +"The third number indicates the position of the word, counting from +the bottom of the page upward, in the proper column. + +"Roman numerals which sometimes follow, enclosed in a circle, give +the position of the word in the paragraph, if it does not, as usual, +begin the paragraph. + +"The phonetic spelling of Holzminden is marked by an asterisk when +first employed. Afterward only the asterisk (*) is used, instead of +the cumbersome phonetic symbol. + +"Minus and plus signs are namely used to subtract or to add letters +or to connect syllables. Reference to the code-book makes all this +clear enough. + +"In the description of the escaped prisoner, Roman numerals give his +age; Roman and Arabic his height in feet and inches. + +"Arabic numerals enclosed in circles represent capital letters as +they occur in the middle of a page in the dictionary--as S, for +example, is printed in the middle of the page; and all words +beginning with S follow in proper sequence. + +"With the code-book at your elbow the cipher will prove to be +perfectly simple. Without the code it is impossible for any human +being to solve such a cipher, as you very well know. + +"I herewith append the cipher letter, the method of translation, and +the complete message. + +"Respectfully, + +"EVELYN ERITH: E. C. D." + +Complete Translation of Cipher Letter with Parenthetical Suggestions +by Miss Erith. + +To + +B 60-02, + +An American, who for reasons of the most vital importance has been +held as an English (civilian?) civic prisoner in the mixed civilian +(concentration) camp at Holzminden, has escaped. It is now feared +that he has made his way safely to New York. (Memo: Please note the +very ingenious use of phonetics to spell out New York. E. E.) + +(His) name (is) Kay McKay and he has been known as Kay McKay of +Isla--a Scotch title--he having inherited from his grandfather (a) +property in Scotland called Isla, which is but a poor domain +(consisting of the river) Isla and the adjoining moors and a large +white-washed manor (house) in very poor repair. + +After his escape from Holzminden it was at first believed that McKay +had been drowned in (the River) Weser. Later it was ascertained that +he sailed for an American port via a Scandinavian liner sometime +(in) October. + +(This is his) description: Age 32; height 5 feet 8 1/2 inches; eyes +brown; hair brown; nose straight; mouth regular; face oval; teeth +white and even--no dental work; small light-brown moustache; no +superficial identification marks. + +The bones in his left foot were broken many years ago, but have been +properly set. Except for an hour or so every two or three months, he +suffers no lameness. + +He speaks German without accent; French with an English accent. + +Until incarcerated (in Holzminden camp) he had never been +intemperate. There, however, through orders from Berlin, he was +tempted and encouraged in the use of intoxicants--other drink, +indeed, being excluded from his allowance--so that after the second +year he had become more or less addicted (to the use of alcohol). + +Unhappily, however, this policy, which had been so diligently and so +thoroughly pursued in order to make him talkative and to surprise +secrets from him when intoxicated (failed to produce the so properly +expected results and) only succeeded in making of the young man a +hopeless drunkard. + +Sterner measures had been decided on, and, in fact, had already been +applied, when the prisoner escaped by tunnelling. + +Now, it is most necessary to discover this McKay (man's whereabouts +and to have him destroyed by our agents in New York). Only his death +can restore to the (Imperial German) Government its perfect sense of +security and its certainty of (ultimate) victory. + +The necessity (for his destruction) lies in the unfortunate and +terrifying fact that he is cognisant of the Great Secret! He should +have been executed at Holzminden within an hour (of his +incarceration). + +This was the urgent advice of Von Tirpitz. But unfortunately High +Command intervened with the expectation (of securing from the +prisoner) further information (concerning others who, like himself, +might possibly have become possessed in some measure of a clue to +the Great Secret)? E. E. + +The result is bad. (That the prisoner has escaped without betraying +a single word of information useful to us.) E. E. + +Therefore, find him and have him silenced without delay. The +security of the Fatherland depends on this (man's immediate death). + +M 17. (Evidently the writer of the letter) E. E. + +For a long time Vaux sat studying cipher and translation. And at +last he murmured: + +"Surely, surely. Fine--very fine.... Excellent work. But--WHAT is +the Great Secret?" + +There was only one man in America who knew. + +And he had landed that morning from the Scandinavian steamer, Peer +Gynt, and, at that very moment, was standing by the bar of the Hotel +Astor, just sober enough to keep from telling everything he knew to +the bartenders, and just drunk enough to talk too much in a place +where the enemy always listens. + +He said to the indifferent bartender who had just served him: + +"'F you knew what I know 'bout Germany, you'd be won'ful man! I'M +won'ful man. I know something! Going tell, too. Going see 'thorities +this afternoon. Going tell 'em great secret!... Grea' milt'ry +secret! Tell 'em all 'bout it! Grea' secresh! Nobody knows +grea'-sekresh 'cep m'self! Whaddya thinka that? Gimme l'il +Hollanschnapps n'water onna side!" + +Hours later he was, apparently, no drunker--as though he could not +manage to get beyond a certain stage of intoxication, no matter how +recklessly he drank. + +"'Nother Hollenschnapps," he said hazily. "Goin' see 'thorities +'bout grea' sekresh! Tell 'em all 'bout it. Anybody try stop me, +knockem down. Thassa way.... N-n-nockem out!--stan' no nonsense! Ge' +me?" + +Later he sauntered off on slightly unsteady legs to promenade +himself in the lobby and Peacock Alley. + +Three men left the barroom when he left. They continued to keep him +in view. + +Although he became no drunker, he grew politer after every +drink--also whiter in the face--and the bluish, bruised look +deepened under his eyes. + +But he was a Chesterfield in manners; he did not stare at any of the +lively young persons in Peacock Alley, who seemed inclined to look +pleasantly at him; he made room for them to pass, hat in hand. + +Several times he went to the telephone desk and courteously +requested various numbers; and always one of the three men who had +been keeping him in view stepped into the adjoining booth, but did +not use the instrument. + +Several times he strolled through the crowded lobby to the desk and +inquired whether there were any messages or visitors for Mr. Kay +McKay; and the quiet, penetrating glances of the clerks on duty +immediately discovered his state of intoxication but nothing else, +except his extreme politeness and the tense whiteness of his face. + +Two of the three men who were keeping him in view tried, at various +moments, to scrape acquaintance with him in the lobby, and at the +bar; and without any success. + +The last man, who had again stepped into an adjoining booth while +McKay was telephoning, succeeded, by inquiring for McKay at the desk +and waiting there while he was being paged. + +The card on which this third man of the trio had written bore the +name Stanley Brown; and when McKay hailed the page and perused the +written name of his visitor he walked carefully back to the +lobby--not too fast, because he seemed to realise that his legs, at +that time, would not take kindly to speed. + +In the lobby the third man approached him: + +"Mr. McKay?" + +"Mr. Brown?" + +"A. I. O. agent," said Brown in a low voice. "You telephoned to +Major Biddle, I believe." + +McKay inspected him with profound gravity: + +"How do," he said. "Ve' gla', m'sure. Ve' kind 'f'you come way up +here see me. But I gotta see Major Biddle." + +"I understand. Major Biddle has asked me to meet you and bring you +to him." + +"Oh. Ve' kind, 'm'sure. Gotta see Major. Confidential. Can' tell +anybody 'cep Major." + +"The Major will meet us at the Pizza, this evening," explained +Brown. "Meanwhile, if you will do me the honour of dining with +me--" + +"Ve' kind. Pleasure, 'm'sure. Have li'l drink, Mr. Brown?" + +"Not here," murmured Brown. "I'm not in uniform, but I'm known." + +"Quite so. Unnerstan' perfec'ly. Won'do. No." + +"Had you thought of dressing for dinner?" inquired Mr. Brown +carelessly. + +McKay nodded, went over to the desk and got his key. But when he +returned to Brown he only laughed and shoved the key into his +pocket. + +"Forgot," he explained. "Just came over. Haven't any clothes. Got +these in Christiania. Ellis Island style. 'S'all I've got. Good +overcoat though." He fumbled at his fur coat as he stood there, +slightly swaying. + +"We'll get a drink where I'm not known," said Brown. "I'll find a +taxi." + +"Ve' kind," murmured McKay, following him unsteadily to the swinging +doors that opened on Long Acre, now so dimly lighted that it was +scarcely recognisable. + +An icy blast greeted them from the darkness, refreshing McKay for a +moment; but in the freezing taxi he sank back as though weary, +pulling his beaver coat around him and closing his battered eyes. + +"Had a hard time," he muttered. "Feel done in. ... Prisoner. .. . +Gottaway. . . . Three months making Dutch border.... Hell. Tell +Major all 'bout it. Great secret." + +"What secret is that?" asked Brown, peering at him intently through +the dim light, where he swayed in the corner with every jolt of the +taxi. + +"Sorry, m'dear fellow. Mussn' ask me that. Gotta tell Major n'no one +else." + +"But I am the Major's confidential--" + +"Sorry. You'll 'scuse me, 'm'sure. Can't talk Misser Brow!--'gret +'ceedingly 'cessity reticence. Unnerstan'?" + +The taxi stopped before a vaguely lighted saloon on Fifty-ninth +Street east of Fifth Avenue. McKay opened his eyes, looked around +him in the bitter darkness, stumbled out into the snow on Brown's +arm. + +"A quiet, cosy little cafe," said Brown, "where I don't mind joining +you in something hot before dinner." + +"Thasso? Fine! Hot Scotch we' good 'n'cold day. We'll havva l'il +drink keep us warm 'n'snug." + +A few respectable-looking men were drinking beer in the cafe as they +entered a little room beyond, where a waiter came to them and took +Brown's orders. + +Hours later McKay seemed to be no more intoxicated than he had been; +no more loquacious or indiscreet. He had added nothing to what he +had already disclosed, boasted no more volubly about the "great +secret," as he called it. + +Now and then he recollected himself and inquired for the "Major," +but a drink always sidetracked him. + +It was evident, too, that Brown was becoming uneasy and impatient to +the verge of exasperation, and that he was finally coming to the +conclusion that he could do nothing with the man McKay as far as +pumping was concerned. + +Twice, on pretexts, he left McKay alone in the small room and went +into the cafe, where his two companions of the Hotel Astor were +seated at a table, discussing sardine sandwiches and dark brew. + +"I can't get a damned thing out of him," he said in a low voice. +"Who the hell he is and where he comes from is past me. Had I better +fix him and take his key?" + +"Yess," nodded one of the other men, "it iss perhaps better that we +search now his luggage in his room." + +"I guess that's all we can hope for from this guy. Say! He's a clam. +And he may be only a jazzer at that." + +"He comes on the Peer Gynt this morning. We shall not forget that +alretty, nor how he iss calling at those telephones all afternoon." + +"He may be a nosey newspaper man--just a fresh souse," said Brown. +"All the same I think I'll fix him and we'll go see what he's got in +his room." + +The two men rose, paid their reckoning, and went out; Brown returned +to the small room, where McKay sat at the table with his curly brown +head buried in his arms. + +He did not look up immediately when Brown returned--time for the +latter to dose the steaming tumbler at the man's elbow, and slip the +little bottle back into his pocket. + +Then, thinking McKay might be asleep, he nudged him, and the young +man lifted his marred and dissipated visage and extended one hand +for his glass. + +They both drank. + +"Wheresa Major?" inquired McKay. "Gotta see him rightaway. Great +secreksh--" + +"Take a nap. You're tired." + +"Yess'm all in," muttered the other. "Had a hard +time--prisoner--three--three months hiding--" His head fell on his +arms again. + +Brown rose from his chair, bent over him, remained poised above his +shoulder for a few moments. Then he coolly took the key from McKay's +overcoat pocket and very deftly continued the search, in spite of +the drowsy restlessness of the other. + +But there were no papers, no keys, only a cheque-book and a wallet +packed with new banknotes and some foreign gold and silver. Brown +merely read the name written in the new cheque-book but did not take +it or the money. + +Then, his business with McKay being finished, he went out, paid the +reckoning, tipped the waiter generously, and said: + +"My friend wants to sleep for half an hour. Let him alone until I +come back for him." + +Brown had been gone only a few moments when McKay lifted his head +from his arms with a jerk, looked around him blindly, got to his +feet and appeared in the cafe doorway, swaying on unsteady legs. + +"Gotta see the Major!" he said thickly. "'M'not qui' well. Gotta--" + +The waiter attempted to quiet him, but McKay continued on toward the +door, muttering that he had to find the Major and that he was not +feeling well. + +They let him go out into the freezing darkness. Between the saloon +and the Plaza Circle he fell twice on the ice, but contrived to find +his feet again and lurch on through the deserted street and square. + +The black cold that held the city in its iron grip had driven men +and vehicles from the streets. On Fifth Avenue scarcely a moving +light was to be seen; under the fuel-conservation order, club, hotel +and private mansion were unlighted at that hour. The vast marble +mass of the Plaza Hotel loomed enormous against the sky; the New +Netherlands, the Savoy, the Metropolitan Club, the great Vanderbilt +mansion, were darkened. Only a few ice-dimmed lamps clustered around +the Plaza fountain, where the bronze goddess, with her basket of +ice, made a graceful and shadowy figure under the stars. + +The young man was feeling very ill now. His fur overcoat had become +unbuttoned and the bitter wind that blew across the Park seemed to +benumb his body and fetter his limbs so that he could barely keep +his feet. + +He had managed to cross Fifth Avenue, somehow; but now he stumbled +against the stone balustrade which surrounds the fountain, and he +rested there, striving to keep his feet. + +Blindness, then deafness possessed him. Stupefied, instinct still +aided him automatically in his customary habit of fighting; he +strove to beat back the mounting waves of lethargy; half-conscious, +he still fought for consciousness. + +After a while his hat fell off. He was on his knees now, huddled +under his overcoat, his left shoulder resting against the +balustrade. Twice one arm moved as though seeking something. It was +the mind's last protest against the betrayal of the body. Then the +body became still, although the soul still lingered within it. + +But now it had become a question of minutes--not many minutes. +Fate had knocked him out; Destiny was counting him out--had nearly +finished counting. Then Chance stepped into the squared circle of +Life. And Kay McKay was in a very bad way indeed when a coupe, +speeding northward through the bitter night, suddenly veered +westward, ran in to the curb, and stopped; and Miss Erith's +chauffeur turned in his seat at the wheel to peer back through the +glass at his mistress, whose signal he had just obeyed. + +Then he scrambled out of his seat and came around to the door, just +as Miss Erith opened it and hurriedly descended. + +"Wayland," she said, "there's somebody over there on the sidewalk. +Can't you see?--there by the marble railing?--by the fountain! +Whoever it is will freeze to death. Please go over and see what is +the matter." + +The heavily-furred chauffeur ran across the snowy oval. Miss Erith +saw him lean over the shadowy, prostrate figure, shake it; then she +hurried over too, and saw a man, crouching, fallen forward on his +face beside the snowy balustrade. + +Down on her knees in the snow beside him dropped Miss Erith, calling +on Wayland to light a match. + +"Is he dead, Miss?" + +"No. Listen to him breathe! He's ill. Can't you hear the dreadful +sounds he makes? Try to lift him, if you can. He's freezing here!" + +"I'm thinkin' he's just drunk an' snorin,' Miss." + +"What of it? He's freezing, too. Carry him to the carl" + +Wayland leaned down, put both big arms under the shoulders of the +unconscious man, and dragged him, upright, holding him by main +strength. + +"He's drunk, all right, Miss," the chauffeur remarked with a sniff +of disgust. + +That he had been drinking was evident enough to Miss Erith now. She +picked up his hat; a straggling yellow light from the ice-bound +lamps fell on McKay's battered features. + +"Get him into the car," she said, "he'll die out here in this cold." + +The big chauffeur half-carried, half-dragged the inanimate man to +the car and lifted him in. Miss Erith followed. + +"The Samaritan Hospital--that's the nearest," she said hastily. +"Drive as fast as you can, Wayland." + +McKay had slid to the floor of the coupe; Miss Erith turned on the +ceiling light, drew the fur robe around him, and lifted his head to +her knees, holding it there supported between her gloved hands. + +The light fell full on his bruised visage, on the crisp brown hair +dusted with snow, which lay so lightly on his temples, making him +seem very frail and boyish in his deathly pallor. + +His breathing grew heavier, more laboured; the coupe reeked with the +stench of alcohol; and Miss Erith, feeling almost faint, opened the +window a little way, then wrapped the young man's head in the skirt +of her fur coat and covered his icy hands with her own. + +The ambulance entrance to the Samaritan Hospital was dimly +illuminated. Wayland, turning in from Park Avenue, sounded his horn, +then scrambled down from the box as an orderly and a watchman +appeared under the vaulted doorway. And in a few moments the +emergency case had passed out of Miss Erith's jurisdiction. + +But as her car turned homeward, upon her youthful mind was stamped +the image of a pale, bruised face--of a boyish head reversed upon +her knees--of crisp, light-brown hair dusted with particles of +snow. + +Within the girl's breast something deep was stirring--something +unfamiliar--not pain--not pity--yet resembling both, perhaps. She +had no other standard of comparison. + +After she reached home she called up the Samaritan Hospital for +information, and learned that the man was suffering from the effects +of alcohol and chloral--the latter probably an overdose +self-administered--because he had not been robbed. Miss Erith also +learned that there were five hundred dollars in new United States +banknotes in his pockets, some English sovereigns, a number of Dutch +and Danish silver pieces, and a new cheque-book on the Schuyler +National Bank, in which was written what might be his name. + +"Will he live?" inquired Miss Erith, solicitous, as are people +concerning the fate of anything they have helped to rescue. + +"He seems to be in no danger," came the answer. "Are you interested +in the patient, Miss Erith?" + +"No--that is--yes. Yes, I am interested." + +"Shall we communicate with you in case any unfavourable symptoms +appear?" + +"Please do!" + +"Are you a relative or friend?" + +"N-no. I am very slightly interested--in his recovery. Nothing +more." + +"Very well. But we do not find his name in any directory. We have +attempted to communicate with his family, but nobody of that name +claims him. You say you are personally interested in the young man?" + +"Oh, no," said Miss Erith, "except that I hope he is not going to +die.... He seems so--young--f-friendless--" + +"Then you have no personal knowledge of the patient?" + +"None whatever.... What did you say his name is?" + +"McKay." + +For a moment the name sounded oddly familiar but meaningless in her +ears. Then, with a thrill of sudden recollection, she asked again +for the man's name. + +"The name written in his cheque-book is McKay." + +"McKay!" she repeated incredulously. "What else?" + +"Kay." + +"WHAT!!" + +"That is the name in the cheque-book--Kay McKay." + +Dumb, astounded, she could not utter a word. + +"Do you know anything about him, Miss Erith?" inquired the distant +voice. + +"Yes--yes!... I don't know whether I do.... I have heard the--that +name--a similar name--" Her mind was in a tumult now. Could such a +thing happen? It was utterly impossible! + +The voice on the wire continued: + +"The police have been here but they are not interested in the case, +as no robbery occurred. The young man is still unconscious, +suffering from the chloral. If you are interested, Miss Erith, would +you kindly call at the hospital to-morrow?" + +"Yes.... Did you say that there was FOREIGN money in his pockets?" + +"Dutch and Danish silver and English gold." + +"Thank you.... I shall call to-morrow. Don't let him leave before I +arrive." + +"What?" + +"I wish to see him. Please do not permit him to leave before I get +there. It--it is very important--vital--in case he is the man--the +Kay McKay in question." + +"Very well. Good-night." + +Miss Erith sank back in her armchair, shivering even in the warm +glow from the hearth. + +"Such things can NOT happen!" she said aloud. "Such things do not +happen in life!" + +And she told herself that even in stories no author would dare--not +even the veriest amateur scribbler--would presume to affront +intelligent readers by introducing such a coincidence as this +appeared to be. + +"Such things do NOT happen!" repeated Miss Erith firmly. + +Such things, however, DO occur. + +Was it possible that the Great Secret, of which the Lauffer cipher +letter spoke, was locked within the breast of this young fellow who +now lay unconscious in the Samaritan Hospital? + +Was this actually the escaped prisoner? Was this the man who, +according to instructions in the cipher, was to be marked for death +at the hands of the German Government's secret agents in America? + +And, if this truly were the same man, was he safe, at least for the +present, now that the cipher letter had been intercepted before it +had reached Herman Lauffer? + +Hour after hour, lying deep in her armchair before the fire, Miss +Erith crouched a prey to excited conjectures, not one of which could +be answered until the man in the Samaritan Hospital had recovered +consciousness. + +Suppose he never recovered consciousness. Suppose he should die-- + +At the thought Miss Erith sprang from her chair and picked up the +telephone. + +With fast-beating heart she waited for the connection. Finally she +got it and asked the question. + +"The man is dying," came the calm answer. A pause, then: "I +understand the patient has just died." + +Miss Erith strove to speak but her voice died in her throat. +Trembling from head to foot, she placed the telephone on the table, +turned uncertainly, fell into the armchair, huddled there, and +covered her face with both hands. + +For it was proving worse--a little worse than the loss of the Great +Secret--worse than the mere disappointment in losing it--worse even +than a natural sorrow in the defeat of an effort to save life. + +For in all her own life Miss Erith had never until that evening +experienced the slightest emotion when looking into the face of any +man. + +But from the moment when her brown eyes fell upon the pallid, +dissipated, marred young face turned upward on her knees in the +car--in that instant she had known for the first time a new and +indefinable emotion--vague in her mind, vaguer in her heart--yet +delicately apparent. + +But what this unfamiliar emotion might be, so faint, so vague, she +had made no effort to analyse.... It had been there; she had +experienced it; that was all she knew. + +It was almost morning before she rose, stiff with cold, and moved +slowly toward her bedroom. + +Among the whitening ashes on her hearth only a single coal remained +alive. + + + + + + +CHAPTER III + +TO A FINISH + + + + + +The hospital called her on the telephone about eight o'clock in the +morning: + +"Miss Evelyn Erith, please?" + +"Yes," she said in a tired voice, "who is it?" + +"Is this Miss Erith?" + +"Yes." + +"This is the Superintendent's office, Samaritan, Hospital, Miss +Dalton speaking." + +The girl's heart contracted with a pang of sheer pain. She closed +her eyes and waited. The voice came over the wire again: + +"A wreath of Easter lilies with your card came early--this morning. +I'm very sure there is a mistake--" + +"No," she whispered, "the flowers are for a patient who died in the +hospital last night--a young man whom I brought there in my car--Kay +McKay." + +"I was afraid so--" + +"What!" + +"McKay isn't dead! It's another patient. I was sure somebody here +had made a mistake." + +Miss Erith swayed slightly, steadied herself with a desperate effort +to comprehend what the voice was telling her. + +"There was a mistake made last night," continued Miss Dalton. +"Another patient died--a similar case. When I came on duty a few +moments ago I learned what had occurred. The young man in whom you +are interested is conscious this morning. Would you care to see him +before he is discharged?" + +Miss Erith said, unsteadily, that she would. + +She had recovered her self-command but her knees remained weak and +her lips tremulous, and she rested her forehead on both hands which +had fallen, tightly clasped, on the table in front of her. After a +few moments she felt better and she rang up her D. C., Mr. Vaux, and +explained that she expected to be late at the office. After that she +got the garage on the wire, ordered her car, and stood by the window +watching the heavily falling snow until her butler announced the +car's arrival. + +The shock of the message informing her that this man was still alive +now rapidly absorbed itself in her reviving excitement at the +prospect of an approaching interview with him. Her car ran +cautiously along Park Avenue through the driving snow, but the +distance was not far and in a few minutes the great red quadrangle +of the Samaritan Hospital loomed up on her right. And even before +she was ready, before she quite had time to compose her mind in +preparation for the questions she had begun to formulate, she was +ushered into a private room by a nurse on duty who detained her a +moment at the door: + +"The patient is ready to be discharged," she whispered, "but we have +detained him at your request. We are so sorry about the mistake." + +"Is he quite conscious?" + +"Entirely. He's somewhat shaken, that is all. Otherwise he shows no +ill effects." + +"Does he know how he came here?" + +"Oh, yes. He questioned us this morning and we told him the +circumstances." + +"Does he know I have arrived?" + +"Yes, I told him." + +"He did not object to seeing me?" inquired Miss Erith. A slight +colour dyed her face. + +"No, he made no objection. In fact, he seemed interested. He expects +you. You may go in." + +Miss Erith stepped into the room. Perhaps the patient had heard the +low murmur of voices in the corridor, for he lay on his side in bed +gazing attentively toward the door. Miss Erith walked straight to +the bedside; he looked up at her in silence. + +"I am so glad that you are better," she said with an effort made +doubly difficult in the consciousness of the bright blush on her +cheeks. Without moving he replied in what must have once been an +agreeable voice: "Thank you. I suppose you are Miss Erith." + +"Yes." + +"Then--I am very grateful for what you have done." + +"It was so fortunate--" + +"Would you be seated if you please?" + +She took the chair beside his bed. + +"It was nice of you," he said, almost sullenly. "Few women of your +sort would bother with a drunken man." + +They both flushed. She said calmly: "It is women of my sort who DO +exactly that kind of thing." + +He gave her a dark and sulky look: "Not often," he retorted: "there +are few of your sort from Samaria." + +There was a silence, then he went on in a hard voice: + +"I'd been drinking a lot... as usual.... But it isn't an excuse when +I say that my beastly condition was not due to a drunken stupor. It +just didn't happen to be that time." + +She shivered slightly. "It happened to be due to chloral," he added, +reddening painfully again. "I merely wished you to know." + +"Yes, they told me," she murmured. + +After another silence, during which he had been watching her +askance, he said: "Did you think I had taken that chloral +voluntarily?" + +She made no reply. She sat very still, conscious of vague pain +somewhere in her breast, acquiescent in the consciousness, dumb, and +now incurious concerning further details of this man's tragedy. + +"Sometimes," he said, "the poor devil who, in chloral, seeks +a-refuge from intolerable pain becomes an addict to the drug.... I +do not happen to be an addict. I want you to understand that." + +The painful colour came and went in the girl's face; he was now +watching her intently. + +"As a matter of fact, but probably of no interest to you," he +continued, "I did not voluntarily take that chloral. It was +administered to me without my knowledge--when I was more or less +stupid with liquor.... It is what is known as knockout drops, and is +employed by crooks to stupefy men who are more or less intoxicated +so that they may be easily robbed." + +He spoke now so calmly and impersonally that the girl had turned to +look at him again as she listened. And now she said: "Were you +robbed?" + +"They took my hotel key: nothing else." + +"Was that a serious matter, Mr. McKay?" + +He studied her with narrowing brown eyes. + +"Oh, no," he said. "I had nothing of value in my room at the Astor +except a few necessaries in a steamer-trunk.... Thank you so much +for all your kindness to me, Miss Erith," he added, as though +relieving her of the initiative in terminating the interview. + +As he spoke he caught her eye and divined somehow that she did not +mean to go just yet. Instantly he was on his guard, lying there with +partly closed lids, awaiting events, though not yet really +suspicious. But at her next question he rose abruptly, supported on +one elbow, his whole frame tense and alert under the bed-coverings +as though gathered for a spring. + +"What did you say?" he demanded. + +"I asked you how long ago you escaped from Holzminden camp?" +repeated the girl, very pale. + +"Who told you I had ever been there?--wherever that is!" + +"You were there as a prisoner, were you not, Mr. McKay?" + +"Where is that place?" + +"In Germany on the River Weser. You were detained there under +pretence of being an Englishman before we declared war on Germany. +After we declared war they held you as a matter of course." + +There was an ugly look in his eyes, now: "You seem to know a great +deal about a drunkard you picked up in the snow near the Plaza +fountain last night." + +"Please don't speak so bitterly." + +Quite unconsciously her gloved hand crept up on her fur coat until +it rested over her heart, pressing slightly against her breast. +Neither spoke for a few moments. Then: + +"I do know something about you, Mr. McKay," she said. "Among other +things I know that--that if you have become--become intemperate--it +is not your fault.... That was vile of them-unutterably wicked-to do +what they did to you--" + +"Who are you?" he burst out. "Where have you learned-heard such +things? Did I babble all this?" + +"You did not utter a sound!" + +"Then--in God's name--" + +"Oh, yes, yes!" she murmured, "in God's name. That is why you and I +are here together--in God's name and by His grace. Do you know He +wrought a miracle for you and me--here in New York, in these last +hours of this dreadful year that is dying very fast now? + +"Do you know what that miracle is? Yes, it's partly the fact that +you did not die last night out there on the street. Thirteen degrees +below zero! ... And you did not die.... And the other part of the +miracle is that I of all people in the world should have found +you!... That is our miracle." + +Somehow he divined that the girl did not mean the mere saving of his +life had been part of this miracle. But she had meant that, too, +without realising she meant it. + +"Who are you?" he asked very quietly. + +"I'll tell you: I am Evelyn Erith, a volunteer in the C. E. D. +Service of the United States." + +He drew a deep breath, sank down on his elbow, and rested his head +on the pillow. + +"Still I don't see how you know," he said. "I mean--the beastly +details--" + +"I'll tell you some time. I read the history of your case in an +intercepted cipher letter. Before the German agent here had received +and decoded it he was arrested by an agent of another Service. If +there is anything more to be learned from him it will be extracted. + +"But of all men on earth you are the one man I wanted to find. There +is the miracle: I found you! Even now I can scarcely force myself to +believe it is really you." + +The faintest flicker touched his eyes. + +"What did you want of me?" he inquired. + +"Help." + +"Help? From such a man as I? What sort of help do you expect from a +drunkard?" + +"Every sort. All you can give. All you can give." + +He looked at her wearily; his face had become pallid again; the dark +hollows of dissipation showed like bruises. + +"I don't understand," he said. "I'm no good, you know that. I'm done +in, finished. I couldn't help you with your work if I wanted to. +There's nothing left of me. I am not to be depended on." + +And suddenly, in his eyes of a boy, his self-hatred was revealed to +her in one savage gleam. + +"No good," he muttered feverishly, "not to be trusted--no will-power +left.... It was in me, I suppose, to become the drunkard I am--" + +"You are NOT!" cried the girl fiercely. "Don't say it!" + +"Why not? I am!" + +"You can fight your way free!" His laugh frightened her. + +"Fight? I've done that. They tried to pump me that way, too--tried +to break me--break my brain to pieces--by stopping my liquor.... I +suppose they thought I might really go insane, as they gave it back +after a while--after a few centuries in hell--and tried to make me +talk by other methods-- + +"Don't, please." She turned her head swiftly, unable to control her +quivering face. + +"Why not?" + +"I can't bear it." + +"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shock you." + +"I know." She sat for a while with head averted; and presently +spoke, sitting so: + +"We'll fight it, anyway," she said. + +"What do you mean?" + +"If you'll let me--" + +After a silence she turned and looked at him. He stammered, very +red: + +"I don't quite know why you speak to me so." + +She herself was not entirely clear on that point, either. After all, +her business with this man was to use him in the service of her +Government." + +"What is THE GREAT SECRET?" she asked calmly. + +After a long while he said, lying there very still: "So you have +even heard about that." + +"I have heard about it; that is all." + +"Do you know what it is?" + +"All I know about it is that there is such a thing--something known +to certain Germans, and by them spoken of as THE GREAT SECRET. I +imagine, of course, that it is some vital military secret which they +desire to guard." + +"Is that all you know about it?" + +"No, not all." She looked at him gravely out of very clear, honest +eyes: + +"I know, also, that the Berlin Government has ordered its agents to +discover your whereabouts, and to'silence' you." + +He gazed at her quite blandly for a moment, then, to her amazement, +he laughed--such a clear, untroubled, boyish laugh that her +constrained expression softened in sympathy. + +"Do you think that Berlin doesn't mean it?" she asked, brightening a +little. + +"Mean it? Oh, I'm jolly sure Berlin means it!" + +"Then why--" + +"Why do I laugh?" + +"Well--yes. Why do you? It does not strike me as very humorous." + +At that he laughed again--laughed so whole-heartedly, so +delightfully, that the winning smile curved her own lips once more. + +"Would you tell me why you laugh?" she inquired. + +"I don't know. It seems so funny--those Huns, those Boches, already +smeared from hair to feet with blood--pausing in their wholesale +butchery to devise a plan to murder ME!" + +His face altered; he raised himself on one elbow: + +"The swine have turned all Europe into a bloody wallow. They're +belly-deep in it--Kaiser and knecht! But that's only part of it. +They're destroying souls by millions!... Mine is already damned." + +Miss Erith sprang to her feet: "I tell you not to say such a thing!" +she cried, exasperated. "You're as young as I am! Besides, souls are +not slain by murder. If they perish it's suicide, ALWAYS!" + +She began to pace the white room nervously, flinging open her fur +coat as she turned and came straight back to his bed again. Standing +there and looking down at him she said: + +"We've got to fight it out. The country needs you. It's your bit and +you've got to do it. There's a cure for alcoholism--Dr. Langford's +cure. Are you afraid because you think it may hurt?" + +He lay looking up at her with hell's own glimmer in his eyes again: + +"You don't know what you're talking about," he said. "You talk of +cures, and I tell you that I'm half dead for a drink right now! And +I'm going to get up and dress and get it!" + +The expression of his features and his voice and words appalled her, +left her dumb for an instant. Then she said breathlessly: + +"You won't do that!" + +"Yes I will." + +"No." + +"Why not?" he demanded excitedly. + +"You owe me something." + +"What I said was conventional. I'm NOT grateful to you for saving +the sort of life mine is!" + +"I was not thinking of your life." + +After a moment he said more quietly: "I know what you mean.... Yes, +I am grateful. Our Government ought to know." + +"Then tell me, now." + +"You know," he said brutally, "I have only your word that you are +what you say you are." + +She reddened but replied calmly: "That is true. Let me show you my +credentials." + +From her muff she drew a packet, opened it, and laid the contents on +the bedspread under his eyes. Then she walked to the window and +stood there with her back turned looking out at the falling snow. + +After a few minutes he called her. She went back to the bedside, +replaced the packet in her muff, and stood waiting in silence. + +He lay looking up at her very quietly and his bruised young features +had lost their hard, sullen expression. + +"I'd better tell you all I know," he said, "because there is really +no hope of curing me... you don't understand... my will-power is +gone. The trouble is with my mind itself. I don't want to be +cured.... I WANT what's killing me. I want it now, always, all the +time. So before anything happens to me I'd better tell you what I +know so that our Government can make the proper investigation. +Because what I shall tell you is partly a surmise. I leave it to you +to judge--to our Government." + +She drew from her muff a little pad and a pencil and seated herself +on the chair beside him. + +"I'll speak slowly," he began, but she shook her head, saying that +she was an expert stenographer. So he went on: + +"You know my name--Kay McKay. I was born here and educated at Yale. +But my father was Scotch and he died in Scotland. My mother had been +dead many years. They lived on a property called Isla which belonged +to my grandfather. After my father's death my grandfather allowed me +an income, and when I had graduated from Yale I continued here +taking various post-graduate courses. Finally I went to Cornell and +studied agriculture, game breeding and forestry--desiring some day +to have a place of my own. + +"In 1914 I went to Germany to study their system of forestry. In +July of that year I went to Switzerland and roamed about in the +vagabond way I like--once liked." His visage altered and he cast a +side glance at the girl beside him, but her eyes were fixed on her +pad. + +He drew a deep breath, like a sigh: + +"In that corner of Switzerland which is thrust westward between +Germany and France there are a lot of hills and mountains which were +unfamiliar to me. The flora resembled that of the Vosges--so did the +bird and insect life except on the higher mountains. + +"There is a mountain called Mount Terrible. I camped on it. There +was some snow. You know what happens sometimes in summer on the +higher peaks. Well, it happened to me--the whole snow field slid +when I was part way across it--and I thought it was all off--never +dreamed a man could live through that sort of thing--with the sheer +gneiss ledges below! + +"It was not a big avalanche--not the terrific thundering +sort--rather an easy slipping, I fancy--but it was a devilish thing +to lie aboard, and, of course, if there had been precipices where I +slid--" He shrugged. + +The girl looked up from her shorthand manuscript; he seemed to be +dreamily living over in his mind those moments on Mount Terrible. +Presently he smiled slightly: + +"I was horribly scared--smothered, choked, half-senseless.... Part +of the snow and a lot of trees and boulders went over the edge of +something with a roar like Niagara.... I don't know how long +afterward it was when I came to my senses. + +"I was in a very narrow, rocky valley, up to my neck in soft snow, +and the sun beating on my face. ... So I crawled out... I wasn't +hurt; I was merely lost. + +"It took me a long while to place myself geographically. But +finally, by map and compass, I concluded that I was in some one of +the innumerable narrow valleys on the northern side of Mount +Terrible. Basle seemed to be the nearest proper objective, judging +from my map.... Can you form a mental picture of that particular +corner of Europe, Miss Erith?" + +"No." + +"Well, the German frontier did not seem to be very far northward--at +least that was my idea. But there was no telling; the place where I +landed was a savage and shaggy wilderness of firs and rocks without +any sign of habitation or of roads. + +"The things that had been strapped on my back naturally remained +with me--map, binoculars, compass, botanising paraphernalia, rations +for two days--that sort of thing. So I was not worried. I prowled +about, experienced agreeable shivers by looking up at the mountain +which had dumped me down into this valley, and finally, after +eating, I started northeast by compass. + +"It was a rough scramble. After I had been hiking along for several +hours I realised that I was on a shelf high above another valley, +and after a long while I came out where I could look down over miles +of country. My map indicated that what I beheld must be some part of +Alsace. Well, I lay flat on a vast shelf of rock and began to use my +field-glasses." + +He was silent so long that Miss Erith finally looked up +questioningly. McKay's face had become white and stern, and in his +fixed gaze there was something dreadful. + +"Please," she faltered, "go on." + +He looked at her absently; the colour came back to his face; he +shrugged his shoulders. + +"Oh, yes. What was I saying? Yes--about that vast ledge up there +under the mountains... I stayed there three days. Partly because I +couldn't find any way down. There seemed to be none. + +"But I was not bored. Oh, no. Just anxious concerning my situation. +Otherwise I had plenty to look at." + +She waited, pencil poised. + +"Plenty to look at," he repeated absently. "Plenty of Huns to gaze +at. Huns? They were like ants below me, there. They swarmed under +the mountain ledge as far as I could see--thousands of busy +Boches--busy as ants. There were narrow-gauge railways, too, +apparently running right into the mountain; and a deep broad cleft, +deep as another valley, and all crawling with Huns. + +"A tunnel? Nobody alive ever dreamed of such a gigantic tunnel, if +it was one!... Well, I was up there three days. It was the first of +August--thereabouts--and I'd been afield for weeks. And, of course, +I'd heard nothing of war--never dreamed of it. + +"If I had, perhaps what those thousands of Huns were doing along the +mountain wall might have been plainer to me. + +"As it was, I couldn't guess. There was no blasting--none that I +could hear. But trains were running and some gigantic enterprise was +being accomplished--some enterprise that apparently demanded speed +and privacy--for not one civilian was to be seen, not one dwelling. +But there were endless mazes of fortifications; and I saw guns being +moved everywhere. + +"Well, I was becoming hungry up on that fir-clad battlement. I +didn't know how to get down into the valley. It began to look as +though I'd have to turn back; and that seemed a rather awful +prospect. + +"Anyway, what happened, eventually, was this: I started east through +the forest along that pathless tableland, and on the afternoon of +the next day, tired out and almost starved, I stepped across the +Swiss boundary line--a wide, rocky, cleared space crossing a +mountain flank like a giant's road. + +"No guards were visible anywhere, no sentry-boxes, but, as I stood +hesitating in the middle of the frontier--and just why I hesitated I +don't know--I saw half a dozen jagers of a German mounted regiment +ride up on the German side of the boundary. + +"For a second the idea occurred to me that they had ridden parallel +to the ledge to intercept me; but the idea seemed absurd, granted +even that they had seen me upon the ledge from below, which I never +dreamed they had. So when they made me friendly gestures to come +across the frontier I returned their cheery 'Gruss Gott!' and +plodded thankfully across. ... And their leader, leaning from his +saddle to take my offered hand, suddenly struck me in the face, and +at the same moment a trooper behind me hit me on the head with the +butt of a pistol." + +The girl's flying pencil faltered; she lifted her brown eyes, +waiting. + +"That's about all," he said--"as far as facts are concerned.... They +treated me rather badly.... I faced their firing-squads half-a-dozen +times. After that bluff wouldn't work they interned me as an English +civilian at Holzminden.... They hid me when, at last, an inspection +took place. No chance for me to communicate with our Ambassador or +with any of the Commission." + +He turned to her in his boyish, frank way: "But do you know, Miss +Erith, it took me quite a while to analyse the affair and to figure +out why they arrested me, lied about me, and treated me so +hellishly. + +"You see, I was kept in solitary confinement and never had a chance +to speak to any of the other civilians interned there at Holzminden. +There was no way of suspecting why all this was happening to me +except by the attitude of the Huns themselves and their endless +questions and threats and cruelties. They were cruel. They hurt me a +lot." + +Miss Erith's eyes suddenly dimmed as she watched him, and she +hastily bent her head over the pad. + +"Well," he went on, "the rest, as I say, is pure surmise. This is my +conclusion: I think that for the last forty years the Huns have been +busy with an astounding military enterprise. Of course, since 1870, +the Boche has expected war, and has been feverishly preparing for +it. All the world now knows what they have done--not everything that +they have done, however. + +"My conclusion is this: that, when Mount Terrible shrugged me off +its northern flank, the snow slide carried me to an almost +inaccessible spot of which even the Swiss hunters knew nothing. Or, +if they did, they considered it impossible to reach from their own +territory. + +"From Germany it could be reached, but it was Swiss territory. At +any rate I think I am the only civilian who has been there, and who +has viewed from there this enormous work in which the Huns are +engaged. + +"And I belive that this mysterious, overwhelmingly enormous work is +nothing less than the piercing--not of a mountain or a group of +mountains--but of that entire part of Switzerland which lies between +Germany and France. + +"I believe that a vast military road, deep, deep, under the earth, +is being carried by an enormous tunnel from far back on the German +side of the frontier, under Mount Terrible, under all the mountains, +hills, valleys, forests, rivers--under Switzerland, in fact--into +French territory. + +"I believe it has been building since 1871. I believe it is nearly +finished, and that it will, on French territory, give egress to a +Hun army debouching from Alsace, under Switzerland, into France +behind the French lines. That part of the Franco-Swiss frontier is +unguarded, unfortified, uninhabited. From there a Hun army can +strike the French trenches from the rear--strike Toul, Nancy, +Belfort, Verdun--why, the road is open to Paris that way--open to +Calais, to England!" + +"This is frightful!" cried the girl. "If such a dreadful--" + +"Wait! I told you that it is merely a surmise. I don't know. I +guess. Why I guess it I have told you.... They were savage with +me--those Huns.... They got nothing out of me. I lied steadily, even +when drunk. No, they got nothing out of me. I denied I had seen +anything. I denied--and truly enough--that anybody had accompanied +me. No, they wrenched nothing out of me--not by starving me, not by +water torture, not by their firing-squads, not by blows, not even by +making of me the drunkard I am." + +The pencil fell from Miss Erith's hand and the hand caught McKay's, +held it, crushed it. + +"You're only a boy," she murmured. "I'm not much more than a girl. +We've both got years ahead of us--the best of our lives." + +"YOU have." + +"You also! Oh, don't, don't look at me that way. I'll help you. +We've got work to do, you and I. Don't you see? Don't you +understand? Work to do for our Government! Work to do for America!" + +"It's too late for me to--" + +"No. You've got to live. You've got to find yourself again. This +depends on you. Don't you see it does? Don't you see that you have +got to go back there and PROVE what you merely suspect?" + +"I simply can't." + +"You shall! I'll make this right with you! I'll stick to you! I'll +fight to give you back your will-power--your mind. We'll do this +together, for our country. I'll give up everything else to make this +fight." + +He began to tremble. + +"I--if I could--" + +"I tell you that you shall! We must do our bit, you and I!" + +"You don't know--you don't know!" he cried in a bitter voice, then +fell trembling again with the sweat of agony on his face. + +"No, I don't know," she whispered, clutching his hand to steady him. +"But I shall learn." + +"You'll learn that a drunkard is a dirty beast!" he cried. "Do you +know what I'd do if anybody tried to keep me from drink? +ANYBODY!--even you!" + +"No, I don't know." She shook her head sorrowfully: "A mindless man +becomes a demon, I suppose. ... Would you--injure me?" + +He was shaking all over now, and presently he sat up in bed and +covered his head with one desperate hand. + +"You poor boy!" she whispered. + +"Keep away from me," he muttered, "I've told you all I know. I'm no +further use.... Keep clear of me.... I'm sorry--to be--what I am." + +"When I leave what are you going to do?" she asked gently. + +"Do? I'll dress and go to the nearest bar." + +"Do you need it so much already?" + +He nodded his bowed head covered by the hand that gripped his hair: +"Yes, I need it--badly." + +She rose, loosened his clutch on her slender hand, picked up her +muff: + +"I'll be waiting for you downstairs," she said simply. + +His face expressed sullen defiance as he passed through the +waiting-room. Yet he seemed a little taken aback as well as relieved +when Miss Erith did not appear among the considerable number of +people waiting there for discharged patients. He walked on, +buttoning his fur coat with shaky fingers, passed the doorway and +stepped out into the falling snow. At the same moment a chauffeur +buried in coon-skins moved forward touching his cap: + +"Miss Erith's car is here, sir; Miss Erith expects you." + +McKay hesitated, scowling now in his perplexity; passed his +quivering hand slowly across his face, then turned, and looked at +the waiting car drawn up at the gutter. Behind the frosty window +Miss Erith gave him a friendly smile. He walked over to the curb, +the chauffeur opened the door, and McKay took off his hat. + +"Don't ask me," he said in a low voice that trembled slightly like a +sick man's. + +"I DO ask you." + +"You know what's the matter with me, Miss Erith," he insisted in the +same low, unsteady voice. + +"Please," she said: and laid one small gloved hand lightly on his +arm. + +So he entered the car; the chauffeur drew the robe over them, and +stood awaiting orders. + +"Home," said Miss Erith faintly. + +If McKay was astonished he did not betray it. Neither said anything +more for a while. The man rested an elbow on the sill, his troubled, +haggard face on his hand; the girl kept her gaze steadily in front +of her with a partly resolute, partly scared expression. The car +went up Park Avenue and then turned westward. + +When it stopped the girl said: "You will give me a few moments in my +library with you, won't you?" + +The visage he turned to her was one of physical anguish. They sat +confronting each other in silence for an instant; then he rose with +a visible effort and descended, and she followed. + +"Be at the garage at two, Wayland," she said, and ascended the snowy +stoop beside McKay. + +The butler admitted them. "Luncheon for two," she said, and mounted +the stairs without pausing. + +McKay remained in the hall until he had been separated from hat and +coat; then he slowly ascended the stairway. She was waiting on the +landing and she took him directly into the library where a wood fire +was burning. + +"Just a moment," she said, "to make myself as--as persuasive as I +can." + +"You are perfectly equipped, Miss Erith--" + +"Oh, no, I must do better than I have done. This is the great moment +of our careers, Mr. McKay." Her smile, brightly forced, left his +grim features unresponsive. The undertone in her voice warned him of +her determination to have her way. + +He took an involuntary step toward the door like a caged thing that +sees a loophole, halted as she barred his way, turned his marred +young visage and glared at her. There was something terrible in his +intent gaze--a pale flare flickering in his eyes like the uncanny +light in the orbs of a cornered beast. + +"You'll wait, won't you?" she asked, secretly frightened now. + +After a long interval, "Yes," his lips motioned. + +"Thank you. Because it is the supreme moment of our lives. It +involves life or death.... Be patient with me. Will you?" + +"But you must be brief," he muttered restlessly. "You know what I +need. I am sick, I tell you!" + +So she went away--not to arrange her beauty more convincingly, but +to fling coat and hat to her maid and drop down on the chair by her +desk and take up the telephone: + +"Dr. Langford's Hospital?" + +"Yes." + +"Miss Erith wishes to speak to Dr. Langford. ... Is that you, +Doctor?... Oh, yes, I'm perfectly well.... Tell me, how soon can you +cure a man of--of dipsomania?... Of course.... It was a stupid +question. But I'm so worried and unhappy... Yes.... Yes, it's a man +I know.... It wasn't his fault, poor fellow. If I can only get him +to you and persuade him to tell you the history of his case... I +don't know whether he'll go. I'm doing my best. He's here in my +library.... Oh, no, he isn't intoxicated now, but he was yesterday. +And oh, Doctor! He is so shaky and he seems so ill--I mean in mind +and spirit more than in body.... Yes, he says he needs something.... +What?... Give him some whisky if he wants it?... Do you mean a +highball?... How many?... Oh... Yes... Yes, I understand ... I'll do +my very best.... Thank you. ... At three o'clock?... Thank you so +much, Doctor Langford. Good-bye!" + +She hung up the receiver, took a look at herself in the +dressing-glass, and saw reflected there a yellow-haired hazel-eyed +girl who looked a trifle scared. But she forced a smile, made a +hasty toilette and rang for the butler, gave her orders, and then +walked leisurely into the library. McKay lifted his tragic face from +his hands where he stood before the fire, his elbows resting on the +mantel. + +"Come," she said in her pretty, resolute way, "you and I are +perfectly human. Let's face this thing together and find out what +really is in it." + +She took one armchair, he the other, and she noticed that all his +frame was quivering now--his hands always in restless, groping +movement, as though with palsy. A moment later the butler came with +a decanter, ice, mineral water and a tall glass. There was also a +box of cigars on the silver tray. + +"You'll fix your own highball," she said carelessly, nodding +dismissal to the butler. But she looked only once at McKay, then +turned away--pretence of picking up her knitting--so terrible it was +to her to see in his eyes the very glimmer of hell itself as he +poured out what he "needed." + +Minute after minute she sat there by the fire knitting tranquilly, +scarcely ever even lifting her calm young eyes to the man. Twice +again he poured out what he "needed" for himself before the agony in +his sickened brain and body became endurable--before the tortured +nerves had been sufficiently drugged once more and the indescribable +torment had subsided. He looked at her once or twice where she sat +knitting and apparently quite oblivious to what he had been about, +but his glance was no longer furtive; he unconsciously squared his +shoulders, and his head straightened up. + +Without lifting her eyes she said: "I thought we'd talk over our +plans when you feel better." + +He glanced sideways at the decanter: "I am all right," he said. + +She had not yet lifted her eyes; she continued to knit while +speaking: + +"First of all," she said, "I shall place your testimony and my +report in the hands of my superior, Mr. Vaux. Does that meet with +your approval?" + +"Yes." + +She knitted in silence a few moments. He kept his eyes on her. +Presently--and still without looking up--she said: "Are you within +the draft age?" + +"No. I am thirty-two." + +"Will you volunteer?" + +"No." + +"Would you tell me why?" + +"Yes, I'll tell you why. I shall not volunteer because of my +habits." + +"You mean your temporary infirmity," she said calmly. But her cheeks +reddened and she bent lower over her work. A dull colour stained his +face, too, but he merely shrugged his comment. + +She said in a low voice: "I want you to volunteer with me for +overseas service in the Army Intelligence Department.... You and I, +together.... To prove what you have surmised concerning the German +operations beyond Mount Terrible.... And first I want you to go with +me to Dr. Langford's hospital .... I want you to go this afternoon +with me. ... And face the situation. And see it through. And come +out cured." She lifted her head and looked at him. "Will you?" And +in his altering gaze she saw the flicker of half-senseless anger +intensified suddenly to a flare of hatred. + +"Don't ask anything like that of me," he said. She had grown quite +white. + +"I do ask it.... Will you?" + +"If I wanted to I couldn't, and I don't want to. I prefer this hell +to the other." + +"Won't you make a fight for it?" + +"No!" he said brutally. + +The girl bent her head again over her knitting. But her white +fingers remained idle. After a long while, staring at her intently, +he saw her lip quiver. + +"Don't do that!" he broke out harshly. "What the devil do you care?" + +Then she lifted her tragic white face. And he had his answer. + +"My God!" he faltered, springing to his feet. "What's the matter +with you? Why do you care? You can't care! What is it to you that a +drunken beast slinks back into hell again? Do you think you are +Samaritan enough to follow him and try to drag him out by the +ears?... A man whose very brain is already cracking with it all--a +burnt-out thing with neither mind nor manhood left--" + +She got to her feet, trembling and deathly white. + +"I can't let you go," she whispered. + +Exasperation almost strangled him and set afire his unhinged brain. + +"For Christ's sake!" he cried. "What do you care?" + +"I--I care," she stammered--"for Christ's sake ... And yours!" + +Things went dark before her eyes.... She opened them after a while +on the sofa where he had carried her. He was standing looking down +at her. ... After a long while the ghost of a smile touched her +lips. In his haunted gaze there was no response. But he said in an +altered, unfamiliar voice: "I'll go if you say so. I'll do all +that's in me to do. ... Will you be there--for the first day or +two?" + +"Yes.... All day long.... Every day if you want me. Do you?" + +"Yes.... But God knows what I may do to you.... There'll be somebody +to--watch me--won't there?... I don't know what may happen to you +or to myself.... I'm in a bad way, Miss Erith... I'm in a very bad +way." + +"I know," she murmured. + +He said with an almost childish directness: "Do men always live +through such cures?... I don't see how I can live through it." + +She rose from the sofa and stood beside him, feeling still dizzy, +still tremulous and lacking strength. + +"Let us win through," she said, not looking at him. "I think you +will suffer more than I shall. A little more.... Because I had +rather feel pain than give it--rather suffer than look on suffering.... +It will be very hard for us both, I fear." + +Her butler announced luncheon. + + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +WRECKAGE + + + + + +The man had been desperately ill in soul and mind and body. And now +in some curious manner the ocean seemed to be making him physically +better but spiritually worse. Something, too, in the horizonwide +waste of waters was having a sinister effect on his brain. The grey +daylight of early May, bitter as December--the utter desolation, the +mounting and raucous menace of the sea, were meddling with normal +convalescence. + +Dull animosity awoke in a battered mind not yet readjusted to the +living world. What had these people done to him anyway? The sullen +resentment which invaded him groped stealthily for a vent. + +Was THIS, then, their cursed cure?--this foggy nightmare through +which he moved like a shade in the realm of phantoms? Little by +little what had happened to him was becoming an obsession, as he +began to remember in detail. Now he brooded on it and looked askance +at the girl who was primarily responsible--conscious in a confused +sort of way that he was a blackguard for his ingratitude. + +But his mind had been badly knocked about, and its limping machinery +creaked. + +"That meddling woman," he thought, knowing all the time what he owed +her, remembering her courage, her unselfishness, her loveliness. +"Curse her!" he muttered, amid the shadows confusing his wounded +mind. + +Then a meaningless anger grew with him: She had him, now! he was +trapped and caged. A girl who drags something floundering out of +hell is entitled to the thing if she wants it. He admitted that to +himself. + +But how about that "cure"? + +Was THIS it--this terrible blankness--this misty unreality of +things? Surcease from craving--yes. But what to take its place--what +to fill in, occupy mind and body? What sop to his restless soul? +What had this young iconoclast offered him after her infernal era of +destruction? A distorted world, a cloudy mind, the body-substance of +a ghost? And for the magic world she had destroyed she offered him a +void to live in--Curse her! + +There were no lights showing aboard the transport; all ports +remained screened. Arrows, painted on the decks in luminous paint, +pointed out the way. Below decks, a blue globe here and there +emitted a feeble glimmer, marking corridors which pierced a +depthless darkness. + +No noise was permitted on board, no smoking, no other lights in +cabin or saloon. There was scarcely a sound to be heard on the ship, +save the throbbing of her engines, the long, splintering crash of +heavy seas, and the dull creak of her steel vertebrae tortured by a +million rivets. + +As for the accursed ocean, that to McKay was the enemy paramount +which had awakened him to the stinging vagueness of things out of +his stupid acquiescence in convalescence. + +He hated the sea. It was becoming a crawling horror to him in its +every protean phase, whether flecked with ghastly lights in storms +or haunted by pallid shapes in colour--always, always it remained +repugnant to him under its eternal curse of endless motion. + +He loathed it: he detested the livid skies by day against which +tossing waves showed black: he hated every wave at night and their +ceaseless unseen motion. McKay had been "cured." McKay was very, +very ill. + +There came to him, at intervals, a girl who stole through the +obscurity of the pitching corridors guiding him from one faint blue +light to the next--a girl who groped out the way with him at night +to the deck by following the painted arrows under foot. Also +sometimes she sat at his bedside through the unreal flight of time, +her hand clasped over his. He knew that he had been brutal to her +during his "cure." + +He was still rough with her at moments of intense mental +pressure--somehow; realised it--made efforts toward +self-command--toward reason again, mental control; sometimes felt +that he was on the way to acquiring mental mastery. + +But traces of injury to the mind still remained--sensitive +places--and there were swift seconds of agony--of blind anger, of +crafty, unbalanced watching to do harm. Yet for all that he knew he +was convalescent--that alcohol was no longer a necessity to him; +that whatever he did had now become a choice for him; that he had +the power and the authority and the will, and was capable, once +more, of choosing between depravity and decency. But what had been +taken out of his life seemed to leave a dreadful silence in his +brain. And, at moments, this silence became dissonant with the +clamour of unreason. + +On one of his worst days when his crippled soul was loneliest the +icy seas became terrific. Cruisers and destroyers of the escort +remained invisible, and none of the convoyed transports were to be +seen. The watery, lowering daylight faded: the unseen sun set: the +brief day ended. And the wind went down with the sun. But through +the thick darkness the turbulent wind appeared to grow luminous with +tossing wraiths; and all the world seemed to dissolve into a +nebulous, hell-driven thing, unreal, dreadful, unendurable! + +"Mr. McKay!" + +He had already got into his wool dressing-robe and felt shoes, and +he sat now very still on the edge of his berth, listening stealthily +with the cunning of distorted purpose. + +Her tiny room was just across the corridor. She seemed to be +eternally sleepless, always on the alert night and day, ready to +interfere with him. + +Finally he ventured to rise and move cautiously to his door, and he +made not the slightest sound in opening it, but her door opened +instantly, and she stood there confronting him, an ulster buttoned +over her nightdress. + +"What is the matter?" she said gently. + +"Nothing." + +"Are you having a bad night?" + +"I'm all right. I wish you wouldn't constitute yourself my nurse, +servant, mentor, guardian, keeper, and personal factotum!" Sudden +rage left him inarticulate, and he shot an ugly look at her. "Can't +you let me alone?" he snarled. + +"You poor boy," she said under her breath. + +"Don't talk like that! Damnation! I--I can't stand much more--I +can't stand it, I tell you!" + +"Yes, you can, and you will. And I don't mind what you say to me." +His malignant expression altered. + +"Do you know," he said, in a cool and evil voice, "that I may stop +SAYING things and take to DOING them?" + +"Would you hurt me physically? Are you really as sick as that?" + +"Not yet.... How do I know?" Suddenly he felt tired and leaned +against the doorway, covering his dulling eyes with his right +forearm. But his hand was now clenched convulsively. + +"Could you lie down? I'll talk to you," she whispered. "I'll see you +through." + +"I can't--endure--this tension," he muttered. "For God's sake let me +go!" + +"Where?" + +"You know." + +"Yes.... But it won't do. We must carry on, you and I." + +"If you--knew--" + +"I do know! When these crises come try to fix your mind on what you +have become." + +"Yes.... A hell of a soldier. Do you really believe that my country +needs a thing like me?" She stood looking at him in silence--knowing +that he was in a torment of some terrible sort. His eyes were still +covered by his arm. On his boyish brow the blonde-brown hair had +become damp. + +She went across and passed her arm through his. His hand rested, +fell to his side, but he suffered her to guide him through the +corridors toward a far bluish spark that seemed as distant as Venus, +the star. + +They walked very slowly for a while on deck, encountering now and +then the shadowy forms of officers and crew. The personnel of the +several hospital units in transit were long ago in bed below. + +Once he said: "You know, Miss Erith, it is not _I_ who behaves like +a scoundrel to you." + +"I know," she said with a dauntless smile. + +"Because," he went on, searching painfully for thought as well as +words, "I'm not really a brute--was not always a blackguard--" + +"Do you suppose for one moment that I blame a man who has been +irresponsible through no fault of his, and who has made the fight +and has won back to sanity?" + +"I--am not yet--well!" + +"I understand." + +They paused beside the port rail for a few moments. + +"I suppose you know," he muttered, "that I have thought--at +times--of ending things--down there. ... You seem to know most +things. Did you suspect that?" + +"Yes." + +"Don't you ever sleep?" + +"I wake easily." + +"I know you do. I can't stir in bed but I hear you move, too.... I +should think you'd hate and loathe me--for all I've done--for all +I've cost you." + +"Nurses don't loathe their patients," she said lightly. + +"I should think they'd want to kill them." + +"Oh, Mr. McKay! On the contrary they--they grow to like +them--exceedingly." + +"You dare not say that about yourself and me." + +Miss Erith shrugged her pretty shoulders: "I don't have to say +anything, do I?" + +He made no reply. After a long silence she said casually: "The sea +is calmer, I think. There's something resembling faint moonlight up +among those flying clouds." + +He lifted his tragic face and gazed up at the storm-wrack speeding +overhead. And there through the hurrying vapours behind flying rags +of cloud, a pallid lustre betrayed the smothered moon. + +There was just enough light, now, to reveal the forward gun under +its jacket, and the shadowy gun-crew around it where the ship's bow +like a vast black, plough ripped the sea asunder in two deep, +foaming furrows. + +"I wish I knew where we are at this moment," mused the girl. She +counted the days on her fingertips: "We may be off Bordeaux.... It's +been a long time, hasn't it?" + +To him it had been a century of dread endured through half-awakened +consciousness of the latest inferno within him. + +"It's been very long," he said, sighing. + +A few minutes later they caught a glimpse of a strangled moon +overhead--a livid corpse of a moon, tarnished and battered almost +out of recognition. + +"Clearing weather," she said cheerfully, adding: "To-morrow we may +be in the danger zone.... Did you ever see a submarine?" + +"Yes. Did you?" + +"There were some up the Hudson. I saw them last summer while +motoring along Riverside Drive." + +The spectral form of an officer appeared at her elbow, said +something in a low voice, and walked aft. + +She said: "Well, then, I think we'd better dress. ... Do you feel +better?" + +He said that he did, but his sombre gaze into darkness belied him. +So again she slipped her arm through his and he suffered himself to +be led away along the path of shinning arrows under foot. + +At his door she said cheerfully: "No more undressing for bed, you +know. No more luxury of night-clothes. You heard the orders about +lifebelts?" + +"Yes," he replied listlessly. + +"Very well. I'll be waiting for you." + +She lingered a moment more watching him in his brooding revery where +he stood leaning against the doorway. And after a while he raised +his haunted eyes to hers. + +"I can't keep on," he breathed. + +"Yes you can!" + +"No.... The world is slipping away--under foot. It's going on +without me--in spite of me." + +"It's you that are slipping, if anything is. Be fair to the world at +least--even if you mean to betray it--and me." + +"I don't want to betray anybody--anything." He had begun to tremble +when he stood leaning against his door. "I--don't know--what to do." + +"Stand by the world. Stand by me. And, through me, stand by your own +self." + +The young fellow's forehead was wet with the vague horror of +something. He made an effort to speak, to straighten up; gave her a +dreadful look of appeal which turned into a snarl. + +He whispered between writhing lips: "Can't you let me alone? Can't I +end it if I can't stand it--without your blocking me every +time--every time I stir a finger--" + +"McKay! Wait! Don't touch me!--don't do that!" + +But he had her in a sudden grip now--was looking right and left for +a place to hurl her out of the way. + +"I've stood enough, by God!" he muttered between his teeth. "Now I'm +through--" + +"Please listen. You're out of your mind," she said breathlessly, not +struggling to free herself, but striving to twist both her arms +around one of his. + +"You hurt me," she whimpered. "Don't be brutal to me!" + +"I've got to get you out of my way." He tried to fling her across +the corridor into her own cabin, but she had fastened herself to +him. + +"Don't!" she panted. "Don't do anything to yourself--" + +"Let go of me! Unclasp your arms!" + +But she clung the more desperately and wound her limbs around his, +almost tripping him. + +"I WON'T give you up!" she gasped. + +"What do you care?" he retorted hoarsely, striving to tear himself +loose. "I want to get some rest--somewhere!" + +"You're hurting! You're breaking my arm! Kay! Kay! what are you +doing to me?" she wailed. + +Something--perhaps the sound of his own name falling from her lips +for the first time--checked his mounting frenzy. She could feel +every muscle in his body become rigidly inert. + +"Kay!" she whispered, fastening herself to him convulsively. For a +full minute she sustained his half-insane stare, then it altered, +and her own eyes slowly closed, though her head remained upright on +the rigid marble of her neck. + +The crisis had been reached: the tide of frenzy was turning, had +turned, was already ebbing. She felt it, was conscious that he also +had become aware of it. Then his grasp slackened, grew lax, +loosened, and almost spent. She ventured to unwind her limbs from +his, to relax her stiffened fingers, unclasp her arms. + +It was over. She could scarcely stand, felt blindly for support, +rested so, and slowly unclosed her eyes. + +"I've had to fight very hard for you," she whispered. "But I think +I've won." + +He answered with difficulty. + +"Yes--if you want the dog you fought for." + +"It isn't what _I_ want, Kay." + +"All right, I guess I can face it through--after this.... But I +don't know why you did it." + +"I do." + +"Do you? Don't you know I'm not a man, but a beast? And there are +half a hundred million real men to replace me--to do what you and +the country expect of real men." + +"What may be expected of them I expect of you. Kay, I've made a good +fight for you, haven't I?" + +He turned his quenched eyes on her. "From gutter to hospital, from +hospital to sanitarium, from sanitarium to ship," he said in a +colourless voice. "Yes, it was--a--good--fight." + +"What a Calvary!" she murmured, looking at him out of clear, +sorrowful eyes. "And on your knees, poor boy!" + +"You ought to know. You have made every station with me--on your +tender bleeding knees of a girl!" He choked, turned his head +swiftly; and she caught his hand. The break had come. + +"Oh, Kay! Kay!" she said, quivering all over, "I have done my bit +and you are cured! You know it, don't you? Look at me, turn your +head." She laid her slim hand flat against his tense cheek but could +not turn his face. But she did not care; the palm of her hand was +wet. The break had come. She drew a deep, uneven breath, let go his +hand. + +"Now," she said, "we can understand each other at last--our minds +are rational; and whether in accord or conflict they are at least in +contact; and mine isn't clashing with something disordered and +foreign which it can't interpret, can't approach." + +He said, not turning toward her: "You are kind to put it that +way.... I think self-control has returned--will-power--all that.... +I won't-betray you--Miss Erith." + +"YOU never would, Mr. McKay. But I--I've been in terror of what has +been masquerading as you." + +"I know.... But whatever you think of such a--a man--I'll do my +bit, now. I'll carry on--until the end." + +"I will too! I promise you." + +He turned his head at that and a mirthless laugh touched his wet +eyes and drawn visage: + +"As though you had to promise anybody that you'd stick! You! You +beautiful, magnificent young thing--you superb kid--" + +Her surprise and the swift blaze of colour in her face silenced him. + +After a moment, the painful red still staining his face, he muttered +something about dressing. + +He watched her turn and enter her room; saw that she had closed her +door-something she had not dared do heretofore; then he went into +his own room and threw himself down on the bunk, shaking in every +nerve. + +For a long while, preoccupied with the obsession for +self-destruction, he lay there face downward, exhausted, trying to +fight off the swimming sense of horror that was creeping over him +again..... Little by little it mounted like a tide from hell.... He +struggled to his feet with the unuttered cry of a dreamer tearing +his throat. An odd sense of fear seized him and he dressed and +adjusted his clumsy life-suit. For the ship was in the danger zone, +now, and orders had been given, and dawn was not far off. Perhaps it +was already day! he could not tell in his dim cabin. + +And after he was completely accoutred for the hazard of the +Hun-cursed seas he turned and looked down at his bunk with the odd +idea that his body still lay there--that it was a thing apart from +himself--something inert, unyielding, corpse-like, sprawling there +in a stupor--something visible, tangible, taking actual proportion +and shape there under his very eyes. + +He turned his back with a shudder and went on deck. To his surprise +the blue lights were extinguished, and corridor and saloon were all +rosy with early sunlight. + +Blue sky, blue sea, silver spindrift flying and clouds of silvery +gulls--a glimmer of Heaven from the depths of the pit--a glimpse of +life through a crack in the casket--and land close on the starboard +bow! Sheer cliffs, with the bonny green grass atop all furrowed by +the wind--and the yellow-flowered broom and the shimmering whinns +blowing. + +"Why, it's Scotland," he said aloud, "it's Glenark Cliffs and the +Head of Strathlone--my people's fine place in the Old World--where +we took root--and--O my God! Yankee that I am, it looks like home!" + +The cape of a white fleece cloak fluttered in his face, and he +turned and saw Miss Erith at his elbow. + +Yellow-haired, a slender, charming thing in her white wind-blown +coat, she stood leaning on the spray-wet rail close to his shoulder. + +And with him it was suddenly as though he had known her for +years--as though he had always been aware of her beauty and her +loveliness--as though his eyes had always framed her--his heart had +always wished for her, and she had always been the sole and +exquisite tenant of his mind. + +"I had no idea that we were off Scotland," he said--"off Strathlone +Head--and so close in. Why, I can see the cliff-flowers!" + +She laid one hand lightly on his arm, listening; high and heavenly +sweet above the rushing noises of the sea they heard the singing of +shoreward sky-larks above the grey cliff of Glenark. + +He began to tremble. "That nightmare through which I've struggled," +he began, but she interrupted: + +"It is quite ended, Kay. You are awake. It is day and the world's +before you." At that he caught her slim hand in both of his: + +"Eve! Eve! You've brought me through death's shadow! You gave me +back my mind!" + +She let her hand rest between his. At first he could not make out +what her slightly moving lips uttered, and bending nearer he heard +her murmur: "Beside the still waters." The sea had become as calm as +a pond. + +And now the transport was losing headway, scarcely moving at all. +Forward and aft the gun-crews, no longer alert, lounged lazily in +the sunshine watching a boat being loaded and swung outward from the +davits. + +"Is somebody going ashore?" asked McKay. + +"We are," said the girl. + +"Just you and I, Eve?" + +"Just you and I." + +Then he saw their luggage piled in the lifeboat.' + +"This is wonderful," he said. "I have a house a few miles inland +from Strathlone Head." + +"Will you take me there, Kay?" + +Such a sense of delight possessed him that he could not speak. + +"That's where we must go to make our plans," she said. "I didn't +tell you in those dark hours we have lived together, because our +minds were so far apart--and I was fighting so hard to hold you." + +"Have you forgiven me--you wonderful girl?" + +His voice shook so that he could scarcely control it. Miss Erith +laughed. + +"You adorable boy!" she said. "Stand still while I unlace your +life-belt. You can't travel in this." + +He felt her soft fingers at his throat and turned his face upward. +All the blue air seemed glittering with the sun-tipped wings of +gulls. The skylark's song, piercingly sweet, seemed to penetrate his +soul. And, as his life-suit fell about him, so seemed to fall the +heavy weight of dread like a shroud, dropping at his feet. And he +stepped clear--took his first free step toward her--as though +between them there were no questions, no barriers, nothing but this +living, magic light--which bathed them both. + +There seemed to be no need of speech, either, only the sense of +heavenly contact as though the girl were melting into him, +dissolving in his arms. + +"Kay!" + +Her voice sounded as from an infinite distance. There came a +smothered thudding like the soft sound of guns at sea; and then her +voice again, and a greyness as if a swift cloud had passed across +the sun. + +"Kay!" + +A sharp, cold wind began to blow through the strange and sudden +darkness. He heard her voice calling his name--felt his numbed body +shaken, lifted his head from his arms and sat upright on his bunk in +the dim chill of his cabin. + +Miss Erith stood beside his bed, wearing her life-suit. + +"Kay! Are you awake?' + +"Yes." + +"Then put on your life-suit. Our destroyers are firing at something. +Quick, please, I'll help you!" + +Dazed, shaken, still mazed by the magic of his dream, not yet clear +of its beauty and its passion, he stumbled to his feet in the +obscurity. And he felt her chilled hand aiding him. + +"Eve--I--thought--" + +"What?" + +"I thought your name--was Eve--" he stammered. "I've +been--dreaming." + +Then was a silence as he fumbled stupidly with his clothing and +life-suit. The sounds of the guns, rapid, distinct, echoed through +the unsteady obscurity. + +She helped him as a nurse helps a convalescent, her swift, cold +little fingers moving lightly and unerringly. And at last he was +equipped, and his mind had cleared darkly of the golden vision of +love and spring. + +Icy seas, monstrous and menacing, went smashing past the sealed and +blinded port; but there was no wind and the thudding of the guns +came distinctly to their ears. + +A shape in uniform loomed at the cabin door for an instant and a +calm, unhurried voice summoned them. + +Corridors were full of dark figures. The main saloon was thronged as +they climbed the companion-way. There appeared to be no panic, no +haste, no confusion. Voices were moderately low, the tone casually +conversational. + +Miss Erith's arm remained linked in McKay's where they stood +together amid the crowd. + +"U-boats, I fancy," she said. + +"Probably." + +After a moment: "What were you dreaming about, Mr. McKay?" she asked +lightly. In the dull bluish dusk of the saloon his boyish face grew +hot. + +"What was it you called me?" she insisted. "Was it Eve?" + +At that his cheeks burnt crimson. + +"What do you mean?" he muttered. + +"Didn't you call me Eve?" + +"I--when a man is dreaming--asleep--" + +"My name is Evelyn, you know. Nobody ever called me Eve.... +Yet--it's odd, isn't it, Mr. McKay? I've always wished that somebody +would call me Eve.... But perhaps you were not dreaming of me?" + +"I--was." + +"Really. How interesting!" He remained silent. + +"And did you call me Eve--in that dream?... That is curious, isn't +it, after what I've just told you?... So I've had my wish--in a +dream." She laughed a little. "In a dream--YOUR dream," she +repeated. "We must have been good friends in your dream--that you +called me Eve." + +But the faint thrill of the dream was in him again, and it troubled +him and made him shy, and he found no word to utter--no defence to +her low-voiced banter. + +Then, not far away on the port quarter, a deck-gun spoke with a +sharper explosion, and intense stillness reigned in the saloon. + +"If there's any necessity," he whispered, "you recollect your boat, +don't you?" + +"Yes.... I don't want to go--without you." He said, in a pleasant +firm voice which was new to her: "I know what you mean. But you are +not to worry. I am absolutely well." + +The girl turned toward him, the echoes of the guns filling her ears, +and strove to read his face in the ghastly, dreary light. + +"I'm really cured, Miss Erith," he said. "If there's any emergency +I'll fight to live. Do you believe me?" + +"If you tell me so." + +"I tell you so." + +The girl drew a deep, unsteady breath, and her arm tightened a +trifle within his. + +"I am--so glad," she said in a voice that sounded suddenly tired. + +There came an ear-splitting detonation from the after-deck, +silencing every murmur. + +"Something is shelling us," whispered McKay. "When orders come, go +instantly to your boat and your station." + +"I don't want to go alone." + +"The nurses of the unit to which you--" + +The crash of a shell drowned his voice. Then came a deathly silence, +then the sound of the deck-guns in action once more. + +Miss Erith was leaning rather heavily on his arm. He bent it, +drawing her closer. + +"I don't want to leave you," she said again. + +"I told you--" + +"It isn't that.... Don't you understand that I have become--your +friend?" + +"Such a brute as I am?" + +"I like you." + +In the silence he could hear his heart drumming between the +detonations of the deck-guns. He said: "It's because you are you. No +other woman on earth but would have loathed me... beastly rotter +that I was--" + +"Oh-h, don't," she breathed.... "I don't know--we may be very close +to death.... I want to live. I'd like to. But I don't really mind +death. ... But I can't bear to have things end for you just as +you've begun to live again--" + +Crash! Something was badly smashed on deck that time, for the brazen +jar of falling wreckage seemed continuous. + +Through the metallic echo she heard her voice: + +"Kay! I'm afraid--a little." + +"I think it's all right so far. Listen, there go our guns again. +It's quite all right, Eve dear." + +"I didn't know I was so cowardly. But of course I'll never show it +when the time comes." + +"Of course you won't. Don't worry. Shells make a lot of noise when +they explode on deck. All that tinpan effect we heard was probably a +ventilator collapsing--perhaps a smokestack." + +After a silence punctured by the flat bang of the deck-guns: + +"You ARE cured, aren't you, Kay?" + +"Yes." + +She repeated in a curiously exultant voice: "You ARE cured. All of a +sudden--after that black crisis, too, you wake up, well!" + +"You woke me." + +"Of course, I did--with those guns frightening me!" + +"You woke me, Eve," he repeated coolly, "and my dream had already +cured me. I am perfectly well. We'll get out of this mess shortly, +you and I. And--and then--" He paused so long that she looked up at +him in the bluish dusk: + +"And what then?" she asked. + +He did not answer. She said: "Tell me, Kay." + +But as his lips unclosed to speak a terrific shock shook the +saloon--a shock that seemed to come from the depths of the ship, +tilt up the cabin floor, and send everybody reeling about. + +Through the momentary confusion in the bluish obscurity the cool +voice of an officer sounded unalarmed, giving orders. There was no +panic. The hospital units formed and started for the deck. A young +officer passing near exchanged a calm word with McKay, and passed on +speaking pleasantly to the women who were now moving forward. + +McKay said to Miss Erith: "It seems that we've been torpedoed. We'll +go on deck together. You know your boat and station?" + +"Yes." + +"I'll see you safely there. You're not afraid any more, are you?" + +"No." + +He gave a short dry laugh. "What a rotten deal," he said. "My dream +was--different.... There is your boat--THAT one!... I'll say good +luck. I'm assigned to a station on the port side. ... Good luck.... +And thank you, Eve." + +"Don't go--" + +"Yes, I must.. We'll find each other--ashore--or somewhere." + +"Kay! The port boats can't be launched--" + +"Take your place! you're next, Eve."... Her hand, which had clung to +his, he suddenly twisted up, and touched the convulsively tightening +fingers with his lips. + +"Good luck, dear," he said gaily. And watched her go and take her +place. Then he lifted his cap, as she turned and looked for him, and +sauntered off to where his boat and station should have been had not +the U-boat shells annihilated boat and rail and deck. + +"What a devil of a mess!" he said to a petty officer near him. A +young doctor smoking a cigarette surveyed his own life-suit and the +clumsy apparel of his neighbours with unfeigned curiosity! + +"How long do these things keep one afloat?" he inquired. + +"Long enough to freeze solid," replied an ambulance driver. + +"Did we get the Hun?" asked McKay of the petty officer. + +"Naw," he replied in disgust, "but the destroyers ought to nail him. +Look out, sir--you'll go sliding down that slippery toboggan!" + +"How long'll she float?" asked the young ambulance driver. + +"This ship? SHE'S all right," remarked the petty officer absently. + +She went down, nose first. Those in the starboard boats saw her +stand on end for full five minutes, screws spinning, before a +muffled detonation blew the bowels out of her and sucked her down +like a plunging arrow. + +Destroyers and launches from some of the cruisers were busy amid the +wreckage where here, on a spar, some stunned form clung like a +limpet, and there, a-bob in the curling seas, a swimmer in his +life-suit tossed under the wintry sky. + +There were men on rafts, too, and several clinging to hatches; there +was not much loss of life, considering. + +Toward midday a sea-plane which had been releasing depth-bombs and +hovering eagerly above the wide iridescent and spreading stain, +sheered shoreward and shot along the coast. + +There was a dead man afloat in a cave, rocking there rather +peacefully in his life-suit--or at least they supposed him to be +dead. + +But on a chance they signalled the discovery to a distant trawler, +then soared upward for a general coup de l'oeil, turned there aloft +like a seahawk for a while, sheering in widening spirals, and +finally, high in the grey sky, set a steady course for parts +unknown. + +Meanwhile a boat from the trawler fished out McKay, wrapped him in +red-hot blankets, pried open his blue lips, and tried to fill him +full of boiling rum. Then he came to life. But those honest +fishermen knew he had gone stark mad because he struck at the +pannikin of steaming rum and cursed them vigorously for their +kindness. And only a madman could so conduct himself toward a +pannikin of steaming rum. They understood that perfectly. And, +understanding it, they piled more hot blankets upon the struggling +form of Kay McKay and roped him to his bunk. + +Toward evening, becoming not only coherent but frightfully emphatic, +they released McKay. + +"What's this damn place?" he shouted. + +"Strathlone Firth," they said. + +"That's my country!" he raged. "I want to go ashore!" + +They were quite ready to be rid of the cracked Yankee, and told him +so. + +"And the boats? How about them?" he demanded. + +"All in the Firth, sir." + +"Any women lost?" + +"None, sir." + +At that, struggling into his clothes, he began to shed gold +sovereigns from his ripped money-belt all over the cabin. +Weatherbeaten fingers groped to restore the money to him. But it was +quite evident that the young man was mad. He wouldn't take it. And +in his crazy way he seemed very happy, telling them what fine lads +they were and that not only Scotland but the world ought to be proud +of them, and that he was about to begin to live the most wonderful +life that any man had ever lived as soon as he got ashore. + +"Because," he explained, as he swung off and dropped into the small +boat alongside, "I've taken a look into hell and I've had a glimpse +of heaven, but the earth has got them both stung to death, and I +like it and I'm going to settle down on it and live awhile. You +don't get me, do you?" They did not. + +"It doesn't matter. You're a fine lot of lads. Good luck!" + +And so they were rid of their Yankee lunatic. + +On the Firth Quay and along the docks all the inhabitants of Glenark +and Strathlone were gathered to watch the boats come in with living, +with dead, or merely the news of the seafight off the grey head of +Strathlone. + +At the foot of the slippery waterstairs, green with slime, McKay, +grasping the worn rail, lifted his head and looked up into the faces +of the waiting crowd. And saw the face of her he was looking for +among them. + +He went up slowly. She pushed through the throng, descended the +steps, and placed one arm around him. + +"Thanks, Eve," he said cheerfully. "Are you all right?" + +"All right, Kay. Are you hurt?" + +"No.... I know this place. There's an inn ... if you'll give me your +arm--it's just across the street." + +They went very leisurely, her arm under his--and his face, suddenly +colourless, half-resting against her shoulder. + + + + + + +CHAPTER V + +ISLA WATER + + + + + +Earlier in the evening there had been a young moon on Isla Water. +Under it spectres of the mist floated in the pale lustre; a painted +moorhen steered through ghostly pools leaving fan-shaped wakes of +crinkled silver behind her; heavy fish splashed, swirling again to +drown the ephemera. + +But there was no moonlight now; not a star; only fog on Isla Water, +smothering ripples and long still reaches, bank and upland, wall and +house. + +The last light had gone out in the stable; the windows of Isla were +darkened; there was a faint scent of heather in the night; a fainter +taint of peat smoke. The world had grown very still by Isla Water. + +Toward midnight a dog-otter, swimming leisurely by the Bridge of +Isla, suddenly dived and sped away under water; and a stoat, +prowling in the garden, also took fright and scurried through the +wicket. Then in the dead of night the iron bell hanging inside the +court began to clang. McKay heard it first in his restless sleep. +Finally the clangour broke his sombre dream and he awoke and sat up +in bed, listening. + +Neither of the two servants answered the alarm. He swung out of bed +and into slippers and dressing-gown and picked up a service pistol. +As he entered the stone corridor he heard Miss Erith's door creak on +its ancient hinges. + +"Did the bell wake you?" he asked in a low voice. + +"Yes. What is it?" + +"I haven't any idea." + +She opened her door a little wider. Her yellow hair covered her +shoulders like a mantilla. "Who could it be at this hour?" she +repeated uneasily. + +McKay peered at the phosphorescent dial of his wrist-watch: + +"I don't know," he repeated. "I can't imagine who would come here at +this hour." + +"Don't strike a light!" she whispered. + +"No, I think I won't." He continued on down the stone stairs, and +Miss Erith ran to the rail and looked over. + +"Are you armed?" she called through the darkness. + +"Yes." + +He went on toward the rear of the silent house and through the +servants' hall, then around by the kitchen garden, then felt his way +along a hedge to a hutchlike lodge where a fixed iron bell hung +quivering under the slow blows of the clapper. + +"What the devil's the matter?" demanded McKay in a calm voice. + +The bell still hummed with the melancholy vibrations, but the +clapper now hung motionless. Through the brooding rumour of metallic +sound came a voice out of the mist: + +"The hours of life are numbered. Is it true?" + +"It is," said McKay coolly; "and the hairs of our head are numbered +too!" + +"So teach us to number our days," rejoined the voice from the fog, +"that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom." + +"The days of our years are three-score years and ten," said McKay. +"Have you a name?" + +"A number." + +"And what number will that be?" + +"Sixty-seven. And yours?" + +"You should know that, too." + +"It's the reverse; seventy-six." + +"It is that," said McKay. "Come in." + +He made his way to the foggy gate, drew bolt and chain from the left +wicket. A young man stepped through. + +"Losh, mon," he remarked with a Yankee accent, "it's a fearful nicht +to be abroad." + +"Come on in," said McKay, re-locking the wicket. "This way; follow +me." + +They went by the kitchen garden and servants' hall, and so through +to the staircase hall, where McKay struck a match and Sixty-seven +instantly blew it out. + +"Better not," he said. "There are vermin about." + +McKay stood silent, probably surprised. Then he called softly in the +darkness: + +"Seventy-seven!" + +"Je suis la!" came her voice from the stairs. + +"It's all right," he said, "it's one of our men. No use sittin' up +if you're sleepy." He listened but did not hear Miss Erith stir. + +"Better return to bed," he said again, and guided Sixty-seven into +the room on the left. + +For a few moments he prowled around; a glass tinkled against a +decanter. When he returned to the shadow-shape seated motionless by +the casement window he carried only one glass. + +"Don't you?" inquired Sixty-seven. "And you a Scot!" + +"I'm a Yankee; and I'm through." + +"With the stuff?" + +"Absolutely." + +"Oh, very well. But a Yankee laird--tiens c'est assez drole!" He +smacked his lips over the smoky draught, set the half-empty glass on +the deep sill. Then he began breezily: + +"Well, Seventy-six, what's all this I hear about your misfortunes?" + +"What do you hear?" inquired McKay guilelessly. + +The other man laughed. + +"I hear that you and Seventy-seven have entered the Service; that +you are detailed to Switzerland and for a certain object unknown to +myself; that your transport was torpedoed a week ago off the Head of +Strathlone, that you wired London from this house of yours called +Isla, and that you and Seventy-seven went to London last week to +replenish the wardrobe you had lost." + +"Is that all you heard?" + +"It is." + +"Well, what more do you wish to hear?" + +"I want to know whether anything has happened to worry you. And I'll +tell you why. There was a Hun caught near Banff! Can you beat it? +The beggar wore kilts!--and the McKay tartan--and, by jinks, if his +gillie wasn't rigged in shepherd's plaid!--and him with his Yankee +passport and his gillie with a bag of ready-made rods. Yellow trout, +is it? Sea-trout, is it! Ho, me bucko, says I when I lamped what he +did with his first trout o' the burn this side the park--by Godfrey! +thinks I to myself, you're no white man at all!--you're Boche. And +it was so, McKay." + +"Seventy-six," corrected McKay gently. + +"That's better. It should become a habit." + +"Excuse me, Seventy-six; I'm Scotch-Irish way back. You're straight +Scotch--somewhere back. We Yankees don't use rods and flies and net +and gaff as these Scotch people use 'em. But we're white, +Seventy-six, and we use 'em RIGHT in our own fashion." He moistened +his throat, shoved aside the glass: + +"But this kilted Boche! Oh, la-la! What he did with his rod and +flies and his fish and himself! AND his gillie! Sure YOU'RE not +white at all, thinks I. And at that I go after them." + +"You got them?" + +"Certainly--at the inn--gobbling a trout, blaue gesotten--having +gone into the kitchen to show a decent Scotch lassie how to concoct +the Hunnish dish. I nailed them then and there--took the chance that +the swine weren't right. And won out." + +"Good! But what has it to do with me?" asked McKay. + +"Well, I'll be telling you. I took the Boche to London and I've come +all the way back to tell you this, Seventy-six; the Huns are on to +you and what you're up to. That Boche laird called himself Stanley +Brown, but his name is--or was--Schwartz. His gillie proved to be a +Swede." + +"Have they been executed?" + +"You bet. Tower style! We got another chum of theirs, too, who set +up a holler like he saw a pan of hogwash. We're holding him. And +what we've learned is this: The Huns made a special set at your +transport in order to get YOU and Seventy-seven! + +"Now they know you are here and their orders are to get you before +you reach France. The hog that hollered put us next. He's a +Milwaukee Boche; name Zimmerman. He's so scared that he tells all he +knows and a lot that he doesn't. That's the trouble with a Milwaukee +Boche. Anyway, London sent me back to find you and warn you. Keep +your eye skinned. And when you're ready for France wire Edinburgh. +You know where. There'll be a car and an escort for you and +Seventy-seven." + +McKay laughed: "You know," he said, "there's no chance of trouble +here. Glenark is too small a village--" + +"Didn't I land a brace of Boches at Banff?" + +"That's true. Well, anyway, I'll be off, I expect, in a day or so." +He rose; "and now I'll show you a bed--" + +"No; I've a dog-cart tied out yonder and a chaser lying at Glenark. +By Godfrey, I'm not finished with these Boche-jocks yet!" + +"You're going?" + +"You bet. I've a date to keep with a suspicious character--on a +trawler. Can you beat it? These vermin creep in everywhere. Yes, by +Godfrey! They crawl aboard ship in sight of Strathlone Head! Here's +hoping it may be a yard-arm jig he'll dance!" + +He emptied his glass, refused more. McKay took him to the wicket and +let him loose. + +"Well, over the top, old scout!" said Sixty-seven cheerily, +exchanging a quick handclasp with McKay. And so the fog took him. + +A week later they found his dead horse and wrecked dog-cart five +miles this side of Glenark Burn, lying in a gully entirely concealed +by whinn and broom. It was the noise the flies made that attracted +attention. As for the man himself, he floated casually into the +Firth one sunny day with five bullets in him and his throat cut very +horridly. + +But, before that, other things happened on Isla Water--long before +anybody missed No. 67. Besides, the horse and dog-cart had been +hired for a week; and nobody was anxious except the captain of the +trawler, held under mysterious orders to await the coming of a man +who never came. + +So McKay went back through the fog to his quaint, whitewashed +inheritance--this legacy from a Scotch grandfather to a Yankee +grandson--and when he came into the dark waist of the house he +called up very gently: "Are you awake, Miss Yellow-hair?" + +"Yes. Is all well?" + +"All's well," he said, mounting the stairs. + +"Then--good night to you Kay of Isla!" she said. + +"Don't you want to hear--" + +"To-morrow, please." + +"But--" + +"As long as you say that all is well I refuse to lose any more +sleep!" + +"Are you sleepy, Yellow-hair?" + +"I am." + +"Aren't you going to sit up and chat for a few--" + +"I am not!" + +"Have you no curiosity?" he demanded, laughingly. + +"Not a bit. You say everything is all right. Then it is all +right--when Kay of Isla says so! Good night!" + +What she had said seemed to thrill him with a novel and delicious +sense of responsibility. He heard her door close; he stood there in +the stone corridor a moment before entering his room, experiencing +an odd, indefinite pleasure in the words this girl had +uttered--words which seemed to reinstate him among his kind, words +which no woman would utter except to a man in whom she believed. + +And yet this girl knew him--knew what he had been--had seen him in +the depths--had looked upon the wreck of him. + +Out of those depths she had dragged what remained of him--not for +his own sake perhaps--not for his beaux-yeux--but to save him for +the service which his country demanded of him. + +She had fought for him--endured, struggled spiritually, mentally, +bodily to wrench him out of the coma where drink had left him with a +stunned brain and crippled will. + +And now, believing in her work, trusting, confident, she had just +said to him that what he told her was sufficient security for her. +And on his word that all was well she had calmly composed herself +for sleep as though all the dead chieftains of Isla stood on guard +with naked claymores! Nothing in all his life had ever so thrilled +him as this girl's confidence. + +And, as he entered his room, he knew that within him the accursed +thing that had been, lay dead forever. + +He was standing in the walled garden switching a limber trout-rod +when Miss Erith came upon him next morning,--a tall straight young +man in his kilts, supple and elegant as the lancewood rod he was +testing. + +Conscious of a presence behind him he turned, came toward her in the +sunlight, the sun crisping his short hair. And in his pleasant level +eyes the girl saw what had happened--what she had wrought--that +this young man had come into his own again--into his right mind and +his manhood--and that he had resumed his place among his fellow men +and peers. + +He greeted her seriously, almost formally; and the girl, excited and +a little upset by the sudden realisation of his victory and hers, +laughed when he called her "Miss Erith." + +"You called me Yellow-hair last night," she said. "I called you Kay. +Don't you want it so?" + +"Yes," he said reddening, understanding that it was her final +recognition of a man who had definitely "come back." + +Miss Erith was very lovely as she stood there in the garden whither +breakfast was fetched immediately and laid out on a sturdy green +garden-table--porridge, coffee, scones, jam, and an egg. + +Chipping the latter she let her golden-hazel eyes rest at moments +upon the young fellow seated opposite. At other moments, sipping her +coffee or buttering a scone, she glanced about her at the new grass +starred with daisies, at the daffodils, the slim young +fruit-trees,--and up at the old white facade of the ancient abode of +the Lairds of Isla. + +"Why the white flag up there, Kay?" she inquired, glancing aloft. + +He laughed, but flushed a little. "Yankee that I am," he admitted, +"I seem to be Scot enough to observe the prejudices and folk-ways of +my forebears." + +"Is it your clan flag?" + +"Bratach Bhan Chlaun Aoidh," he said smilingly. "The White Banner of +the McKays." + +"Good! And what may that be--that bunch of weed you wear in your +button-hole?" Again the young fellow laughed: "Seasgan or Cuilc--in +Gaelic--just reed-grass, Miss Yellow-hair." + +"Your clan badge?" + +"I believe so." + +"You're a good Yankee, Kay. You couldn't be a good Yankee if you +treated Scotch custom with contempt.... This jam is delicious. And +oh, such scones!" + +"When we go to Edinburgh we'll tea on Princess Street," he remarked. +"It's there you'll fall for the Scotch cakes, Yellow-hair." + +"I've already fallen for everything Scotch," she remarked demurely. + +"Ah, wait! This Scotland is no strange land to good Americans. It's +a bonnie, sweet, clean bit of earth made by God out of the same +batch he used for our own world of the West. Oh, Yellow-hair, I mind +the first day I ever saw Scotland. 'Twas across Princess +Street--across acres of Madonna lilies in that lovely foreland +behind which the Rock lifted skyward with Edinburgh Castle atop made +out of grey silver slag! It was a brave sight, Yellow-hair. I never +loved America more than at that moment when, in my heart, I married +her to Scotland." + +"Kay, you're a poet!" she exclaimed. + +"We all are here, Yellow-hair. There's naught else in Scotland," he +said laughing. + +The man was absolutely transformed, utterly different. She had never +imagined that a "cure" meant the revelation of this unsuspected +personality--this alternation of pleasant gravity and boyish charm. + +Something of what preoccupied her he perhaps suspected, for the +colour came into his handsome lean features again and he picked up +his rod, rising as she rose. + +"Are there no instructions yet?" she inquired. + +As he stood there threading the silk line through the guides he told +her about the visit of No. 67. + +"I fancy instructions will come before long," he remarked, casting a +leaderless line out across the grass. After a moment he glanced +rather gravely at her where she stood with hands linked behind her, +watching the graceful loops which his line was making in the air. + +"You're not worried, are you, Yellow-hair?" + +"About the Boche?" + +"I meant that." + +"No, Kay, I'm not uneasy." + +And when the girl had said it she knew that she had meant a little +more; she had meant that she felt secure with this particular man +beside her. + +It was a strange sort of peace that was invading her--an odd courage +quite unfamiliar--an effortless pluck that had suddenly become the +most natural thing in the world to this girl, who, until then, had +clutched her courage desperately in both hands, commended her soul +to God, her body to her country's service. + +Frightened, she had set out to do this service, knowing perfectly +what sort of fate awaited her if she fell among the Boche. + +Frightened but resolute she faced the consequences with this +companion about whom she knew nothing; in whom she had divined a +trace of that true metal which had been so dreadfully tarnished and +transmuted. + +And now, here in this ancient garden--here in the sun of earliest +summer, she had beheld a transfiguration. And still under the spell +of it, still thrilled by wonder, she had so utterly believed in it, +so ardently accepted it, that she scarcely understood what this +transfiguration had also wrought in her. She only felt that she was +no longer captain of their fate; that he was now; and she resigned +her invisible insignia of rank with an unconscious little sigh that +left her pretty lips softly parted. + +At that instant he chanced to look up at her. She was the most +beautiful thing he had ever seen in the world. And she had looked at +him out of those golden eyes when he had been less than a mere brute +beast.... That was very hard to know and remember .... But it was +the price he had to pay--that this fresh, sweet, clean young thing +had seen him as he once had been, and that he never could forget +what she had looked upon. + +"Kay!" + +"Yes, Lady Yellow-hair." + +"What are you going to do with that rod?" + +"Whip Isla for a yellow trout for you." + +"Isla?" + +"Not our Loch, but the quick water yonder." + +"You know," she said, "to a Yankee girl those moors appear +rather--rather lonely." + +"Forbidding?" + +"No; beautiful in their way. But I am in awe of Glenark moors." + +He smiled, lingering still to loop on a gossamer leader and a cast +of tiny flies. + +"Have you--" she began, and smiled nervously. + +"A gun?" he inquired coolly. "Yes, I have two strapped up under both +arms. But you must come too, Yellow-hair." + +"You don't think it best to leave me alone even in your own house?" + +"No, I don't think it best." + +"I wanted to go with you anyway," she said, picking up a soft hat +and pulling it over her golden head. + +On the way across Isla bridge and out along the sheep-path they +chatted unconcernedly. A faint aromatic odour made the girl aware of +broom and whinn and heath. + +As they sauntered on along the edge of Isla Water the lapwings rose +into flight ahead. Once or twice the feathery whirr of brown grouse +startled her. And once, on the edge of cultivated land, a partridge +burst from the heather at her very feet--a "Frenchman" with his red +legs and gay feathers brilliant in the sun. + +Sun and shadow and white cloud, heath and moor and hedge and +broad-tilled field alternated as they passed together along the edge +of Isla Water and over the road to Isla--the enchanting +river--interested in each other's conversation and in the loveliness +of the sunny world about them. + +High in the blue sky plover called en passant; larks too were on the +wing, and throstles and charming feathered things that hid in +hedgerows and permitted glimpses of piquant heads and twitching +painted tails. + +"It is adorable, this country!" Miss Erith confessed. "It steals +into your very bones; doesn't it?" + +"And the bones still remain Yankee bones," he rejoined. "There's the +miracle, Yellow-hair." + +"Entirely. You know what I think? The more we love the more loyal we +become to our own. I'm really quite serious. Take yourself for +example, Kay. You are most ornamental in your kilts and +heather-spats, and you are a better Yankee for it. Aren't you?" + +"Oh yes, a hopeless Yankee. But that drop of Scotch blood is singing +tunes to-day, Yellow-hair." + +"Let it sing--God bless it!" + +He turned, his youthful face reflecting the slight emotion in her +gay voice. Then with a grave smile he set his face straight in front +of him and walked on beside her, the dark green pleats of the McKay +tartan whipping his bared knees. Clan Morhguinn had no handsomer +son; America no son more loyal. + +A dragon-fly glittered before them for an instant. Far across the +rolling country they caught the faint, silvery flash of Isla +hurrying to the sea. + +Evelyn Erith stood in the sunny breeze of Isla, her yellow hair +dishevelled by the wind, her skirt's edge wet with the spray of +waterfalls. The wild rose colour was in her cheeks and the tint of +crimson roses on her lips and the glory of the Soleil d'or glimmered +on her loosened hair. A confused sense that the passing hour was the +happiest in her life possessed her: she looked down at the brace of +wet yellow trout on the bog-moss at her feet; she gazed out across +the crinkled pool where the Yankee Laird of Isla waded, casting a +big tinselled fly for the accidental but inevitable sea-trout always +encountered in Isla during the season--always surprising and +exciting the angler with emotion forever new. + +Over his shoulder he was saying to her: "Sea-trout and grilse don't +belong to Isla, but they come occasionally, Lady Yellow-hair." + +"Like you and I, Kay--we don't belong here but we come." + +"Where the McKay is, the Key of the World lies hidden in his +sporran," he laughed back at her over his shoulder where the clan +plaid fluttered above the cairngorm. + +"Oh, the modesty of this young man! Wherever he takes off his cap he +is at home!" she cried. + +He only laughed, and she saw the slim line curl, glisten, loop and +unroll in the long back cast, re-loop, and straighten out over Isla +like a silver spider's floating strand. Then silver leaped to meet +silver as the "Doctor" touched water; one keen scream of the reel +cut the sunny silence; the rod bent like a bow, staggered in his +hand, swept to the surface in a deeper bow, quivered under the +tremendous rush of the great fish. + +Miss Erith watched the battle from an angle not that of an angler. +Her hazel eyes followed McKay where he manoeuvred in midstream with +rod and gaff--happily aware of the grace in every unconscious +movement of his handsome lean body--the steady, keen poise of head +and shoulders, the deft and powerful play of his clean-cut, brown +hands. + +It came into her mind that he'd look like that on the firing-line +some day when his Government was ready to release him from his +obscure and terrible mission--the Government that was sending him +where such men as he usually perish unobserved, unhonoured, +repudiated even by those who send them to accomplish what only the +most brave and unselfish dare undertake. + +A little cloud cast a momentary shadow across Isla. The sea-trout +died then, a quivering limber, metallic shape glittering on the +ripples. + +In the intense stillness from far across the noon-day world she +heard the bells of Banff--a far, sweet reiteration stealing inland +on the wind. She had never been so happy in her life. + +Swinging back across the moor together, he with slanting rod and +weighted creel, she with her wind-blown yellow hair and a bunch of +reed at her belt in his honour, both seemed to understand that they +had had their hour, and that the hour was ending--almost ended now. + +They had remained rather silent. Perhaps grave thoughts of what lay +before them beyond the bright moor's edge--beyond the far blue +horizon--preoccupied their minds. And each seemed to feel that their +play-day was finished--seemed already to feel physically the +approach of that increasing darkness shrouding the East--that +hellish mist toward which they both were headed--the twilight of the +Hun. + +Nothing stained the sky above them; a snowy cloud or two drifted up +there,--a flight of lapwings now and then--a lone curlew. The long, +squat white-washed house with its walled garden reflected in Isla +Water glimmered before them in the hollow of the rolling hills. + +McKay was softly and thoughtfully whistling the "Lament for +Donald"--the lament of CLAN AOIDH--his clan. + +"That's rather depressing, Kay--what you're whistling," said Evelyn +Erith. + +He glanced up from his abstraction, nodded, and strode on humming +the "Over There" of that good bard George of Broadway. + +After a moment the girl said: "There seem to be some people by Isla +Water." + +His quick glance appraised the distant group, their summer tourist +automobile drawn up on the bank of Isla Water near the Bridge, the +hampers on the grass. + +"Trespassers," he said with a shrug. "But it's a pretty spot by Isla +Bridge and we never drive them away." + +She looked at them again as they crossed the very old bridge of +stone. Down by the water's edge stood their machine. Beside it on +the grass were picnicking three people--a very good-looking girl, a +very common-looking stout young man in flashy outing clothes, and a +thin man of forty, well-dressed and of better appearance. + +The short, stout, flashy young man was eating sandwiches with one +hand while with the other he held a fishing-rod out over the water. + +McKay noticed this bit of impudence with a shrug. "That won't do," +he murmured; and pausing at the parapet of the bridge he said +pleasantly: "I'm sorry to disturb you, but fishing isn't permitted +in Isla Water." + +At that the flashy young man jumped up with unexpected nimbleness--a +powerful frame on two very vulgar but powerful legs. + +"Say, sport," he called out, "if this is your fish-pond we're ready +to pay what's right. What's the damage for a dozen fish?" + +"Americans--awful ones," whispered Miss Erith. + +McKay rested his folded arms on the parapet and regarded the advance +of the flashy man up the grassy slope below. + +"I don't rent fishing privileges," he said amiably. + +"That's all right. Name your price. No millionaire guy I ever heard +of ever had enough money," returned the flashy man jocosely. + +McKay, amused, shook his head. "Sorry," he said, "but I couldn't +permit you to fish." + +"Aw, come on, old scout! We heard you was American same as us. +That's my sister down there and her feller. My name's Jim +Macniff--some Scotch somewhere. That there feller is Harry Skelton. +Horses is our business--Spitalfields Mews--here's my card--" +pulling it out--"I'll come up on the bridge--" + +"Never mind. What are you in Scotland for anyway?" inquired McKay. + +"The Angus Dhu stables at Inverness--auction next Wednesday. Horses +is our line, so we made it a holiday--" + +"A holiday in the Banff country?" + +"Sure, I ain't never seen it before. Is that your house?" + +McKay nodded and turned away, weary of the man and his vulgarity. +"Very well, picnic and fish if you like," he said; and fell into +step beside Miss Erith. + +They entered the house through the door in the garden. Later, when +Miss Erith came back from her toilet, but still wearing her outing +skirt, McKay turned from the long window where he had been standing +and watching the picnickers across Isla Bridge. The flashy man had a +banjo now and was strumming it and leering at the girl. + +"What people to encounter in this corner of Paradise," she said +laughingly. And, as he did not smile: "You don't suppose there's +anything queer about them, do you, Kay?" At that he smiled: "Oh, no, +nothing of that sort, Yellow-hair. Only--it's rather odd. But bagmen +and their kind do come into the northland--why, Heaven knows--but +one sees them playing about." + +"Of course those people are merely very ordinary Americans--nothing +worse," she said, seating herself at the table. + +"What could be worse?" he returned lightly. + +"Boche." + +They were seated sideways to the window and opposite each other, +commanding a clear view of Isla Water and the shore where the +picnickers sprawled apparently enjoying the semi-comatose pleasure +of repletion. + +"That other man--the thin one--has not exactly a prepossessing +countenance," she remarked. + +"They can't travel without papers," he said. + +For a little while luncheon progressed in silence. Presently Miss +Erith reverted to the picnickers: "The young woman has a foreign +face. Have you noticed?" + +"She's rather dark. Rather handsome, too. And she appears rather +nice." + +"Women of that class always appear superior to men of the same +class," observed Miss Erith. "I suppose really they are not superior +to the male of the species." + +"I've always thought they were," he said. + +"Men might think so." + +He smiled: "Quite right, Yellow-hair; woman only is competent to +size up woman. The trouble is that no man really believes this." + +"Don't you?" + +"I don't know. Tell me, what shall we do after luncheon?" + +"Oh, the moors--please, Kay!" + +"What!" he exclaimed laughingly; "you're already a victim to Glenark +moors!" + +"Kay, I adore them! ... Are you tired? ... Our time is short-our day +of sunshine. I want to drink in all of it I can ... before we--" + +"Certainly. Shall we walk to Strathnaver, Lady Yellow-hair?" + +"If it please my lord." + +"Now?" + +"In the cool of the afternoon. Don't you want to be lazy with me in +your quaint old garden for an hour or two?" + +"I'll send out two steamer-chairs, Yellow-hair." + +When they lay there in the shadow of a lawn umbrella, chair beside +chair, the view across Isla Water was unpolluted by the picnickers, +their hamper, and their car. + +"Stole away, the beggars," drawled McKay lighting a cigarette. +"Where the devil they got a permit for petrol is beyond me." + +The girl lay with deep golden eyes dreaming under her long dark +lashes. Sunlight crinkled Isla Water; a merle came and sang to her +in a pear-tree until, in its bubbling melody, she seemed to hear the +liquid laughter of Isla rippling to the sea. + +"Kay?" + +"Yes, Yellow-hair." Their voices were vague and dreamy. + +"Tell me something." + +"I'll tell you something. When a McKay of Isla is near his end he is +always warned." + +"How?" + +"A cold hand touches his hand in the dark." + +"Kay!" + +"It's so. It's called'the Cold Hand of Isla.' We are all doomed to +feel it." + +"Absurd!" + +"Not at all. That's a pretty story; isn't it? Now what more shall I +tell you?" + +"Anything you like, Kay. I'm in paradise--or would be if only +somebody would tell me stories till I fall asleep." + +"Stories about what?" + +"About YOU, Kay." + +"I'll not talk about myself." + +"Please!" + +But he shook his head without smiling: "You know all there is," he +said--"and much that is--unspeakable." + +"Kay!" + +"What?" + +"Never, never speak that way again!" + +He remained silent. + +"Because," she continued in her low, pretty voice, "it is not true. +I know about you only what I somehow seemed to divine the very +moment I first laid eyes on you. Something within me seemed to say +to me, 'This is a boy who also is a real man!' ... And it was true, +Kay." + +"You thought that when you knelt in the snow and looked down at that +beastly drunken--" + +"Yes! Don't use such words! You looked like a big schoolboy, +asleep-that is what you resembled. But I knew you to be a real man." + +"You are merciful, but I know what you went through," he said +morosely. + +She paid no attention: "I liked you instantly. I thought to myself, +'Now when he wakes he'll be what he looks like.' And you are!" + +He stirred in his chair, sideways, and glanced at her. + +"You know what I think about you, don't you?" + +"No." She shouldn't have let their words drift thus far and she knew +it. Also at this point she should have diverted the conversation. +But she remained silent, aware of an indefinite pleasure in the +vague excitement which had quickened her pulse a little. + +"Well, I shan't tell you," he said quietly. + +"Why not?" And at that her heart added a beat or two. + +"Because, even if I were different, you wouldn't wish me to." + +"Why?" + +"Because you and I are doomed to a rather intimate comradeship--a +companionship far beyond conventions, Yellow-hair. That is what is +ahead of us. And you will have enough to weary you without having +another item to add to it." + +"What item?" At that she became very silent and badly scared. What +demon was prompting her to such provocation? Her own effrontery +amazed and frightened her, but her words seemed to speak themselves +independently of her own volition. + +"Yellow-hair," he said, "I think you have guessed all I might have +dared say to you were I not on eternal probation." + +"Probation?" + +"Before a bitterly strict judge." + +"Who?" + +"Myself, Yellow-hair." + +"Oh, Kay! You ARE a boy--nothing more than a boy--" + +"Are you in love with me?" + +"No," she said, astonished. "I don't think so. What an amazing thing +to say to a girl!" + +"I thought I'd scare you," he remarked grimly. + +"You didn't. I--I was scarcely prepared--such a nonsensical thing to +say! Why--why I might as well ask you if you are in--in--" + +"In love with you? You wish to know, Yellow-hair?" + +"No, I don't," she replied hastily. "This is--stupid. I don't +understand how we came to discuss such--such--" But she did know and +she bit her lip and gazed across Isla Water in silent exasperation. + +What mischief was this that hid in the Scottish sunshine, whispering +in every heather-scented breeze--laughing at her from every little +wave on Isla Water?--counselling her to this new and delicate +audacity, imbuing her with a secret gaiety of heart, and her very +soul fluttering with a delicious laughter--an odd, perverse, +illogical laughter, alternately tremulous and triumphant! + +Was she in love, then, with this man? She remembered his unconscious +head on her knees in the limousine, and the snow clinging to his +bright hair-- + +She remembered the telephone, and the call to the hospital--and the +message. ... And the white night and bitter dawn. ... Love? No, not +as she supposed it to be; merely the solicitude and friendship of a +woman who once found something hurt by the war and who fought to +protect what was hers by right of discovery. That was not love. ... +Perhaps there may have been a touch of the maternal passion about +her feeling for this man. ... Nothing else--nothing more than that, +and the eternal indefinable charity for all boys which is inherent +in all womanhood--the consciousness of the enchantment that a boy +has for all women. ... Nothing more. ... Except that--perhaps she +had wondered whether he liked her--as much as she liked him.... Or +if, possibly, in his regard for her there were some slight depths +between shallows--a gratitude that is a trifle warmer than the +conventional virtue-- + +When at length she ventured to turn her head and look at him he +seemed to be asleep, lying there in the transformed shadow of the +lawn umbrella. + +Something about the motionless relaxation of this man annoyed her. +"Kay?" + +He turned his head squarely toward her, and 'o her exasperation she +blushed. + +"Did I wake you? I'm sorry," she said coldly. + +"You didn't. I was awake." + +"Oh! I meant to say that I think I'll stroll out. Don't come if you +feel lazy." + +He swung himself up to a sitting posture. + +"I'm quite ready," he said. ... "You'll always find me ready, +Yellow-hair--always waiting." + +"Waiting? For what?" + +"For your commands." + +"You very nice boy!" she said gaily, springing to her feet. Then, +the subtle demon of the sunlight prompting her: "You know, Kay, you +don't ever have to wait. Because I'm always ready to listen to any +pro--any suggestions--from you." + +The man looked into the girl's eyes: + +"You would care to hear what I might have to tell you?" + +"I always care to hear what you say. Whatever you say interests me." + +"Would it interest you to know I am--in love?" + +"Yes. ... With wh--whom are--" But her breath failed her. + +"With you. ... You knew it, Yellow-hair. ... Does it interest you to +know it?" + +"Yes." But the exhilaration of the moment was interfering with her +breath again and she only stood there with the flushed and audacious +little smile stamped on her lips forcing her eyes to meet his +curious, troubled, intent gaze. + +"You did know it?" he repeated. + +"No." + +"You suspected it." + +"I wanted to know what you--thought about me, Kay." + +"You know now." + +"Yes ... but it doesn't seem real. ... And I haven't anything to say +to you. I'm sorry--" + +"I understand, Yellow-hair." + +"--Except-thank you. And-and I am interested. ... You're such a boy.... +I like you so much, Kay.... And I AM interested in what you +said to me." + +"That means a lot for you to say, doesn't it?" + +"I don't know. ... It's partly what we have been through together, I +suppose; partly this lovely country, and the sun. Something is +enchanting me. ... And you are very nice to look at, Kay." His smile +was grave, a little detached and weary. + +"I did not suppose you could ever really care for such a man as I +am," he remarked without the slightest bitterness or appeal in his +voice. "But I'm glad you let me tell you how it is with me. ... It +always was that way, Yellow-hair, from the first moment you came +into the hospital. I fell in love then." + +"Oh, you couldn't have--" + +"Nevertheless, and after all I said and did to the contrary. ... I +don't think any woman remains entirely displeased when a man tells +her he is in love with her. If he does love her he ought to tell +her, I think. It always means that much tribute to her power. ... +And none is indifferent to power, Yellow-hair." + +"No. ... I am not indifferent. I like what you said to me. It seems +unreal, though--but enchanting--part of this day's enchantment. ... +Shall we start, Kay?" + +"Certainly." + +They went out together through the garden door into the open moor, +swinging along in rhythmic stride, side by side, smiling faintly as +dreamers smile when something imperceptible to the waking world +invades their vision. + +Again the brown grouse whirred from the whinns; again the subtle +fragrance of the moor sweetened her throat with its clean aroma; +again the haunting complaint of the lapwings came across acres of +bog and furze; and, high in the afternoon sky, an invisible curlew +sadly and monotonously repeated its name through the vast blue vault +of space. + +On the edge of evening with all the west ablaze they came out once +more on Isla Water and looked across the glimmering flood at the old +house in the hollow, every distant window-pane a-glitter. + +Like that immemorial and dragon-guarded jewel of the East the sun, +cradled in flaky gold, hung a hand's breadth above the horizon, and +all the world had turned to a hazy plum-bloom tint threaded with +pale fire. + +On Isla Water the yellow trout had not yet begun to jump; evening +still lingered beyond the world's curved ruin; but the wild duck +were coming in from the sea in twos and threes and sheering down +into distant reaches of Isla Water. + +Then, into the divine stillness of the universe came the unspeakable +twang of a banjo; and a fat voice, slightly hoarse: + + "Rocks on the mountain, + Fishes in the sea, + A red-headed girl + Raised hell with me. + She come from Chicago, R.F.D. + An' she ain't done a thing to a guy like me!" + +The business was so grotesquely outrageous, so utterly and +disgustingly hopeless in its surprise and untimelines, that McKay's +sharp laugh rang out under the sky. + +There they were, the same trespassers of the morning, squatted on +the heather at the base of Isla Craig--a vast heap of rocks--their +machine drawn up in the tall green brakes beside the road. + +The flashy, fat man, Macniff, had the banjo. The girl sat between +him and the thin man, Skelton. + +"Ah, there, old scout!" called out Macniff, flourishing one hand +toward McKay. "Lovely evening, ain't it? Won't you and the wife join +us?" + +There was absolutely nothing to reply to such an invitation. Miss +Erith continued to gaze out steadily across Isla Water; McKay, +deeply sensitive to the ludicrous, smiled under the grotesque +provocation, his eyes mischievously fixed on Miss Erith. After a +long while: "They've spoiled it," she said lightly. "Shall we go on, +Kay? I can't endure that banjo." + +They walked on, McKay grinning. The picnickers were getting up from +the crushed heather; Macniff with his banjo came toward them on his +incredibly thick legs, blocking their path. + +"Say, sport," he began, "won't you and the lady join us?" But McKay +cut him short: + +"Do you know you are impudent?" he said very quietly. "Step out of +the way there." + +"The hell you say!" and McKay's patience ended at the same instant. +And something happened very quickly, for the man only staggered +under the smashing blow and the other man's arm flew up and his +pistol blazed in the gathering dusk, shattering the cairngorm on +McKay's shoulder. The young woman fired from where she sat on the +grass and the soft hat was jerked from Miss Erith's head. At the +same moment McKay clutched her arm and jerked her violently behind a +jutting elbow of Isla Rock. When she recovered her balance she saw +he held two pistols. + +"Boche?" she gasped incredulously. + +"Yes. Keep your head down. Crouch among the ferns behind me!" + +There was a ruddy streak of fire from the pistol in his right hand; +shots answered, the bullets smacking the rock or whining above it. + +"Yellow-hair?" + +"Yes, Kay." + +"You are not scared, are you?" + +"Yes; but I'm all right." + +He said with quiet bitterness: "It's too late to say what a fool I +am. Their camouflage took me in; that's all--" + +He fired again; a rattling volley came storming among the rocks. + +"We're all right here," he said tersely. But in his heart he was +terrified, for he had only the cartridges in his clips. + +Presently he motioned her to bend over very low. Then, taking her +hand, he guided her along an ascending gulley, knee-deep in fern and +brake and brier, to a sort of little rocky pulpit. + +The lake lay behind them, lapping the pulpit's base. There was a man +in a boat out there. McKay fired at him and he plied both oars and +fled out of range. + +"Lie down," he whispered to Miss Erith. The girl mutely obeyed. + +Now, crouched up there in the deepening dusk, his pistol extended, +resting on the rock in front of him, his keen eyes searched +restlessly; his ears were strained for the minutest stirring on the +moor in front of him; and his embittered mind was at work +alternately cursing his own stupidity and searching for some chance +for this young girl whom his own incredible carelessness had +probably done to death. + +Presently, between him and Isla Water, a shadow moved. He fired; and +around them the darkness spat flame from a dozen different angles. + +"Damnation!" he whispered to himself, realising now what the sunlit +moors had hidden--a dozen men all bent on murder. + +Once a voice hailed him from the thick darkness promising immunity +if he surrendered. He hesitated. Who but he should know the Boche? +Still he answered back: "If you let this woman go you can do what +you like to me!" And knew while he was saying it that it was +useless--that there was no truth, no honour in the Boche, only +infamy and murder. A hoarse voice promised what he asked; but Miss +Erith caught McKay's arm. + +"No!" + +"If I dared believe them--" + +"No, Kay!" + +He shrugged: "I'd be very glad to pay the price--only they can't be +trusted. They can't be trusted, Yellow-hair." + +Somebody shouted from the impenetrable shadows: + +"Come out of that now, McKay! If you don't we'll go in and cut her +throat before we do for you!" + +He remained silent, quite motionless, watching the darkness. + +Suddenly his pistol flashed redly, rapidly; a heavy, soft bulk went +tumbling down the rocks; another reeled there, silhouetted against +Isla Water, then lurched forward, striking the earth with his face. +And now from every angle slanting lines of blood-red fire streaked +the night; Isla Craig rang and echoed with pelting lead. + +"Next!" called out McKay with his ugly careless laugh. "Two down. No +use to set 'em up again! Let dead wood lie. It's the law!" + +"Can they hear the shooting at the house?" whispered Miss Erith. + +"Too far. A shot on the moors carries only a little way." + +"Could they see the pistol flashes, Kay?" + +"They'd take them for fireflies or witch lights dancing on the +bogs." + +After a long and immobile silence he dropped to his knees, remained +so listening, then crept across the Pulpit's ferny floor. Of a +sudden he sprang up and fired full into a man's face; and struck the +distorted visage with doubled fist, hurling it below, crashing down +through the bracken. + +After a stunned interval Miss Erith saw him wiping that hand on the +herbage. + +"Kay?" + +"Yes, Yellow-hair." + +"Can you see your wrist-watch?" + +"Yes. It's after midnight." + +The girl prayed silently for dawn. The man, grim, alert, awaited +events, clutching his partly emptied pistols. He had not yet told +her that they were partly empty. He did not know whether to tell +her. After a while he made up his mind. + +"Yellow-hair?" + +"Yes, dear Kay." + +His lips went dry; he found difficulty in speaking: "I've--I've +undone you. I've bitten the hand that saved me, your slim white +hand, I'm afraid. I'm afraid I've destroyed you, Yellow-hair." + +"How, Kay?" + +"My pistols are half empty. ... Unless dawn comes quick--" + +Again one of his pistols flashed its crimson streak across the +blackness and a man began scrambling and thrashing and screaming +down there in the whinns. For a little while Miss Erith crouched +beside McKay in silence. Then he felt her light touch on his arm: + +"I've been thinking.", + +"Aye. So have I." + +"Is there a chance to drop into the lake?" + +He had not thought so. He had figured it out in every possible way. +But there seemed little chance to swim that icy water--none at +all--with that man in the boat yonder, and detection always imminent +if they left the Pulpit. McKay shook his head slightly: + +"He'd row us down and gralloch us like swimming deer." + +"But if one goes alone?" + +"Oh, Yellow-hair! Yellow-hair! If you only could!" + +"I can." + +"Swim it?" + +"Yes." + +"It's cold water. Few can swim Isla Water. It's a long swim from +Isla Craig to the house." + +"I can do it, I think." + +After a terrible silence he said: "Yes, best try it, Yellow-hair.... +I had meant to keep the last cartridge for you..." + +"Dear Kay," she breathed close to his cheek. + +Presently he was obliged to fire again, but remained uncertain as to +his luck in the raging storm of lead that followed. + +"I guess you better go, Yellow-hair," he whispered. "My guns are +about all in." + +"Try to hold them off. I'll come back. Of course you understand I'm +not going for myself, Kay, I'm going for ammunition." + +"What!" + +"What did you suppose?" she asked curtly. + +At that he blazed up: "If you can win through Isla Water you stay on +the other side and telephone Glenark! Do you hear? I'm all right. +It's--it's none of your business how I end this--" + +"Kay?" + +"What?" + +"Turn your back. I'm undressing." + +He heard her stripping, kneeling in the ferns behind him,--heard the +rip of delicate fabric and the rustle of silk-lined garments +falling. + +Presently she said: "Can I be noticed if I slip down through the +bushes to the water?" + +"O God," he whispered, "be careful, Yellow-hair. ... No, the man in +the boat is keeping his distance. He'll never see you. Don't splash +when you take the water. Swim like an otter, under, until you're +well out. ... You're young and sturdy, slim as you are. You'll get +through if the chill of Isla doesn't paralyse you. But you've got to +do it, Yellow-hair; you've GOT to do it." + +"Yes. Hold them off, Kay. I'll be back. Hold them off, dear Kay. +Will you?" + +"I'll try, Yellow-hair.... Good luck! Don't try to come back!" + +"Good luck," she whispered close to his ear; and, for a second he +felt her slim young hands on his shoulders--lightly--the very ghost +of contact. That was all. He waited a hundred years. Then another. +Then, his weapons levelled, listening, he cast a quick glance +backward. At the foot of the Pulpit a dark ripple lapped the rock. +Nothing there now; nothing in Isla Water save far in the stars' +lustre the shadowy boat lying motionless. + +Toward dawn they tried to rush the Pulpit. He used a heavy fragment +of rock on the first man up, and as his quarry went smashing +earthward, a fierce whine burst from the others: "Shot out! All +together now!" But his pistol spoke again and they recoiled, +growling, disheartened, cursing the false hope that had re-nerved +them. + +It was his last shot, however. He had a heavy clasp-knife such as +salmon-anglers carry. He laid his empty pistols on the rocky ledge. +Very patiently he felt for frost-loosened masses of rock, detached +them one by one and noiselessly piled them along the ledge. + +"It's odd," he thought to himself: "I'm going to be killed and I +don't care. If Isla got HER, then I'll see her very soon now, God +willing. But if she wins out--why it is going to be longer waiting.... +And I've put my mark on the Boche--not as often as I wished--but +I've marked some of them for what they've done to me--and to the +world--" + +A sound caught his ear. He waited, listening. Had it been a fighting +chance in Isla Water he'd have taken it. But the man in the +boat!--and to have one's throat cut--like a deer! No! He'd kill all +he could first; he'd die fighting, not fleeing. + +He looked at his wrist-watch. Miss Erith had been gone two hours. +That meant that her slender body lay deep, deep in icy Isla. + +Now, listening intently, he heard the bracken stirring and something +scraping the gorse below. They were coming; they were among the +rocks! He straightened up and hurled a great slab of rock down +through darkness; heard them scrambling upward still; seized slab +after slab and smashed them downward at the flashes as the red flare +of their pistols lit up his figure against the sky. + +Then, as he hurled the last slab and clutched his short, broad +knife, a gasping breath fell on his cheek and a wet and icy little +hand thrust a box of clips into his. And there and then The McKay +almost died, for it was as if the "Cold Hand of Isla" had touched +him. And he stared ahead to see his own wraith. + +"Quick!" she panted. "We can hold them, Kay!" + +"Yellow-hair! By God! You bet we can!" he cried with a terrible +burst of laughter; and ripped the clips from the box and snapped +them in with lightning speed. + +Then his pistols vomited vermilion, clearing the rock of vermin; and +when two fresh clips were snapped in, the man stood on the Pulpit's +edge, mad for blood, his fierce young eyes searching the blackness +about him. + +"You dirty rats!" he cried, "come back! Are you leaving your dead in +the bracken then?" + +There were distant sounds on the moor; nothing stirred nearer. + +"Are you coming back?" he shouted, "or must I go after you?" + +Suddenly in the night their motor roared. At the same moment, far +across the lake, he saw the headlights of other motors glide over +Isla Bridge like low-flying stars. + +"Yellow-hair!" + +There was no sound behind him. He turned. + +The fainting girl lay amid her drenched yellow hair in the ferns, +partly covered by the clothing which she had drawn over her with her +last conscious effort. + +It is a long way across Isla Water. And twice across is longer. And +"The Cold Hand of Isla" summons the chief of Clan Morhguinn when his +time has come to look upon his own wraith face to face. But The Cold +Hand of Isla had touched this girl in vain--MOLADH MAIRI!! + +"Yellow-hair! Yellow-hair!" he whispered. The roar of rushing motors +from Glenark filled his ears. He picked up one of her little hands +and chafed it. Then she opened her golden eyes, looked up at him, +and a flood of rose dyed her body from brow to ankle. + +"It--it is a long way across Isla Water," she stammered. "I'm very +tired--Kay!" + +"You below there!" shouted McKay. "Are there constables among you?" + +"Aye, sir!" came the loud response amid the roar of running engines. + +"Then there'll be whiskey and blankets, I'm thinkin'!" cried McKay. + +"Aye, blankets for the dead if there be any!" + +"Kick 'em into the whinns and bring what ye bring for the living!" +said McKay in a loud, joyous voice. "And if you've petrol and speed +take the Banff road and be on your way, for the Boche are crawling +to cover, and it's fine running the night! Get on there, ye Glenark +beagles! And leave a car behind for me and mine!" + +A constable, shining his lantern, came clumping up the Pulpit. McKay +snatched the heavy blankets and with one mighty movement swept the +girl into them. + +Half-conscious she coughed and gasped at the whiskey, then lay very +still as McKay lifted her in his arms and strode out under the +paling stars of Isla. + + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +MOUNT TERRIBLE + + + + + +Toward the last of May a handsome young man wearing a smile and the +uniform of an American Intelligence Officer arrived at Delle, a +French village on the Franco-Swiss frontier. + +His credentials being satisfactory he was directed by the Major of +Alpinists commanding the place to a small stucco house on the main +street. + +Here he inquired for a gentleman named Number Seventy. The +gentleman's other name was John Recklow, and he received the +Intelligence Officer, locked the door, and seated himself behind his +desk with his back to the sunlit window, and one drawer of his desk +partly open. + +Credentials being requested, and the request complied with +accompanied by a dazzling smile, there ensued a silent interval of +some length during which the young man wearing the uniform of an +American Intelligence Officer was not at all certain whether Recklow +was examining him or the papers of identification. + +After a while Recklow nodded: "You came through from Toul, Captain?" + +"From Toul, sir," with the quick smile revealing dazzling teeth. + +"Matters progress?" + +"It is quiet there." + +"So I understand," nodded Recklow. "There's blood on your uniform." + +"A scratch--a spill from my motor-cycle." + +Recklow eyed the cut on the officer's handsome face. One of the +young officer's hands was bandaged, too. + +"You've been in action, Captain." + +"No, sir." + +"You wear German shoes." + +The officer's brilliant smile wrinkled his good-looking features: +"There was some little loot: I'm wearing my share." + +Recklow nodded and let his cold eyes rest on the identification +papers. + +Then, slowly, and without a word, he passed them back over the desk. + +The Intelligence Officer stuffed them carelessly into his +side-pocket. + +"I thought I'd come over instead of wiring or 'phoning. Our people +have not come through yet, have they?" + +"Which people, sir?" + +"McKay and Miss Erith." + +"No, not yet." + +The officer mused for a moment, then: "They wired me from Paris +yesterday, so they're all right so far. You'll see to it personally +that they get through the Swiss wire, won't you?" + +"Through or over, sir." + +The Intelligence Officer displayed his mirthful teeth: + +"Thanks. I'm also sending three of my own people through the wire. +They'll have their papers in order--here are the duplicates I +issued; they'll have their photographs on the originals." + +He fished out a batch of papers and laid them on Recklow's desk. + +"Who are these people?" demanded Recklow. + +"Mine, sir." + +"Oh." + +There fell a silence; but Recklow did not examine the papers; he +merely pocketed them. + +"I think that's all," said the Intelligence Officer. "You know my +name--Captain Herts. In case you wish to communicate just wire my +department at Toul. They'll forward anything if I'm away on duty." + +He saluted: Recklow followed him to the door, saw him mount his +motor-cycle--a battered American machine--stood there watching until +he was out of sight. + +Hour after hour that afternoon Recklow sat in his quiet little house +in Delle poring over the duplicate papers. + +About five o'clock he called up Toul by telephone and got the proper +department. + +"Yes," came the answer, "Captain Herts went to you this morning on a +confidential matter.... No, we don't know when he will return to +Toul." + +Recklow hung up, walked slowly out into his little garden and, +seating himself on a green bench, took out the three packets of +duplicate papers left him by Captain Herts. Then he produced a +jeweller's glass and screwed it into his right eye. + +Several days later three people--two men and a young woman--arrived +at Delle, were conveyed under military escort to the little house of +Mr. Recklow, remained closeted with him until verification of their +credentials in duplicate had been accomplished, then they took their +departure and, that evening, they put up at the Inn. + +But by the next morning they had disappeared, presumably over the +Swiss wire--that being their destination as revealed in their +papers. But the English touring-car which brought them still +remained in the Inn garage. Recklow spent hours examining it. + +Also the arrival and the departure of these three people was +telephoned to Toul by Recklow, but Captain Herts still remained +absent from Toul on duty and his department knew nothing about the +details of the highly specialised and confidential business of +Captain Herts. + +So John Recklow went back to his garden and waited, and smoked a +short, dirty clay pipe, and played with his family of cats. + +Once or twice he went down at night to the French wire. All the +sentries were friends of his. + +"Anybody been through?" he inquired. + +The answer was always the same: Nobody had been through as far as +the patrol knew. + +"Where the hell," muttered Recklow, "did those three guys go?" + +A nightingale sang as he sauntered homeward. Possibly, being a +French nightingale, she was trying to tell him that there were three +people lying very still in the thicket near her. + +But men are stupid and nightingales are too busy to bother about +trifles when there is courting to be done and nests to be planned +and all the anticipated excitement of the coming new moon to +preoccupy a love-distracted bird. + +On a warm, sunny day early in June, toward three o'clock in the +afternoon, a peloton of French cavalry en vidette from Delle stopped +a rather rickety touring-car several kilometres west of the Swiss +frontier and examined the sheaf of papers offered for their +inspection by the young man who drove the car. + +A yellow-haired girl seated beside him leaned back in her place +indifferently to relax her limbs. + +From the time she and the young man had left Glenark in Scotland +their progress had been a series of similar interruptions. +Everywhere on every road soldiers, constables, military policemen, +and gentlemen in mufti had displayed, with varying degrees of +civility, a persistent curiosity to inspect such papers as they +carried. + +On the Channel transport it was the same; the same from Dieppe to +Paris; from Paris to Belfort; and now, here within a pebble's toss +of the Swiss frontier, military curiosity concerning their papers +apparently remained unquenched. + +The sous-officier of dragoon-lancers sat his splendid horse and +gravely inspected the papers, one by one. Behind him a handful of +troopers lolled in their saddles, their lances advanced, their +horses swishing their tails at the murderous, green-eyed bremsers +which, like other bloodthirsty Teutonic vermin, had their origin in +Germany, and raided both French and Swiss frontiers to the cruel +discomfort of horses and cattle. + +Meanwhile the blond, perplexed boy who was examining the papers of +the two motorists, scratched his curly head and rubbed his deeply +sunburned nose with a sunburned fist, a visible prey to indecision. +Finally, at his slight gesture, his troopers trotted out and formed +around the touring-car. + +The boyish sous-officier looked pleasantly at the occupants of the +car: "Have the complaisance to follow me--rather slowly if you +please," he said; wheeled his horse, and trotted eastward toward the +roofs of a little hamlet visible among the trees of the green and +rolling countryside. + +The young man threw in his clutch and advanced slowly, the cavalry +trotting on either side with lances in stirrup-boots and slanting +backward from the arm-loops. + +There was a barrier beyond and some Alpine infantry on guard; and to +the left, a paved street and houses. Half-way down this silent +little street they halted: the sous-officier dismounted and opened +the door of the tonneau, politely assisting the girl to alight. Her +companion followed her, and the sous-officier conducted them into a +stucco house, the worn limestone step of which gave directly on the +grass-grown sidewalk. + +"If your papers are in order, as they appear to be," said the +youthful sous-officier, "you are expected in Delle. And if it is you +indeed whom we expect, then you will know how to answer properly the +questions of a gentleman in the adjoining room who is perhaps +expecting you." And the young sous-officier opened a door, bowed +them into the room beyond, and closed the door behind them. As they +entered this room a civilian of fifty, ruddy, powerfully but trimly +built, and wearing his white hair clipped close, rose from a swivel +chair behind a desk littered with maps and papers. + +"Good-afternoon," he said in English. "Be seated if you please. And +if you will kindly let me have your papers--thank you." + +When the young man and the girl were seated, their suave and ruddy +host dropped back onto his swivel chair. For a long while he sat +there absently caressing his trim, white moustache, studying their +papers with unhurried and minute thoroughness. + +Presently he lifted his cold, greyish eyes but not his head, like a +man looking up over eyeglasses: + +"You are this Kay McKay described here?" he inquired pleasantly. But +in his very clear, very cold greyish eyes there was something +suggesting the terrifying fixity of a tiger's. + +"I am the person described," said the young man quietly. + +"And you," turning only his eyes on the young girl, "are Miss Evelyn +Erith?" + +"I am." + +"These, obviously, are your photographs?" + +McKay smiled: "Obviously." + +"Certainly. And all these other documents appear to be in order"--he +laid them carelessly on his desk--"IF," he added, "Delle is your +ultimate destination and terminal." + +"We go farther," said McKay in a low voice. + +"Not unless you have something further to offer me in the way of +credentials," said the ruddy, white-haired Mr. Recklow, smiling his +terrifying smile. + +"I might mention a number," began McKay in a voice still lower, "if +you are interested in the science of numbers!" + +"Really. And what number do you think might interest me?" + +"Seventy-six--for example." + +"Oh," said the other; "in that case I shall mention the very +interesting number, Seventy. And you, Miss Erith?" turning to the +yellow-haired girl. "Have you any number to suggest that might +interest me?" + +"Seventy-seven," she said composedly. Recklow nodded: + +"Do you happen to believe, either of you, that, at birth, the hours +of our lives are already irrevocably numbered?" + +Miss Erith said: "So teach us to number our days that we may apply +our hearts unto wisdom." + +Recklow got up, made them a bow, and reseated himself. He touched a +handbell; the blond sous-officier entered. + +"Everything is in order; take care of the car; carry the luggage to +the two rooms above," said Recklow. + +To McKay and Miss Erith he added: "My name is John Recklow. If you +want to rest before you wash up, your rooms are ready. You'll find +me here or in the garden behind the house." + +Toward sunset they found Recklow in the little garden, seated alone +there on a bench looking up at the eastward mountains with the +piercing, detached stare of a bird of prey. When they had seated +themselves on the faded-green bench on either side of him he said, +still gazing toward the mountains: "It's April up there. Dress +warmly." + +"Which is Mount Terrible?" inquired Miss Erith. + +"Those are the lower ridges. The summit is not visible from where we +sit," replied Recklow. And, to McKay: "There's some snow there +still, I hear." + +McKay's upward-turned face was a grim study. Beyond those limestone +shouldering heights his terrible Calvary had begun--a progress that +had ended in the wreckage of mind and soul had it not been for +Chance and Evelyn Erith. After Mount Terrible, with its grim "Great +Secret," had come the horrors of the prison camp at Holzminden and +its nameless atrocities, his escape to New York, the Hun cipher +orders to "silence him," his miraculous rescue and redemption by the +girl at his side--and now their dual mission to probe the mystery of +Mount Terrible. + +"McKay," said Recklow, "I don't know what the particular mission may +be that brings you and Miss Erith to the Franco-Swiss frontier. I +have been merely instructed to carry out your orders whenever you +are in touch with me. And I am ready to do so." + +"How much do you know about us?" asked McKay, turning to him an +altered face almost marred by hard features which once had been only +careworn and stern. + +"I know you escaped from the Holzminden prison-camp in Germany; that +you were inhumanly treated there by the Boche; that you entered the +United States Intelligence Service; and that, whatever may be your +business here, I am to help further it at your request." He looked +at the girl: "As concerning Miss Erith, I know only that she is in +the same Government service as yourself and that I am to afford her +any aid she requests." + +McKay said, slowly: "My orders are to trust you implicitly. On one +subject only am I to remain silent--I am not to confide to anybody +the particular object which brings us here." + +Recklow nodded: "I understood as much. Also I have been instructed +that the Boches are determined to discover your whereabouts and do +you in before your mission is accomplished. You, probably, are aware +of that, McKay?" + +"Yes, I am." + +"By the way--you know a Captain Herts?" + +"Not personally." + +"You've been in communication with him?" + +"Yes, for some time." + +"Did you wire him from Paris last Thursday?" + +"Yes." + +"Where did you wire him?" + +"At his apartment at Toul." + +"All right. He was here on Friday.... Somehow I feel uneasy.... He +has a way of smiling too brilliantly.... I suppose, after these +experiences I'll remain a suspicious grouch all my life--but his +papers were in order... I don't know just why I don't care for that +type of man.... You're bound for somewhere or other via Mount +Terrible, I understand?" + +"Yes." + +"This Captain Herts sent three of his own people over the Swiss wire +the other evening. Did you know about it?" + +McKay looked worried: "I'm sorry," he said. "Captain Herts proposed +some such assistance but I declined. It wasn't necessary. Two on +such a job are plenty; half-a-dozen endanger it." + +Recklow shrugged: "I can't judge, not knowing details. Tell me, if +you don't mind; have you been bothered at all so far by Boche +agents?" + +"Yes," nodded Evelyn Erith. + +"You've already had some serious trouble?" + +McKay said: "Our ship was torpedoed off Strathlone Head. In Scotland +a dozen camouflaged Boches caught me napping in spite of being +warned. It was very humiliating, Recklow." + +"You can't trust a soul on this frontier either," returned Recklow +with emphasis. "You cannot trust the Swiss on this border. Over +ninety per cent. of them are German-Swiss, speak German exclusively +along the Alsatian border. They are, I think, loyal Swiss, but their +origin, propinquity, customs and all their affiliations incline them +toward Germany rather than toward France. + +"I believe, in the event of a Hun deluge, the Swiss on this border, +and in the cantons adjoining, would defend their passes to the last +man. They really are first of all good Swiss. But," he shrugged, +"don't trust their friendship for America or for France; that's +all." + +Miss Erith nodded. McKay said: "How about the frontier? I understand +both borders are wired now as well as patrolled. Are the wires +electrically charged?" + +"No. There was some talk of doing it on both sides, but the French +haven't and I don't think the Swiss ever intended to. You can get +over almost anywhere with a short ladder or by digging under." He +smiled: "In fact," he said, "I took the liberty of having a sapling +ladder made for you in case you mean to cross to-night." + +"Many thanks. Yes; we cross to-night." + +"You go by the summit path past the Crucifix on the peak?" + +"No, by the neck of woods under the peak." + +"That might be wiser.... One never knows. ... I'm not quite at +ease--Suppose I go as far as the Crucifix with you--" + +"Thanks, no. I know the mountain and the neck of woods around the +summit. I shall travel no path to-night." + +There was a silence: Miss Erith's lovely face was turned tranquilly +toward the flank of Mount Terrible. Both men looked sideways at her +as though thinking the same thing. + +Finally Recklow said: "In the event of trouble--you understand--it +means merely detention and internment while you are on Swiss +territory. But--if you leave it and go north--" He did not say any +more. + +McKay's sombre eyes rested on his in grim comprehension of all that +Recklow had left unsaid. Swift and savage as would be the fate of a +man caught within German frontiers on any such business as he was +now engaged in, the fate of a woman would be unspeakable. + +If Miss Erith noticed or understood the silence between these two +men she gave no sign of comprehension. + +Soft, lovely lights lay across the mountains; higher rocks were +still ruddy in the rays of the declining sun. + +"Do the Boche planes ever come over?" asked McKay. + +"They did in 1914. But the Swiss stopped it." + +"Our planes--do they violate the frontier at all?" + +"They never have, so far. Tell me, McKay, how about your maps?" + +"Rather inaccurate--excepting one. I drew that myself from memory, +and I believe it is fairly correct." + +Recklow unfolded a little map, marked a spot on it with his pencil +and passed it to McKay. + +"It's for you," he said. "The sapling ladder lies under the filbert +bushes in the gulley where I have marked the boundary. Wait till the +patrol passes. Then you have ten minutes. I'll come later and get +the ladder if the patrol does not discover it." + +A cat and her kittens came into the garden and Evelyn Erith seated +herself on the grass to play with them, an attention gratefully +appreciated by that feline family. + +The men watched her with sober faces. Perhaps both were susceptible +to her beauty, but there was also about this young American girl in +all the freshness of her unmarred youth something that touched them +deeply under the circumstances. + +For this clean, wholesome girl was enlisted in a service the dangers +of which were peculiarly horrible to her because of the bestial +barbarity of the Boche. From the Hun--if ever she fell into their +hands--the greatest mercy to be hoped for was a swift death unless +she could forestall it with a swifter one from her own pistol +carried for that particular purpose. + +The death of youth is always shocking, yet that is an essential part +of war. But this was no war within the meaning accepted by +civilisation--this crusade of light against darkness, of cleanliness +against corruption, this battle of normal minds against the +diseased, perverted, and filthy ferocity of a people not merely +reverted to honest barbarism, but also mentally mutilated, and now +morally imbecile and utterly incompetent to understand the basic +truths of that civilisation from which they had relapsed, and from +which, God willing, they are to be ultimately and definitely kicked +out forever. + +The old mother cat lay on the grass blinking pleasantly at the +setting sun; the kittens frisked and played with the grass-stem in +Evelyn Erith's fingers, or chased their own ratty little tails in a +perfect orgy of feline excitement. + +Long bluish shadows spread delicate traceries on wall and grass; the +sweet, persistent whistle of a blackbird intensified the calm of +evening. It was hard to associate any thought of violence and of +devastation with the blessed sunset calm and the clean fragrance of +this land of misty mountains and quiet pasture so innocently aloof +from the strife and passion of a dusty, noisy and struggling world. + +Yet the red borders of that accursed land, the bloody altars of +which were served by the priests of Baal, lay but a few scant +kilometres to the north and east. And their stealthy emissaries were +over the border and creeping like vermin among the uncontaminated +fields of France. + +"Even here," Recklow was saying, in a voice made low and cautious +from habit, "the dirty Boche prowl among us under protean aspects. +One can never tell, never trust anybody--what with one thing and +another and the Alsatian border so close--and those +German-Swiss--always to be suspected and often impossible to +distinguish--with their pig-eyes and bushy flat-backed heads--from +the genuine Boche. ... Would Miss Erith like to have our little +dinner served out here in the garden?" + +Miss Erith was delightfully sure she would. + +It was long after sunset, though still light, when the simple little +meal ended; but they lingered over their coffee and cordial, +exchanging ideas concerning preparations for their departure, which +was now close at hand. + +The lilac bloom faded from mountain and woodland; already meadow and +pasture lay veiled under the thickening dusk. The last day-bird had +piped its sleepy "lights out"; bats were flying high. When the moon +rose the first nightingale acclaimed the pallid lustre that fell in +silver pools on walk and wall; and every flower sent forth its +scented greeting. + +Kay McKay and Evelyn Erith had been gone for nearly an hour; but +Recklow still sat there at the little green table, an unlighted +cigarette in his muscular fingers, his head slightly bent as though +listening. + +Once he rose as though on some impulse, went into the house, took a +roll of fine wire, a small cowbell, a heavy pair of wire clippers +and a pocket torch from his desk and pocketed them. A pair of +automatic handcuffs he also took, and a dozen clips to fit the brace +of pistols strapped under his armpits. + +Then he returned to the garden; and for a long while he sat there, +unstirring, just where the wall's shadow lay clean-cut across the +grass, listening to the distant tinkle of cattle-bells on the unseen +slope of Mount Terrible. + +No shots had come from the patrol along the Franco-Swiss frontier; +there was no sound save the ecstatic tumult of the nightingale drunk +with moonlight, and, at intervals, the faint sound of a cowbell from +those dark and distant pastures. + +To this silent, listening man it seemed certain that his two guests +had now safely crossed the boundary at the spot he had marked for +McKay on the detail map. Yet he remained profoundly uneasy. + +He waited a few moments longer; heard nothing to alarm him; and then +he left the garden, going out by way of the house, and turned to +lock the front door behind him. + +At that instant his telephone bell rang and he re-entered the house +with a sudden premonition--an odd, unreasonable, but dreadful sort +of certainty concerning what he was about to hear. Picking up the +instrument he was thinking all the time: "It has to do with that +damned Intelligence Officer! There was something wrong with him!" + +There was. + +Clearly over the wire from Toul came the information: "Captain +Herts's naked body was discovered an hour ago in a thicket beside +the Delle highway. He has been dead two weeks. Therefore the man you +saw in Delle was impersonating him. Probably also he was Captain +Herts's murderer and was wearing his uniform, carrying his papers, +and riding his motor-cycle. Do your best to get him!" + +Recklow, deadly cold and calm, asked a few questions. Then he hung +up the instrument, turned and went out, locking the door behind him. + +A few people were in the quiet street; here an Alpine soldier +strolling with his sweetheart, there an old cure on his way to his +little stone chapel, yonder a peasant in blouse and sabots plodding +doggedly along about some detail of belated work that never ends for +such as he. A few lanterns set in iron cages projected over ancient +doorways, lighting the street but dimly where it lay partly in deep +shadow, partly illuminated by the silvery radiance of the moon. + +Recklow turned into an alley smelling of stables, traversed it, and +came out behind into a bushy pasture with a cleared space beyond. +The place was rather misty now in the moonlight from the vapours of +a cold little brook which ran foaming and clattering through it +between banks thickset with fern. + +And now Recklow moved very swiftly but quietly, down through the +misty, ferny valley to the filbert and hazel thicket just beyond; +and went in among the bushes, treading cautiously upon the moist +black mould. + +There glimmered the French wires--merely a wide mesh and an ordinary +barbed barrier overhead; but the fence was deeply ditched on the +Swiss side. A man could climb over it; and Recklow started to do so; +and came face to face in the moonlight with the French patrol. The +recognition was mutual and noiseless: + +"You passed my two people over?" whispered Recklow. + +"An hour ago, mon Capitaine." + +"You've seen nobody else?" + +"Nobody." + +"Heard nothing?" + +"Not a sound. They must have gone over the Swiss wire without +interference, mon Capitaine." + +"You sometimes talk across with the Swiss sentinels?" + +"Oh, yes, if I'm in that humour. You know, mon Capitaine, that +they're like the Boche, only tame." + +"Not all." + +"No, not all. But in a wolf-pack who can excuse sheepdogs? A Boche +is always a Boche." + +"All the same, when the Swiss sentry passes, speak to him and hold +him while I get my ladder." + +"At your orders, Captain." + +"Listen. I am going over. When I return I shall leave with you a +reel of wire and a cowbell. You comprehend? I do not wish anybody +else to cross the French wire to-night." + +"C'est bien, mon Capitaine." + +Recklow went down into the bushy gulley. A few moments later the +careless Swiss patrol came clumping along, rifle slung, pipe glowing +and humming a tune as he passed. Presently the French sentry hailed +him across the wire and the Swiss promptly halted for a bit of +gossip concerning the pretty girls of Delle. + +But, to Recklow's grim surprise, and before he could emerge from the +bushes, no sooner were the two sentries engaged in lively gossip +than three dark figures crept out on hands and knees from the long +grass at the very base of the Swiss wire and were up the ladder +which McKay had left and over it like monkeys before he could have +prevented it even if he had dared. + +Each in turn, reaching the top of the wire, set foot on the wooden +post and leaped off into darkness--each except the last, who +remained poised, then twisted around as though caught by the top +barbed strand. + +And Recklow saw the figure was a woman's, and that her short skirt +had become entangled in the wire. + +In an instant he was after her; she saw him, strove desperately to +free herself, tore her skirt loose, and jumped. And Recklow jumped +after her, landing among the wet ferns on his feet and seizing her +as she tried to rise from where she had fallen. + +She struggled and fought him in silence, but his iron clutch was on +her and he dragged her by main force through the woods parallel with +the Swiss wire until, breathless, powerless, impotent, she gave up +the battle and suffered him to force her along until they were far +beyond earshot of the patrol and of her two companions as well, in +case they should return to the wire to look for her. + +For ten minutes, holding her by the arm, he pushed forward up the +wooded slope. Then, when it was safe to do so, he halted, jerked her +around to face him, and flashed his pocket torch. And he saw a +handsome, perspiring, sullen girl, staring at him out of dark eyes +dilated by terror or by fury--he was not quite sure which. + +She wore the costume of a peasant of the canton bordering the wire; +and she looked like that type of German-Swiss--handsome, sensual, +bad-tempered, but not stupid. + +"Well," he said in French, "you can explain yourself now, +mademoiselle. Allons! Who and what are you? Dites!" + +"What are you? A robber?" she gasped, jerking her arm free. + +"If you thought so why didn't you call for help?" + +"And be shot at? Do you take me for a fool? What are you--a Douanier +then? A smuggler?" + +"You answer ME!" he retorted. "What were you doing--crossing the +wire at night?" + +"Can't a girl keep a rendezvous without the custom-agents treating +her so barbarously?" she panted, one hand flat on her tumultuous +bosom. + +"Oh, that was it, was it?" + +"I do not deny it." + +"Who is your lover--on the French side?" + +"And if he happens to be an Alpinist?"--she shrugged, still +breathing fast and irregularly, picking up the torn edge of her wool +skirt and fingering the rent. + +"Really. An Alpinist? A rendezvous in Delle, eh? And who were your +two friends?" + +"Boys from my canton." + +"Is that so?" + +Her breast still rose and fell unevenly; she turned her pretty, +insolent eyes on him: + +"After all, what business is it of yours? Who are you, anyway? If +you are French you can do nothing. If you are Swiss take me to the +nearest poste." + +"Who were those two men?" repeated Recklow. + +"Ask them." + +"No; I think I'll take you back to France." + +The girl became silent at that but her attitude defied him. Even +when he snapped an automatic handcuff over one wrist she smiled +incredulously. + +But the jeering expression on her dark, handsome features altered +when they approached the Swiss wire. And when Recklow produced a +pair of heavy wire-cutters all defiance died out in her face. + +"Make a sound and I'll simply shoot you," he whispered. + +"W-what is it you want with me?" she asked in a ghost of a voice. + +"The truth." + +"I told it." + +"You did not. You are German." + +"Believe what you like, but I am on neutral territory. Let me go." + +"You ARE German! For God's sake admit it or we'll be too late!" + +"What?" + +"Admit it, I say. Do you want those two Americans to get away?" + +"What--Americans?" stammered the girl. "I d-don't know what you +mean--" + +Recklow laughed under his breath, unlocked the handcuffs. + +"Echt Deutsch," he whispered in German--"and ZERO-TWO-SIX. A good +hint to you!" + +"Waidman's Heil!" said the girl faintly. "O God! what a fright you +gave me.... There's a man at Delle--we were warned--Seventy is his +number, Recklow--a devil Yankee--" + +"A swine! a fathead, sleeping all day in his garden, too drunk to +open despatches!" sneered Recklow. + +"We were warned against him," she insisted. Recklow laughed his +contempt of Recklow and spat upon the dead leaves. + +"Stupid one, what then is closest to the Yankee heart? I was sent +here to buy this terrible devil Yankee, Recklow. That is how one +deals with Yankees. With dollars." + +"Is that why you are here?" + +"And to watch for McKay and the young woman with him!" + +"The Erith woman!" + +"That is her barbarous name, I believe. What is your number?" + +"Four-two-four. Oh, what a fright you gave me. What is your name?" + +"That is against regulations." + +"I know. What is it, all the same.... Mine is Helsa Kampf." + +"Mine is Johann Wolkcer." + +"Wolkcer? Is it Polish?" + +"God knows where we Germans had our origin. ... Who are your +companions, Fraulein?" + +"An Irish-American. Jim Macniff, and a British revolutionist, Harry +Skelton. Others await us on Mount Terrible--Germans in Swiss +uniforms." + +"You'd better keep an eye on Macniff and Skelton," grumbled Recklow. + +"No; they're to be trusted. We nearly caught McKay and the Erith +girl in Scotland; they killed four of our people and hurt two +others.... Listen, comrade Wolkcer, if a trodden path ascends Mount +Terrible, as Skelton pretended, you and I had better look for it. +Can you find your way back to where we crossed the wire? The dry bed +of the torrent was to have guided us." + +"I know a quicker way," said Recklow. "Come on." + +The girl took his hand confidingly and walked beside him, holding +one arm before her face to shield her eyes from branches in the +darkness. + +They had gone, perhaps, a dozen paces when a man stepped from behind +a great beech-tree, peered after them, then turned and hurried down +the slope to where the Swiss wire stretched glistening under the +stars. He ran along this wire until he came to the dry bed of a +torrent. + +Up this he stumbled under the forest patches of alternate moonlight +and shadow until he came to a hard path crossing it on a masonry +viaduct. + +"Harry!" he called in a husky, quavering voice, choking for breath. +"Cripes, Harry--where in hell are you?" + +"Here, you blighter! What's the bully row? Where's Helsa--" + +"With Recklow!" + +"What!!" + +"Double-crossed us!" he whispered; "I seen her! I was huntin' along +the fence when I come on them, thick as thieves. She's crossed us; +she's hollered! Oh, Cripes, Harry, Helsa has went an' squealed!" + +"HELSA!" + +"Yes, Helsa--I wouldn't 'a' believed it! But I seen 'em. I seen 'em +whispering. I seen her take his hand an' lead him up through the +trees. She's squealed on us! She's bringing Recklow--" + +"Recklow! Are you sure?" + +"I got closte to 'em. There was enough moonlight to spot him by. I +know the cut of him, don't I? That wuz him all right." He wiped his +face on his sleeve. "Now what are we goin' to do?" he demanded +brokenly. "Where do we get off, Harry?" + +Skelton appeared dazed: + +"The slut," he kept repeating without particular emphasis, "the +little slut! I thought she'd fallen for me. I thought she was my +girl. And now to do that! And now to go for to do us in like that--" + +"Well, we're all right, ain't we?" quavered Macniff. "We make our +getaway all right, don't we? Don't we?" + +"I can't understand--" + +"Say, listen, Harry. To blazes with Helsa! She's hollered and that +ends her. But can we make our getaway? And how about them Germans +waitin' for us by that there crucifix on top of this mountain? Where +do they get off? Does this guy, Recklow, get them?" + +"He can't get six men alone." + +"Well, can't he sic the Swiss onto 'em?" + +A terrible doubt arose in Skelton's mind: "Recklow wouldn't come +here alone. He's got his men in these woods! That damn woman fixed +all this. It's a plant! She's framed us! What do I care about the +Germans on the mountain! To hell with them. I'm going!" + +"Where?" + +"Into Alsace. Where do you think?" + +"You gotta cross the mountain, then--or go back into France." + +But neither man dared do that now. There was only one way out, and +that lay over Mount Terrible--either directly past the black +crucifix towering from its limestone cairn on the windy peak, or +just below through a narrow belt of woods. + +"It ain't so bad," muttered Macniff. "If the Germans up there catch +McKay and the girl they'll kill 'em and clear out." + +"Yes, but they don't know that the Americans have crossed the wire. +The neck of woods is open!" + +"McKay may go over the peak." + +"McKay knows this mountain," grumbled Skelton. "He's a fox, too. You +don't think he'd travel an open path, do you? And how can we catch +him now? We were to have warned the Germans that the two had crossed +the wire and then our only chance was to string out across that neck +of woods between the peak and the cliffs. That's the way McKay will +travel, not on a path in full moonlight. Aw--I'm sick--what with +Helsa doing that to me--I can't get over it!" + +Macniff started nervously and began to run along the path, upward: + +"Beat it, Harry," he called back over his shoulder; "it's the only +way out o' this now." + +"God," whimpered Skelton, "if I ever get my hooks on Helsa!" His +voice ended in a snivel but his features were white and ferocious as +he started running to overtake Macniff. + +Recklow, breathing easily, his iron frame insensible to any fatigue +from the swift climb, halted finally at the base of the abrupt slope +which marked the beginning of the last ascent to the summit. + +The girl, Helsa, speechless from exertion, came reeling up among the +rocks and leaned gasping against a pine. + +"Now," said Recklow, "you can wait here for your two friends. We've +come by a short cut and they won't be here for more than half an +hour. What's the matter? Are you ill?" for the girl, overcome by the +speed of the ascent, had dropped to the ground at the foot of the +tree and sat there, her head resting against the trunk. Her eyes +were closed and she was breathing convulsively. + +"Are you ill?" he repeated, bending over her. + +She heard him, opened her eyes, then shook her head faintly. + +"All right. You're a brave girl. You'll get your breath in a few +minutes. There's no hurry. You can take your time. Your friends will +be along in half an hour or so. Wait here for them. I am going on to +warn the Germans by the Crucifix that the two Americans are across +the Swiss wire." + +The girl, still speechless, wiped the blinding sweat from her eyes +and tried to clear the dishevelled hair from her face. Then, with a +great effort she found her voice: + +"But the--Americans--will pass--first!" she gasped. "I can't--stay +here alone." + +"If they do pass, what of it? They can't see you. Let them pass. We +hold the summit and the neck of the woods. Tell that to Macniff and +Skelton when they come; that's what I want you here for. I want to +cut off the Yankees' retreat. Do you understand?" + +"I--understand," she breathed. + +"You'll carry out my orders?" + +She nodded, strove to straighten up, then with both hands on her +breast she sank back utterly exhausted. Recklow looked at her a +moment in grim silence, then turned and walked away. + +After a few steps he crossed his arms with a quick, peculiar +movement and drew from under his armpits the pair of automatic +pistols. + +Like all "forested" forests, the woods on that flank of Mount +Terrible were regular and open--big trees with no underbrush and a +smooth carpet of needles and leaves under foot. And Recklow now +walked on very fast in the dim light until he came to a thinning +among the trees where just ahead of him, stars shimmered level in +the vast sky-gulf above Alsace. + +Here was the precipice; here the narrow, wooded neck--the only way +across the mountain except by the peak path and the Crucifix. + +Now Recklow took from his pockets his spool of very fine wire, +attached it low down to a slim young pine, carried it across to the +edge of the cliff, and attached the other end to a sapling on the +edge of the ledge. On this wire he hung his cowbell and hooked the +little clapper inside. + +Then, squatting down on the pine needles, he sat motionless as one +of the forest shadows, a pistol in either hand, and his cold grey +eyes ablaze. + +So silvery the pools of light from the planets, so depthless the +shadows, that the forest around him seemed but a vast mosaic in +mother-of-pearl and ebony. + +There was no sound, no murmur of cattle-bells from mountain pastures +now, nothing stirring through the magic aisles where the matched +columns of beech and pine towered in the perfect symmetry of all +planted forests. + +He had not been there very long; the luminous dial of his +wrist-watch told him that--when, although he had heard no sound on +the soft carpet of pine needles, something suddenly hit the wire and +the cowbell tinkled in the darkness. + +Recklow was on his feet in an instant and running south along the +wire. It might have been a deer crossing to the eastern slope; it +might have been the enemy; he could not tell; he could see nothing +stirring. And there seemed to be nothing for him to do but to take +his chances. + +"McKay!" he called in a low voice. + +Then, amid the checkered pools of light and shade among the trees a +shadow moved. + +"McKay! It's Number Seventy. If it's you, call out your number, +because I've got you over my sights and I shoot straight!" + +"Seventy-six and Seventy-seven!" came McKay's cautious voice. "Good +heavens, Recklow, why have you come up here?" + +"Don't touch the wire again," Recklow warned him. "Drop flat both of +you, and crawl under! Crawl toward my voice!" + +As he spoke he came toward them; and they rose from their knees +among the shadows, pistols drawn. + +"There's been some dirty business," said Recklow briefly. "Three +enemy spies went over the Swiss wire about an hour after you left +Delle. There are half a dozen Boches on the peak by the Crucifix. +And that's why I'm here, if you want to know." + +There was a silence. Recklow looked hard at McKay, then at Evelyn +Erith, who was standing quietly beside him. + +"Can we get through this neck of woods?" asked McKay calmly. + +"We can hold our own here against a regiment," said Recklow. "No +Swiss patrol is likely to cross the summit before daybreak. So if +our cowbell jingles again to-night after I have once called halt!--let +the Boche have it." To Evelyn he said: "Better step back here +behind this ledge." And, when McKay had followed, he told them +exactly what had happened. "I'm afraid it's not going to be very +easy going for you," he added. + +With the alarming knowledge that they had to do once more with their +uncanny enemies of Isla Water, McKay and Evelyn Erith looked at each +other rather grimly. Recklow produced his clay pipe, inspected it, +but did not venture to light it. + +"I wonder," he said carelessly, "what that she-Boche is doing over +yonder by the summit path.... Her name is Helsa.... She's not bad +looking," he added in a musing voice--"that young she-Boche. ... I +wonder what she's up to now? Her people ought to be along pretty +soon if they've travelled by the summit path from Delle." + +They had indeed travelled by the summit path--not ON it, but +parallel to it through woods, over rocks, made fearful by what they +believed to be the treachery of the girl, Helsa. + +For this reason they dared not take the trodden way, dreading +ambush. Yet they had to cross the peak; they dared not remain in a +forest where they believed Recklow was hunting them with many men +and their renegade comrade, Helsa, to guide them. + +As they toiled upward, Macniff heard Skelton fiercely muttering +sometimes, sometimes whining curses on this girl who had betrayed +them both--who had betrayed him in particular. Over and over again +he repeated his dreary litany: "No, by God, I didn't think she'd do +it to me. All I want is to get my hooks on her; that's all I +want--just that." + +Toward dawn they had reached the base of the cone where the last +rocky slope slanted high above them. + +"Cripes," panted Macniff, "I can't make that over them rocks! I +gotta take it by the path. Wot's the matter, Harry? Wot y' lookin' +at?" he added, following Skelton's fascinated stare. Then: "Well, +f'r Christ's sake!" + +The girl, Helsa, was coming toward them through the trees. + +"Where have you been?" she demanded. "Have you seen the Americans? +I've been waiting here beside the path. They haven't passed. I met +one of our agents in the woods--there was a misunderstanding at +first--" + +She stopped, stepped nearer, peered into Skelton's shadowy face: +"Harry! What's the matter? Wh-why do you look at me that way--what +are you doing! Let go of me--" + +But Skelton had seized her by one arm and Macniff had her by the +other. + +"Are you crazy?" she demanded, struggling between them. + +Skelton spoke first, but she scarcely recognised the voice for his: +"Who was that man you were talking to down by the Swiss wire?" + +"I've told you. He's one of us. His name is Wolkcer--" + +"What!" + +"Wolkcer! That is his name--" + +"Spell it backward!" barked Skelton. "We know what you have done to +us! You have sold us to Recklow! That's what you done!" + +"W-what!" stammered the girl. But Skelton, inarticulate with rage, +began striking her and jerking her about as though he were trying to +tear her to pieces. Only when the girl reeled sideways, limp and +deathly white under his fury, did he find his voice, or the hoarse +unhuman rags of it: + +"Damn you!" he gasped, "you'll sell me out, will you? I'll show you! +I'll fix you, you dirty slut--" + +Suddenly he started up the path to the summit dragging the +half-conscious girl. Macniff ran along on the other side to help. + +"Wot y' goin' to do with her, Harry?" he panted. "I ain't got no +stomach for scraggin' her. I ain't for no knifin'. W'y don't you +shove her off the top?" + +But Skelton strode on, half-dragging the girl, and muttering that +she had sold him and that he knew how to "fix" a girl who +double-crossed him. + +And now the gaunt, black Crucifix came into view, stark against the +paling eastern sky with its life-sized piteous figure hanging there +under the crown of thorns. + +Macniff looked up at the carved wooden image, then, at a word from +Skelton, dropped the girl's limp arm. + +The girl opened her eyes and stood swaying there, dazed. + +Skelton began to laugh in an unearthly way: "Where the hell are you +Germans?" he called out. "Come out of your holes, damn you. Here's +one of your own kind who's sold us all out to the Yankees!" + +Twice the girl tried to speak but Skelton shook the voice out of her +quivering lips as a shadowy figure rose from the scrubby growth +behind the Crucifix. Then another rose, another, and many others +looming against the sky. + +Macniff had begun to speak in German as they drew around him. +Presently Skelton broke in furiously: + +"All right, then! That's the case. She sold us. She sold ME! But +she's German. And it's your business. But if you Germans will listen +to me you'll shove her against that pile of rocks and shoot her." + +The girl had begun to cry now: "It's a lie! It's a lie!" she sobbed. +"If it was Recklow who talked to me I didn't know it. I thought he +was one of us, Harry! Don't go away! For God's sake, don't leave me +with those men--" + +Macniff sneered as he slouched by her: "They're Germans, ain't they? +Wot are you squealin' for?" + +"Harry! Harry!" she wailed--for her own countrymen had her now, held +her fast, thrust a dozen pig-eyed scowling visages close to hers, +muttering, making animal sounds at her. + +Once she screamed. But Skelton seated himself on a rock, his back +toward her, his head buried in his hands. + +To his dull, throbbing ears came now only the heavy trample of boots +among the rocks, guttural noises, a wrenching sound, then the +clatter of rolling stones. + +Macniff, squatting beside him, muttered uneasily, speculating upon +what was being done behind him. But with German justice upon a +German he had no desire to interfere, and he had no stomach to +witness it, either. + +"Why don't they shoot her and be done?" he murmured huskily. And, +later: "I can't make out what they're doing. Can you, Harry?" + +But Skelton neither answered nor stirred. After a while he rose, not +looking around, and strode off down the eastern slope, his hands +pressed convulsively over his ears. Macniff slouched after him, +listening for the end. + +They had gone a mile, perhaps, when Skelton's agonised voice burst +its barriers: "I couldn't--I couldn't stand it--to hear the shots!" + +"I ain't heard no shots," remarked Macniff. + +There had been no shots fired.... + +And now in the ghastly light of dawn the Germans on Mount Terrible +continued methodically the course of German justice. + +Two of them, burly, huge-fisted, wrenched the Christ from the +weather-beaten Crucifix which they had uprooted from the summit of +its ancient cairn of rocks, and pulled out the rusty spike-like +nails. + +The girl was already half dead when they laid her on the Crucifix +and nailed her there. After they had raised the cross and set it on +the summit she opened her eyes. + +Several of the Germans laughed, and one of them threw pebbles at her +until she died. + +Just before sunrise they went down to explore the neck of woods, but +found nobody. The Americans had been gone for a long time. So they +went back to the cross where the dead girl hung naked against the +sky and wrote on a bit of paper: + +"Here hangs an enemy of Germany." + +And, the Swiss patrol being nearly due, they scattered, moving off +singly, through the forest toward the frontier of the great German +Empire. + +A little later the east turned gold and the first sunbeam touched +the Crucifix on Mount Terrible. + + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE FORBIDDEN FOREST + + + + + +When the news of a Hun atrocity committed on Swiss territory was +flashed to Berne, the Federal Assembly instantly suppressed it and +went into secret session. Followed another session, in camera, of +the Federal Council, whose seven members sat all night long +envisaging war with haggard faces. And something worse than war when +they remembered the Forbidden Forest and the phantom Canton of Les +Errues. + +For war between the Swiss Republic and the Hun seemed very, very +near during that ten days in Berne, and neither the National Council +nor the Council of the States in joint and in separate consultation +could see anything except a dreadful repetition of that eruption of +barbarians which had overwhelmed the land in 400 A. D. till every +pass and valley vomited German savages. And even more than that they +feared the terrible reckoning with the nation and with civilisation +when war laid naked the heart-breaking secret of the Forbidden +Forest of Les Errues. + +No! War could not be. A catastrophe more vital than war threatened +Switzerland--the world--wide revelation of a secret which, exposed, +would throw all civilisation into righteous fury and the Swiss +Republic itself into revolution. + +And this sinister, hidden thing which must deter Switzerland from +declaring war against the Boche was a part of the Great Secret: and +a man and a woman in the Secret Service of the United States, lying +hidden among the forests below the white shoulder of Mount Thusis, +were beginning to guess more about that secret than either of them +had dared to imagine. + +There where they lay together side by side among Alpine roses in +full bloom--there on the crag's edge, watching the Swiss soldiery +below combing the flanks of Mount Terrible for the perpetrators of +that hellish murder at the shrine, these two people could see the +Via Mala which had been the Via Crucis--the tragic Golgotha for +that poor girl Helsa Kampf. + +They could almost see the gaunt, black cross itself from which the +brutish Boches had kicked the carved and weather-beaten figure of +Christ in order to nail to the massive cross the living hands and +feet of that half-senseless girl whom they supposed had betrayed +them. + +The man lying there on the edge of the chasm was Kay McKay; the girl +stretched on her stomach beside him was Evelyn Erith. + +All that day they watched the Swiss soldiers searching Mount +Terrible; saw a red fox steal from the lower thickets and bolt +between the legs of the beaters who swung their rifle-butts at the +streak of ruddy fur; saw little mountain birds scatter into flight, +so closely and minutely the soldiers searched; saw even a big +auerhahn burst into thunderous flight from the ferns to a pine and +from the pine out across the terrific depths of space below the +white shoulder of Thusis. At night the Swiss camp-fires glimmered on +the rocks of Mount Terrible while, fireless, McKay and Miss Erith +lay in their blankets under heaps of dead leaves on the knees of +Thusis, cold as the moon that silvered their forest beds. + +But it was the last of the soldiery on Mount Terrible; for dawn +revealed their dead fire and a summit untenanted save by the stark +and phantom crucifix looming through rising mists. + +Evelyn Erith still slept; McKay fed the three carrier-pigeons, +washed himself at the snow-rill in the woods, then went over to the +crag's gritty edge under which for three days now the ghoulish +clamour of a lammergeier had seldom ceased. And now, as McKay peered +down, two stein-adlers came flapping to the shelf on which hung +something that seemed to flutter at times like a shred of cloth +stirred by the abyss winds. + +The lammergeier, huge and horrible with scarlet eyes ablaze, came +out on the shelf of rock and yelped at the great rock-eagles; but, +if something indeed lay dead there, possibly it was enough for +all--or perhaps the vulture-like bird was too heavily gorged to +offer battle. McKay saw the rock-eagles alight heavily on the shelf, +then, squealing defiance, hulk forward, undeterred by the hobgoblin +tumult of the lammergeier. + +McKay leaned over the gulf as far as he dared. He could get down to +the shelf; he was now convinced of that. Only fear of being seen by +the soldiers on Mount Terrible had hitherto prevented him. + +Rope and steel-shod stick aided him. Sapling and shrub stood loyally +as his allies. The rock-eagles heard him coming and launched +themselves overboard into the depthless sea of air; the lammergeier, +a huge, foul mass of distended feathers, glared at him out of +blazing scarlet eyes; and all around was his vomit and casting in a +mass of bloody human bones and shreds of clothing. + +And it was in that nauseating place of peril, confronting the grisly +thing that might have hurled him outward into space with one +wing-blow had it not been clogged with human flesh and incapable, +that McKay reached for the remnants of the dead Hun's clothing and, +facing the feathered horror, searched for evidence and information. + +Never had he been so afraid; never had he so loathed a living +creature as this unclean and spectral thing that sat gibbering and +voiding filth at him--the ghastly symbol of the Hunnish empire +itself befouling the clean-picked bones of the planet it was +dismembering. + +He had his pistol but dared not fire, not knowing what ears across +the gorge might hear the shot, not knowing either whether the +death-agonies of the enormous thing might hurl him a thousand feet +to annihilation. + +So he took what he found in the rags of clothing and climbed back as +slowly and stealthily as he had come. + +And found Miss Erith cross-legged on the dead leaves braiding her +yellow hair in the first sun-rays. + +Tethered by long cords attached to anklets over one leg the three +pigeons walked busily around under the trees gorging themselves on +last year's mast. + +That afternoon they dared light a fire and made soup from the beef +tablets in their packs--the first warm food they had tasted in a +week. + +A declining sun painted the crags in raw splendour; valleys were +already dusky; a vast stretch of misty glory beyond the world of +mountains to the north was Alsace; southward there was no end to the +myriad snowy summits, cloud-like, piled along the horizon. The brief +meal ended. + +McKay set a pannikin of water to boil and returned to his +yellow-haired comrade. Like some slim Swiss youth--some boy +mountaineer--and clothed like one, Miss Erith sat at the foot of a +tree in the ruddy sunlight studying once more the papers which McKay +had discovered that morning among the bloody debris on the shelf of +rock. + +As he came up he knew he had never seen anything as pretty in his +life, but he did not say so. Any hint of sentiment that might have +budded had been left behind when they crossed the Swiss wire beyond +Delle. An enforced intimacy such as theirs tended to sober them +both; and if at times it preoccupied them, that was an added reason +not only to ignore it but also to conceal any effort it might entail +to take amiably but indifferently a situation foreseen, deliberately +embraced, yet scarcely entirely discounted. + +The girl was so pretty in her youth's clothing; her delicate ankles +and white knees bare between the conventional thigh-length of green +embossed leather breeches, rough green stockings, and fleece-lined +hob-nailed shoes. And over the boy's shirt the mountaineer's frieze +jacket!--with staghorn buttons. And the rough wool cuff fell on the +hands of a duchess!--pistols at either hip, and a murderous +Bavarian knife in front. + +Glancing up at him where he stood under the red pine beside her: +"I'll do the dishes presently," she said. + +"I'll do them," he remarked, his eyes involuntarily seeking her +hands. + +A pink flush grew on her weather-tanned face--or perhaps it was the +reddening sunlight stealing through some velvet piny space in the +forest barrier. If it was a slight blush in recognition of his +admiration she wondered at her capacity for blushing. However, Marie +Antoinette coloured from temple to throat on the scaffold. But the +girl knew that the poor Queen's fate was an enviable one compared to +what awaited her if she fell into the hands of the Hun. + +McKay seated himself near her. The sunny silence of the mountains +was intense. Over a mass of alpine wild flowers hanging heavy and +fragrant between rocky clefts two very large and intensely white +butterflies fought a fairy battle for the favours of a third--a +dainty, bewildering creature, clinging to an unopened bud, its snowy +wings a-quiver. + +The girl's golden eyes noted the pretty courtship, and her side +glance rested on the little bride to be with an odd, indefinite +curiosity, partly interrogative, partly disdainful. + +It seemed odd to the girl that in this Alpine solitude life should +be encountered at all. And as for life's emotions, the frail, +frivolous, ephemeral fury of these white-winged ghosts of daylight, +embattled and all tremulous with passion, seemed exquisitely amazing +to her here between the chaste and icy immobility of white-veiled +peaks and the terrific twilight of the world's depths below. + +McKay, studying the papers, glanced up at Miss Erith. A bar of rosy +sunset light slanted almost level between them. + +"There seems to be," he said slowly, "only one explanation for what +you and I read here. The Boche has had his filthy fist on the throat +of Switzerland for fifty years." + +"And what is 'Les Errues' to which these documents continually +refer?" asked the girl. + +"Les Errues is the twenty-seventh canton of Switzerland. It is the +strip of forest and crag which includes all the northeastern region +below Mount Terrible. It is a canton, a secret canton unrepresented +in the Federal Assembly--a region without human population--a secret +slice of Swiss wilderness OWNED BY GERMANY!" + +"Kay, do you believe that?" + +"I am sure of it now. It is that wilderness into which I stumbled. +It overlooks the terrain in Alsace where for fifty years the Hun has +been busy day and night with his sinister, occult operations. Its +entrance, if there be any save by the way of avalanches--the way I +entered--must be guarded by the Huns; its only exit into Hunland. +That is Les Errues. That is the region which masks the Great Secret +of the Hun." + +He dropped the papers and, clasping his knees in his arms, sat +staring out into the infernal blaze of sunset. + +"The world," he said slowly, "pays little attention to that +agglomeration of cantons called Switzerland. The few among us who +know anything about its government might recollect that there are +twenty-six cantons--the list begins, Aargau, Appenzell, +Ausser-Rhoden, Inner-Rhoden--you may remember--and ends with Valais, +Vaud, Zug, and Zurich. And Les Errues is the twenty-seventh canton!" + +"Yes," said the girl in a low voice, "the evidence lies at your +feet." + +"Surely, surely," he muttered, his fixed gaze lost on the crimson +celestial conflagration. She said, thinking aloud, and her clear +eyes on him: + +"Then, of the Great Secret, we have learned this much anyway--that +there exists in Switzerland a secret canton called Les Errues; that +it is practically Hun territory; that it masks what they call their +Great Secret; that their ownership or domination of Les Errues is +probably a price paid secretly by the Swiss government for its +national freedom and that this arrangement is absolutely unknown to +anybody in the world outside of the Imperial Hun government and the +few Swiss who have inherited, politically, a terrible knowledge of +this bargain dating back, probably, from 1870." + +"That is the situation we are confronting," admitted McKay calmly. + +She said with perfect simplicity: "Of course we must go into Les +Errues." + +"Of course, comrade. How?" + +He had no plan--could have none. She knew it. Her question was +merely meant to convey to him a subtle confirmation of her loyalty +and courage. She scarcely expected to escape a dreadful fate on this +quest--did not quite see how either of them could really hope to +come out alive. But that they could discover the Great Secret of the +Hun, and convey to the world by means of their pigeons some details +of the discovery, she felt reasonably certain. She had much faith in +the arrangements they had made to do this. + +"One thing worries me a lot," remarked McKay pleasantly. + +"Food supply?" + +He nodded. + +She said: "Now that the Boche have left Mount Terrible--except that +wretched creature whose bones lie on the shelf below--we might +venture to kill whatever game we can find." + +"I'm going to," he said. "The Swiss troops have cleared out. I've +got to risk it. Of course, down there in Les Errues, some Hun +guarding some secret chamois trail into the forbidden wilderness may +hear our shots." + +"We shall have to take that chance," she remarked. + +He said in the low, quiet voice which always thrilled her a little: +"You poor child--you are hungry." + +"So are you, Kay." + +"Hungry? These rations act like cocktails: I could barbecue a +roebuck and finish him with you at one sitting!" + +"Monsieur et Madame Gargantua," she mocked him with her enchanting +laughter. Then, wistful: "Kay, did you see that very fat and saucy +auerhahn which the Swiss soldiers scared out of the pines down +there?" + +"I did," said McKay. "My mouth watered." + +"He was quite as big as a wild turkey," sighed the girl. + +"They're devils to get," said McKay, "and with only a pistol--well, +anyway we'll try to-night. Did you mark that bird?" + +"Mark him?" + +"Yes; mark him down?" + +She shook her pretty head. + +"Well, I did," grinned McKay. "It's habit with a man who shoots. +Besides, seeing him was like a bit of Scotland--their auerhahn is +kin to the black-cock and capercailzie. So I marked him to the +skirt of Thusis, yonder--in line with that needle across the gulf +and, through it, to that bunch of pinkish-stemmed pines--there +where the brook falls into silver dust above that gorge. He'll lie +there. Just before daybreak he'll mount to the top of one of those +pines. We'll hear his yelping. That's our only chance at him." + +"Could you ever hit him in the dark of dawn, Kay?" + +"With a pistol? And him atop a pine? No, not under ordinary +conditions. But I'm hungry, dear Yellow-hair, and that is not all: +you are hungry--" He looked at her so intently that the colour +tinted her face and the faint little thrill again possessed her. + +Her glance stole involuntarily toward the white butterflies. One had +disappeared. The two others, drunk with their courtship, clung to a +scented blossom. + +Gravely Miss Erith lifted her young eyes to the eternal peaks--to +Thusis, icy, immaculate, chastely veiled before the stealthy advent +of the night. + +Oddly, yet without fear, death seemed to her very near. And love, +also--both in the air, both abroad and stirring, yet neither now of +vital consequence. Only service meant anything now to this young man +so near her--to herself. And after that--after +accomplishment--love?--death?--either might come to them then. And +find them ready, perhaps. + +The awful, witch-like screaming of the lammergeier saluted the +falling darkness where he squatted, a huge huddle of unclean plumage +amid the debris of decay and death. + +"I don't believe I could have faced that," murmured the girl. "You +have more courage than I have, Kay." + +"No! I was scared stiff. A bird like that could break a man's arm +with a wing-blow.... That--that thing he'd been feeding on--it must +have been a Boche of high military rank to carry these papers." + +"You could not find out?" + +"There were only the rags of his mufti there and these papers inside +them. Nothing to identify him personally--not a tag, not a shred of +anything. Unless the geier bolted it--" + +She turned aside in disgust at the thought. + +"When do you suppose he happened to fall to his death there, Kay?" + +"In the darkness when the Huns scattered after the crucifixion. +Perhaps the horror of it came suddenly upon him--God knows what +happened when he stepped outward into depthless space and went +crashing down to hell." + +They had stayed their hunger on the rations. It was bitter cold in +the leafy lap of Thusis, but they feared to light a fire that night. + +McKay fed and covered the pigeons in their light wicker box which +was carried strapped to his mountain pack. + +Evelyn Erith fell asleep in her blanket under the dead leaves piled +over her by McKay. After awhile he slept too; but before dawn he +awoke, took a flash-light and his pistol and started down the slope +for the wood's edge. + +Her sweet, sleepy voice halted him: "Kay dear?" + +"Yes, Yellow-hair." + +"May I go?" + +"Don't you want to sleep?" + +"No." + +She sat up under a tumbling shower of silvery dead leaves, shook out +her hair, gathered it and twisted it around her brow like a turban. + +Then, flashing her own torch, she sprang to her feet and ran lightly +down to where the snow brook whirled in mossy pools below. + +When she came back he took her cold smooth little hand fresh from +icy ablutions: "We must beat it," he said; "that auerhahn won't stay +long in his pine-tree after dawn. Extinguish your torch." + +She obeyed and her warning fingers clasped his more closely as +together they descended the path of light traced out before them by +his electric torch. + +Down, down, down they went under hard-wood and evergreen, across +little fissures full of fern, skirting great slabs of rock, making +detours where tangles checked progress. + +Through tree-tops the sky glittered--one vast sheet of stars; and in +the forest was a pale lustre born of this celestial splendour--a +pallid dimness like that unreal day which reigns in the regions of +the dead. + +"We might meet the shade of Helen here," said the girl, "or of +Eurydice. This is a realm of spirits. ... We may be one with them +very soon--you and I. Do you suppose we shall wander here among +these trees as long as time lasts?" + +"It's all right if we're together, Yellow-hair." + +There was no accent from his fingers clasped in hers; none in hers +either. + +"I hope we'll be together, then," she said. + +"Will you search for me, Yellow-hair?" + +"Yes. Will you, Kay?" + +"Always." + +"And I--always--until I find you or you find me." ... Presently she +laughed gaily under her breath: "A solemn bargain, isn't it?" + +"More solemn than marriage." + +"Yes," said the girl faintly. + +Something went crashing off into the woods as they reached the +hogback which linked them with the group of pines whither the big +game-bird had pitched into cover. Perhaps it was a roe deer; McKay +flashed the direction in vain. + +"If it were a Boche?" she whispered. + +"No; it sounded like a four-legged beast. There are chamois and roe +deer and big mountain hares along these heights." + +They went on until the hog-back of sheer rock loomed straight ahead, +and beyond, against a paling sky, the clump of high pines toward +which they were bound. + +McKay extinguished his torch and pocketed it. + +"The sun will lead us back, Yellow-hair," he whispered. "Now hold +very tightly to my hand, for it's a slippery and narrow way we tread +together." + +The rocks were glassy. But there were bushes and mosses; and +presently wild grass and soil on the other side. + +All around them, now, the tall pines loomed, faintly harmonious in +the rising morning breeze which, in fair weather, always blows DOWN +from the upper peaks into the valleys. Into the shadows they passed +together a little way; then halted. The girl rested one shoulder +against a great pine, leaning there and facing him where he also +rested, listening. + +There reigned in the woods that intense stillness which precedes +dawn--an almost painful tension resembling apprehension. Always the +first faint bird-note breaks it; then silence ends like a deep sigh +exhaling and death seems very far away. + +Now above them the stars had grown very dim; and presently some +faded out. + +And after a little while a small mountain bird twittered sleepily. +Then unseen by them, the east glimmered like a sheet of tarnished +silver. And out over the dark world of mountains, high above the +solitude, rang the uncanny cry of an auerhahn. + +Again the big, unseen bird saluted the coming day. McKay stole +forward drawing his pistol and the girl followed. + +The weird outcry of the auerhahn guided them, sounding from +somewhere above among the black crests of the pines, nearer at hand, +now, clearer, closer, more weird, until McKay halted peering upward, +his pistol poised. + +As yet the crests of the pines were merely soft blots above. Yet as +they stood straining their eyes upward, striving to discover the +location of the great bird by its clamour, vaguely the branches +began to take shape against the greying sky. + +Clearer, more distinct they grew until feathery masses of +pine-needles stood clustered against the sky like the wondrous +rendering in a Japanese print. And all the while, at intervals, the +auerhahn's ghostly shrieking made a sinister tumult in the woods. + +Suddenly they saw him. Miss Erith touched McKay and pointed +cautiously. There, on a partly naked tree-top, was a huge, crouching +mass--an enormous bird, pumping its head at every uttered cry and +spreading a big fan-like tail and beating the air with stiff-curved +drooping wings. + +McKay whispered: "I'll try to shoot straight because you're hungry, +Yellow-hair"; and all the while his pistol-arm slanted higher and +higner. For a second, it remained motionless; then a red streak +split the darkness and the pistol-shot crashed in her ears. + +There came another sound, too--a thunderous flapping and thrashing +in the tree-top, the furious battering, falling tumult of broken +branches and blindly beating wings, drumming convulsively in +descent. Then came a thud; a feathery tattoo on the ground; silence +in the woods. + +"And so you shall not go hungry, Yellow-hair," said McKay with his +nice smile. + +They had done a good deal by the middle of the afternoon; they had +broiled the big bird, dined luxuriously, had stored the remainder in +their packs which they were preparing to carry with them into the +forbidden forest of Les Errues. + +There was only one way and that lay over the white shoulder of +Thusis--a cul-de-sac, according to all guide-books, and terminating +in a rest-hut near a cave glistening with icy stalagmites called +Thusis's Hair. + +Beyond this there was nothing--no path, no progress possible--only a +depthless gulf unabridged and the world of mountains beyond. + +There was no way; yet, the time before, McKay had passed over the +white shoulder of Thusis and had penetrated the forbidden land--had +slid into it sideways, somewhere from Thusis's shoulder, on a +fragment of tiny avalanche. So there was a way! + +"I don't know how it happened, Yellow-hair," he was explaining as he +adjusted and buckled her pack for her, "and whether I slid north or +east I never exactly knew. But if there's a path into Les Errues +except through the Hun wire, it must lie somewhere below Thusis. +Because, unless such a path exists, except for that guarded strip +lying between the Boche wire and the Swiss, only a winged thing +could reach Les Errues across these mountains." + +The girl said coolly: "Could you perhaps lower me into it?" + +A slight flush stained his cheek-bones: "That would be my role, not +yours. But there isn't rope enough in the Alps to reach Les Errues." + +He was strapping the pigeon-cage to his pack as he spoke. Now he +hoisted and adjusted it, and stood looking across at the mountains +for a moment. Miss Erith's gaze followed him. + +Thusis wore a delicate camouflage of mist. And there were other bad +signs to corroborate her virgin warning: distant mountains had +turned dark blue and seemed pasted in silhouettes against the +silvery blue sky. Also the winds had become prophetic, blowing out +of the valleys and UP the slopes. + +All that morning McKay's thermometer had been rising and his +barometer had fallen steadily; haze had thickened on the mountains; +and, it being the season for the Fohn to blow, McKay had expected +that characteristic warm gale from the south to bring the violent +rain which always is to be expected at that season. + +But the Fohn did not materialise; in the walnut and chestnut forest +around them not a leaf stirred; and gradually the mountains cleared, +became inartistically distinct, and turned a beautiful but +disturbing dark-blue colour. And Thusis wore her vestal veil in the +full sun of noon. + +"You know, Yellow-hair," he said, "all these signs are as plain as +printed notices. There's bad weather coming. The wind was south; now +it's west. I'll bet the mountain cattle are leaving the upper +pastures." + +He adjusted his binoculars; south of Mount Terrible on another +height there were alms; and he could see the cattle descending. + +He saw something else, too, in the sky and level with his levelled +lenses--something like a bird steering toward him through the +whitish blue sky. + +Still keeping it in his field of vision he spoke quietly: "There's +an airplane headed this way. Step under cover, please." + +The girl moved up under the trees beside him and unslung her +glasses. Presently she also picked up the oncomer. + +"Boche, Kay?" + +"I don't know. A monoplane. A Boche chaser, I think. Yes.... Do you +see the cross? What insolence! What characteristic contempt for a +weaker people! Look at his signal! Do you see? Look at those +smoke-balls and ribbons! See him soaring there like a condor looking +for a way among these precipices." + +The Hun hung low above them in mid-air, slowly wheeling over the +gulf. Perhaps it was his shadow or the roar of his engines that +routed out the lammergeier, for the unclean bird took the air on +enormous pinions, beating his way upward till he towered yelping +above the Boche, and their combined clamour came distinctly to the +two watchers below. + +Suddenly the Boche fired at the other winged thing; the enraged and +bewildered bird sheered away in flight and the Hun followed. + +"That's why he shot," said McKay. "He's got a pilot, now." + +Eagle and plane swept by almost level with the forest where they +stood staining with their shadows the white shoulder of Thusis. + +Down into the gorge the great geier twisted; after him sped the +airplane, banking steeply in full chase. Both disappeared where the +flawless elbow of Thusis turns. Then, all alone, up out of the gulf +soared the plane. + +"The Hun has discovered a landing-place in Les Errues," said McKay. +"Watch him." + +"There's another Hun somewhere along the shoulder of Thusis," said +McKay. "They're exchanging signals. See how the plane circles like a +patient hawk. He's waiting for something. What's he waiting for, I +wonder?" + +For ten minutes the airplane circled leisurely over Thusis. Then +whatever the aviator was waiting for evidently happened, for he shut +off his engine; came down in graceful spirals; straightened out; +glided through the canyon and reappeared no more to the watchers in +the forest of Thusis. + +"Now," remarked McKay coolly, "we know where we ought to go. Are you +ready, Yellow-hair?" + +They had been walking for ten minutes when Miss Erith spoke in an +ordinary tone of voice: "Kay? Do you think we're likely to come out +of this?" + +"No," he said, not looking at her. + +"But we'll get our information, you think?" + +"Yes." + +The girl fell a few paces behind him and looked up at the pigeons +where they sat in their light lattice cage crowning his pack. + +"Please do your bit, little birds," she murmured to herself. + +And, with a smile at them and a nod of confidence, she stepped +forward again and fell into the rhythm of his stride. + +Very far away to the west they heard thunder stirring behind Mount +Terrible. + +It was late in the afternoon when he halted near the eastern edges +of Thusis's Forest. + +"Yellow-hair," he said very quietly, "I've led you into a trap, I'm +afraid. Look back. We've been followed!" + +She turned. Through the trees, against an inky sky veined with +lightning, three men came out upon the further edge of the hog-back +which they had traversed a few minutes before, and seated themselves +there In the shelter of the crag. All three carried shotguns. + +"Yellow-hair?" + +"Yes, Kay." + +"You understand what that means?" + +"Yes." + +"Slip off your pack." + +She disengaged her supple shoulders from the load and he also +slipped off his pack and leaned it against a tree. + +"Now," he said, "you have two pistols and plenty of ammunition. I +want you to hold that hog-back. Not a man must cross." + +However, the three men betrayed no inclination to cross. They sat +huddled in a row sheltered from the oncoming storm by a great ledge +of rock. But they held their shotguns poised and ready for action. + +The girl crept toward a big walnut tree and, lying flat on her +stomach behind it, drew both pistols and looked around at McKay. She +was smiling. + +His heart was in his throat as he nodded approval. He turned and +went rapidly eastward. Two minutes later he came running back, +exchanged a signal of caution with Miss Erith, and looked intently +at the three men under the ledge. It was now raining. + +He drew from his breast a little book and on the thin glazed paper +of one leaf he wrote, with water-proof ink, the place and date. +And began his message: + +"United States Army Int. Dept No. 76 and No. 77 are trapped on the +northwest edge of the wood of Les Errues which lies under the elbow +of Mount Thusis. From this plateau we had hoped to overlook that +section of the Hun frontier in which is taking place that occult +operation known as 'The Great Secret,' and which we suspect is a +gigantic engineering project begun fifty years ago for the purpose +of piercing Swiss territory with an enormous tunnel under Mount +Terrible, giving the Hun armies a road into France BEHIND the French +battle-line and BEHIND Verdun. + +"Unfortunately we are now trapped and our retreat is cut off. It is +unlikely that we shall be able to verify our suspicions concerning +the Great Secret. But we shall not be taken alive. + +"We have, however, already discovered certain elements intimately +connected with the Great Secret. + +"No. 1. Papers taken from a dead enemy show that the region called +Les Errues has been ceded to the Hun in a secret pact as the price +that Switzerland pays for immunity from the Boche invasion. + +"2nd. The Swiss people are ignorant of this. + +"3rd. The Boche guards all approaches to Les Errues. Except by way +of the Boche frontier there appears to be only one entrance to Les +Errues. We have just discovered it. The path is as follows: From +Delle over the Swiss wire to the Crucifix on Mount Terrible; from +there east-by-north along the chestnut woods to the shoulder of +Mount Thusis. From thence, north over hog-backs 1, 2, and 3 to the +Forest of Thusis where we are now trapped. + +"Northeast of the forest lies a level, treeless table-land half a +mile in diameter called The Garden of Thusis. A BOCHE AIRPLANE +LANDED THERE ABOUT THREE HOURS AGO. + +"To reach the Forbidden Forest the aviators, leaving their machine +in the Garden of Thusis, walked southwest into the woods where we +now are. These woods end in a vast gulf to the north which separates +them from the Forbidden Forest of Les Errues. + +"BUT A CABLE CROSSES! + +"That is the way they went; a tiny car holding two is swung under +this cable and the passengers pull themselves to and fro across the +enormous chasm. + +"At the west end of this cable is a hut; in the hut is the +machinery--a drum which can be manipulated so that the cable can be +loosened and permitted to sag. + +"The reason for dropping the cable is analogous to the reason for +using drawbridges over navigable streams; there is only one +landing-place for airplanes in this entire region and that is the +level, grassy plateau northeast of Thusis Woods. It is so entirely +ringed with snow-peaks that there is only one way to approach it for +a landing, and that is through the canyon edging Thusis Woods. Now +the wire cable blocks this canyon. An approaching airplane therefore +hangs aloft and signals to the cable-guards, who lower the cable +until it sags sufficiently to free the aerial passage-way between +the cliffs. Then the aviator planes down, sweeps through the canyon, +and alights on the plateau called Thusis's Garden. But now he must +return; the cable must be lifted and stretched taut; and he must +embark across the gulf in the little car which runs on grooved +wheels to Les Errues. + +"This is all we are likely to learn. Our retreat is cut off. Two +cable-guards are in front of us; in front of them the chasm; and +across the chasm lies Les Errues whither the aviator has gone and +where, I do not doubt, are plenty more of his kind. + +"This, and two carbons, I shall endeavour to send by pigeon. In +extremity we shall destroy all our papers and identification cards +and get what Huns we can, RESERVING FOR OUR OWN USES one cartridge +apiece. + +"(Signed) Nos. 76 AND 77." + +It was raining furiously, but the heavy foliage of chestnut and +walnut had kept his paper dry. Now in the storm-gloom of the woods +lit up by the infernal glare of lightning he detached the long +scroll of thin paper covered by microscopical writing and, taking +off the rubber bands which confined one of the homing pigeons, +attached the paper cylinder securely. + +Then he crawled over with his bird and, lying flat alongside of Miss +Erith, told her what he had discovered and what he had done about +it. The roar of the rain almost obliterated his voice and he had to +place his lips close to her ear. + +For a long while they lay there waiting for the rain to slacken +before he launched the bird. The men across the hog-back never +stirred. Nobody approached from the rear. At last, behind Mount +Terrible, the tall edges of the rain veil came sweeping out in +ragged majesty. Vapours were ascending in its wake; a distant peak +grew visible, and suddenly brightened, struck at the summit by a +shaft of sunshine. + +"Now!" breathed McKay. The homing pigeon, released, walked nervously +out over the wet leaves on the forest floor, and, at a slight motion +from the girl, rose into flight. Then, as it appeared above the +trees, there came the cracking report of a shotgun, and they saw the +bird collapse in mid-air and sheer downward across the hog-back. But +it did not land there; the marksman had not calculated on those +erratic gales from the chasm; and the dead pigeon went whirling down +into the viewless gulf amid flying vapours mounting from unseen +depths. + +Miss Erith and McKay lay very still. The Hunnish marksman across the +hog-back remained erect for a few moments like a man at the traps +awaiting another bird. After awhile he coolly seated himself again +under the dripping ledge. + +"The swine!" said McKay calmly. He added: "Don't let them cross." +And he rose and walked swiftly back toward the northern edge of the +forest. + +From behind a tree he could see two Hun cable-guards, made alert by +the shot, standing outside their hut where the cable-machinery was +housed. + +Evidently the echoes of that shot, racketing and rebounding from +rock and ravine, had misled them, for they had their backs turned +and were gazing eastward, rifles pointed. + +Without time for thought or hesitation, McKay ran out toward them +across the deep, wet moss. One of them heard him too late and +McKay's impact hurled him into the gulf. Then McKay turned and +sprang on the other, and for a minute it was a fight of tigers there +on the cable platform until the battered visage of the Boche split +with a scream and a crashing blow from McKay's pistol-butt drove him +over the platform's splintered edge. + +And now, panting, bloody, dishevelled, he strained his ears, +listening for a shot from the hog-back. The woods were very silent +in their new bath of sunshine. A little Alpine bird was singing; no +other sound broke the silence save the mellow, dripping noise from a +million rain-drenched leaves. + +McKay cast a rapid, uneasy glance across the chasm. Then he went +into the cable hut. + +There were six rifles there in a rack, six wooden bunks, and +clothing on pegs--not military uniforms but the garments of Swiss +mountaineers. + +Like the three men across the hog-back, and the two whom he had so +swiftly slain, the Hun cable-patrol evidently fought shy of the +Boche uniform here on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. + +Two of the cable-guard lay smashed to a pulp thousands of feet +below. Where was the remainder of the patrol? Were the men with the +shotguns part of it? + +McKay stood alone in the silent hut, still breathless from his +struggle, striving to think what was now best to do. + +And, as he stood there, through the front window of the hut he saw +an aviator and another man come down from the crest of Thusis to the +chasm's edge, jump into the car which swung under the cable, and +begin to pull themselves across toward the hut where he was +standing. + +The hut screened his retreat to the wood's edge. From there he saw +the aviator and his companion land on the platform; heard them +shouting for the dead who never would answer from their Alpine +deeps; saw the airman at last go away toward the plateau where he +had left his machine; heard the clanking of machinery in the hut; +saw the steel cable begin to sag into the canyon; AND REALISED THAT +THE AVIATOR WAS GOING BACK OVER FRANCE TO THE BOCHE TRENCHES FROM +WHENCE HE HAD ARRIVED. + +In a flash it came to McKay what he should try to do--what he MUST +do for his country, for the life of the young girl, his comrade, for +his own life: The watchers at the hog-back must never signal to that +airman news of his presence in the Forbidden Forest! + +The clanking of the cog-wheels made his steps inaudible to the man +who was manipulating the machinery in the hut as he entered and shot +him dead. It was rather sickening, for the fellow pitched forward +into the machinery and one arm became entangled there. + +But McKay, white of cheek and lip and fighting off a deathly nausea, +checked the machinery and kicked the carrion clear. Then he set the +drum and threw on the lever which reversed the cog-wheels. Slowly +the sagging cable began to tighten up once more. + +He had been standing there for half an hour or more in an agony of +suspense, listening for any shot from the forest behind him, +straining eyes and ears for any sign of the airplane. + +And suddenly he heard it coming--a resonant rumour through the +canyon, nearer, louder, swelling to a roar as the monoplane dashed +into view and struck the cable with a terrific crash. + +For a second, like a giant wasp suddenly entangled in a spider's +strand, it whirled around the cable with a deafening roar of +propellers; then a sheet of fire enveloped it; both wings broke off +and fell; other fragments dropped blazing; and then the thing itself +let go and shot headlong into awful depths! + +Above it the taut cable vibrated and sang weirdly in the silence of +the chasm. + +The girl was still lying flat under the walnut-tree when McKay came +back. + +Without speaking he knelt, levelled his pistol and fired across at +the man beyond the hog-back. + +Instantly her pistol flashed, too; one of the men fell and tried to +get up in a blind sort of way, and his comrades caught him by the +arms and dragged him back behind the ledge. + +"All right!" shouted one of the men from his cover, "we've plently +of time to deal with you Yankee swine! Stay there and rot!" + +"That was Skelton's voice," whispered Miss Erith with an involuntary +shudder. + +"They'll never attempt that hog-back under our pistols now," said +McKay coolly. "Come, Yellow-hair; we're going forward." + +"How?" she asked, bewildered. + +"By cable, little comrade," he said, with a shaky gaiety that +betrayed the tension of his nerves. "So pack up and route-step once +more!" + +He turned and looked at her and his face twitched: + +"You wonderful girl," he said, "you beautiful, wonderful girl! We'll +live to fly our pigeons yet, Yellow-hair, under the very snout of +the whole Hun empire!" + + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE LATE SIR W. BLINT + + + + + +That two spies, a man and a woman, had penetrated the forest of Les +Errues was known in Berlin on the 13th. Within an hour the entire +machinery of the German Empire had been set in motion to entrap and +annihilate these two people. + +The formula distributed to all operators in the Intelligence +Department throughout Hundom, and wherever Boche spies had filtered +into civilised lands, was this: + +"Two enemy secret agents have succeeded in penetrating the forest of +Les Errues. One is a man, the other a woman. + +"Both are Americans. The man is that civilian prisoner, Kay McKay, +who escaped from Holzminden, and of whom an exact description is +available. + +"The woman is Evelyn Erith. Exact information concerning her is also +available. + +"The situation is one of extremest delicacy and peril. Exposure of +the secret understanding with a certain neutral Power which permits +us certain temporary rights within an integral portion of its +territory would be disastrous, and would undoubtedly result in an +immediate invasion of this neutral (sic) country by the enemy as +well as by our own forces. + +"This must not happen. Yet it is vitally imperative that these two +enemy agents should be discovered, seized, and destroyed. + +"Their presence in the forest of Les Errues is the most serious +menace to the Fatherland that has yet confronted it. + +"Upon the apprehension and destruction of these two spies depends +the safety of Germany and her allies. + +"The war can not be won, a victorious German peace can not be +imposed upon our enemies, unless these two enemy agents are found +and their bodies absolutely destroyed upon the spot along with every +particle of personal property discovered upon their persons. + +"More than that: the war will be lost, and with it the Fatherland, +unless these two spies are seized and destroyed. + +"The Great Secret of Germany is in danger. + +"To possess themselves of it--for already they suspect its +nature--and to expose it not only to the United States Government +but to the entire world, is the mission of these two enemy agents. + +"If they succeed it would mean the end of the German Empire. + +"If our understanding with a certain neutral Power be made public, +that also would spell disaster for Germany. + +"The situation hangs by a hair, the fate of the world is suspended +above the forest of Les Errues." + +On the 14th the process of infiltration began. But the Hun invasion +of Les Errues was not to be conducted in force, there must be no +commotion there, no stirring, no sound, only a silent, stealthy, +death-hunt in that shadowy forest--a methodical, patient, thorough +preparation to do murder; a swift, noiseless execution. + +Also, on the 14th, the northern sky beyond the Swiss wire swarmed +with Hun airplanes patrolling the border. + +Not that the Great Secret could be discovered from the air; that +danger had been foreseen fifty years ago, and half a century's +camouflage screened the results of steady, calculating relentless +diligence. + +But French or British planes might learn of the presence of these +enemy agents in the dark forest of Les Errues, and might hang like +hawks above it exchanging signals with them. + +Therefore the northern sky swarmed with Boche aircraft--cautiously +patrolling beyond the Swiss border, and only prepared to risk its +violation if Allied planes first set them an example. + +But for a week nothing moved in the heavens above Les Errues except +an eagle. And that appeared every day, sheering the blue void above +the forest, hovering majestically in circles hour after hour and +then, at last, toward sundown, setting its sublime course westward, +straight into the blinding disk of the declining sun. + +The Hun airmen patrolling the border noticed the eagle. After a +while, as no Allied plane appeared, time lagged with the Boche, and +he came to look for this lone eagle which arrived always at the same +hour in the sky above Les Errues, soared there hour after hour, then +departed, flapping slowly westward until lost in the flames of +sunset. + +"As though," remarked one Boche pilot, "the bird were a phoenix +which at the close of every day renews its life from its own ashes +in the flames." + +Another airman said: "It is not a Lammergeier, is it?" + +"It is a Stein-Adler," said a third. + +But after a silence a fourth airman spoke, seated before the hangar +and studying a wild flower, the petals of which he had been +examining with the peculiar interest of a nature-student: + +"For ten days I have had nothing more important to watch than that +eagle which appears regularly every day above the forest of Les +Errues. And I have concluded that the bird is neither a Lammergeier +nor a Stein-Adler." + +"Surely," said one young Hun, "it is a German eagle." + +"It must be," laughed another, "because it is so methodical and +exact. Those are German traits." + +The nature-student contemplated the wild blossom which he was now +idly twirling between his fingers by its stem. + +"It perplexes me," he mused aloud. + +The others looked at him; one said: "What perplexes you, Von +Dresslin?" + +"That bird." + +"The eagle?" + +"The eagle which comes every day to circle above Les Errues. I, an +amateur of ornithology am, perhaps, with all modesty, permitted to +call myself?" + +"Certainly," said several airmen at once. + +Another added: "We all know you to be a naturalist." + +"Pardon--a student only, gentlemen. Which is why, perhaps, I am both +interested and perplexed by this eagle we see every day." + +"It is a rare species?" + +"It is not a familiar one to the Alps." + +"This bird, then, is not a German eagle in your opinion, Von +Dresslin?" + +"What is it? Asiatic? African? Chinese?" asked another. + +Von Dresslin's eyebrows became knitted. + +"That eagle which we all see every day in the sky above Les Errues," +he said slowly, "has a snow-white crest and tail." + +Several airmen nodded; one said: "I have noticed that, too, watching +the bird through my binoculars." + +"I know," continued Von Dresslin slowly, "of only one species of +eagle which resembles the bird we all see every day... It inhabits +North America," he added thoughtfully. + +There was a silence, then a very young airman inquired whether Von +Dresslin knew of any authentic reports of an American eagle being +seen in Europe. + +"Authentic? That is somewhat difficult to answer," replied Von +Dresslin, with the true caution of a real naturalist. "But I venture +to tell you that, once before--nearly a year ago now--I saw an eagle +in this same region which had a white crest and tail and was +otherwise a shining bronze in colour." + +"Where did you see such a bird?" + +"High in the air over Mount Terrible." A deep and significant +silence fell over the little company. If Count von Dresslin had seen +such an eagle over the Swiss peak called Mount Terrible, and had +been near enough to notice the bird's colour, every man there knew +what had been the occasion. + +For only once had that particular region of Switzerland been +violated by their aircraft during the war. It had happened a year +ago when Von Dresslin, patrolling the north Swiss border, had +discovered a British flyer planing low over Swiss territory in the +air-region between Mount Terrible and the forest of Les Errues. + +Instantly the Hun, too, crossed the line: and the air-battle was +joined above the forest. + +Higher, higher, ever higher mounted the two fighting planes until +the earth had fallen away two miles below them. + +Then, out of the icy void of the upper air-space, now roaring with +their engines' clamour, the British plane shot earthward, down, +down, rushing to destruction like a shooting-star, and crashed in +the forest of Les Errues. + +And where it had been, there in mid-air, hung an eagle with a crest +as white as the snow on the shining peaks below. + +"He seemed suddenly to be there instead of the British plane," said +Von Dresslin. "I saw him distinctly--might have shot him with my +pistol as he sheered by me, his yellow eyes aflame, balanced on +broad wings. So near he swept that his bright fierce eyes flashed +level with mine, and for an instant I thought he meant to attack me. + +"But he swept past in a single magnificent curve, screaming, then +banked swiftly and plunged straight downward in the very path of the +British plane." + +Nobody spoke. Von Dresslin twirled his flower and looked at it in an +absent-minded way. + +"From that glimpse, a year ago, I believe I had seen a species of +eagle the proper habitat of which is North America," he said. + +An airman remarked grimly: "The Yankees are migrating to Europe. +Perhaps their eagles are coming too." + +"To pick our bones," added another. + +And another man said laughingly to Von Dresslin: + +"Fritz, did you see in that downfall of the British enemy, and the +dramatic appearance of a Yankee eagle in his place, anything +significant?" + +"By gad," cried another airman, "we had John Bull by his fat throat, +and were choking him to death. And now--the Americans!" + +"If I dared cross the border and shoot that Yankee eagle to-morrow," +began another airman; but they all knew it wouldn't do. + +One said: "Do you suppose, Von Dresslin, that the bird we see is the +one you saw a year ago?" + +"It is possible." + +"An American white-headed eagle?" + +"I feel quite sure of it." + +"Their national bird," said the same airman who had expressed a +desire to shoot it. + +"How could an American eagle get here?" inquired another man. + +"By way of Asia, probably." + +"By gad! A long flight!" + +Dresslin nodded: "An omen, perhaps, that we may also have to face +the Yankee on our Eastern front." + +"The swine!" growled several. + +Von Dresslin assented absently to the epithet. But his thoughts were +busy elsewhere, his mind preoccupied by a theory which, Hunlike, he, +for the last ten days, had been slowly, doggedly, methodically +developing. + +It was this: Assuming that the bird really was an American eagle, +the problem presented itself very clearly--from where had it come? +This answered itself; it came from America, its habitat. + +Which answer, of course, suggested a second problem; HOW did it +arrive? + +Several theories presented themselves: + +1st. The eagle might have reached Asia from Alaska and so made its +way westward as far as the Alps of Switzerland. + +2nd. It may have escaped from some public European zoological +collection. + +3rd. It may have been owned privately and, on account of the +scarcity of food in Europe, liberated by its owner. + +4th. It MIGHT have been owned by the Englishman whose plane Von +Dresslin had destroyed. + +And now Von Dresslin was patiently, diligently developing this +theory: + +If it had been owned by the unknown Englishman whose plane had +crashed a year ago in Les Errues forest, then the bird was +undoubtedly his mascot, carried with him in his flights, doubtless a +tame eagle. + +Probably when the plane fell the bird took wing, which accounted for +its sudden appearance in mid-air. + +Probably, also, it had been taught to follow its master; and, +indeed, had followed in one superb plunge earthward in the wake of a +dead man in a stricken plane. + +But--WAS this the same bird? + +For argument, suppose it was. Then why did it still hang over Les +Errues? Affection for a dead master? Only a dog could possibly show +such devotion, such constancy. And besides, birds are incapable of +affection. They only know where to go for kind treatment and +security. And tamed birds, even those species domesticated for +centuries, know only one impulse that draws them toward any human +protector--the desire for food. + +Could this eagle remember for a whole year that the man who lay dead +somewhere in the dusky wilderness of Les Errues had once been kind +to him and had fed him? And was that why the great bird still +haunted the air-heights above the forest? Possibly. + +Or was it not more logical to believe that here, suddenly cast upon +its own resources, and compelled to employ instincts hitherto +uncultivated or forgotten, to satisfy its hunger, this solitary +American eagle had found the hunting good? Probably. And, knowing no +other region, had remained there, and for the first time, or at +least after a long interval of captivity and dependence on man, it +had discovered what liberty was and with liberty the necessity to +struggle for existence. + +An airman, watching Dresslin's thoughtful features, said: + +"You never found out who that Englishman was, did you? + +"No." + +"Did our agents search Les Errues?" + +"I suppose so. But I have never heard anything further about that +affair," he shrugged; "and I don't believe we ever will until after +the war, and until--" + +"Until Switzerland belongs to us," said an airman with a light +laugh. + +Others, listening, looked at one another significantly, smiling the +patient, confident and brooding smile of the Hun. + +Knaus unwittingly wrote his character and his epitaph: + +"Ich kann warten." + +The forest of Les Errues was deathly still. Hunters and hunted both +were as silent as the wild things that belonged there in those dim +woods--as cautious, as stealthy. + +A dim greenish twilight veiled their movements, the damp carpet of +moss dulled sounds. + +Yet the hunted knew that they were hunted, realised that pursuit and +search were inevitable; and the hunters, no doubt, guessed that +their quarry was alert. + +Now on the tenth day since their entrance into Les Errues those two +Americans who were being hunted came to a little wooded valley +through which a swift stream dashed amid rock and fern, flinging +spray over every green leaf that bordered it, filling its clear +pools with necklaces of floating bubbles. + +McKay slipped his pack from his shoulders and set it against a tree. +One of the two carrier pigeons in their cage woke up and ruffled. +Looking closely at the other he discovered it was dead. His heart +sank, but he laid the stiff, dead bird behind a tree and said +nothing to his companion. + +Evelyn Erith now let go of her own pack and, flinging herself on the +moss, set her lips to the surface of a brimming pool. + +"Careful of this Alpine water!" McKay warned her. But the girl +satisfied her thirst before she rose to her knees and looked around +at him. + +"Are you tired, Yellow-hair?" he asked. + +"Yes.... Are you, Kay?" + +He shook his head and cast a glance around him. + +It was beautiful, this little woodland vale with its stream dashing +through and its slopes forested with beech and birch--splendid great +trees with foliage golden green in the sun. + +But it was not the beauty of the scene that preoccupied these two. +Always, when ready to halt, their choice of any resting-place +depended upon several things more important than beauty. + +For one matter the place must afford concealment, and also a water +supply. Moreover it must be situated so as to be capable of defence. +Also there must be an egress offering a secure line of retreat. + +So McKay began to roam about the place, prowling along the slopes +and following the stream. Apparently the topography satisfied him; +for after a little while he came back to where Miss Erith was lying +on the moss, one arm resting across her eyes. + +"You ARE tired," he said. + +She removed her arm and looked up at him out of those wonderful +golden eyes. + +"Is it all right for us to remain here, Kay?" + +"Yes. You can see for yourself. Anybody coming into this valley must +be visible on that ridge to the south. And there's an exit. This +brook dashes through it--two vast granite gates that will let us +through into the outer forest, where they might as well hunt for two +pins as for us." + +The girl smiled; her eyes closed. "I'm glad we can rest," she +murmured. So McKay went about his duties. + +First he removed his pack and hers a hundred yards down stream, +through the granite gateway, and placed them just beyond. + +Then he came back for Miss Erith. Scarcely awakened as he lifted +her, she placed one arm around his neck with the sleepy +unconsciousness of a tired child. They had long been on such terms; +there was no escaping them in the intimacy of their common isolation +and common danger. + +He laid her on the moss, well screened by the granite barrier, and +beyond range of the brook's rainbow spray. She was already asleep +again. + +He took off both her shoes, unwound the spiral puttees and gave her +bruised little feet a chance to breathe. + +He made camp, tested the wind and found it safe to build a fire, set +water to simmer, and unpacked the tinned rations. Then he made the +two beds side by side, laying down blankets and smoothing away the +twigs underneath. + +The surviving carrier pigeon was hungry. He fed it, lifted it still +banded from its place, cleaned the cage and set it to dry in a patch +of sunshine. + +The four automatic pistols he loaded and laid on a shelf in the +granite barricade; set ammunition and flashlight beside them. + +Then he went to his pack and got his papers and material, and +unrolled the map upon which he had been at work since he and Evelyn +Erith had entered the enemy's zone of operations. + +From time to time as he worked, drawing or making notes, he glanced +at the sleeping girl beside him. + +Never but once had the word "love" been mentioned between these two. + +For a long while, now--almost from the very beginning--he had known +that he was in love with this girl; but, after that one day in the +garden, he also knew that there was scarcely the remotest chance +that he should live to tell her so again, or that she could survive +to hear him. + +For when they had entered the enemy's zone below Mount Terrible they +both realised that there was almost no chance of their returning. + +He had lighted his pipe; and now he sat working away at his +drawings, making a map of his route as best he could without +instruments, and noting with rapid pencil all matters of interest +for those upon whose orders he and this girl beside him had +penetrated the forbidden forest of Les Errues. This for the slim +chance of getting back alive. But he had long believed that, if his +pigeons failed him at the crisis, no report would ever be delivered +to those who sent him here, either concerning his discoveries or his +fate and the fate of the girl who lay asleep beside him. + +An hour later she awoke. He was still bent over his map, and she +presently extended one arm and let her hand rest on his knee. + +"Do you feel better, Yellow-hair?" + +"Yes. Thank you for removing my shoes." + +"I suppose you are hungry," he remarked. + +"Yes. Are you?" + +He smiled: "As usual. I wish to heaven I could run across a +roebuck." They both craved something to satisfy the hunger made keen +by the Alpine air, and which no concentrated rations could satisfy. +McKay seldom ventured to kill any game--merely an auerhahn, a hare +or two, a red squirrel--and sometimes he had caught trout in the +mountain brooks with his bare hands--the method called "tickling" +and only too familiar to Old-World poachers. + +"Roebuck," she repeated trying not to speak wistfully. + +He nodded: "One crossed the stream below. I saw the tracks in the +moss, which was still stirring where the foot had pressed." + +"Dare you risk a shot in Les Errues, Kay?" + +"I don't think I'd hesitate." + +After a silence: "Why don't you rest? You must be dead tired," she +said. And he felt a slight pressure of her fingers drawing him. + +So he laid aside his work, dropped upon his blanket, and turned on +his left side, looking at her. + +"You have not yet seen any sign of the place from which you once +looked out across the frontier and saw thousands and thousands of +people as busy as a swarm of ants--have you, Kay?" + +"I remember this stream and these woods. I can't seem to recollect +how far or in which direction I turned after passing this granite +gorge." + +"Did you go far?" + +"I can't recollect," he said. "I'd give my right arm if I could." +His worn and anxious visage touched her. + +"Don't fret, Kay, dear," she said soothingly. "We'll find it. We'll +find out what the Hun is doing. We'll discover what this Great +Secret really is. And our pigeons shall tell it to the world." + +And, as always, she smiled cheerfully, confidently. He had never +heard her whine, had never seen her falter save from sheer physical +weariness. + +"We'll win through, Yellow-hair," he said, looking steadily into her +clear brown-gold eyes. + +"Of course. You are so wonderful, Kay." + +"That is the most wonderful thing in the world, Evelyn--to hear you +tell me such a thing!" + +"Don't you know I think so?" + +"I can't believe it--after what you know of me--" + +"Kay!" + +"I'm sorry--but a scar is a scar--" + +"There is no scar! Do you hear me! No scar, no stain! Don't you +suppose a woman can judge? And I have my own opinion of you, +Kay--and it is a perfectly good opinion and suits me." + +She smiled, closed her eyes as though closing the discussion, opened +them and smiled again at him. + +And now, as always, he wondered how this fair young girl could find +courage to smile in the very presence of the most dreadful death any +living woman could suffer--death from the Hun. + +He lay looking at her and she at him, for a while. + +In the silence, a dry stick snapped and McKay was on his feet as +though it had been the crack of a pistol. + +Presently he stooped, and she lifted her pretty head and rested one +ear close to his lips: + +"It's that roebuck, I think, down stream." Then something happened; +her ear touched his mouth--or his lips, forming some word, came into +contact with her--so that it was as though he had kissed her and she +had responded. + +Both recoiled; her face was bright with mounting colour and he +seemed scared. Yet both knew it was not a caress; but she feared he +thought she had invited one, and he feared she believed he had +offered one. + +He went about his affair with the theoretical roebuck in silence, +picking up one of his pistols, loosening his knife in its sheath; +then, without the usual smile or gesture for her, he started off +noiselessly over the moss. + +And the girl, supporting herself on one arm, her fingers buried in +the moss, looked after him while her flushed face cooled. + +McKay moved down stream with pistol lifted, scanning the hard-wood +ridges on either hand. For even the reddest of roe deer, in the +woods, seem to be amazingly invisible unless they move. + +The stream dashed through shadow and sun-spot, splashing a sparkling +way straight into the wilderness of Les Errues; and along its +fern-fringed banks strode McKay with swift, light steps. His eyes, +now sharpened by the fight for life--which life had begun to be +revealed to him in all its protean aspects, searched the dappled, +demi-light ahead, fiercely seeking to pierce any disguise that +protective colouration might afford his quarry. + +Silver, russet, green and gold, and with the myriad fulvous nuances +that the forest undertones lend to its ensembles, these were the +patterned tints that met his eye on every side in the subdued +gradations of woodland light. + +But nothing out of key, nothing either in tone, colour, or shape, +betrayed the discreet and searched for discord in the vague and +lovely harmony;--no spiked head tossed in sudden fright; no +chestnut flank turned too redly in the dim ensemble, no delicate +feet in motion disturbed the solemn immobility of tree-trunk and +rock. Only the fern fronds quivered where spray rained across them; +and the only sounds that stirred were the crystalline clash of icy +rapids and the high whisper of the leaves in Les Errues. + +And, as he stood motionless, every sense and instinct on edge, his +eyes encountered something out of key with this lovely, sombre +masterpiece of God. Instantly a still shock responded to the +mechanical signal sent to his eyes; the engine of the brain was +racing; he stood as immobile as a tree. + +Yes, there on the left something was amiss,--something indistinct +in the dusk of heavy foliage--something, the shape of which was not +in harmony with the suave design about him woven of its Creator. +After a long while he walked slowly toward it. + +There was much more of it than he had seen. Its consequences, too, +were visible above him where broken branches hung still tufted with +bronze leaves which no new buds would ever push from their dead +clasp of the sapless stems. And all around him yearling seedlings +had pushed up through the charred wreckage. Even where fire had +tried to obtain a foothold, and had been withstood by barriers of +green and living sap, in burnt spaces where bits of twisted metal +lay, tender shoots had pushed out in that eternal promise of +resurrection which becomes a fable only upon a printed page. + +McKay's business was with the dead. The weather-faded husk lay there +amid dry leaves promising some day to harmonise with the scheme of +things. + +Mice had cleaned the bony cage under the uniform of a British +aviator. Mice gnaw the shed antlers of deer. And other bones. + +The pockets were full of papers. McKay read some of them. Afterward +he took from the bones of the hand two rings, a wrist-watch, a +whistle which still hung by a short chain and a round object +attached to a metal ring like a sleigh-bell. + +There was a hollow just beyond, made once in time of flood by some +ancient mountain torrent long dry, and no longer to be feared. + +The human wreckage barely held together, but it was light; and McKay +covered it with a foot of deep green moss, and made a cairn above it +out of glacial stones from the watercourse. And on the huge beech +that tented it he cut a cross with his trench-knife, making the +incision deep, so that it glimmered like ivory against the silvery +bark of the great tree. Under this sacred symbol he carved: + +"SIR W. BLINT, BART." + +Below this he cut a deep, white oblong in the bark, and with a coal +from the burned airplane he wrote: + +"THIS IS THE BEGINNING, NOT THE END. THIS ENGLISHMAN STILL CARRIES +ON!" + +He stood at salute for a full minute. Then turned, dropped to his +knees, and began another thorough search among the debris and dead +leaves. + +"Hello, Yellow-hair!" + +She had been watching his approach from where she was seated +balanced on the stream's edge, with both legs in the water to the +knees. + +He came up and dropped down beside her on the moss. + +"A dead airman in Les Errues," he said quietly, "a Britisher. I put +away what remained of him. The Huns may dig him up: some animals do +such things." + +"Where did you find him, Kay?" she asked quietly. + +"A quarter of a mile down-stream. He lay on the west slope. He had +fallen clear, but there was not much left of his machine." + +"How long has he lain there in this forest?" + +"A year--to judge. Also the last entry in his diary bears this out. +They got him through the head, and his belt gave way or was not +fastened.--Anyway he came down stone dead and quite clear of his +machine. His name was Blint--Sir W. Blint, Bart.... Lie back on the +moss and let your bruised feet hang in the pool.... Here--this +way--rest that yellow head of yours against my knees. ... Are you +snug?" + +"Yes." + +"Hold out your hands. These were his trinkets." + +The girl cupped her hands to receive the rings, watch, the gold +whistle in its little gem-set chains, and the sleigh-bell on its +bracelet. + +She examined them one by one in silence while McKay ran through the +pages of the notebook--discoloured pages all warped and stained in +their leather binding but written in pencil with print-like +distinction. + +"Sir W. Blint," murmured McKay, still busy with the notebook. "Can't +find what W. stood for." + +"That's all there is--just his name and military rank as an aviator: +I left the disk where it hung." + +The girl placed the trinkets on the moss beside her and looked up +into McKay's face. + +Both knew they were thinking of the same thing. They wore no disks. +Would anybody do for them what McKay had done for the late Sir W. +Blint? + +McKay bent a little closer over her and looked down into her face. +That any living creature should touch this woman in death seemed to +him almost more terrible than her dying. It was terror of that which +sometimes haunted him; no other form of fear. + +What she read in his eyes is not clear--was not quite clear to her, +perhaps. She said under her breath: + +"You must not fear for me, Kay.... Nothing can really touch me now." + +He did not understand what she meant by this immunity--gathering +some vague idea that she had spoken in the spiritual sense. And he +was only partly right. For when a girl is beginning to give her soul +to a man, the process is not wholly spiritual. + +As he looked down at her in silence he saw her gaze shift and her +eyes fix themselves on something above the tree-tops overhead. + +"There's that eagle again," she said, "wheeling up there in the +blue." + +He looked up; then he turned his sun-dazzled eyes on the pages of +the little notebook which he held open in both hands. + +"It's amusing reading," he said. "The late Sir W. Blint seems to +have been something of a naturalist. Wherever he was stationed the +lives of the birds, animals, insects and plants interested him. ... +Everywhere one comes across his pencilled queries and comments +concerning such things; here he discovers a moth unfamiliar to him, +there a bird he does not recognise. He was a quaint chap--" + +McKay's voice ceased but his eyes still followed the pencilled lines +of the late Sir W. Blint. And Evelyn Erith, resting her yellow head +against his knees, looked up at him. + +"For example," resumed McKay, and read aloud from the diary: + +"Five days' leave. Blighty. All top hole at home. Walked with +Constance in the park. + +Pair of thrushes in the spinney. Rookery full. Usual butterflies in +unusual numbers. Toward twilight several sphinx moths visited the +privet. No net at hand so did not identify any. Pheasants in bad +shape. Nobody to keep them down. Must arrange drives while I'm away. + +Late at night a barn owl in the chapel belfrey. Saw him and heard +him. Constance nervous; omens and that sort, I fancy; but no funk. +Rotten deal for her." + +"Who was Constance?" asked Miss Erith. + +"Evidently his wife.... I wish we could get those trinkets to her." +His glance shifted back to the pencilled page and presently he read +on, aloud: + +France again. Headquarters. Same rumour that Fritz has something up +his sleeve. Conference. Letter from Constance. Wrote her also. + +10th inst.: + +Conference. Interesting theory even if slightly incredible. Wrote +Constance. + +12th inst.: + +Another conference. Sir D. Haig. Back to hangar. A nightingale +singing, clear and untroubled above the unceasing thunder of the +cannonade. Very pretty moth, incognito, came and sat on my sleeve. +One of the Noctuidae, I fancy, but don't know generic or specific +names. About eleven o'clock Sir D. Haig. Unexpected honour. Sir D. +serene and cheerful. Showed him about. He was much amused at my +eagle. Explained how I had found him as an eaglet some twenty years +ago in America and how he sticks to me like a tame jackdaw. + +Told Sir D. that I had been taking him in my air flights everywhere +and that he adored it, sitting quite solemnly out of harm's way and, +if taking to the air for a bit of exercise, always keeping my plane +in view and following it to earth. + +Showed Sir D. H. all Manitou's tricks. The old chap did me proud. +This was the programme: + +I.--'Will you cheer for king and country, Manitou?' + +Manitou (yelping)--'Houp--gloup--houp!' + +I.--'Suppose you were a Hun eagle, Manitou--just a vulgar Boche +buzzard?' + +Manitou (hanging his head)--'Houp--gloup--houp!' + +I.-'But you're not! You're a Yankee eagle! Now give three cheers for +Uncle Sam!' + +Manitou (head erect)--'Houp--gloup--houp!' + +Sir D. convulsed. Ordered a trench-rat for Manitou as usual. While +he was discussing it I told Sir D. H. how I could always send +Manitou home merely by attaching to his ankle a big whistling-bell +of silver. + +Explained that Manitou hated it and that I had taught him to fly +home when I attached it by arranging that nobody except my wife +should ever relieve him of the bell. + +It took about two years to teach him where to go for relief. + +Sir D, much amused--reluctant to leave. Wrote to Connie later. Bed. + +13th inst.: + +Summoned by Sir D. H. Conference. Most interesting. Packed up. Of at +5 P. M., taking my eagle, Manitou. Wrote Constance. + +14th inst.: + +Paris. Yankees everywhere. Very ft. Have noticed no brag so far. +Wrote Constance. + +20th inst.: + +Paris. Yanks, Yanks, Yanks. And 'thanks' rimes. I said so to one of +'em. 'No,' said he, 'Tanks' is the proper rime--British Tanks!' Neat +and modest. Wrote Connie. + +21st inst.: + +Manitou and I are off. Most interesting quest I ever engaged in. +Wrote to my wife. + +Delle. Manitou and I both very fit. Machine in waiting. Took the air +for a look about. Manitou left me a mile up. Evidently likes the +Alps. Soared over Mount Terrible whither I dared not venture--yet! +Saw no Huns. Back by sundown. Manitou dropped in to dinner--like a +thunderbolt from the zenith. Astonishment of Blue Devils on guard. +Much curiosity. Manitou a hero. All see in him an omen of American +victory. Wrote Connie. + +30th inst.: + +Shall try 'it' very soon now. + +If it's true--God help the Swiss! If not--profound apologies I +suppose. Anyway its got to be cleared up. Manitou enamoured of +mountains. Poor devil, it's in his blood I suppose. Takes the air, +now, quite independent of me, but I fancy he gets uneasy if I delay, +for he comes and circles over the hangar until my machine takes the +air. And if it doesn't he comes down to find out why, mad and +yelping at me like an irritated goblin. + +I saw an Alpine butterfly to-day--one of those Parnassians all white +with wings veined a greenish black. Couldn't catch him. Wrote to +Connie. Bed. + +31st inst.: + +In an hour. All ready. It's hard to believe that the Hun has so +terrorised the Swiss Government as to force it into such an +outrageous concession. Nous verrons. + +A perfect day. Everything arranged. Calm and confident. Think much +of Constance but no nerves. Early this morning Manitou, who had been +persistently hulking at my heels and squealing invitations to take +wing with him, became impatient and went up. + +I saw him in time and whistled him down; and I told the old chap +very plainly that he could come up with me when I was ready or not +at all. + +He understood and sat on the table sulking, and cocking his silver +head at me while I talked to him. That's one thing about Manitou. +Except for a wild Canada goose I never before saw a bird who seemed +to have the slightest trace of brain. I know, of course, it's not +affection that causes him to trail me, answer his whistle, and obey +when he doesn't wish to obey. It's training and habit. But I like to +pretend that the old chap is a little fond of me. + +I'm of in a few minutes. Manitou is aboard. Glorious visibility. Now +for Fritz and his occult designs--if there are any. + +A little note to Connie--I scarcely know why. Not a nerve. Most +happy. Noticed a small butterfly quite unfamiliar to me. No time now +to investigate. + +Engines! Manitou yelling with excitement. Symptoms of taking wing, +but whistle checks insubordination.... All ready. Wish Connie were +here. + +McKay closed the little book, strapped and buckled the cover. + +"Exit Sir W. Blint," he said, not flippantly. "I think I should like +to have known that man." + +The girl, lying there with the golden water swirling around her +knees and her golden head on the moss, looked up through the foliage +in silence. + +The eagle was soaring lower over the forest now. After a little +while she reached out and let her fingers touch McKay's hand where +it rested on the moss: + +"Kay?" + +"Yes, Yellow-hair." + +"It isn't possible, of course.... But are there any eagles in Europe +that have white heads and tails?" + +"No." + +"I know.... I wish you'd look up at that eagle. He is not very +high." + +McKay lifted his head. After a moment he rose to his feet, still +looking intently skyward. The eagle was sailing very low now. + +"THAT'S AN AMERICAN EAGLE!" + +The words shot out of McKay's lips. The girl sat upright, +electrified. + +And now the sun struck full across the great bird as he sheered the +tree-tops above. HEAD AND TAIL WERE A DAZZLING WHITE. + +"Could--could it be that dead man's eagle?" said the girl. "Oh, +could it be Manitou? COULD it, Kay?" + +McKay looked at her, and his eye fell on the gold whistle hanging +from her wrist on its jewelled chain. + +"If it is," he said, "he might notice that whistle. Try it!" + +She nodded excitedly, set the whistle to her lips and blew a clear, +silvery, penetrating blast upward. + +"Kay! Look!" she gasped. + +For the response had been instant. Down through the tree-tops +sheered the huge bird, the air shrilling through his pinions, and +struck the solid ground and set his yellow claws in it, grasping the +soil of the Old World with mighty talons. Then he turned his superb +head and looked fearlessly upon his two compatriots. + +"Manitou! Manitou!" whispered the girl. And crept toward him on her +knees, nearer, nearer, until her slim outstretched hand rested on +his silver crest. + +"Good God!" said McKay in the low tones of reverence. + +McKay had drawn a duplicate of his route-map on thin glazed paper. + +Evelyn Erith had finished a duplicate copy of his notes and reports. + +Of these and the trinkets of the late Sir W. Blint they made two +flat packets, leaving one of them unsealed to receive the brief +letter which McKay had begun: + +"Dear Lady Blint-- + +It is not necessary to ask the wife of Sir W. Blint to have courage. + +He died as he had lived--a fine and fearless British sportsman. + +His death was painless. He lies in the forest of Les Errues. I +enclose a map for you. + +I and my comrade, Evelyn Erith, dare believe that his eagle, +Manitou, has not forgotten the air-path to England and to you. With +God's guidance he will carry this letter to you. And with it certain +objects belonging to your husband. And also certain papers which I +beg you will have safely delivered to the American Ambassador. + +If, madam, we come out of this business alive, my comrade and I will +do ourselves the honour of waiting on you if, as we suppose, you +would care to hear from us how we discovered the body of the late +Sir W. Blint. + +Madam, accept homage and deep respect from two Americans who are, +before long, rather likely to join your gallant husband in the great +adventure." + +"Yellow-hair?" + +She came, signed the letter. Then McKay signed it, and it was +enclosed in one of the packets. + +Then McKay took the dead carrier pigeon from the cage and tossed it +on the moss. And Manitou planted his terrible talons on the inert +mass of feathers and tore it to shreds. + +Evelyn attached the anklet and whistling bell; then she unwound a +yard of surgeon's plaster, and kneeling, spread the eagle's enormous +pinions, hold-ing them horizontal while McKay placed the two +packets and bound them in place under the out-stretched wings. + +The big bird had bolted the pigeon. At first he submitted with sulky +grace, not liking what was happening, but offering no violence. + +And even now, as they backed away from him, he stood in dignified +submission, patiently striving to adjust his closed wings to these +annoying though light burdens which seemed to have no place among +his bronze feathers. + +Presently, irritated, the bird partially unclosed one wing as though +to probe with his beak for the seat of his discomfort. At the same +time he moved his foot, and the bell rattled on his anklet. + +Instantly his aspect changed; stooping he inspected the bell, struck +it lightly with his beak as though in recognition. + +WAS it the hated whistling bell? Again the curved beak touched it. +And recognition was complete. + +Mad all through, disgust, indecision, gave rapid place to nervous +alarm. Every quill rose in wrath; the snowy crest stood upright; the +yellow eyes flashed fire. + +Then, suddenly, the eagle sprang into the air, yelping fierce +protest against such treatment: the shrilling of the bell swept like +a thin gale through the forest, keener, louder, as the enraged bird +climbed the air, mounting, mounting into the dazzling blue above +until the motionless watchers in the woods below saw him wheel. + +Which way would he turn? 'Round and round swept the eagle in wider +and more splendid circles; in tensest suspense the two below watched +motionless. + +Then the tension broke; and a dry sob escaped the girl. + +For the eagle had set his lofty course at last. Westward he bore +through pathless voids uncharted save by God alone--who has set His +signs to mark those high blue lanes, lest the birds--His lesser +children--should lose their way betwixt earth and moon. + + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE BLINDER TRAIL + + + + + +There was no escape that way. From the northern and eastern edges of +the forest sheer cliffs fell away into bluish depths where forests +looked like lawns and the low uplands of the Alsatian border +resembled hillocks made by tunnelling moles. And yet it was from +somewhere not far away that a man once had been, carried safely into +Alsace on a sudden snowslide. That man now lay among the trees on +the crag's edge looking down into the terrific chasm below. He and +the girl who crouched in the thicket of alpine roses behind him +seemed a part of the light-flecked forest--so inconspicuous were +they among dead leaves and trees in their ragged and weather-faded +clothing. + +They were lean from physical effort and from limited nourishment. +The skin on their faces and hands, once sanguine and deeply burnt by +Alpine wind and sun and snow glare, now had become almost +colourless, so subtly the alchemy of the open operates on those +whose only bed is last year's leaves and whose only shelter is the +sky. Even the girl's yellow hair had lost its sunny brilliancy, so +that now it seemed merely a misty part of the lovely, subdued +harmony of the woods. + +The man, still searching the depths below with straining, patient +gaze, said across his shoulder: + +"It was here somewhere--near here, Yellow-hair, that I went over, +and found what I found.... But it's not difficult to guess what you +and I should find if we try to go over now." + +"Death?" she motioned with serene lips. + +He had turned to look at her, and he read her lips. + +"And yet," he said, "we must manage to get down there, somehow or +other, alive." + +She nodded. Both knew that, once down there, they could not expect +to come out alive. That was tacitly understood. All that could be +hoped was that they might reach those bluish depths alive, live long +enough to learn what they had come to learn, release the pigeon with +its message, then meet destiny in whatever guise it confronted them. + +For Fate was not far off. Fate already watched them--herself unseen. +She had caught sight of them amid the dusk of the ancient trees--was +following them, stealthily, murderously, through the dim aisles of +this haunted forest of Les Errues. + +These two were the hunted ones, and their hunters were in the +forest--nearer now than ever because the woodland was narrowing +toward the east. + +Also, for the first time since they had entered the Forbidden +Forest, scarcely noticeable paths appeared flattening the carpet of +dead leaves--not trails made by game--but ways trodden at long +intervals by man--trails unused perhaps for months--then rendered +vaguely visible once more by the unseen, unheard feet of lightly +treading foes. + +Here for the first time they had come upon the startling spoor of +man--of men and enemies--men who were hunting them to slay them, and +who now, in these eastern woods, no longer cared for the concealment +that might lull to a sense of false security the human quarry that +they pursued. + +And yet the Hun-pack hunting them though the forbidden forest of Les +Errues had, in their new indifference to their quarry's alarm, and +in the ferocity of their growing boldness, offered the two fugitives +a new hope and a new reason for courage:--the grim courage of those +who are about to die, and who know it, and still carry on. + +For this is what the Huns had done--not daring to use signals +visible to the Swiss patrols on nearer mountain flanks. + +Nailed to a tree beside the scarcely visible trail of flattened +leaves--a trail more imagined and feared than actually visible--was +a sheet of white paper. And on it was written in the tongue of the +Hun,--and in that same barbarous script also--a message, the free +translation of which was as follows: + +"WARNING!" + +The three Americans recently sent into Les Errues by the Military +Intelligence Department of the United States Army now fighting in +France are still at large somewhere in this forest. Two of them are +operating together, the well-known escaped prisoner, Kay McKay, and +the woman secret-agent, Evelyn Erith. The third American, Alexander +Gray, has been wounded in the left hand by one of our riflemen, but +managed to escape, and is now believed to be attempting to find and +join the agents McKay and Erith. + +This must be prevented. All German agents now operating in Les +Errues are formally instructed to track down and destroy without +traces these three spies whenever and wherever encountered according +to plan. It is expressly forbidden to attempt to take any one or all +of these spies alive. No prisoners! No traces! Germans, do your +duty! The Fatherland is in peril! + +(Signed) "HOCHSTIM." + +McKay wriggled cautiously backward from the chasm's granite edge and +crawled into the thicket of alpine roses where Evelyn Erith lay. + +"No way out, Kay?" she asked under her breath. + +"No way THAT way, Yellow-hair." + +"Then?" + +"I don't--know," he said slowly. + +"You mean that we ought to turn back." + +"Yes, we ought to. The forest is narrowing very dangerously for us. +It runs to a point five miles farther east, overlooking impassable +gulfs.... We should be in a cul-de-sac, Yellow-hair." + +"I know." + +He mused for a few moments, cool, clear-eyed, apparently quite +undisturbed by their present peril and intent only on the mission +which had brought them here, and how to execute it before their +unseen trackers executed them. + +"To turn now, and attempt to go back along this precipice, is to +face every probability of meeting the men we have so far managed to +avoid," he said aloud in his pleasant voice, but as though +presenting the facts to himself alone. + +"Of course we shall account for some of the Huns; but that does not +help us to win through.... Even an exchange of shots would no doubt +be disastrous to our plans. We MUST keep away from them.... +Otherwise we could never hope to creep into the valley alive,... +Tell me, Yellow-hair, have you thought of anything new?" + +The girl shook her head. + +"No, Kay.... Except that chance of running across this new man of +whom we never had heard before the stupid Boche advertised his +presence in Les Errues." + +"Alexander Gray," nodded McKay, taking from his pocket the paper +which the Huns had nailed to the great pine, and unfolding it again. + +The girl rested her chin on his shoulder to reread it--an apparent +familiarity which he did not misunderstand. The dog that believes in +you does it--from perplexity sometimes, sometimes from loneliness. +Or, even when afraid--not fearing with the baser emotion of the +poltroon, but afraid with that brave fear which is a wisdom too, and +which feeds and brightens the steady flame of courage. + +"Alexander Gray," repeated McKay. "I never supposed that we would +send another man in here--at least not until something had been +heard concerning our success or failure.... I had understood that +such a policy was not advisable. You know yourself, Yellow-hair, +that the fewer people we have here the better the chance. And it was +so decided before we left New York.... And--I wonder what occurred +to alter our policy." + +"Perhaps the Boches have spread reports of our capture by Swiss +authorities," she said simply. + +"That might be. Yes, and the Hun newspapers might even have printed +it. I can see their scare-heads: 'Gross Violation of Neutral Soil! + +"'Switzerland invaded by the Yankees! Their treacherous and impudent +spies caught in the Alps!'--that sort of thing. Yes, it might be +that... and yet--" + +"You think the Boche would not call attention to such an attempt +even to trap others of our agents for the mere pleasure of murdering +them?" + +"That's what I think, Eve." + +He called her "Eve" only when circumstances had become gravely +threatening. At other times it was usually "Yellow-hair!" + +"Then you believe that this man, Gray, has been sent into Les Errues +to aid us to carry on independently the operation in which we have +so far failed?" + +"I begin to think so." The girl's golden eyes became lost in +retrospection. + +"And yet," she ventured after a few moments' thought, "he must have +come into Les Errues learning that we also had entered it; and +apparently he has made no effort to find us." + +"We can't know that, Eve." + +"He must be a woodsman," she argued, "and also he must suppose that +we are more or less familiar with American woodcraft, and fairly +well versed in its signs. Yet--he has left no sign that we could +understand where a Hun could not." + +"Because we have discovered no sign we can not be certain that this +man Gray has made none for us to read," said McKay. + +"No.... And yet he has left nothing that we have discovered--no +blaze; no moss or leaf, no stone or cairn--not a broken twig, not a +peeled stick, and no trail!" + +"How do we know that the traces of a trail marked by flattened +leaves might not be his trail? Once, on that little sheet of sand +left by rain in the torrent's wake, you found the imprint of a +hobnailed shoe such as the Hun hunters wear," she reminded him. "And +there we first saw the flattened trail of last year's leaves--if +indeed it be truly a trail." + +"But, Eve dear, never have we discovered in any dead and flattened +leaf the imprint of hobnails,--let alone the imprint of a human +foot." + +"Suppose, whoever made that path, had pulled over his shoes a heavy +woolen sock." He nodded. + +"I feel, somehow, that the Hun flattened out those leaves," she went +on. "I am sure that had an American made the trail he would also +have contrived to let us know--given us some indication of his +identity." + +The girl's low voice suddenly failed and her hand clutched McKay's +shoulder. + +They lay among the alpine roses like two stones, never stirring, the +dappled sunlight falling over them as harmoniously and with no more +and no less accent than it spotted tree-trunk and rock and moss +around them. + +And, as they lay there, motionless, her head resting on his thigh, a +man came out of the dimmer woods into the white sunshine that +flooded the verge of the granite chasm. + +The man was very much weather-beaten; his tweeds were torn; he +carried a rifle in his right hand. And his left was bound in bloody +rags. But what instantly arrested McKay's attention was the pack +strapped to his back and supported by a "tump-line." + +Never before had McKay seen such a pack carried in such a manner +excepting only in American forests. + +The man stood facing the sun. His visage was burnt brick colour, a +hue which seemed to accentuate the intense blue of his eyes and make +his light-coloured hair seem almost white. + +He appeared to be a man of thirty, superbly built, with a light, +springy step, despite his ragged and weary appearance. + +McKay's eyes were fastened desperately upon him, upon the strap of +the Indian basket which crossed his sun-scorched forehead, upon his +crystal-blue eyes of a hunter, upon his wounded left hand, upon the +sinewy red fist that grasped a rifle, the make of which McKay should +have known, and did know. For it was a Winchester 45-70--no chance +for mistaking that typical American weapon. And McKay fell +a-trembling in every limb. + +Presently the man cautiously turned, scanned his back trail with +that slow-stirrng wariness of a woodsman who never moves abruptly or +without good reason; then he went back a little way, making no sound +on the forest floor. + +AND MCKAY SAW THAT HE WORE KNEE MOCCASINS. + +At the same time Evelyn Erith drew her little length noiselessly +along his, and he felt her mouth warm against his ear: + +"Gray?" He nodded. + +"I think so, too. His left hand is injured. He wears American +moccasins. But in God's name be careful, Kay. It may be a trap." + +He nodded almost imperceptibly, keeping his eyes on the figure which +now stood within the shade of the trees in an attitude which might +suggest listening, or perhaps merely a posture of alert repose. + +Evelyn's mouth still rested against his ear and her light breath +fell warmly on him. Then presently her lips moved again: + +"Kay! He LOOKS safe." + +McKay turned his head with infinite caution and she inclined hers to +his lips: + +"I think it is Gray. But we've got to be certain, Eve." She nodded. + +"He does look right," whispered McKay. "No Boche cradles a rifle in +the hollow of his left arm so naturally. It is HABIT, because he +does it in spite of a crippled left hand." + +She nodded again. + +"Also," whispered McKay, "everything else about him is +convincing--the pack, tump-line, moccasins, Winchester: and his +manner of moving.... I know deer-stalkers in Scotland and in the +Alps. I know the hunters of ibex and chamois, of roe-deer and red +stag, of auerhahn and eagle. This man is DIFFERENT. He moves and +behaves like our own woodsmen--like one of our own hunters." + +She asked with dumb lips touching his ear: "Shall we chance it?" + +"No. It must be a certainty." + +"Yes. We must not offer him a chance." + +"Not a ghost of a chance to do us harm," nodded McKay. "Listen +attentively, Eve; when he moves on, rise when I do; take the pigeon +and the little sack because I want both hands free. Do you +understand, dear?" + +"Yes." + +"Because I shall have to kill him if the faintest hint of suspicion +arises in my mind. It's got to be that way, Eve." + +"Yes, I know." + +"Not for our own safety, but for what our safety involves," he +added. + +She inclined her head in acquiescence. + +Very slowly and with infinite caution McKay drew from their holsters +beneath his armpits two automatic pistols. + +"Help me, Eve," he whispered. + +So she aided him where he lay beside her to slip the pack straps +over his shoulders. Then she drew toward her the little osier cage +in which their only remaining carrier-pigeon rested secured by +elastic bands, grasped the smaller sack with the other hand, and +waited. + +They had waited an hour and more; and the figure of the stranger had +moved only once--shifted merely to adjust itself against a +supporting tree-trunk and slip the tump-line. + +But now the man was stirring again, cautiously resuming the +forehead-straps. + +Ready, now, to proceed in whichever direction he might believe lay +his destination, the strange man took the rifle into the hollow of +his left arm once more, remained absolutely motionless for five full +minutes, then, stirring stealthily, his moccasins making no sound, +he moved into the forest in a half-crouching attitude. + +And after him went McKay with Evelyn Erith at his elbow, his +sinister pistols poised, his eyes fixed on the figure which passed +like a shadow through the dim forest light ahead. + +Toward mid-afternoon their opportunity approached; for here was the +first water they had encountered--and the afternoon had become +burning hot--and their own throats were cracking with that fierce +thirst of high places where, even in the summer air, there is that +thirst-provoking hint of ice and snow. + +For a moment, however, McKay feared that the man meant to go on, +leaving the thin, icy rivulet untasted among its rocks and mosses; +for he crossed the course of the little stream at right angles, +leaping lithely from one rock to the next and travelling upstream on +the farther bank. + +Then suddenly he stopped stock-still and looked back along his +trail--nearly blind save for a few patches of flattened dead leaves +which his moccasined tread had patted smooth in the shadier +stretches where moisture lingered undried by the searching rays of +the sun. + +For a few moments the unknown man searched his own back-trail, +standing as motionless as the trunk of a lichened beech-tree. Then, +very slowly, he knelt on the dead leaves, let go his pack, and, +keeping his rifle in his right hand, stretched out his sinewy length +above the pool on the edge of which he had halted. + +Twice, before drinking, he lifted his head to sweep the woods around +him, his parched lips still dry. Then, with the abruptness--not of +man but of some wild thing--he plunged his sweating face into the +pool. + +And McKay covered him where he lay, and spoke in a voice which +stiffened the drinking man to a statue prone on its face: + +"I've got you right! Don't lift your head! You'll understand me if +you're American!" + +The man lay as though dead. McKay came nearer; Evelyn Erith was at +his elbow. + +"Take his rifle, Eve." + +The girl walked over and coolly picked up the Winchester. + +"Now cover him!" continued McKay. "Find a good rest for your gun and +keep him covered, Eve." + +She laid the rifle level across a low branch, drew the stock snug +and laid her cheek to it and her steady finger on the trigger. + +"When I say'squeeze,' let him have it! Do you understand, Eve?" + +"Perfectly." + +Then, with one pistol poised for a drop shot, McKay stepped forward +and jerked open the man's pack. And the man neither stirred nor +spoke. For a few minutes McKay remained busy with the pack, turning +out packets of concentrated rations of American manufacture, bits of +personal apparel, a meagre company outfit, spare ammunition--the +dozen-odd essentials to be always found in an American hunter's +pack. + +Then McKay spoke again: + +"Eve, keep him covered. Shoot when I say shoot." + +"Right," she replied calmly. And to the recumbent and unstirring +figure McKay gave a brief order: + +"Get up! Hands up!" + +The man rose as though made of steel springs and lifted both hands. + +Water still ran from his chin and lips and sweating cheeks. But +McKay, resting the muzzle of his pistol against the man's abdomen, +looked into a face that twitched with laughter. + +"You think it's funny?" he snarled, but the blessed relief that +surged through him made his voice a trifle unsteady. + +"Yes," said the man, "it hits me that way." + +"Something else may hit you," growled McKay, ready to embrace him +with sheer joy. + +"Not unless you're a Boche," retorted the man coolly. "But I guess +you're Kay McKay--" + +"Don't get so damned familiar with names!" + +"That's right, too. I'll just call you Seventy-Six, and this young +lady Seventy-Seven.... And I'm Two Hundred and Thirty." + +"What else?" + +"My name?" + +"Certainly." + +"It isn't expected--" + +"It is in this case," snapped McKay, wondering at himself for such +ultra precaution. + +"Oh, if you insist then, I'm Gray.... Alec Gray of the States United +Army Intelligence Serv--" + +"All right.... Gad!... It's all right, Gray!" + +He took the man's lifted right hand, jerked it down and crushed it +in a convulsive grasp: "It's good to see you.... We're in a +hole--deadlocked--no way out but back!" he laughed nervously. "Have +you any dope for us?" + +Gray's blue eyes travelled smilingly toward Evelyn and rested on the +muzzle of the Winchester. And McKay laughed almost tremulously: + +"All clear, Yellow-hair! This IS Gray--God be thanked!" + +The girl, pale and quiet and smiling, lowered the rifle and came +forward offering her hand. + +"It's pleasant to see YOU," she said quite steadily. "We were afraid +of a Boche trick." + +"So I notice," said Gray, intensely amused. + +Then the weather-tanned faces of all three sobered. + +"This is no place to talk things over," said Gray shortly. + +"Do you know a better place?" + +"Yes. If you'll follow me." + +He went to his pack, put it swiftly in order, hoisted it, resumed +the tump-line, and looked around at Evelyn for his rifle. + +But she had already slung it across her own shoulders and she +pointed at his wounded hand and its blood-black bandage and motioned +him forward. + +The sun hung on the shoulder of a snow-capped alp when at last these +three had had their brief understanding concerning one another's +identity, credentials, and future policy. + +Gray's lair, in a bushy hollow between two immense jutting cakes of +granite, lay on the very brink of the chasm. And there they sat, +cross-legged in the warmth of the declining sun in gravest +conference concerning the future. + +"Recklow insisted that I come," repeated Gray. "I was in the 208th +Pioneers--in a sawmilll near La Roche Rouge--Vosges--when I got my +orders." + +"And Recklow thinks we're caught and killed?" + +"So does everybody in the Intelligence. The Mulhausen paper had it +that the Swiss caught you violating the frontier, which meant to +Recklow that the Boche had done you in." + +"I see," nodded McKay. + +"So he picked me." + +"And you say you guided in Maine?" + +"Yes, when I was younger. After I was on my own I kept store at +South Carry, Maine, and ran the guides there." + +"I noticed all the ear-marks," nodded McKay. + +Gray smiled: "I guess they're there all right if a man knows 'em +when he sees 'em." + +"Were you badly shot up?" + +"Not so bad. They shoot a pea-rifle, single shot all over silver and +swallowtail stock--" + +"I know," smiled McKay. + +"Well, you know them. It drills nasty with a soft bullet, cleaner +with a chilled one. My left hand's a wreck but I sha'n't lose it." + +"I had better dress it before night," said Evelyn. + +"I dressed it at noon. I won't disturb it again to-day," said Gray, +thanking her with his eloquent blue eyes. + +McKay said: "So you found the place where I once slid off?" + +"It's plain enough, windfall and general wreckage mark it." + +"You say it's a dozen miles west of here?" + +"About." + +"That's odd," said McKay thoughtfully. "I had believed I recognised +this ravine. But these deep gulfs all look more or less alike. And I +saw it only once and then under hair-raising circumstances." + +Gray smiled, but Evelyn did not. McKay said: + +"So that's where they winged you, was it?" + +"Yes. I was about to negotiate the slide--you remember the V-shaped +slate cleft?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, I was just starting into that when the rifle cracked and I +jumped for a tree with a broken wing and a bad scare." + +"You saw the man?" + +"I did later. He came over to look for dead game, and I ached to let +him go; but it was too risky with Les Errues swarming alive with +Boches, and me with the stomach-sickness of a shot-up man. Figure it +out, McKay, for yourself." + +"Of course, you did the wise thing and the right one." + +"I think so. I travelled until I fainted." He turned and glanced +around. "Strangely enough I saw black right here!--fell into this +hole by accident, and have made it my home since then." + +"It was a Godsend," said the girl. + +"It was, Miss Erith," said Gray, resting his eloquent eyes on her. + +"And you say," continued McKay, "that the Boche are sitting up day +and night over that slide?" + +"Day and night. The swine seem to know it's the only way out. I go +every day, every night. Always the way is blocked; always I discover +one or more of their riflemen there in ambush while the rest of the +pack are ranging Les Errues." + +"And yet," said McKay, "we've got to go that way, sooner or later." + +There was a silence: then Gray nodded. + +"Yes," he said, "but it is a question of waiting." + +"There is a moon to-night," observed Evelyn Erith. + +McKay lifted his head and looked at her gravely: Gray's blue eyes +flashed his admiration of a young girl who quietly proposed to face +an unknown precipice at night by moonlight under the rifles of +ambushed men. + +"After all," said McKay slowly, "is there ANY other way?" + +In the silence which ensued Evelyn Erith, who had been lying between +them on her stomach, her chin propped up on both hands, suddenly +raised herself on one arm to a sitting posture. + +Instantly Gray shrank back, white as a sheet, lifting his mutilated +hand in its stiffened and bloody rags; and the girl gasped out her +agonised apology: + +"Oh--CAN you forgive me! It was unspeakable of me!" + +"It--it's all right," said Gray, the colour coming back to his face; +but the girl in her excitement of self-reproach and contrition +begged to be allowed to dress the mutilated hand which her own +careless movement had almost crushed. + +"Oh, Kay-I set my hand on his wounded fingers and rested my full +weight! Oughtn't he to let us dress it again at once?" + +But Gray's pluck was adamant, and he forced a laugh, dismissing the +matter with another glance at Evelyn out of clear blue eyes that +said a little more than that no harm had been done--said, in one +frank and deep-flashing look, more than the girl perhaps cared to +understand. + +The sun slipped behind the rocky flank of a great alp; a burst of +rosy glory spread fan-wise to the zenith. + +Against it, tall and straight and powerful, Gray rose and walking +slowly to the cliff's edge, looked down into the valley mist now +rolling like a vast sea of cloud below them. + +And, as he stood there, Evelyn's hand grasped McKay's arm: + +"If he touches his rifle, shoot! Quick, Kay!" + +McKay's right hand fell into his side-pocket--where one of his +automatics lay. He levelled it as he grasped it, hidden within the +side-pocket of his coat. + +"HIS HAND IS NOT WOUNDED," breathed the girl. "If he touches his +rifle he is a Hun!" + +McKay's head nodded almost imperceptibly. Gray's back was still +turned, but one hand was extended, carelessly reaching for the rifle +that stood leaning against the cake of granite. + +"Don't touch it!" said McKay in a low but distinct voice: and the +words galvanised the extended arm and it shot out, grasping the +rifle, as the man himself dropped out of sight behind the rock. + +A terrible stillness fell upon the place; there was not a sound, not +a movement. + +Suddenly the girl pointed at a shadow that moved between the +rocks--and the crash of McKay's pistol deafened them. + +Then, against the dazzling glory of the west a dark shape staggered +up, clutching a wavering rifle, reeling there against the rosy glare +an instant; and the girl turned her sick eyes aside as McKay's +pistol spoke again. + +Like a shadow cast by hell the black form swayed, quivered, sank +away outward into the blinding light that shone across the world. + +Presently a tinkling sound came up from the fog-shrouded depths--the +falling rifle striking ledge after ledge until the receding sound +grew fainter and more distant, and finally was heard no more. + +But that was the only sound they heard; for the man himself lay +still on the chasm's brink, propped from the depths by a tuft of +alpine roses in full bloom, his blue eyes wide open, a blue hole +just between them, and his bandaged hand freed from its camouflage, +lying palm upward and quite uninjured on the grass! + + + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE GREATER LOVE + + + + + +As the blinding lens of the sun glittered level and its first rays +poured over tree and rock, a man in the faded field-uniform of a +Swiss officer of mountain artillery came out on the misty ledge +across the chasm. + +"You over there!" he shouted in English. "Here is a Swiss officer to +speak with you! Show yourselves!" + +Again, after waiting a few moments, he shouted: "Show yourselves or +answer. It is a matter of life or death for you both!" + +There was no reply to the invitation, no sound from the forest, no +movement visible. Thin threads of vapour began to ascend from the +tremendous depths of the precipice, steaming upward out of +mist-choked gorges where, under thick strata of fog, night still lay +dark over unseen Alpine valleys below. + +The Swiss officer advanced to the cliff's edge and looked down upon +a blank sea of cloud. Presently he turned east and walked cautiously +along the rim of the chasm for a hundred yards. Here the gulf +narrowed so that the cleft between the jutting crags was scarcely a +hundred feet in width. And here he halted once more and called +across in a resonant, penetrating voice: + +"Attention, you, over there in the Forest of Les Errues! You had +better wake up and listen! Here is a Swiss officer come to speak +with you. Show yourselves or answer!" + +There came no sound from within the illuminated edges of the woods. + +But outside, upon the chasm's sparkling edge, lay a dead man stark +and transfigured and stiff as gold in the sun. + +And already the first jewelled death-flies zig-zagged over him, +lacing the early sunshine with ominous green lightning. + +They who had killed this man might not be there behind the sunlit +foliage of the forest's edge; but the Swiss officer, after waiting a +few moments, called again, loudly. Then he called a third time more +loudly still, because into his nostrils had stolen the faint taint +of dry wood smoke. And he stood there in silhouette against the +rising sun listening, certain, at last, of the hidden presence of +those he sought. + +Now there came no sound, no stirring behind the forest's sunny edge; +but just inside it, in the lee of a huge rock, a young girl in +ragged boy's clothing, uncoiled her slender length from her blanket +and straightened out flat on her stomach. Her yellow hair made a +spot like a patch of sunlight on the dead leaves. Her clear golden +eyes were as brilliant as a lizard's. + +From his blanket at her side a man, gaunt and ragged and deeply +bitten by sun and wind, was pulling an automatic pistol from its +holster. The girl set her lips to his ear: + +"Don't trust him, for God's sake, Kay," she breathed. + +He nodded, felt forward with cautious handgroping toward a damp +patch of moss, and drew himself thither, making no sound among the +dry leaves. + +"Watch the woods behind us, Yellow-hair," he whispered. + +The girl fumbled in her tattered pocket and produced a pistol. Then +she sat up cross-legged on her blanket, rested one elbow across her +knee, and, cocking the poised weapon, swept the southern woods with +calm, bright eyes. + +Now the man in Swiss uniform called once more across the chasm: +"Attention, Americans I I know you are there; I smell your fire. +Also, what you have done is plain enough for me to see--that thing +lying over there on the edge of the rocks with corpse-flies already +whirling over it! And you had better answer me, Kay McKay!" + +Then the man in the forest who now was lying flat behind a +birch-tree, answered calmly: + +"You, in your Swiss uniform of artillery, over there, what do you +want of me?" + +"So you are there!" cried the Swiss, striving to pierce the foliage +with eager eyes. "It is you, is it not, Kay McKay?" + +"I've answered, have I not?" + +"Are you indeed then that same Kay McKay of the Intelligence +Service, United States Army?" + +"You appear to think so. I am Kay McKay; that is answer enough for +you." + +"Your comrade is with you--Evelyn Erith?" + +"None of your business," returned McKay, coolly. + +"Very well; let it be so then. But that dead man there--why did you +kill your American comrade?" + +"He was a camouflaged Boche," said McKay contemptously. "And I am +very sure that you're another--you there, in your foolish Swiss +uniform. So say what you have to say and clear out!" + +The officer came close to the edge of the chasm: "I can not expect +you to believe me," he said, "and yet I really am what I appear to +be, an officer of Swiss Mountain Artillery. If you think I am +something else why do you not shoot me?" + +McKay was silent. "Nobody would know," said the other. "You can kill +me very easily. I should fall into the ravine--down through that +lake of cloud below. Nobody would ever find me. Why don't you +shoot?" + +"I'll shoot when I see fit," retorted McKay in a sombre voice. +Presently he added in tones that rang a little yet trembled +too--perhaps from physical reasons--"What do you want of a hunted +man like me?" + +"I want you to leave Swiss territory!" + +"Leave!" McKay's laugh was unpleasant. "You know damned well I can't +leave with Les Errues woods crawling alive with Huns." + +"Will you leave the canton of Les Ernies, McKay, if I show you a +safe route out?" + +And, as the other made no reply: "You have no right to be here on +neutral territory," he added, "and my Government desires you to +leave at once!" + +"I have as much right here as the Huns have," said McKay in his +pleasant voice. + +"Exactly. And these Germans have no right here either!" + +"That also is true," rejoined McKay gently, "so why has your +Government permitted the Hun to occupy the Canton of Les Errues? Oh, +don't deny it," he added wearily as the Swiss began to repudiate the +accusation; "you've made Les Errues a No-Man's Land, and it's free +hunting now! If you're sick of your bargain, send in your mountain +troops and turn out the Huns." + +"And if I also send an escort and a free conduct for you and your +comrade?" + +"No." + +"You will not be harmed, not even interned. We set you across our +wire at Delle. Do you accept?" + +"No." + +"With every guarantee--" + +"You've made this forest a part of the world's battle-field.... No, +I shall not leave Les Errues!" + +"Listen to reason, you insane American! You can not escape those who +are closing in on you--those who are filtering the forest for +you--who are gradually driving you out into the eastern edges of Les +Errues! And what then, when at last you are driven like wild game by +a line of beaters to the brink of the eastern cliffs? There is no +water there. You will die of thirst. There is no food. What is there +left for you to do with your back to the final precipice?" + +McKay laughed a hard, unpleasant laugh: "I certainly shall not tell +you what I mean to do," he said. "If this is all you have to say to +me you may go!" + +There ensued a silence. The Swiss began to pace the opposite cliff, +his hands behind him. Finally he halted abruptly and looked across +the chasm. + +"Why did you come into Les Errues?" he demanded. + +"Ask your terrified authorities. Perhaps they'll tell you--if their +teeth stop chattering long enough--that I came here to find out +what the Boche are doing on neutral territory." + +"Do you mean to say that you believe in that absurd rumour about +some secret and gigantic undertaking by the Germans which is +supposed to be visible from the plateau below us?" + +And, as McKay made no reply: "That is a silly fabrication. If your +Government, suspicious of the neutrality of mine, sent you here on +any such errand, it was a ridiculous thing to do. Do you hear me, +McKay?" + +"I hear you." + +"Well, then! And let me add also that it is a physical impossibility +for any man to reach the plateau below us from the forest of Les +Errues!" + +"That," said McKay, coldly, "is a lie!" + +"What! You offer a Swiss officer such an injury--" + +"Yes; and I may add an insulting bullet to the injury in another +minute. You've lied to me. I have already done what you say is an +impossibility. I have reached the plateau below Les Errues by way of +this forest. And I'm going there again, Swiss or no Swiss, Hun or no +Hun! And if the Boche do drive me out of this forest into the east, +where you say there is no water to be found among the brush and +bowlders, and where, at last, you say I shall stand with my back to +the last sheer precipice, then tell your observation post on the +white shoulder of Thusis to turn their telescopes on me!" + +"In God's name, for what purpose?" + +"To take a lesson in how to die from the man your nation has +betrayed!" drawled McKay. + +Then, lying flat, he levelled his pistol, supporting it across the +palm of his left hand. + +"Yellow-hair?"' he said in a guarded voice, not turning. + +"Yes, Kay." + +"Slip the pack over your shoulders. Take the pigeon and the rifle. +Be quick, dear." + +"It is done," she said softly. + +"Now get up and make no noise. Two men are lying in the scrub behind +that fellow across the chasm. I am afraid they have grenades.... Are +you ready, Yellow-hair?" + +"Ready, dear." + +"Go eastward, swiftly, two hundred yards parallel with the +precipice. Make no sound, Yellow-hair." + +The girl cast a pallid, heart-breaking look at him, but he lay there +without turning his head, his steady pistol levelled across the +chasm. Then, bending a trifle forward, she stole eastward through +the forest dusk, the pigeon in its wicker cage in one hand, and on +her back the pack. + +And all the while, across the gulf out of which golden vapours +curled more thickly as the sun's burning searchlight spread out +across the world, the man in Swiss uniform stood on the chasm's +edge, as though awaiting some further word or movement from McKay. + +And, after awhile, the word came, clear, startling, snapped out +across the void: + +"Unsling that haversack! Don't touch the flap! Take it off, quick!" + +The Swiss seemed astounded. "Quick!" repeated McKay harshly, "or I +fire." + +"What!" burst out the man, "you offer violence to a Swiss officer on +duty within Swiss territory?" + +"I tell you I'll kill you where you stand if you don't take off that +haversack!" + +Suddenly from the scrubby thicket behind the Swiss a man's left arm +shot up at an angle of forty degrees, and the right arm described an +arc against the sun. Something round and black parted from it, lost +against the glare of sunrise. + +Then in the woods behind McKay something fell heavily, the solid +thud obliterated in the shattering roar which followed. + +The man in Swiss uniform tore at the flap of his haversack, and he +must have jerked loose the plug of a grenade in his desperate haste, +for as McKay's bullet crashed through his face, the contents of his +sack exploded with a deafening crash. + +At the same instant two more bombs fell among the trees behind +McKay, exploding instantly. Smoke and the thick golden steam from +the ravine blotted from his sight the crag opposite. And now, +bending double, McKay ran eastward while behind him the golden dusk +of the woods roared and flamed with exploding grenades. + +Evelyn Erith stood motionless and deathly white, awaiting him. + +"Are you all right, Kay?" + +"All right, Yellow-hair." + +He went up to her, shifting his pistol to the other hand, and as he +laid his right arm about her shoulders the blaze in his eyes almost +dazzled her. + +"We trust no living thing on earth, you and I, Yellow-hair.... I +believed that man for awhile. But I tell you whatever is living +within this forest is our enemy--and if any man comes in the shape +of my dearest friend I shall kill him before he speaks!" + +The man was shaking now; the girl caught his right hand and drew it +close around her body--that once warm and slender body now become so +chill and thin under the ragged clothing of a boy. + +"Drop your face on my shoulder," she said. + +His wasted cheek seemed feverish, burning against her breast. + +"Steady, Kay," she whispered. + +"Right!... What got me was the thought of you--there when the +grenades fell.... They blew a black pit where your blanket lay!" + +He lifted his head and she smiled into the fever-bright eyes set so +deeply now in his ravaged visage. There were words on her lips, +trembling to be uttered. But she dared not believe they would add to +his strength if spoken. He loved her. She had long known that--had +long understood that loving her had not hardened his capacity for +the dogged duty which lay before him. + +To win out was a task sufficiently desperate; to win out and bring +her through alive was the double task that was slowly, visibly +killing this man whose burning, sunken eyes gazed into hers. She +dared not triple that task; the cry in her heart died unuttered, +lest he ever waver in duty to his country when in some vital crisis +that sacred duty clashed with the obligations that fettered him to a +girl who had confessed she loved him. + +No; the strength that he might derive from such a knowledge was not +that deathless energy and clear thinking necessary to blind, stern, +unswerving devotion to the motherland. Love of woman, and her love +given, could only make the burden of decision triply heavy for this +man who stood staring at space beside her here in the forest +twilight where shreds of the night mist floated like ghosts and a +lost sunspot glowed and waned and glowed on last year's leaves. + +The girl pressed her waist with his arm, straightened her shoulders +and stood erect; and with a quick gesture cleared her brow of its +cloudy golden hair. + +"Now," she said coolly, "we carry on, you and I, Kay, to the honour +and glory of the land that trusts us in her hour of need... Are you +are right again?" + +"All right, Yellow-hair," he said pleasantly. + +On the third day the drive had forced them from the hilly western +woods, eastward and inexorably toward that level belt of shaggy +forest, scrub growth, and arid, bowlder-strewn table-land where +there was probably no water, nothing living to kill for food, and +only the terrific ravines beyond where cliffs fell downward to the +dim green world lying somewhere below under its blanket of Alpine +mist. + +On the fourth day, still crowded outward and toward the ragged edge +of the mountain world, they found, for the first time, no water to +fill their bottles. Realising their plight, McKay turned desperately +westward, facing pursuit, ranging the now narrow forest in hopes of +an opportunity to break through the closing line of beaters. + +But it proved to be a deadline that he and his half-starved comrade +faced; shadowy figures, half seen, sometimes merely heard and +divined, flitted everywhere through the open woods beyond them. And +at night a necklace of fires--hundreds of them--barred the west to +them, curving outward like the blade of a flaming scimitar. + +On the fifth day McKay, lying in his blanket beside the girl, told +her that if they found no water that day they must let their +carrier-pigeon go. + +The girl sat up in her torn blanket and met his gaze very calmly. +What he had just said to her meant the beginning of the end. She +understood perfectly. But her voice was sweet and undisturbed as she +answered him, and they quietly discussed the chances of discovering +water in some sunken hole among the outer ledges and bowlders +whither they were being slowly and hopelessly forced. + +Noon found them still searching for some pocket of stale rain-water; +but once only did they discover the slightest trace of moisture--a +crust of slime in a rocky basin, and from it a blind lizard was +slowly creeping--a heavy, lustreless, crippled thing that toiled +aimlessly and painfully up the rock, only to slide back into the +slime again, leaving a trail of iridescent moisture where its +sagging belly dragged. + +In a grove of saplings there were a few ferns; and here McKay dug +with his trench knife; but the soil proved to be very shallow; +everywhere rock lay close to the surface; there was no water there +under the black mould. + +To and fro they roamed, doggedly seeking for some sign of water. And +the woods seemed damp, too; and there were long reaches of dewy +ferns. But wherever McKay dug, his knife soon touched the solid rock +below. And they wandered on. + +In the afternoon, resting in the shade, he noticed her lips were +bleeding--and turned away, sharply, unable to endure her torture. +She seemed to understand his abrupt movement, for she leaned +slightly against him where he sat amid the ferns with his back to a +tree--as a dog leans when his master is troubled. + +"I think," she said with an effort, "we should release our pigeon +now. It seems to be very weak." + +He nodded. + +The bird appeared languid; hunger and thirst were now telling fast +on the little feathered messenger. + +Evelyn shook out the last dusty traces of corn; McKay removed the +bands. But the bird merely pecked at the food once or twice and then +settled down with beak gaping and the film stealing over its eyes. + +McKay wrote on tissue the date and time of day; and a word more to +say that they had, now, scarcely any chance. He added, however, that +others ought to try because there was no longer any doubt in his +mind that the Boche were still occupied with some gigantic work +along the Swiss border in the neighbourhood of Mount Terrible; and +that the Swiss Government, if not abetting, at least was cognizant +of the Hun activities. + +This message he rolled into a quill, fastened it, took the bird, and +tossed it westward into the air. + +The pigeon beat the morning breeze feebly for a moment, then +fluttered down to the top of a rock. + +For five minutes that seemed five years they looked at the bird, +which had settled down in the sun, its bright eyes alternately +dimmed by the film or slowly clearing. + +Then, as they watched, the pigeon stood up and stretched its neck +skyward, peering hither and thither at the blue vault above. And +suddenly it rose, painfully, higher, higher, seeming to acquire +strength in the upper air levels. The sun flashed on its wings as it +wheeled; then the distant bird swept westward into a long straight +course, flying steadily until it vanished like a mote in mid-air. + +McKay did not trust himself to speak. Presently he slipped his pack +over both shoulders and took the rifle from where it lay against a +rock. The girl, too, had picked up the empty wicker cage, but +recollected herself and let it fall on the dead leaves. + +Neither she nor McKay had spoken. The latter stood staring down at +the patch of ferns into which the cage had rolled. And it was some +time before his dulled eyes noticed that there was grass growing +there, too--swale grass, which he had not before seen in this arid +eastern region. + +When finally he realised what it might signify he stood staring; a +vague throb of hope stirred the thin blood in his sunken cheeks. But +he dared not say that he hoped; he merely turned northward in +silence and moved into the swale grass. And his slim comrade +followed. + +Half an hour later he waited for the girl to come up along side of +him. "Yellow-hair," he said, "this is swale or marsh-grass we are +following. And little wild creatures have made a runway through +it... as though there were--a drinking-place--somewhere--" + +He forced himself to look up at her--at her dry, blood-blackened +lips: + +"Lean on me," he whispered, and threw his arm around her. + +And so, slowly, together, they came through the swale to a living +spring. + +A dead roe-deer lay there--stiffened into an indescribable attitude +of agony where it had fallen writhing in the swale; and its terrible +convulsions had torn up and flattened the grass and ferns around it. + +And, as they gazed at this pitiable dead thing, something else +stirred on the edge of the pool--a dark, slim bird, that strove to +move at the water's edge, struggled feebly, then fell over and lay a +crumpled mound of feathers. + +"Oh God!" whispered the girl, "there are dead birds lying everywhere +at the water's edge! And little furry creatures--dead--all dead at +the water's edge!" + +There was a flicker of brown wings: a bird alighted at the pool, +peered fearlessly right and left, drank, bent its head to drink +again, fell forward twitching and lay there beating the grass with +feeble wings. + +After a moment only one wing quivered. Then the little bird lay +still. + +Perhaps an ancient and tragic instinct possessed these two--for as a +wild thing, mortally hurt, wanders away through solitude to find a +spot in which to die, so these two moved slowly away together into +the twilight of the trees, unconscious, perhaps, what they were +seeking, but driven into aimless motion toward that appointed place. + +And somehow it is given to the stricken to recognise the ghostly +spot when they draw near it and their appointed hour approaches. + +There was a fallen tree--not long fallen--which in its earthward +crash had hit another smaller tree, partly uprooting the latter so +that it leaned at a perilous angle over a dry gully below. + +Here dead leaves had drifted deep. And here these two came, and +crept in among the withered branches and lay down among the fallen +leaves. For a long while they lay motionless. Then she moved, turned +over, and slipped into his arms. + +Whether she slept or whether her lethargy was unconsciousness due to +privation he could not tell. Her parted lips were blackened, her +mouth and tongue swollen. + +He held her for awhile, conscious that a creeping stupor threatened +his senses--making no effort to save his mind from the ominous +shadows that crept toward him like live things moving slowly, always +a little nearer. Then pain passed through him like a piercing thread +of fire, and he struggled upright, and saw her head slide down +across his knees. And he realised that there were things for him to +do yet--arrangements to make before the crawling shadows covered +his body and stained his mind with the darkness of eternal night. + +And first, while she still lay across his knees, he filled his +pistol. Because she must die quickly if the Hun came. For when the +Hun comes death is woman's only sanctuary. + +So he prepared a swift salvation for her. And, if the Hun came or +did not come, still this last refuge must be secured for her before +the creeping shadows caught him and the light in his mind died out. + +With his loaded pistol lifted he sat a moment, staring into the +woods out of bloodshot eyes; then he summoned all his strength and +rose, letting his unconscious comrade slip from his knees to the bed +of dead leaves. + +Now with his knife he tried the rocky forest floor again, feeling +blindly for water. He tried slashing saplings for a drop of sap. + +The great tree that had fallen had broken off a foot above ground. +The other tree slanted above a dry gully at such an angle that it +seemed as though a touch would push it over, yet its foliage was +still green and unwilted although the mesh of roots and earth were +all exposed. + +He noted this in a dull way, thinking always of water. And +presently, scarcely knowing what he was doing, he placed both arms +against the leaning trunk and began to push. And felt the leaning +tree sway slowly earthward. + +Then into the pain and confusion of his clouding mind something +flashed with a dazzling streak of light--the flare-up of dying +memory; and he hurled himself against the leaning tree. And it +slowly sank, lying level and uprooted. + +And in the black bed of the roots lay darkling a little pool of +water. + +The girl's eyes unclosed on his. Her face and lips were dripping +under the sopping, icy sponge of green moss with which he was +bathing her and washing out her mouth and tongue. + +Into her throat he squeezed the water, drop by drop only. + +It was late in the afternoon before he dared let her drink. + +During the night she slept an hour or two, awoke to ask for water, +then slept again, only to awake to the craving that he always +satisfied. + +Before sunrise he took his pack, took both her shoes from her feet, +tore some rags from the lining of her skirt and from his own coat, +and leaving her asleep, went out into the grey dusk of morning. + +When he again came to the poisoned spring he unslung his pack and, +holding it by both straps, dragged it through marsh grass and fern, +out through the fringe of saplings, out through low scrub and brake +and over moss and lichens to the edge of the precipice beyond. + +And here on a scrubby bush he left fragments of their garments +entangled; and with his hobnailed heels he broke crumbling edges of +rock and smashed the moss and stunted growth and tore a path among +the Alpine roses which clothed the chasm's treacherous edge, so that +it might seem as though a heavy object had plunged down into the +gulf below. + +Such bowlders as he could stir from their beds and roll over he +dislodged and pushed out, listening to them as they crashed +downward, tearing the cliff's grassy face until, striking some lower +shelf, they bounded out into space. + +Now in this bruised path he stamped the imprints of her two rough +shoes in moss and soil, and drove his own iron-shod feet wherever +lichen or earth would retain the imprint. + +All the footprints pointed one way and ended at the chasm's edge. +And there, also, he left the wicker cage; and one of his pistols, +too--the last and most desperate effort to deceive--for, near it, he +flung the cartridge belt with its ammunition intact--on the chance +that the Hun would believe the visible signs, because only a dying +man would abandon such things. + +For they must believe the evidence he had prepared for them--this +crazed trail of two poisoned human creatures--driven by agony and +madness to their own destruction. + +And now, slinging on his pack, he made his way, walking backward, to +the poisoned spring. + +It was scarcely light, yet through the first ghostly grey of +daybreak a few birds came; and he killed four with bits of rock +before the little things could drink the sparkling, crystalline +death that lay there silvered by the dawn. + +She was still asleep when he came once more to the bed of leaves +between the fallen trees. And she had not awakened when he covered +his dry fire and brought to her the broth made from the birds. + +There was, in his pack, a little food left. When he awakened her she +smiled and strove to rise, but he took her head on his knees and fed +her, holding the pannikin to her lips. And after he too had eaten he +went to look into the hollow where the tree had stood; and found it +brimming with water. + +So he filled his bottles; then, with hands and knife, working +cautiously and noiselessly he began to enlarge the basin, drawing +out stones, scooping out silt and fibre. + +All the morning he worked at his basin, which, fed by some +deep-seated and living spring, now overflowed and trickled down into +the dry gully below. + +By noon he had a pool as large and deep as a bathtub; and he came +and sat down beside her under the fallen mass of branches where she +lay watching the water bubble up and clear itself of the clouded +silt. + +"You are very wonderful, Kay," she sighed, but her bruised lips +smiled at him and her scarred hand crept toward him and lay in his. +Seated so, he told her what he had done in the grey of morning while +she slept. + +And, even as he was speaking, a far voice cried through the +woods--distant, sinister as the harsh scream of a hawk that has made +its kill. + +Then another voice shouted, hoarse with triumph; others answered, +near and far; the forest was full of the heavy, ominous sounds. For +the Huns were gathering in eastward from the wooded western hills, +and their sustained clamour filled the air like the unclean racket +of vultures sighting abomination and eager to feed. + +McKay laid his loaded pistol beside him. + +"Dear Yellow-hair," he whispered. + +She smiled up at him. "If they think we died there on the edge of +the precipice, then you and I should live.... If they doubt it they +will come back through these woods.... And it isn't likely that we +shall live very long." + +"I know," she said. And laid her other hand in his--a gesture of +utter trust so exquisite that, for a moment, tears blinded him, and +all the forest wavered grotesquely before his desperately fixed +gaze. And presently, within the field of his vision, something +moved--a man going westward among the trees his rifle slung over his +shoulder. And there were others, too, plodding stolidly back toward +the western forests of Les Errues--forms half-seen between trees, +none near, and only two who passed within hearing, the trample of +their heavy feet loud among the fallen leaves, their guttural voices +distinct. And, as they swung westward, rifles slung, pipes alight, +and with the air of surly hunters homeward bound after a successful +kill, the hunted, lying close under their roof of branches, heard +them boasting of their work and of the death their quarry had +died--of their agony at the spring which drove them to that death in +the depths of the awful gulf beyond. + +"And that," shouted one, stifling with laughter, "I should like to +have seen. It is all I have to regret of this jagd-that I did not +see the wilde die!" + +The other Hun was less cheerful: "But what a pity to leave that +roe-deer lying there. Such good meat poisoned! Schade, immer +schade!--to leave good meat like that in the forest of Les Errues!" + + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +VIA MALA + + + + + + +The girl sat bolt upright on her bed of dead leaves, still confused +by sleep, her ears ringing with the loud, hard voice which had +awakened her to consciousness of pain and hunger once again. + +Not ten feet from her, between where she lay under the branches of a +fallen tree, and the edge of the precipice beyond, full in the +morning sunlight stood two men in the dress of Swiss mountaineers. + +One of them was reading aloud from a notebook in a slow, decisive, +metallic voice; the other, swinging two dirty flags, signalled the +message out across the world of mountains as it was read to him in +that nasty, nasal Berlin dialect of a Prussian junker. + +"In the Staubbach valley no traces of the bodies have been +discovered," continued the tall, square-shouldered reader in his +deliberate voice; "It is absolutely necessary that the bodies of +these two American secret agents, Kay McKay and Evelyn Erith, be +discovered, and all their papers, personal property, and the +clothing and accoutrements belonging to them be destroyed without +the slightest trace remaining. + +"It is ordered also that, when discovered, their bodies be burned +and the ashes reduced to powder and sown broadcast through the +forest." + +The voice stopped; the signaller whipped his dirty tattered flags in +the sunlight for a few moments more, then ceased and stood stiffly +at attention, his sun-dazzled gaze fixed on a far mountain slope +where something glittered--perhaps a bit of mica, perhaps the mirror +of a helio. + +Presently, in the same disagreeable, distinct, nasal, and measured +voice, the speaker resumed the message: + +"Until last evening it has been taken for granted that the American +Intelligence Officer, McKay, and his companion, Miss Erith, made +insane through suffering after having drunk at a spring the water of +which we had prepared for them according to plan, had either jumped +or fallen from the eastward cliffs of Les Errues into the gulf +through which flows the Staubbach. + +"But, up to last night, my men, who descended by the Via Mala, have +been unable to find the bodies of these two Americans, although +there is, on the cliffs above, every evidence that they plunged down +there to the valley of the brook below, which is now being searched. + +"If, therefore, my men fail to discover these bodies, the alarming +presumption is forced upon us that these two Americans have once +more tricked us; and that they may still be hiding in the Forbidden +Forest of Les Errues. + +"In that event proper and drastic measures will be taken, the +air-squadron on the northern frontier co-operating." + +The voice ceased: the flags whistled and snapped in the wind for a +little while longer, then the signaller came to stiffest attention. + +"Tell them we descend by the Via Mala," added the nasal voice. + +The flags swung sharply into motion for a few moments more; then the +Prussian officer pocketed his notebook; the signaller furled his +flags; and, as they turned and strode westward along the border of +the forest, the girl rose to her knees on her bed of leaves and +peered after them. + +What to do she scarcely knew. Her comrade, McKay, had been gone +since dawn in quest of something to keep their souls and bodies en +liaison--mountain hare, a squirrel perhaps, perhaps a songbird or +two, or a pocketful of coral mushrooms--anything to keep them alive +on that heart-breaking trail of duty at the end of which sat old man +Death awaiting them, wearing a spiked helmet. + +And what to do in this emergency, and in the absence of McKay, +perplexed and frightened her; for her comrade's strict injunction +was to remain hidden until his return; and yet one of these men now +moving westward there along the forest's sunny edges had spoken of a +way out and had called it the Via Mala. And that is what McKay had +been looking for--a way out of the Forbidden Forest of Les Errues to +the table-land below, where, through a cleft still more profound, +rushed the black Staubbach under an endless mist of icy spray. + +She must make up her mind quickly; the two men were drawing away +from her--almost out of sight now. + +On her ragged knees among the leaves she groped for his coat where +he had flung it, for the weather had turned oppressive in the forest +of Les Errues-and fumbling, she found his notebook and pencil, and +tore out a leaf: + +"Kay dear, two Prussians in Swiss mountain dress have been +signalling across the knees of Thusis that our bodies have not been +discovered in the ravine. They have started for the ravine by a way +evidently known to them and which they speak of as the Via Mala. You +told me to stay here, but I dare not let this last chance go to +discover what we have been looking for--a path to the plateau below. +I take my pistol and your trench-knife and I will try to leave signs +for you to follow. They have started west along the cliffs and they +are now nearly out of sight, so I must hurry. Yellow-hair." + +This bit of paper she left on her bed of leaves and pinned it to the +ground with a twig. Then she rose painfully, drew in her belt and +laced her tattered shoes, and, taking the trench-knife and pistol, +limped out among the trees. + +The girl was half naked in her rags; her shirt scarcely hung to her +shoulders, and she fastened the stag-horn buttons on her jacket. Her +breeches, which left both knees bare, were of leather and held out +pretty well, but the heavy wool stockings gaped, and, had it not +been for the hob-nails, the soles must have fallen from her hunter's +shoes. + +At first she moved painfully and stiffly, but as she hurried, +limping forward over the forest moss, limbs and body grew more +supple and she felt less pain. + +And now, not far beyond, and still full in the morning sunshine, +marched the men she was following. The presumed officer strode on +ahead, a high-shouldered frame of iron in his hunter's garb; the +signaller with furled flags tucked under his arm clumped stolidly at +his heels with the peculiar peasant gait which comes from following +uneven furrows in the wake of a plow. + +For ten minutes, perhaps, the two men continued on, then halted +before a great mass of debris, uprooted trees, long dead, the vast, +mangled roots and tops of which sprawled in every direction between +masses of rock, bowlders, and an indescribable confusion of brush +and upheaved earth. + +Nearer and nearer crept the girl, until, lying flat behind a +beech-tree, she rested within earshot--so close, indeed, that she +could smell the cigarette which the officer had lighted--smell, +even, the rank stench of the sulphur match. + +Meanwhile the signaller had laid aside his flags and while the +officer looked on he picked up a heavy sapling from among the fallen +trees. Using this as a lever he rolled aside a tree-trunk, then +another, and finally a bowlder. + +"That will do," remarked the officer. "Take your flags and go +ahead." + +Then Evelyn Erith, rising cautiously to her scarred knees, saw the +signaller gather up his flags and step into what apparently was the +bed of the bowlder on the edge of the windfall. But it was deeper +than that, for he descended to his knees, to his waist, his +shoulders; and then his head disappeared into some hole which she +could not see. + +Now the officer who had remained, calmly smoking his cigarette, +flung the remains of it over the cliff, turned, surveyed the forest +behind him with minute deliberation, then stepped into the +excavation down which the signaller had disappeared. + +Some instinct kept the girl motionless after the man's head had +vanished; minute after minute passed, and Evelyn Erith never +stirred. And suddenly the officer's head and shoulders popped up +from the hole and he peered back at the forest like an alarmed +marmot. And the girl saw his hands resting on the edge of the hole; +and the hands grasped two pistols. + +Presently, apparently reassured and convinced that nobody was +attempting to follow him, he slowly sank out of sight once more. + +The girl waited; and while waiting she cut a long white sliver from +the beech-tree and carved an arrow pointing toward the heap of +debris. Then, with the keen tip of her trench-knife she scratched on +the silvery bark: + +"An underground way in the windfall. I have followed them. +Yellow-hair." + +She crept stealthily out into the sunshine through the vast abatis +of the fallen trees and came to the edge of the hole. Looking down +fearfully she realised at once that this was the dry, rocky stairs +of some subterranean watercourse through which, in springtime, great +fields of melting snow poured in torrents down the face of the +precipice below. + +There were no loose stones to be seen; the rocky escalier had been +swept clean unnumbered ages since; but the rocks were fearfully +slippery, shining with a vitreous polish where the torrents of many +thousand years had worn them smooth. + +And this was what they called the Via Mala!--this unsuspected and +secret underground way that led, God knew how, into the terrific +depths below. + +There was another Via Mala: she had seen it from Mount Terrible; but +it was a mountain path trodden not infrequently. This Via Mala, +however, wormed its way downward into shadows. Where it led and by +what perilous ways she could only imagine. And were these men +perhaps, lying in ambush for her somewhere below--on the chance that +they might have been seen and followed? + +What would they do to her--shoot her? Push her outward from some +rocky shelf into the misty gulf below? Or would they spring on her +and take her alive? At the thought she chilled, knowing what a woman +might expect from the Hun. + +She threw a last look upward where they say God dwells somewhere +behind the veil of blinding blue; then she stepped downward into the +shadows. + +For a rod or two she could walk upright as long as she could retain +her insecure footing on the glassy, uneven floor of rock; and a +vague demi-light reigned there making objects distinct enough for +her to see the stalactites and stalagmites like discoloured teeth in +a chevaux-de-frise. + +Between these gaping fangs she crept, listening, striving to set her +feet on the rocks without making any noise. But that seemed to be +impossible and the rocky tunnel echoed under her footsteps, +slipping, sliding, hob-nails scraping in desperate efforts not to +fall. + +Again and again she halted, listening fearfully, one hand crushed +against her drumming heart; but she had heard no sound ahead; the +men she followed must be some distance in advance; and she stole +forward again, afraid, desperately crushing out the thoughts--that +crowded and surged in her brain--the terrible living swarm of fears +that clamoured to her of the fate of white women if captured by the +things men called Boche and Hun. + +And now she was obliged to stoop as the roof of the tunnel dipped +lower and she could scarcely see in the increasing darkness, clearly +enough to avoid the stalactites. + +However, from far ahead came a glimmer; and even when she was +obliged to drop to her knees and creep forward, she could still make +out the patch of light, and the Via Mala again became visible with +its vitreous polished floor and its stalactites and water-blunted +stalagmites always threatening to trip her and transfix her. + +Now, very far ahead, something moved and partly obscured the distant +glimmer; and she saw, at a great distance, the two men she followed, +moving in silhouette across the light. When they had disappeared she +ventured to move on again. And her knees were bleeding when she +crept out along a heavy shelf of rock set like a balcony on the +sheer face of the cliff. + +Tufts of alpine roses grew on it, and slippery lichens, and a few +seedlings which next spring's torrent would wash away into the +still, misty depths below. + +But this shelf of rock was not all. The Via Mala could not end on +the chasm's brink. + +Cautiously she dragged herself out along the shadow of the cliff, +listening, peering among the clefts now all abloom with alpen rosen; +and saw nothing--no way forward; no steep path, hewn by man or by +nature, along the face of that stupendous battlement of rock. + +She lay listening. But if there was a river roaring somewhere +through the gorge it was too far below her for her to hear it. + +Nothing stirred there; the distant bluish parapets of rock across +the ravine lay in full sunshine, but nothing moved there, neither +man nor beast nor bird; and the tremendous loneliness of it all +began to frighten her anew. + +Yet she must go on; they had gone on; there was some hidden way. +Where? Then, all in a moment, what she had noticed before, and had +taken for a shadow cast by a slab of projecting rock, took the shape +of a cleft in the facade of the precipice itself--an opening that +led straight into the cliff. + +When she dragged herself up to it she saw it had been made by man. +The ancient scars of drills still marked it. Masses of rock had been +blasted from it; but that must have been years ago because a deep +growth of moss and lichen covered the scars and the tough stems of +crag-shrubs masked every crack. + +Here, too, bloomed the livid, over-rated edelweiss, dear to the +maudlin and sentimental side of an otherwise wolfish race, its +rather ghastly flowers starring the rocks. + +As at the entrance to a tomb the girl stood straining her frightened +eyes to pierce the darkness; then, feeling her way with outstretched +pistol-hand, she entered. + +The man-fashioned way was smooth. Or Hun or Swiss, whoever had +wrought this Via Mala out of the eternal rock, had wrought +accurately and well. The grade was not steep; the corridor descended +by easy degrees, twisting abruptly to turn again on itself, but +always leading downward in thick darkness. + +No doubt that those accustomed to travel the Via Mala always carried +lights; the air was clean and dry and any lighted torch could have +lived in such an atmosphere. But Evelyn Erith carried no lights--had +thought of none in the haste of setting out. + +Years seemed to her to pass in the dreadful darkness of that descent +as she felt her way downward, guided by the touch of her feet and +the contact of her hand along the unseen wall. + +Again and again she stopped to rest and to check the rush of +sheerest terror that threatened at moments her consciousness. + +There was no sound in the Via Mala. The thick darkness was like a +fabric clogging her movements, swathing her, brushing across her so +that she seemed actually to feel the horrible obscurity as some +concrete thing impeding her and resting upon her with an increasing +weight that bent her slender figure. + +There was something grey ahead.... There was light--a sickly +pin-point. It seemed to spread but grow duller. A pallid patch +widened, became lighter again. And from an infinite distance there +came a deadened roaring--the hollow menace of water rushing through +depths unseen. + +She stood within the shadow zone inside the tunnel and looked out +upon the gorge where, level with the huge bowlders all around her, +an alpine river raged and dashed against cliff and stone, flinging +tons of spray into the air until the whole gorge was a driving sea +of mist. Here was the floor of the canon; here was the way they had +searched for. Her task was done. And now, on bleeding little feet, +she must retrace her steps; the Via Mala must become the Via +Dolorosa, and she must turn and ascend that Calvary to the dreadful +crest. + +She was very weak. Privation had sapped the young virility that had +held out so long. She had not eaten for a long while--did not, +indeed, crave food any longer. But her thirst raged, and she knelt +at a little pool within the cavern walls and bent her bleeding mouth +to the icy fillet of water. She drank little, rinsed her mouth and +face and dried her lips on her sleeve. And, kneeling so, closed her +eyes in utter exhaustion for a moment. + +And when she opened them she found herself looking up at two men. + +Before she could move one of the men kicked her pistol out of her +nerveless hand, caught her by the shoulder and dragged the +trench-knife from her convulsive grasp. Then he said in English: + +"Get up." And the other, the signalman, struck her across her back +with the furled flags so that she lost her balance and fell forward +on her face. They got her to her feet and pushed her out among the +bowlders, through the storming spray, and across the floor of the +ravine into the sunlight of a mossy place all set with trees. And +she saw butterflies flitting there through green branches flecked +with sunshine. + +The officer seated himself on a fallen tree and crossed his heavy +feet on a carpet of wild flowers. She stood erect, the signaller +holding her right arm above the elbow. + +After the officer had leisurely lighted a cigarette he asked her who +she was. She made no answer. + +"You are the Erith woman, are you not?" he demanded. + +She was silent. + +"You Yankee slut," he added, nodding to himself and staring up into +her bloodless face. + +Her eyes wandered; she looked at, but scarcely saw the lovely +wildflowers under foot, the butterflies flashing their burnished +wings among the sunbeams. + +"Drop her arm." The signaller let go and stood at attention. + +"Take her knife and pistol and your flags and go across the stream +to the hut." + +The signaller saluted, gathered the articles mentioned, and went +away in that clumping, rocking gait of the land peasant of Hundom. + +"Now," said the officer, "strip off your coat!" + +She turned scarlet, but he sprang to his feet and tore her coat from +her. She fought off every touch; several times he struck her--once +so sharply that the blood gushed from her mouth and nose; but still +she fought him; and when he had completed his search of her person, +he was furious, streaked with sweat and all smeared with her blood. + +"Damned cat of a Yankee!" he panted, "stand there where you are or +I'll blow your face off!" + +But as he emptied the pockets of her coat she seized it and put it +on, sobbing out her wrath and contempt of him and his threats as she +covered her nearly naked body with the belted jacket and buttoned it +to her throat. + +He glanced at the papers she had carried, at the few poor articles +that had fallen from her pockets, tossed them on the ground beside +the log and resumed his seat and cigarette. + +"Where's McKay?" + +No answer. + +"So you tricked us, eh?" he sneered. "You didn't get your rat-poison +at the spring after all. The Yankees are foxes after all!" He +laughed his loud, nasal, nickering laugh--"Foxes are foxes but men +are men. Do you understand that, you damned vixen?" + +"Will you let me kill myself?" she asked in a low but steady voice. + +He seemed surprised, then realising why she had asked that mercy, +showed all his teeth and smirked at her out of narrow-slitted eyes. + +"Where is McKay?" he repeated. + +She remained mute. + +"Will you tell me where he is to be found?" + +"No!" + +"Will you tell me if I let you go?" + +"No." + +"Will you tell me if I give you back your trench-knife?" + +The white agony in her face interested and amused him and he waited +her reply with curiosity. + +"No!" she whispered. + +"Will you tell me where McKay is to be found if I promise to shoot +you before--" + +"No!" she burst out with a strangling sob. + +He lighted another cigarette and, for a while, considered her +musingly as he sat smoking. After a while he said: "You are rather +dirty--all over blood. But you ought to be pretty after you're +washed." Then he laughed. + +The girl swayed where she stood, fighting to retain consciousness. + +"How did you discover the Via Mala?" he inquired with blunt +curiosity. + +"You showed it to me!" + +"You slut!" he said between his teeth. Then, still brutishly +curious: "How did you know that spring had been poisoned? By those +dead birds and animals, I suppose.... And that's what I told +everybody, too. The wild things are bound to come and drink. But you +and your running-mate are foxes. You made us believe you had gone +over the cliff. Yes, even I believed it. It was well done--a true +Yankee trick. All the same, foxes are only foxes after all. And here +you are." + +He got up; she shrank back, and he began to laugh at her. + +"Foxes are only foxes, my pretty, dirty one!--but men are men, and a +Prussian is a super-man. You had forgotten that, hadn't you, little +Yankee?" + +He came nearer. She sprang aside and past him and ran for the river; +but he caught her at the edge of a black pool that whirled and flung +sticky chunks of foam over the bowlders. For a while they fought +there in silence, then he said, breathing heavily, "A fox can't +drown. Didn't you know that, little fool?" + +Her strength was ebbing. He forced her back to the glade and stood +there holding her, his inflamed face a sneering, leering mask for +the hot hell that her nearness and resistance had awakened in him. +Suddenly, still holding her, he jerked his head aside and stared +behind him. Then he pushed her violently from him, clutched at his +holster, and started to run. And a pistol cracked and he pitched +forward across the log upon which he had sat, and lay so, dripping +dark blood, and fouling the wild-flowers with the flow. + +"Kay!" she said in a weak voice. + +McKay, his pack strapped to his back, his blood-shot eyes brilliant +in his haggard visage, ran forward and bent over the thing. Then he +shot him again, behind the ear. + +The rage of the river drowned the sound of the shots; the man in the +hut across the stream did not come to the door. But McKay caught +sight of the shack; his fierce eyes questioned the girl, and she +nodded. + +He crossed the stream, leaping from bowlder to bowlder, and she saw +him run up to the door of the hut, level his weapon, then enter. She +could not hear the shots; she waited, half-dead, until he came out +again, reloading his pistol. + +She struggled desperately to retain her senses--to fight off the +deadly faintness that assailed her. She could scarcely see him as he +came swiftly toward her--she put out her arms blindly, felt his +fierce clasp envelop her, passed so into blessed unconsciousness. + +A drop or two of almost scalding broth aroused her. He held her in +his arms and fed her--not much--and then let her stretch out on the +sun-hot moss again. + +Before sunset he awakened her again, and he fed her--more this time. + +Afterward she lay on the moss with her golden-brown eyes partly +open. And he had constructed a sponge of clean, velvety moss, and +with this he washed her swollen mouth and bruised cheek, and her +eyes and throat and hands and feet. + +After the sun went down she slept again: and he stretched out beside +her, one arm under her head and about her neck. + +Moonlight pierced the foliage, silvering everything and inlaying the +earth with the delicate tracery of branch and leaf. + +Moonlight still silvered her face when she awoke. After a while the +shadow slipped from his face, too. + +"Kay?" she whispered. + +"Yes, Yellow-hair." + +And, after a little while she turned her face to his and her lips +rested on his. + +Lying so, unstirring, she fell asleep once more. + + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE GREAT SECRET + + + + + +All that morning American infantry had been passing through Delle +over the Belfort road. The sun of noon saw no end to them. + +The endless column of shadows, keeping pace with them, lengthened +with the afternoon along their lengthening line. + +Now and then John Recklow opened the heavy wooden door in his garden +wall and watched them until duty called him to his telephone or to +his room where maps and papers littered the long table. But he +always returned to the door in the garden wall when duty permitted +and leaned at ease there, smoking his pipe, keen-eyed, impassive, +gazing on the unbroken line of young men--men of his own race, +sun-scorched, dusty, swinging along the Belfort road, their right +elbows brushing Switzerland, their high sun-reddened pillar of dust +drifting almost into Germany, and their heavy tread thundering +through that artery of France like the prophetic pulse of victory. + +A rich September sunset light streamed over them; like a moving +shaft of divine fire the ruddy dust marched with them upon their +right hand; legions of avenging shadows led them forward where, for +nearly half a century beyond the barriers of purple hills, naked and +shackled, the martyr-daughters of the Motherland stood +waiting--Alsace and Lorraine. + +"We are on our way!" laughed the Yankee bugles. + +The Fortress of Metz growled "Nein!" + +Recklow went back to his telephone. For a long while he remained +there very busy with Belfort and Verdun. When again he returned to +the green door in his garden wall, the Yankee infantry had passed; +and of their passing there remained no trace save for the +smouldering pillar of fire towering now higher than the eastern +horizon and leagthened to a wall that ran away into the north as far +as the eye could see. + +His cats had come out into the garden for "the cats' hour"--that +mysterious compromise between day and evening when all things feline +awake and stretch and wander or sit motionless, alert, listening to +occult things. And in the enchantment of that lovely liaison which +links day and night--when the gold and rose soften to mauve as the +first star is born--John Recklow raised his quiet eyes and saw two +dead souls come into his garden by the little door in the wall. + +"Is it you, Kay McKay?" he said at last. + +But the shock of the encounter still fettered him so that he walked +very slowly to the woman who was now moving toward him across the +grass. + +"Evelyn Erith," he said, taking her thin hands in his own, which +were trembling now. + +"It's a year," he complained unsteadily. + +"More than a year," said McKay in his dead voice. + +With his left hand, then, John Recklow took McKay's gaunt hand, and +stood so, mute, looking at him and at the girl beside him. + +"God!" he said blankly. Then, with no emphasis: "It's rather more +than a year!... They sent me two fire-charred skulls--the head of a +man and the head of a woman.... That was a year ago.... After your +pigeon arrived... I found the scorched skulls wrapped in a Swiss +newspaper-lying inside the garden wall--over there on the grass!... +And the swine had written your names on the skulls...." + +Into Evelyn Erith's eyes there came a vague light--the spectre of a +smile. And as Recklow looked at her he remembered the living glory +she had once been; and wrath blazed wildly within him. "What have +they done to you?" he asked in an unsteady voice. But McKay laid his +hand on Recklow's arm: + +"Nothing. It is what they have not done--fed her. That's all she +needs--and sleep." + +Recklow gazed heavily upon her. But if the young fail rapidly, they +also respond quickly. + +"Come into the house," + +Perhaps it was the hot broth with wine in it that brought a slight +colour back into her ghastly face--the face once so youthfully +lovely but now as delicate as the mask of death itself. + +Candles twinkled on the little table where the girl now lay back +listlessly in the depths of an armchair, her chin sunk on her +breast. + +Recklow sat opposite her, writing on a pad in shorthand. McKay, +resting his ragged elbows on the cloth, his haggard face between +both hands, went on talking in a colourless, mechanical voice which +an iron will alone flogged into speech: + +"Killed two of them and took their clothes and papers," he continued +monotonously; "that was last August--near the end of the month.... +The Boche had tens of thousands working there. AND EVERY ONE OF THEM +WAS INSANE." + +"What!" + +"Yes, that is the way they were operating--the only way they dared +operate. I think all that enormous work has been done by the insane +during the last forty years. You see, the Boche have nothing to +dread from the insane. Anyway the majority of them died in harness. +Those who became useless--intractable or crippled--were merely +returned to the asylums from which they had been drafted. And the +Hun government saw to it that nobody should have access to them. + +"Besides, who would believe a crazy man or woman if they babbled +about the Great Secret?" + +He covered his visage with his bony hands and rested so for a few +moments, then, forcing himself again: + +"The Hun for forty years has drafted the insane from every asylum in +the Empire to do this gigantic work for him. Men, women, even +children, chained, guarded, have done the physical work.... The +Pyramids were builded so, they say.... And in this manner is being +finished that colossal engineering work which is never spoken of +among the Huns except when necessary, and which is known among them +as The Great Secret.... Recklow, it was conceived as a vast +engineering project forty-eight years ago--in 1870 during the +Franco-Prussian war. It was begun that same year.... And it is +practically finished. Except for one obstacle." + +Recklow's lifted eyes stared at him over his pad. + +"It is virtually finished," repeated McKay in his toneless, +unaccented voice which carried such terrible conviction to the other +man. "Forty-eight years ago the Hun planned a huge underground +highway carrying four lines of railroad tracks. It was to begin east +of the Rhine in the neighbourhood of Zell, slant into the bowels of +the earth, pass deep under the Rhine, deep under the Swiss frontier, +deep, deep under Mount Terrible and under the French frontier, and +emerge in France BEHIND Belfort, Toul, Nancy, and Verdun." + +Recklow laid his pad on the table and looked intently at McKay. The +latter said in his ghost of a voice: "You are beginning to suspect +my sanity." He turned with an effort and fixed his hollow eyes on +Evelyn Erith. + +"We are sane," he said. "But I don't blame you, Recklow. We have +lived among the mad for more than a year--among thousands and +thousands and thousands of them--of men and women and even children +in whose minds the light of reason had died out.... Thirty thousand +dying minds in which only a dreadful twilight reigned!... I don't +know how we endured it--and retained our reason.... Do you, +Yellow-hair?" + +The girl did not reply. He spoke to her again, then fell silent. For +the girl slept, her delicate, deathly face dropped forward on her +breast. + +Presently McKay turned to Recklow once more; and Recklow picked up +his pad with a slight shudder. + +"Forty-eight years," repeated McKay--"and the work of the Hun is +nearly done--a wide highway under the earth's surface flanked by +four lines of rails--broad-gauge tracks--everything now working, all +rolling-stock and electric engines moving smoothly and swiftly.... +Two tracks carry troops; two carry ammunition and munitions. A +highway a hundred feet wide runs between. + +"Ten miles from the Rhine, under the earth, there is a Hun city, +with a garrison of sixty thousand men!... There are other cities +along the line--" + +"Deep down!" + +"Deep under the earth." + +"There must be shafts!" said Recklow hoarsely. + +"None." + +"No shafts to the surface?" + +"Not one." + +"No pipe? No communication with the outer air?" + +Then McKay's sunken eyes glittered and he stiffened up, and his +wasted features seemed to shrink until the parting of his lips +showed his teeth. It was a dreadful laughter--his manner, now, of +expressing mirth. + +"Recklow," he said, "in 1914 that vast enterprise was scheduled to +be finished according to plan. With the declaration of war in August +the Hun was to have blasted his way to the surface of French soil +behind the barrier forts! He was prepared to do it in half an hour's +time. + +"Do you understand? Do you see how it was planned? For forty-eight +years the Hun had been preparing to seize France and crush Europe. + +"When the Hun was ready he murdered the Austrian archduke--the most +convenient solution of the problem for the Hun Kaiser, who presented +himself with the pretext for war by getting rid of the only Austrian +with whom he couldn't do business." + +Again McKay laughed, silently, showing his discoloured teeth. + +"So the archduke died according to plan; and there was +war--according to plan. And then, Recklow, GOD'S HAND MOVED!--very +slightly--indolently--scarcely stirring at all.... A drop of icy +water percolated the limestone on Mount Terrible; other drops +followed; linked by these drops a thin stream crept downward in the +earth along the limestone fissures, washing away glacial sands that +had lodged there since time began."... He leaned forward and his +brilliant, sunken eyes peered into Recklow's: + +"Since 1914," he said, "the Staubbach has fallen into the bowels of +the earth and the Hun has been fighting it miles under the earth's +surface. + +"They can't operate from the glacier on the white Shoulder of +Thusis; whenever they calk it and plug it and stop it with tons of +reinforced waterproof concrete--whenever on the surface of the world +they dam it and turn it into new channels, it evades them. And in a +new place its icy water bursts through--as though every stratum in +the Alps dipped toward their underground tunnel to carry the water +from the Glacier of Thusis into it!" + +He clenched his wasted hands and struck the table without a sound: + +"God blocks them, damn them!" he said in his ghost of a voice. "God +bars the Boche! They shall not pass!" + +He leaned nearer, twisting his clenched fingers together: "We saw +them, Recklow. We saw the Staubbach fighting for right of way; we +saw the Hun fighting the Staubbach--Darkness battling with +Light!--the Hun against the Most High!--miles under the earth's +crust, Recklow.... Do you believe in God?" + +"Yes." + +"Yes.... We saw Him at work--that young girl asleep there, and +I--month after month we watched Him check and dismay the modern +Pharaoh--we watched Him countermine the Nibelungen and mock their +filthy Gott! And Recklow, we laughed, sometimes, where laughter +among clouded minds means nothing--nothing even to the Hun--nor +causes suspicion nor brings punishment other than the accustomed +kick and blow which the Hun reserves for all who are helpless."... +He bowed his head in his hands. "All who are weak and stricken," he +whispered to himself. + +Recklow said: "Did they harm--HER?" And, + +McKay looked up at that, baring his teeth in a swift snarl: + +"No--you see her clipped hair--and the thin body.... In her blouse +she passed for a boy, unquestioned, unnoticed. There were thousands +of us, you see.... Some of the insane women were badly treated--all +of the younger ones.... But she and I were together.... And I had my +pistol in reserve--for the crisis!--always in reserve--always ready +for her." Recklow nodded. McKay went on: + +"We fought the Staubbach in shifts.... And all through those months +of autumn and winter there was no chance for us to get away. It is +not cold under ground.... It was like a dark, thick dream. We tried +to realise that war was going on, over our heads, up above us +somewhere in daylight--where there was sun and where stars were.... +It was like a thick dream, Recklow. The stars seemed very far...." + +"You had passed as inmates of some German asylum?" + +"We had killed two landwehr on the Staubbach. That was a year ago +last August--" He looked at the sleeping girl beside him: "My +little comrade and I undressed the swine and took their uniforms.... +After a long while--privations had made us both light-headed I +think--we saw a camp of the insane in the woods--a fresh relay from +Mulhaus. We talked with their guards--being in Landwehr uniform it +was easy. The insane were clothed like miners. Late that night we +exchanged clothes with two poor, demented creatures who retained +sufficient reason, however, to realise that our uniforms meant +freedom.... They crept away into the forest. We remained.... And +marched at dawn--straight into the jaws of the Great Secret!" + +Recklow had remained at the telephone until dawn. And now Belfort +was through with him and Verdun understood, and Paris had relayed to +Headquarters and Headquarters had instructed John Recklow. + +Before Recklow went to bed he parted his curtain and looked out at +the misty dawn. + +In the silvery dusk a cock-pheasant was crowing somewhere on a +wheat-field's edge. A barnyard chanticleer replied. Clear and +truculent rang out the challenge of the Gallic cock in the dawn, +warning his wild neighbour to keep to the wilds. So the French +trumpets challenge the shrill, barbaric fanfares of the Hun, warning +him back into the dull and shadowy wilderness from whence he +ventured. + +Recklow was awake, dressed, and had breakfasted by eight o'clock. + +McKay, in his little chamber on the right, still slept. Evelyn +Erith, in the tiny room on the left, slept deeply. + +So Recklow went out into his garden, opened the wooden door in the +wall, seated himself, lighted his pipe, and watched the Belfort +road. + +About ten o'clock two American electricians came buzzing up on +motor-cycles. Recklow got up and went to the door in the wall as +they dismounted. After a short, whispered consultation they guided +their machines into the garden, through a paved alley to a tiled +shed. Then they went on duty, one taking the telephone in Recklow's +private office, the other busying himself with the clutter of maps +and papers. And Recklow went back to the door in the wall. About +eleven an American motor ambulance drove up. A nurse carrying her +luggage got out, and Recklow met her. + +After another whispered consultation he picked up the nurse's +luggage, led her into the house, and showed her all over it. + +"I don't know," he said, "whether they are too badly done in to +travel as far as Belfort. There'll be a Yankee regimental doctor +here to-day or to-morrow. He'll know. So let 'em sleep. And you +can give them the once-over when they wake, and then get busy in the +kitchen." + +The girl laughed and nodded. + +"Be good to them," added Recklow. "They'll get crosses and legions +enough but they've got to be well to enjoy them. So keep them in bed +until the doctor comes. There are bathrobes and things in my room." + +"I understand, sir." + +"Right," said Recklow briefly. Then he went to his room, changed his +clothes to knickerbockers, his shoes for heavier ones, picked up a +rifle, a pair of field-glasses and a gas-mask, slung a satchel +containing three days' rations over his powerful shoulders, and went +out into the street. + +Six Alpinists awaited him. They were peculiarly accoutred, every +soldier carrying, beside rifle, haversack and blanket, a flat tank +strapped on his back like a knapsack. + +Their sergeant saluted; he and Recklow exchanged a few words in +whispers. Then Recklow strode away down the Belfort road. And the +oddly accoutred Alpinists followed him, their steel-shod soles +ringing on the pavement. + +Where the Swiss wire bars the frontier no sentinels paced that noon. +This was odd. Stranger still, a gap had been cut in the wire. + +And into this gap strode Recklow, and behind him trotted the nimble +blue-devils, single file; and they and their leader took the +ascending path which leads to the Calvary on Mount Terrible. + +Standing that same afternoon on the rocks of that grim Calvary, with +the weatherbeaten figure of Christ towering on the black cross above +them, Recklow and his men gazed out across the tumbled mountains to +where the White Shoulder of Thusis gleamed in the sun. + +Through their glasses they could sweep the glacier to its terminal +moraine. That was not very far away, and the "dust" from the +Staubbach could be distinguished drifting out of the green ravine +like a windy cloud of steam. + +"Allons," said Recklow briefly. + +They slept that night in their blankets so close to the Staubbach +that its wet, silvery dust powdered them, at times, like snow. + +At dawn they were afield, running everywhere over the rocks, +searching hollows, probing chasms, creeping into ravines, and always +following the torrent which dashed whitely through its limestone +canon. + +Perhaps the Alpine eagles saw them. But no Swiss patrol disturbed +them. Perhaps there was fear somewhere in the Alpine +Confederation--fear in high places. + +Also it is possible that the bellowing bluster of the guns at Metz +may have allayed that fear in high places; and that terror of the +Hun was already becoming less deathly among the cantons of a race +which had trembled under Boche blackmail for a hundred years. +However, for whatever reason it might have been, no Swiss patrols +bothered the blue devils and Mr. Recklow. + +And they continued to swarm over the Alpine landscape at their own +convenience; on the Calvary of Mount Terrible they erected a dwarf +wireless station; a hundred men came from Delle with +radio-impedimenta; six American airmen arrived; American planes circled +over the northern border, driving off the squadrilla of Count von +Dresslin. + +And on the second night Recklow's men built fires and camped +carelessly beside the brilliant warmth, while "mountain mutton" +frizzled on pointed sticks and every blue-devil smacked his lips. + +On the early morning of the third day Recklow discovered what he had +been looking for. And an Alpinist signalled an airplane over Mount +Terrible from the White Shoulder of Thusis. Two hours later a full +battalion of Alpinists crossed Mount Terrible by the Neck of Woods +and exchanged flag signals with Recklow's men. They had with them a +great number of cylinders, coils of wire, and other curious-looking +paraphernalia. + +When they came up to the ravine where Recklow and his men were +grouped they immediately became very busy with their cylinders, +wires, hose-pipes, and other instruments. + +It had been a beautiful ravine where Recklow now stood--was still as +pretty and picturesque as a dry water-course can be with the +bowlders bleaching in the sun and green things beginning to grow in +what had been the bed of a rushing stream. For, just above this +ravine, the water ended: the Staubbach poured its full, icy volume +directly downward into the bowels of the earth with a hollow, +thundering sound; the bed of the stream was bone-dry beyond. And now +the blue-devils were unreeling wire and plumbing this chasm into +which the Staubbach thundered. On the end of the wire was an +electric bulb, lighted. Recklow watched the wire unreeling, foot +after foot, rod after rod, plumbing the dark burrow of the Boche +deep down under the earth. + +And, when they were ready, guided by the wire, they lowered the +curious hose-pipe, down, down, ever down, attaching reel after reel +to the lengthening tube until Recklow checked them and turned to +watch the men who stood feeding the wire into the roaring chasm. + +Suddenly, as he watched, the flowing wire stopped, swayed violently +sideways, then was jerked out of the men's hands. + +"The Boche bites!" they shouted. Their officer, reading the measured +wire, turned to Recklow and gave him the depth; the hose-pipe ran +out sixty yards; then Recklow checked it and put on his gasmask as +the whistle signal rang out along the mountain. + +Now, everywhere, masked figures swarmed over the place; cylinders +were laid, hose attached, other batteries of cylinders were ranged +in line and connections laid ready for instant adjustment. + +Recklow raised his right arm, then struck it downward violently. The +gas from the first cylinder went whistling into the hose. + +At the same time an unmasked figure on the cliff above began talking +by American radiophone with three planes half a mile in the air +above him. He spoke naturally, easily, into a transmitter to which +no wires were attached. + +He was still talking when Recklow arrived at his side from the +ravine below, tore off his gas-mask, and put on a peculiar helmet. +Then, taking the transmitter into his right hand: "Do you get them?" +he demanded of his companion, an American lieutenant. + +"No trouble, sir. No need to raise one's voice. They hear quite +perfectly, and one hears them, sir." + +Then Recklow spoke to the three airplanes circling like hawks in the +sky overhead; and one by one the observers in each machine replied +in English, their voices easily audible. + +"I want Zell watched from the air," said Recklow. "The Boche have an +underground tunnel beginning near Zell, continuing under Mount +Terrible to the French frontier. + +"I want the Zell end of the tunnel kept under observation. + +"Send our planes in from Belfort, Toul, Nancy, and Verdun. + +"And keep me informed whether railroad trains, camions, or cavalry +come out. And whether indeed any living thing emerges from the end +of the tunnel near Zell. + +"Because we are gassing the tunnel from this ravine. And I think +we've got the dirty vermin wholesale!" + +At sundown a plane appeared overhead and talked to Recklow: + +"One railroad train came out. But it was manned by dead men, I +think, because it crashed into the rear masonry of the station and +was smashed." + +"Nothing else, living or dead, came out?" + +"Nothing, sir. There is wild excitement at Zell. Troops at the +tunnel's mouth wear gas-masks. We bombed them and raked them. The +Boche planes took the air but two crashed and the rest turned east." + +"You saw no living creature escape from the Zell end of the tunnel?" + +"Not a soul, sir." + +Recklow turned to the group of officers around him: + +"I guess they're done for," he said. "That fumigation cleaned out +the vermin. But keep the tunnel pumped full of gas.... Au revoir, +messieurs!" + +On his way back across Mount Terrible he encountered a relay of +Alpinists bringing fresh gas. tanks; and he laughed and saluted +their officers. "This poor old world needs a de-lousing," he said. +"Foch will attend to it up here on top of the world. See that you +gentlemen, purge her interior!" + +The nurse opened the door and looked into the garden. Then she +closed the door, gently, and went back into the house. + +For she had seen a slim girl with short yellow hair curling all over +her head, and that head was resting on a young man's shoulder. + +It seemed unnecessary, too, because there were two steamer chairs +under the rose arbor, side by side, and pillows sufficient for each. + +And why a slim young girl should prefer to pillow her curly, yellow +head upon the shoulder of a rather gaunt young man--the shoulder, +presumably, being bony and uncomfortable--she alone could explain +perhaps. + +The young man did not appear to be inconvenienced. He caressed her +hair while he spoke: + +"From here to Belfort," he was saying in his musing, agreeable +voice, "and from Belfort to Paris; and from Paris to London, and +from London to Strathlone Head, and from Strathlone Head to Glenark +Cliffs, and from Glenark Cliffs to Isla Water, and from Isla +Water--to our home! Our home, Yellow-hair," he repeated. "What do you +think of that?" + +"I think you have forgotten the parson's house on the way. You are +immoral, Kay." + +"Can't a Yank sky-pilot in Paris--" + +"Darling, I must have some clothing!" + +"Can't you get things in Paris?" + +"Yes, if you'll wait and not become impatient for Isla. And I warn +you, Kay, I simply won't marry you until I have some decent gowns +and underwear." + +"You don't care for me as much as I do for you," he murmured in lazy +happiness. + +"I care for you more. I've cared for you longer, too." + +"How long, Yellow-hair?" + +"Ever--ever since your head lay on my knees in my car a year ago +last winter! You know it, too," she added. "You are a spoiled young +man. I shall not tell you again how much I care for you!" + +"Say 'love',' Yellow-hair," he coaxed. + +"No!" + +"Don't you?" + +"Don't I what?" + +"Love me?" + +"Yes." + +"Then won't you say it?" + +She laughed contentedly. Then her warm head moved a little on his +shoulder; he looked down; lightly their lips joined. + +"Kay--my dear--dear Kay," she whispered. + +"There's somebody opening the garden door," she said under her +breath, and sat bolt upright. + +McKay also sat up on his steamer chair. + +"Oh!" he cried gaily, "hello, Recklow! Where on earth have you been +for three days?" + +Recklow came into the rose arbour. The blossoms were gone from the +vines but it was a fragrant, golden place into which the September +sun filtered. He lifted Miss Erith's hand and kissed it gravely. +"How are you?" he inquired. + +"Perfectly well, and ready for Paris!" she said smilingly. + +Recklow shook hands with McKay. + +"You'll want a furlough, too," he remarked. "I'll fix it. How do you +feel, McKay?" + +"All right. Has anything come out of our report on the Great +Secret?" + +Recklow seated himself and they listened in strained silence to his +careful report. Once Evelyn caught her breath and Recklow paused and +turned to look at her. + +"There were thousands and thousands of insane down there under the +earth," she said pitifully. + +"Yes," he nodded. + +"Did--did they all die?" + +"Are the insane not better dead, Miss Erith?" he asked calmly.... +And continued his recital. + +That evening there was a full moon over the garden. Recklow lingered +with them after dinner for a while, discussing the beginning of the +end of all things Hunnish. For Foch was striking at last; Pershing +was moving; Haig, Gouraud, Petain, all were marching toward the +field of Armageddon. They conversed for a while, the men smoking. +Then Recklow went away across the dewy grass, followed by two frisky +and factious cats. + +But when McKay took Miss Erith's head into his arms the girl's eyes +were wet. + +"The way they died down there--I can't help it, Kay," she faltered. +"Oh, Kay, Kay, you must love me enough to make me forget--forget--" + +And she clasped his neck tightly in both her arms. + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of In Secret, by Robert W. 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Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: In Secret + +Author: Robert W. Chambers + +Release Date: May, 2004 [EBook #5748] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on August 23, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN SECRET *** + + + + +Produced by David Moynihan, Charles Franks +and the Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + +IN SECRET + +by + +ROBERT W. CHAMBERS + +AUTHOR OF "THE COMMON LAW," "THE RECKONING," "LORRAINE," ETC. + +NEW YORK + + + + + + +DEDICATION + + + + + + + A grateful nation's thanks are due + To Arethusa and to you--- + To her who dauntless at your side + Pneumonia and Flue defied + With phials of formaldehyde! + +II + + Chief of Police were you, by gosh! + Gol ding it! how you bumped the Boche! + Handed 'em one with club and gun + Until the Hun was on the run: + And that's the way the war was won. + +III + + Easthampton's pride! My homage take + For Fairest Philadelphia's sake. + Retire in company with Bill; + Rest by the Racquet's window sill + And, undisturbed, consume your pill. + +ENVOI + + When Cousin Feenix started west + And landed east, he did his best; + And so I've done my prettiest + To make this rhyme long overdue; + For Arethusa and for you. + +R. W. C. + + + + + + +IN SECRET + +CHAPTER I + +CUP AND LIP + + + + + +The case in question concerned a letter in a yellow envelope, which +was dumped along with other incoming mail upon one of the many long +tables where hundreds of women and scores of men sat opening and +reading thousands of letters for the Bureau of P. C.--whatever that +may mean. + +In due course of routine a girl picked up and slit open the yellow +envelope, studied the enclosed letter for a few moments, returned it +to its envelope, wrote a few words on a slip of paper, attached the +slip to the yellow envelope, and passed it along to the D. A. +C.--whoever he or she may be. + +The D. A. C., in course of time, opened this letter for the second +time, inspected it, returned it to the envelope, added a memorandum, +and sent it on up to the A. C.--whatever A. C. may signify. + +Seated at his desk, the A. C. perused the memoranda, glanced over +the letter and the attached memoranda, added his terse comment to +the other slips, pinned them to the envelope, and routed it through +certain channels which ultimately carried the letter into a room +where six silent and preoccupied people sat busy at six separate +tables. + +Fate had taken charge of that yellow envelope from the moment it was +mailed in Mexico; Chance now laid it on a yellow oak table before a +yellow-haired girl; Destiny squinted over her shoulder as she drew +the letter from its triply violated envelope and spread it out on +the table before her. + +A rich, warm flush mounted to her cheeks as she examined the +document. Her chance to distinguish herself had arrived at last. She +divined it instantly. She did not doubt it. She was a remarkable +girl. + +The room remained very still. The five other cipher experts of the +P. I. Service were huddled over their tables, pencil in hand, +absorbed in their several ungodly complications and laborious +calculations. But they possessed no Rosetta Stone to aid them in +deciphering hieroglyphics; toad-like, they carried the precious +stone in their heads, M. D.! + +No indiscreet sound interrupted their mental gymnastics, save only +the stealthy scrape of a pen, the subdued rustle of writing paper, +the flutter of a code-book's leaves thumbed furtively. + +The yellow-haired girl presently rose from her chair, carrying in +her hand the yellow letter and its yellow envelope with yellow slips +attached; and this harmonious combination of colour passed +noiselessly into a smaller adjoining office, where a solemn young +man sat biting an unlighted cigar and gazing with preternatural +sagacity at nothing at all. + +Possibly his pretty affianced was the object of his deep revery--he +had her photograph in his desk--perhaps official cogitation as D. +C. of the E. C. D.--if you understand what I mean?--may have been +responsible for his owlish abstraction. + +Because he did not notice the advent of the yellow haired girl until +she said in her soft, attractive voice: + +"May I interrupt you a moment, Mr. Vaux?" + +Then he glanced up. + +"Surely, surely," he said. "Hum--hum!--please be seated, Miss Erith! +Hum! Surely!" + +She laid the sheets of the letter and the yellow envelope upon the +desk before him and seated herself in a chair at his elbow. She was +VERY pretty. But engaged men never notice such details. + +"I'm afraid we are in trouble," she remarked. + +He read placidly the various memoranda written on the yellow slips +of paper, scrutinised! the cancelled stamps, postmarks, +superscription. But when his gaze fell upon the body of the letter +his complacent expression altered to one of disgust! + +"What's this, Miss Erith?" + +"Code-cipher, I'm afraid." + +"The deuce!" + +Miss Erith smiled. She was one of those girls who always look as +though they had not been long out of a bathtub. She had hazel eyes, +a winsome smile, and hair like warm gold. Her figure was youthfully +straight and supple--But that would not interest an engaged man. + +The D. C. glanced at her inquiringly. + +"Surely, surely," he muttered, "hum--hum!--" and tried to fix his +mind on the letter. + +In fact, she was one of those girls who unintentionally and +innocently render masculine minds uneasy through some delicate, +indefinable attraction which defies analysis. + +"Surely," murmured the D. C., "surely! Hum--hum!" + +A subtle freshness like the breath of spring in a young orchard +seemed to linger about her. She was exquisitely fashioned to trouble +men, but she didn't wish to do such a-- + +Vaux, who was in love with another girl, took another uneasy look at +her, sideways, then picked up his unlighted cigar and browsed upon +it. + +"Yes," he said nervously, "this is one of those accursed +code-ciphers. They always route them through to me. Why don't they +notify the five--" + +"Are you going to turn THIS over to the Postal Inspection Service?" + +"What do you think about it, Miss Erith? You see it's one of those +hopeless arbitrary ciphers for which there is no earthly solution +except by discovering and securing the code book and working it out +that way."7 + +She said calmly, but with heightened colour: + +"A copy of that book is, presumably, in possession of the man to +whom this letter is addressed." + +"Surely--surely. Hum--hum! What's his name, Miss Erith?"--glancing +down at the yellow envelope. "Oh, yes--Herman Lauffer--hum!" + +He opened a big book containing the names of enemy aliens and +perused it, frowinng. The name of Herman Lauffer was not listed. He +consulted other volumes containing supplementary lists of suspects +and undesirables--lists furnished daily by certain services +unnecessary to mention. + +"Here he is!" exclaimed Vaux; "--Herman Lauffer, picture-framer and +gilder! That's his number on Madison Avenue!"--pointing to the +type-written paragraph. "You see he's probably already under +surveillance-one of the several services is doubtless keeping tabs +on him. I think I'd better call up the--" + +"Please!--Mr. Vaux!" she pleaded. + +He had already touched the telephone receiver to unhook it. Miss +Erith looked at him appealingly; her eyes were very, very hazel. + +"Couldn't we handle it?" she asked. + +"WE?" + +"You and I!" + +"But that's not our affair, Miss Erith--" + +"Make it so! Oh, please do. Won't you?" + +Vaux's arm fell to the desk top. He sat thinking for a few minutes. +Then he picked up a pencil in an absent-minded manner and began to +trace little circles, squares, and crosses on his pad, stringing +them along line after line as though at hazard and apparently +thinking of anything except what he was doing. + +The paper on which he seemed to be so idly employed lay on his desk +directly under Miss Erith's eyes; and after a while the girl began +to laugh softly to herself. + +"Thank you, Mr. Vaux," she said. "This is the opportunity I have +longed for." + +Vaux looked up at her as though he did not understand. But the girl +laid one finger on the lines of circles, squares, dashes and +crosses, and, still laughing, read them off, translating what he had +written: + +"You are a very clever girl. I've decided to turn this case over to +you. After all, your business is to decipher cipher, and you can't +do it without the book." + +They both laughed. + +"I don't see how you ever solved that," he said, delighted to tease +her. + +"How insulting!--when you know it is one of the oldest and most +familiar of codes--the 1-2-3 and _a-b-c_ combination!" + +"Rather rude of you to read it over my shoulder, Miss Erith. It +isn't done--" + +"You meant to see if I could! You know you did!" + +"Did I?" + +"Of course! That old 'Seal of Solomon' cipher is perfectly +transparent." + +"Really? But how about THIS!"--touching the sheets of the Lauffer +letter--"how are you going to read this sequence of Arabic +numerals?" + +"I haven't the slightest idea," said the girl, candidly. + +"But you request the job of trying to find the key?" he suggested +ironically. + +"There is no key. You know it." + +"I mean the code book." + +"I would like to try to find it." + +"How are you going to go about it?" + +"I don't know yet." + +Vaux smiled. "All right; go ahead, my dear Miss Erith. You're +officially detailed for this delightful job. Do it your own way, but +do it--" + +"Thank you so much!" + +"--In twenty-four hours," he added grimly. "Otherwise I'll turn it +over to the P.I." + +"Oh! That IS brutal of you!" + +"Sorry. But if you can't get the code-book in twenty-four hours I'll +have to call in the Service that can." + +The girl bit her lip and held out her hand for the letter. + +"I can't let it go out of my office," he remarked. "You know that, +Miss Erith." + +"I merely wish to copy it," she said reproachfully. Her eyes were +hazel. + +"I ought not to let you take a copy out of this office," he +muttered. + +"But you will, won't you?" + +"All right. Use that machine over there. Hum--hum!" + +For twenty minutes the girl was busy typing before the copy was +finally ready. Then, comparing it and finding her copy accurate, she +returned the original to Mr. Vaux, and rose with that disturbing +grace peculiar to her every movement. + +"Where may I telephone you when you're not here?" she inquired +diffidently, resting one slim, white hand on his desk. + +"At the Racquet Club. Are you going out?" + +"Yes." + +"What! You abandon me without my permission?" + +She nodded with one of those winsome smiles which incline young men +to revery. Then she turned and walked toward the cloak room. + +The D. C. was deeply in love with somebody else, yet he found it +hard to concentrate his mind for a while, and he chewed his +unlighted cigar into a pulp. Alas! Men are that way. Not sometimes. +Always. + +Finally he shoved aside the pile of letters which he had been trying +to read, unhooked the telephone receiver, called a number, got it, +and inquired for a gentleman named Cassidy. + +To the voice that answered he gave the name, business and address of +Herman Lauffer, and added a request that undue liberties be taken +with any out going letters mailed and presumably composed and +written by Mr. Lauffer's own fair hand. + +"Much obliged, Mr. Vaux," cooed Cassidy, in a voice so suave that +Vaux noticed its unusual blandness and asked if that particular +Service already had "anything on Lauffer." + +"Not soon but yet!" replied Mr. Cassidy facetiously, "thanks +ENTIRELY to your kind tip, Mr. Vaux." + +And Vaux, suspicious of such urbane pleasantries, rang off and +resumed his mutilated cigar. + +"Now, what the devil does Cassidy know about Herman Lauffer," he +mused, "and why the devil hasn't his Bureau informed us?" After long +pondering he found no answer. Besides, he kept thinking at moments +about Miss Erith, which confused him and diverted his mind from the +business on hand. + +So, in his perplexity, he switched on the electric foot-warmer, +spread his fur overcoat over his knees, uncorked a small bottle and +swallowed a precautionary formaldehyde tablet, unlocked a drawer of +his desk, fished out a photograph, and gazed intently upon it. + +It was the photograph of his Philadelphia affianced. Her first name +was Arethusa. To him there was a nameless fragrance about her name. +And sweetly, subtly, gradually the lovely phantasm of Miss Evelyn +Erith faded, vanished into the thin and frigid atmosphere of his +office. + +That was his antidote to Miss Erith--the intent inspection of his +fiancee's very beautiful features as inadequately reproduced by an +expensive and fashionable Philadelphia photographer. + +It did the business for Miss Erith every time. + +The evening was becoming one of the coldest ever recorded in New +York. The thermometer had dropped to 8 degrees below zero and was +still falling. Fifth Avenue glittered, sheathed in frost; traffic +police on post stamped and swung their arms to keep from freezing; +dry snow underfoot squeaked when trodden on; crossings were greasy +with glare ice. + +It was, also, one of those meatless, wheatless, heatless nights when +the privation which had hitherto amused New York suddenly became an +ugly menace. There was no coal to be had and only green wood. The +poor quietly died, as usual; the well-to-do ventured a hod and a +stick or two in open grates, or sat huddled under rugs over oil or +electric stoves; or migrated to comfortable hotels. And bachelors +took to their clubs. That is where Clifford Vaux went from his +chilly bachelor lodgings. He fled in a taxi, buried cheek-deep in +his fur collar, hating all cold, all coal companies, and all +Kaisers. + +In the Racquet Club he found many friends similarly +self-dispossessed, similarly obsessed by discomfort and hatred. But +there seemed to be some steam heat there, and several open fires; +and when the wheatless, meatless meal was ended and the usual +coteries drifted to their usual corners, Mr. Vaux found himself +seated at a table with a glass of something or other at his elbow, +which steamed slightly and had a long spoon in it; and he presently +heard himself saying to three other gentlemen: "Four hearts." + +His voice sounded agreeably in his own ears; the gentle glow of a +lignum-vitae wood fire smote his attenuated shins; he balanced his +cards in one hand, a long cigar in the other, exhaled a satisfactory +whiff of aromatic smoke, and smiled comfortably upon the table. + +"Four hearts," he repeated affably. "Does anybody--" + +The voice of Doom interrupted him: + +"Mr. Vaux, sir--" + +The young man turned in his easy-chair and beheld behind him a club +servant, all over silver buttons. + +"The telephone, Mr. Vaux," continued that sepulchral voice. + +"All right," said the young man. "Bill, will you take my cards?"--he +laid his hand, face down, rose and left the pleasant warmth of the +card-room with a premonitory shiver. + +"Well?" he inquired, without cordiality, picking up the receiver. + +"Mr. Vaux?" came a distinct voice which he did not recognise. + +"Yes," he snapped, "who is it?" + +"Miss Erith." + +"Oh--er--surely--surely! GOOD-evening, Miss Erith!" + +"Good-evening, Mr. Vaux. Are you, by any happy chance, quite free +this evening?" + +"Well--I'm rather busy--unless it is important--hum--hum!--in line +of duty, you know--" + +"You may judge. I'm going to try to secure that code-book to-night." + +"Oh! Have you called in the--" + +"No!" + +"Haven't you communicated with--" + +"No!" + +"Why not?" + +"Because there's too much confusion already--too much petty +jealousy and working at cross-purposes. I have been thinking over +the entire problem. You yourself know how many people have escaped +through jealous or over-zealous officers making premature arrests. +We have six different secret-service agencies, each independent of +the other and each responsible to its own independent chief, all +operating for the Government in New York City. You know what these +agencies are--the United States Secret Service, the Department of +Justice Bureau of Investigation, the Army Intelligence Service, +Naval Intelligence Service, Neutrality Squads of the Customs, and +the Postal Inspection. Then there's the State Service and the police +and several other services. And there is no proper co-ordination, no +single head for all these agencies. The result is a ghastly +confusion and shameful inefficiency. + +"This affair which I am investigating is a delicate one, as you +know. Any blundering might lose us the key to what may be a very +dangerous conspiracy. So I prefer to operate entirely within the +jurisdiction of our own Service--" + +"What you propose to do is OUTSIDE of our province!" he interrupted. + +"I'm not so sure. Are you?" + +"Well--hum--hum!--what is it you propose to do to-night?" + +"I should like to consult my Chief of Division." + +"Meaning me?" + +"Of course." + +"When?" + +"Now!" + +"Where are you just now, Miss Erith?" + +"At home. Could you come to me?" + +Vaux shivered again. + +"Where d-do you live?" he asked, with chattering teeth. + +She gave him the number of a private house on 83d Street just off +Madison Avenue. And as he listened he began to shiver all over in +the anticipated service of his country. + +"Very well," he said, "I'll take a taxi. But this has Valley Forge +stung to death, you know." + +She said: + +"I took the liberty of sending my car to the Racquet Club for you. +It should be there now. There's a foot-warmer in it." + +"Thank you so much," he replied with a burst of shivers. "I'll +b-b-be right up." + +As he left the telephone the doorman informed him that an automobile +was waiting for him. + +So, swearing under his frosty breath, he went to the cloak-room, got +into his fur coat, walked back to the card-room and gazed wrathfully +upon the festivities. + +"What did my hand do, Bill?" he inquired glumly, when at last the +scorer picked up his pad and the dealer politely shoved the pack +toward his neighbour for cutting. + +"You ruined me with your four silly hearts," replied the man who had +taken his cards. "Did you think you were playing coon-can?" + +"Sorry, Bill. Sit in for me, there's a good chap. I'm not likely to +be back to-night--hang it!" + +Perfunctory regrets were offered by the others, already engrossed in +their new hands; Vaux glanced unhappily at the tall, steaming glass, +which had been untouched when he left, but which was now merely half +full. Then, with another lingering look at the cheerful fire, he +sighed, buttoned his fur coat, placed his hat firmly upon his +carefully parted hair, and walked out to perish bravely for his +native land. + +On the sidewalk a raccoon-furred chauffeur stepped up with all the +abandon of a Kadiak bear: + +"Mr. Vaux, sir?" + +"Yes." + +"Miss Erith's car." + +"Thanks," grunted Vaux, climbing into the pretty coupe and cuddling +his shanks under a big mink robe, where, presently, he discovered a +foot-warmer, and embraced it vigorously between his patent-leather +shoes. + +It had now become the coldest night on record in New York City. +Fortunately he didn't know that; he merely sat there and hated Fate. + +Up the street and into Fifth Avenue glided the car and sped +northward through the cold, silvery lustre of the arc-lights hanging +like globes of moonlit ice from their frozen stalks of bronze. + +The noble avenue was almost deserted; nobody cared to face such +terrible cold. Few motors were abroad, few omnibuses, and scarcely a +wayfarer. Every sound rang metallic in the black and bitter air; the +windows of the coupe clouded from his breath; the panels creaked. + +At the Plaza he peered fearfully out upon the deserted Circle, where +the bronze lady of the fountain, who is supposed to represent +Plenty, loomed high in the electric glow, with her magic basket +piled high with icicles. + +"Yes, plenty of ice," sneered Vaux. "I wish she'd bring us a hod or +two of coal." + +The wintry landscape of the Park discouraged him profoundly. + +"A man's an ass to linger anywhere north of the equator," he +grumbled. "Dickybirds have more sense." And again he thought of the +wood fire in the club and the partly empty but steaming glass, and +the aroma it had wafted toward him; and the temperature it must have +imparted to "Bill." + +He was immersed in arctic gloom when at length the car stopped. A +butler admitted him to a brown-stone house, the steps of which had +been thoughtfully strewn with furnace cinders. + +"Miss Erith?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Announce Mr. Vaux, partly frozen." + +"The library, if you please, sir," murmured the butler, taking hat +and coat. + +So Vaux went up stairs with the liveliness of a crippled spider, and +Miss Erith came from a glowing fireside to welcome him, giving him a +firm and slender hand. + +"You ARE cold," she said. "I'm so sorry to have disturbed you this +evening." + +He said: + +"Hum--hum--very kind--m'sure--hum--hum!" + +There were two deep armchairs before the blaze; Miss Erith took one, +Vaux collapsed upon the other. + +She was disturbingly pretty in her evening gown. There were +cigarettes on a little table at his elbow, and he lighted one at her +suggestion and puffed feebly. + +"Which?" she inquired smilingly. + +He understood: "Irish, please." + +"Hot?" + +"Thank you, yes," + +When the butler had brought it, the young man began to regret the +Racquet Club less violently. + +"It's horribly cold out," he said. "There's scarcely a soul on the +streets." + +She nodded brightly: + +"It's a wonderful night for what we have to do. And I don't mind the +cold very much." + +"Are you proposing to go OUT?" he asked, alarmed. + +"Why, yes. You don't mind, do you?" + +"Am _I_ to go, too?" + +"Certainly. You gave me only twenty-four hours, and I can't do it +alone in that time." + +He said nothing, but his thoughts concentrated upon a single +unprintable word. + +"What have you done with the original Lauffer letter, Mr. Vaux?" she +inquired rather nervously. + +"The usual. No invisible ink had been used; nothing microscopic. +There was nothing on the letter or envelope, either, except what we +saw." + +The girl nodded. On a large table behind her chair lay a portfolio. +She turned, drew it toward her, and lifted it into her lap. + +"What have you discovered?" he inquired politely, basking in the +grateful warmth of the fire. + +"Nothing. The cipher is, as I feared, purely arbitrary. It's +exasperating, isn't it?" + +He nodded, toasting his shins. + +"You see," she continued, opening the portfolio, "here is my copy of +this wretched cipher letter. I have transferred it to one sheet. +It's nothing but a string of Arabic numbers interspersed with +meaningless words. These numbers most probably represent, in the +order in which they are written, first the number of the page of +some book, then the line on which the word is to be found--say, the +tenth line from the top, or maybe from the bottom--and then the +position of the word--second from the left or perhaps from the +right." + +"It's utterly impossible to solve that unless you have the book," he +remarked; "therefore, why speculate, Miss Erith?" + +"I'm going to try to find the book." + +"How?" + +"By breaking into the shop of Herman Lauffer." + +"House-breaking? Robbery?" + +"Yes." + +Vaux smiled incredulously: + +"Granted that you get into Lauffer's shop without being arrested, +what then?" + +"I shall have this cipher with me. There are not likely to be many +books in the shop of a gilder and maker of picture frames. I shall, +by referring to this letter, search what books I find there for a +single coherent sentence. When I discover such a sentence I shall +know that I have the right book." + +The young man smoked reflectively and gazed into the burning coals. + +"So you propose to break into his shop to-night and steal the book?" + +"There seems to be nothing else to do, Mr. Vaux." + +"Of course," he remarked sarcastically, "we could turn this matter +over to the proper authorities--" + +"I WON'T! PLEASE don't!" + +"Why not?" + +"Because I have concluded that it IS part of our work. And I've +begun already. I went to see Lauffer. I took a photograph to be +framed." + +"What does he look like?" + +"A mink--an otter--one of those sharp-muzzled little animals!--Two +tiny eyes, rather close together, a long nose that wrinkles when he +talks, as though he were sniffing at you; a ragged, black moustache, +like the furry muzzle-bristles of some wild thing--that is a sketch +of Herman Lauffer." + +"A pretty man," commented Vaux, much amused. + +"He's little and fat of abdomen, but he looks powerful." + +"Prettier and prettier!" + +They both laughed. A pleasant steam arose from the tall glass at his +elbow. + +"Well," she said, "I have to change my gown--" + +"Good Lord! Are we going now?" he remonstrated. + +"Yes. I don't believe there will be a soul on the streets." + +"But I don't wish to go at all," he explained. "I'm very happy here, +discussing things." + +"I know it. But you wouldn't let me go all alone, would you, Mr. +Vaux?" + +"I don't want you to go anywhere." + +"But I'm GOING!" + +"Here's where I perish," groaned Vaux, rising as the girl passed him +with her pretty, humorous smile, moving lithely, swiftly as some +graceful wild thing passing confidently through its own domain. + +Vaux gazed meditatively upon the coals, glass in one hand, cigarette +in the other. Patriotism is a tough career. + +"This is worse than inhuman," he thought. "If I go out on such an +errand to-night I sure am doing my bitter bit. ... Probably some +policeman will shoot me--unless I freeze to death. This is a vastly +unpleasant affair.... Vastly!" + +He was still caressing the fire with his regard when Miss Erith came +back. + +She wore a fur coat buttoned to the throat, a fur toque, fur gloves. +As he rose she naively displayed a jimmy and two flashlights. + +"I see," he said, "very nice, very handy! But we don't need these to +convict us." + +She laughed and handed him the instruments; and he pocketed them and +followed her downstairs. + +Her car was waiting, engine running; she spoke to the Kadiak +chauffeur, got in, and Vaux followed. + +"You know," he said, pulling the mink robe over her and himself, +"you're behaving very badly to your superior officer." + +"I'm so excited, so interested! I hope I'm not lacking in deference +to my honoured Chief of Division. Am I, Mr. Vaux?" + +"You certainly hustle me around some! This is a crazy thing we're +doing." + +"Oh, I'm sorry!" + +"You're an autocrat. You're a lady-Nero! Tell me, Miss Erith, were +you ever afraid of anything on earth?" + +"Yes." + +"What?" + +"Lightning and caterpillars." + +"Those are probably the only really dangerous things I never +feared," he said. "You seem to be young and human and feminine. Are +you?" + +"Oh, very." + +"Then why aren't you afraid of being shot for a burglar, and why do +you go so gaily about grand larceny?" + +The girl's light laughter was friendly and fearless. + +"Do you live alone?" he inquired after a moment's silence. + +"Yes. My parents are not living." + +"You are rather an unusual girl, Miss Erith." + +"Why?" + +"Well, girls of your sort are seldom as much in earnest about their +war work as you seem to be," he remarked with gentle irony. + +"How about the nurses and drivers in France?" + +"Oh, of course. I mean nice girls, like yourself, who do near-war +work here in New York--" + +"You ARE brutal!" she exclaimed. "I am mad to go to France! It is a +sacrifice--a renunciation for me to remain in New York. I understand +nursing and I know how to drive a car; but I have stayed here +because my knowledge of ciphers seemed to fit me for this work." + +"I was teasing you," he said gently. + +"I know it. But there is SO much truth in what you say about +near-war work. I hate that sort of woman.... Why do you laugh?" + +"Because you're just a child. But you are full of ability and +possibility, Miss Erith." + +"I wish my ability might land me in France!" + +"Surely, surely," he murmured. + +"Do you think it will, Mr. Vaux?" + +"Maybe it will," he said, not believing it. He added: "I think, +however, your undoubted ability is going to land us both in jail." + +At which pessimistic prognosis they both began to laugh. She was +very lovely when she laughed. + +"I hope they'll give us the same cell," she said. "Don't you?" + +"Surely," he replied gaily. + +Once he remembered the photograph of Arethusa in his desk at +headquarters, and thought that perhaps he might need it before the +evening was over. + +"Surely, surely," he muttered to himself, "hum--hum!" + +Her coupe stopped in Fifty-sixth Street near Madison Avenue. + +"The car will wait here," remarked the girl, as Vaux helped her to +descend. "Lauffer's shop is just around the corner." She took his +arm to steady herself on the icy sidewalk. He liked it. + +In the bitter darkness there was not a soul to be seen on the +street; no tramcars were approaching on Madison Avenue, although far +up on the crest of Lenox Hill the receding lights of one were just +vanishing. + +"Do you see any policemen?" she asked in a low voice. + +"Not one. They're all frozen to death, I suppose, as we will be in a +few minutes." + +They turned into Madison Avenue past the Hotel Essex. There was not +a soul to be seen. Even the silver-laced porter had retired from the +freezing vestibule. A few moments later Miss Erith paused before a +shop on the ground floor of an old-fashioned brownstone residence +which had been altered for business. + +Over the shop-window was a sign: "H. Lauffer, Frames and Gilding." +The curtains of the shop-windows were lowered. No light burned +inside. + +Over Lauffer's shop was the empty show-window of another shop--on +the second floor--the sort of place that milliners and tea-shop +keepers delight in--but inside the blank show-window was pasted the +sign "To Let." + +Above this shop were three floors, evidently apartments. The windows +were not lighted. + +"Lauffer lives on the fourth floor," said Miss Erith. "Will you +please give me the jimmy, Vaux?" + +He fished it out of his overcoat pocket and looked uneasily up and +down the deserted avenue while the girl stepped calmly into the open +entryway. There were two doors, a glass one opening on the stairs +leading to the upper floors, and the shop door on the left. + +She stooped over for a rapid survey, then with incredible swiftness +jimmied the shop door. + +The noise of the illegal operations awoke the icy and silent avenue +with a loud, splitting crash! The door swung gently inward. + +"Quick!" she said. And he followed her guiltily inside. + +The shop was quite warm. A stove in the rear room still emitted heat +and a dull red light. On the stove was a pot of glue, or some other +substance used by gilders and frame makers. Steam curled languidly +from it; also a smell not quite as languid. + +Vaux handed her an electric torch, then flashed his own. The next +moment she found a push button and switched on the lights in the +shop. Then they extinguished their torches. + +Stacks of frames in raw wood, frames in "compo," samples gilded and +in natural finish littered the untidy place. A few process +"mezzotints" hung on the walls. There was a counter on which lay +twine, shears and wrapping paper, and a copy of the most recent +telephone directory. It was the only book in sight, and Miss Erith +opened it and spread her copy of the cipher-letter beside it. Then +she began to turn the pages according to the numbers written in her +copy of the cipher letter. + +Meanwhile, Vaux was prowling. There were no books in the rear room; +of this he was presently assured. He came back into the front shop +and began to rummage. A few trade catalogues rewarded him and he +solemnly laid them on the counter. + +"The telephone directory is NOT the key," said Miss Erith, pushing +it aside. A few moments were sufficient to convince them that the +key did not lie within any of the trade catalogues either. + +"Have you searched very carefully?" she asked. + +"There's not another book in the bally shop." + +"Well, then, Lauffer must have it in his apartment upstairs." + +"Which apartment is it?" + +"The fourth floor. His name is under a bell on a brass plate in the +entry. I noticed it when I came in." She turned off the electric +light; they went to the door, reconnoitred cautiously, saw nobody on +the avenue. However, a tramcar was passing, and they waited; then +Vaux flashed his torch on the bell-plate. + +Under the bell marked "Fourth Floor" was engraved Herman Lauffer's +name. + +"You know," remonstrated Vaux, "we have no warrant for this sort of +thing, and it means serious trouble if we're caught." + +"I know it. But what other way is there?" she inquired naively. "You +allowed me only twenty-four hours, and I WON'T back out!" + +"What procedure do you propose now?" he asked, grimly amused, and +beginning to feel rather reckless himself, and enjoying the feeling. +"What do you wish to do?" he repeated. "I'm game." + +"I have an automatic pistol," she remarked seriously, tapping her +fur-coat pocket, "--and a pair of handcuffs--the sort that open and +lock when you strike a man on the wrist with them. You know the +kind?" + +"Surely. You mean to commit assault and robbery in the first degree +upon the body of the aforesaid Herman?" + +"I-is that it?" she faltered. + +"It is." + +She hesitated: + +"That is rather dreadful, isn't it?" + +"Somewhat. It involves almost anything short of life imprisonment. +But _I_ don't mind." + +"We couldn't get a search-warrant, could we?" + +"We have found nothing, so far, in that cipher letter to encourage +us in applying for any such warrant," he said cruelly. + +"Wouldn't the excuse that Lauffer is an enemy alien and not +registered aid us in securing a warrant?" she insisted. + +"He is not an alien. I investigated that after you left this +afternoon. His parents were German but he was born in Chicago. +However, he is a Hun, all right--I don't doubt that.... What do you +propose to do now?" + +She looked at him appealingly: + +"Won't you allow me more than twenty-four hours?" + +"I'm sorry." + +"Why won't you?" + +"Because I can't dawdle over this affair." + +The girl smiled at him in her attractive, resolute way: + +"Unless we find that book we can't decipher this letter. The letter +comes from Mexico,--from that German-infested Republic. It is +written to a man of German parentage and it is written in cipher. +The names of Luxburg, Caillaux, Bolo, Bernstorff are still fresh in +our minds. Every day brings us word of some new attempt at sabotage +in the United States. Isn't there ANY way, Mr. Vaux, for us to +secure the key to this cipher letter?" + +"Not unless we go up and knock this man Lauffer on the head. Do you +want to try it?" + +"Couldn't we knock rather gently on his head?" + +Vaux stifled a laugh. The girl was so pretty, the risk so +tremendous, the entire proceeding so utterly outrageous that a +delightful sense of exhilaration possessed him. + +"Where's that gun?" he said. + +She drew it out and handed it to him. + +"Is it loaded?" + +"Yes." + +"Where are the handcuffs?" + +She fished out the nickel-plated bracelets and he pocketed his +torch. A pleasant thrill passed through the rather ethereal anatomy +of Mr. Vaux. + +"All right," he said briskly. "Here's hoping for adjoining cells!" + +To jimmy the glass door was the swiftly cautious work of a moment or +two. Then the dark stairs rose in front of them and Vaux took the +lead. It was as cold as the pole in there, but Vaux's blood was +racing now. And alas! the photograph of Arethusa was in his desk at +the office! + +On the third floor he flashed his torch through an empty corridor +and played it smartly over every closed door. On the fourth floor he +took his torch in his left hand, his pistol in his right. + +"The door to the apartment is open!" she whispered. + +It was. A lamp on a table inside was still burning. They had a +glimpse of a cheap carpet on the floor, cheap and gaudy furniture. +Vaux extinguished and pocketed his torch, then, pistol lifted, he +stepped noiselessly into the front room. + +It seemed to be a sort of sitting-room, and was in disorder; +cushions from a lounge lay about the floor; several books were +scattered near them; an upholstered chair had been ripped open and +disembowelled, and its excelsior stuffing strewn broadcast. + +"This place looks as though it had been robbed!" whispered Vaux. +"What the deuce do you suppose has happened?" + +They moved cautiously to the connecting-door of the room in the +rear. The lamplight partly illuminated it, revealing it as a +bedroom. + +Bedclothes trailed to the floor, which also was littered with dingy +masculine apparel flung about at random. Pockets of trousers and of +coats had been turned inside out, in what apparently had been a +hasty and frantic search. + +The remainder of the room was in disorder, too; underwear had been +pulled from dresser and bureau; the built-in wardrobe doors swung +ajar and the clothing lay scattered about, every pocket turned +inside out. + +"For heaven's sake," muttered Vaux, "what do you suppose this +means?" + +"Look!" she whispered, clutching his arm and pointing to the +fireplace at their feet. + +On the white-tiled hearth in front of the unlighted gas-logs lay the +stump of a cigar. + +From it curled a thin thread of smoke. + +They stared at the smoking stub on the hearth, gazed fearfully +around the dimly lighted bedroom, and peered into the dark +dining-room beyond. + +Suddenly Miss Erith's hand tightened on his sleeve. + +"Hark!" she motioned. + +He heard it, too--a scuffling noise of heavy feet behind a closed +door somewhere beyond the darkened dining-room. + +"There's somebody in the kitchenette!" she whispered. + +Vaux produced his pistol; they stole forward into the dining-room; +halted by the table. + +"Flash that door," he said in a low voice. + +Her electric torch played over the closed kitchen door for an +instant, then, at a whispered word from him, she shut it off and the +dining-room was plunged again into darkness. + +And then, before Vaux or Miss Erith had concluded what next was to +be done, the kitchen door opened; and, against the dangling lighted +bulb within, loomed a burly figure wearing hat and overcoat and a +big bass voice rumbled through the apartment: + +"All right, all right, keep your shirt on and I'll get your coat and +vest for you--" + +Then Miss Erith flashed her torch full in the man's face, blinding +him. And Vaux covered him with levelled pistol. + +Even then the man made a swift motion toward his pocket, but at +Vaux's briskly cheerful warning he checked himself and sullenly and +very slowly raised both empty hands. + +"All right, all right," he grumbled. "It's on me this time. Go on; +what's the idea?" + +"W-well, upon my word!" stammered Vaux, "it's Cassidy!" + +"F'r the love o' God," growled Cassidy, "is that YOU, Mr. Vaux!" He +lowered his arms sheepishly, reached out and switched on the ceiling +light over the dining-room table. "Well, f'r--" he began; and, +seeing Miss Erith, subsided. + +"What are you doing here?" demanded Vaux, disgusted with this +glaring example of interference from another service. + +"What am I doing?" repeated Cassidy with a sarcastic glance at Miss +Erith. "Faith, I'm pinching a German gentleman we've been watching +these three months and more. Is that what you're up to, too?" + +"Herman Lauffer?" + +"That's the lad, sir. He's in the kitchen yonder, dressing f'r to +take a little walk. I gotta get his coat and vest. And what are you +doing here, sir?" + +"How did YOU get in?" asked Miss Erith, flushed with chagrin and +disappointment. + +"With keys, ma'am." + +"Oh, Lord!" said Vaux, "we jimmied the door. What do you think of +that, Cassidy?" + +"Did you so?" grinned Cassidy, now secure in his triumphant priority +and inclined to become friendly. + +"I never dreamed that your division was watching Lauffer," continued +Vaux, still red with vexation. "It's a wonder we didn't spoil the +whole affair between us." + +"It is that!" agreed Cassidy with a wider grin. "And you can take it +from me, Mr. Vaux, we never knew that the Postal Inspection was on +to this fellow at all at all until you called me to stop outgoing +letters." + +"What have you on him?" inquired Vaux. + +Cassidy laughed: + +"Oh, listen then! Would you believe this fellow was tryin' the old +diagonal trick? Sure it was easy; I saw him mail a letter this +afternoon and I got it. I'd been waiting three months for him to do +something like that. But he's a fox--he is that, Mr. Vaux! Do you +want to see the letter? I have it on me--" + +He fished it out of his inside pocket and spread it on the dining +table under the light. + +"You know the game," he remarked, laying a thick forefinger on the +diagonal line bisecting the page. "All I had to do was to test the +letter by drawing that line across it from corner to corner. Read +the words that the line cuts through. Can you beat it?" + +Vaux and Miss Erith bent over the letter, read the apparently +innocent message it contained, then read the words through which the +diagonal line had been drawn. + +Then Cassidy triumphantly read aloud the secret and treacherous +information which the letter contained: + +"SEVEN UNITED STATES TRANSPORTS TO-DAY NEW YORK (BY THE) NORTHERN +ROUTE. INFORM OUR U-BOATS. URGENCY REQUIRES INSTANT MEASURES. TEN +MORE ARE TO SAIL FROM HERE NEXT WEEK." + +"The dirty Boche!" added Cassidy. "Dugan has left for Mexico to look +up this brother of his and I'm lookin' up this snake, so I guess +there's no harm done so far." + +"New York. + +"January 3rd. 1916. + +"My dear Brother: + +"For seven long weeks I have awaited a letter from you. The +United-States mails from Mexico seem to be interrupted. Imagine my +transports of joy when at last I hear from you today. You and I, +dear brother, are the only ones left of our family--you in Vera +Cruz. I in New-York--you in a hot Southern climate, I in a Northern, +amid snow and ice, where the tardy sun does not route me from my bed +till late in the morning. + +"However, I inform you with pleasure that I am well. I rejoice that +our good health is mutual. After all, the dear old U. S. suits me. +Of course railroads or boats could carry me to a warm climate, in +case urgency required it. But I am quite well now, and my health +requires merely prudence. However, if I am again ill at any instant, +I shall leave for Florida, where all tho proper measures can be +taken to combat my rheumatism, + +"Ten days ago I was in bed, and unable to do more than move my left +arm. But th« doctors are confident that my malady is not going to +return. If it does threaten to return I shall sail for Jacksonville +at once, and from there go to Miami, and not return here until the +warm and balmy weather of next spring has lasted at least a week. +Affectionataly your brother. + +"Herman." + +He pocketed the letter and went into the bedroom to get a coat and +vest for the prisoner. Miss Erith looked at Vaux. + +"Cassidy seems to know nothing about the code-cipher," she +whispered. "I think he rummaged on general principles, not in search +of any code-book." + +She looked around the dining-room. The doors of the yellow oak +sideboard were open, but no book was there among the plated knives +and forks and the cheap dishes. + +Cassidy came back with the garments he had been looking for--an +overcoat, coat and vest--and he carried them into the kitchenette, +whither presently Vaux followed him. + +Cassidy had just unlocked the handcuffs from the powerful wrists of +a dark, stocky, sullen man who stood in his shirt-sleeves near a +small deal table. + +"Lauffer?" inquired Vaux, dryly. + +"It sure is, ain't it, Herman?" replied Cassidy facetiously. "Now, +then, me Dutch bucko, climb into your jeans, if YOU please--there's +a good little Boche!" + +Vaux gazed curiously at the spy, who returned his inspection coolly +enough while he wrinkled his nose at him, and his beady eyes roamed +over him. + +When the prisoner had buttoned his vest and coat, Cassidy snapped on +the bracelets again, whistling cheerily under his breath. + +As they started to leave the kitchenette, Vaux, who brought up the +rear, caught sight of a large, thick book lying on the pantry shelf. +It was labelled "Perfect Cook-Book," but he picked it up, shoved it +into his overcoat pocket en passant, and followed Cassidy and his +prisoner into the dining-room. + +Here Cassidy turned humorously to him and to Miss Erith. + +"I've cleaned up the place," he remarked, "but you're welcome to +stay here and rummage if you want to. I'm sending one of our men +back to take possession as soon as I lock up this bird." + +"All right. Good luck," nodded Vaux. + +Cassidy tipped his derby to Miss Erith, bestowed a friendly grin on +Vaux. + +"Come along, old sport!" he said genially to Lauffer; and he walked +away with his handcuffed prisoner, whistling "Garryowen." + +"Wait!" motioned Vaux to Miss Erith. He went to the stairs, listened +to the progress of agent and prey, heard the street-door clash, then +hastened back to the lighted dining-room, pulling the "Perfect +Cook-Book" from his pocket. + +"I found that in the kitchenette," he remarked, laying it before her +on the table. "Maybe that's the key?" + +"A cook-book!" She smiled, opened it. "Why--why, it's a +DICTIONARY!" she exclaimed excitedly. + +"A dictionary!" + +"Yes! Look! Stormonth's English Dictionary!" + +"By ginger!" he said. "I believe it's the code-book! Where is your +cipher letter, Miss Erith!" + +The girl produced it with hands that trembled a trifle, spread it +out under the light. Then she drew from her pocket a little pad and +a pencil. + +"Quick," she said, "look for page 17!" + +"Yes, I have it!" + +"First column!" + +"Yes." + +"Now try the twentieth word from the top!" + +He counted downward very carefully. + +"It is the word 'anagraph,'" he said; and she wrote it down. + +"Also, we had better try the twentieth word counting from the bottom +of the page up," she said. "It might possibly be that." + +"The twentieth word, counting from the bottom of the column upward, +is the word 'an,'" he said. She wrote it. + +"Now," she continued, "try page 15, second column, third word from +TOP!" + +"'Ambrosia' is the word." + +"Try the third word from the BOTTOM." + +"'American.'" + +She pointed to the four words which she had written. Counting from +the TOP of the page downward the first two words were "Anagraph +ambrosia." But counting from the BOTTOM upward the two words formed +the phrase: "AN AMERICAN." + +"Try page 730, first column, seventh word from the bottom," she +said, controlling her excitement with an effort. + +"The word is 'who.'" + +"Page 212, second column, first word!" + +"'For.'" + +"Page 507, first column, seventh word!" + +"'Reasons.'" + +"We have the key!" she exclaimed. "Look at what I've written!--'An +American who for reasons!' And here, in the cipher letter, it goes +on--'of the most'--Do you see?" + +"It certainly looks like the key," he said. "But we'd better try +another word or two." + +"Try page 717, first column, ninth word." + +"The word is 'vital.'" + +"Page 274, second column, second word." + +"'Importance!'" + +"It is the key! Here is what I have written: 'An American who for +reasons, of the most vital importance!' Quick. We don't want a +Secret Service man to find us here, Mr. Vaux! He'd object to our +removing this book from Lauffer's apartment. Put it into your pocket +and run!" And the pretty Miss Erith turned and took to her heels +with Vaux after her. + +Through the disordered apartment and down the stairs they sped, out +into the icy darkness and around the corner, where her car stood, +engine running, and a blanket over the hood. + +As soon as the chauffeur espied them he whisked off the blanket; +Miss Erith said: "Home!" and jumped in, and Vaux followed. + +Deep under the fur robe they burrowed, shivering more from sheer +excitement than from cold, and the car flew across to Fifth Avenue +and then northward along deserted sidewalks and a wintry park, where +naked trees and shrubs stood stark as iron in the lustre of the +white electric lamps. + +"That time the Secret Service made a mess of it," he said with a +nervous laugh. "Did you notice Cassidy's grin of triumph?" + +"Poor Cassidy," she said. + +"I don't know. He butted in." + +"All the services are working at cross-purposes. It's a pity." + +"Well, Cassidy got his man. That's practically all he came for. +Evidently he never heard of a code-book in connection with Lauffer's +activities. That diagonal cipher caught him." + +"What luck," she murmured, "that you noticed that cook-book in the +pantry! And what common sense you displayed in smuggling it!" + +"I didn't suppose it was THE book; I just took a chance." + +"To take a chance is the best way to make good, isn't it?" she said, +laughing. "Oh, I am so thrilled, Mr. Vaux! I shall sit up all night +over my darling cipher and my fascinating code-book-dictionary." + +"Will you be down in the morning?" he inquired. + +"Of course. Then to-morrow evening, if you will come to my house, I +shall expect to show you the entire letter neatly deciphered." + +"Fine!" he exclaimed as the car stopped before her door. + +She insisted on sending him home in her car, and he was very +grateful; so when he had seen her safely inside her house with the +cook-book-dictionary clasped in her arms and a most enchanting smile +on her pretty face, he made his adieux, descended the steps, and her +car whirled him swiftly homeward through the arctic night. + + + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE SLIP + + + + + +When Clifford Vaux arrived at a certain huge building now mostly +devoted to Government work connected with the war, he found upon his +desk a dictionary camouflaged to represent a cook-book; and also +Miss Erith's complete report. And he lost no time in opening and +reading the latter document: + +"CLIFFORD VAUX, ESQ., + +"D. C. of the E. C. D., + +"P. I. Service. (Confidential) + +"Sir: + +"I home the honour to report that the matter with which you have +entrusted me is now entirely cleared up. + +"This short preliminary memorandum is merely to refresh your memory +concerning the particular case herewith submitted in detail. + +"In re Herman Laufer: + +"The code-book, as you recollect, is Stormonth's English Dictionary, +XIII Edition, published by Wm. Blackwood & Sons, Edinburgh and +London, MDCCCXCVI. This book I herewith return to you. + +"The entire cipher is, as we guessed, arbitrary and stupidly +capricious. Phonetic spelling is indulged in occasionally--I should +almost say humorously--were it not a Teuton mind which evolved the +phonetic combinations which represent proper names not found in that +dictionary--names like Holzminden and New York, for example. + +"As for the symbols and numbers, they are not at all obscure. +Reference to the dictionary makes the cipher perfectly clear. + +"In Stormonth's Dictionary you will notice that each page has two +columns; each column a varying number of paragraphs; some of the +paragraphs contain more than one word to be defined. + +"In the cipher letter the first number of any of the groups of +figures which are connected by dashes (--) and separated by vertical +(|) represents the page in Stormonth's Dictionary on which the word +is to be found. + +"The second number represents the column (1 or 2) in which the word +is to be found. + +"The third number indicates the position of the word, counting from +the bottom of the page upward, in the proper column. + +"Roman numerals which sometimes follow, enclosed in a circle, give +the position of the word in the paragraph, if it does not, as usual, +begin the paragraph. + +"The phonetic spelling of Holzminden is marked by an asterisk when +first employed. Afterward only the asterisk (*) is used, instead of +the cumbersome phonetic symbol. + +"Minus and plus signs are namely used to subtract or to add letters +or to connect syllables. Reference to the code-book makes all this +clear enough. + +"In the description of the escaped prisoner, Roman numerals give his +age; Roman and Arabic his height in feet and inches. + +"Arabic numerals enclosed in circles represent capital letters as +they occur in the middle of a page in the dictionary--as S, for +example, is printed in the middle of the page; and all words +beginning with S follow in proper sequence. + +"With the code-book at your elbow the cipher will prove to be +perfectly simple. Without the code it is impossible for any human +being to solve such a cipher, as you very well know. + +"I herewith append the cipher letter, the method of translation, and +the complete message. + +"Respectfully, + +"EVELYN ERITH: E. C. D." + +Complete Translation of Cipher Letter with Parenthetical Suggestions +by Miss Erith. + +To + +B 60-02, + +An American, who for reasons of the most vital importance has been +held as an English (civilian?) civic prisoner in the mixed civilian +(concentration) camp at Holzminden, has escaped. It is now feared +that he has made his way safely to New York. (Memo: Please note the +very ingenious use of phonetics to spell out New York. E. E.) + +(His) name (is) Kay McKay and he has been known as Kay McKay of +Isla--a Scotch title--he having inherited from his grandfather (a) +property in Scotland called Isla, which is but a poor domain +(consisting of the river) Isla and the adjoining moors and a large +white-washed manor (house) in very poor repair. + +After his escape from Holzminden it was at first believed that McKay +had been drowned in (the River) Weser. Later it was ascertained that +he sailed for an American port via a Scandinavian liner sometime +(in) October. + +(This is his) description: Age 32; height 5 feet 8 l/2 inches; eyes +brown; hair brown; nose straight; mouth regular; face oval; teeth +white and even--no dental work; small light-brown moustache; no +superficial identification marks. + +The bones in his left foot were broken many years ago, but have been +properly set. Except for an hour or so every two or three months, he +suffers no lameness. + +He speaks German without accent; French with an English accent. + +Until incarcerated (in Holzminden camp) he had never been +intemperate. There, however, through orders from Berlin, he was +tempted and encouraged in the use of intoxicants--other drink, +indeed, being excluded from his allowance--so that after the second +year he had become more or less addicted (to the use of alcohol). + +Unhappily, however, this policy, which had been so diligently and so +thoroughly pursued in order to make him talkative and to surprise +secrets from him when intoxicated (failed to produce the so properly +expected results and) only succeeded in making of the young man a +hopeless drunkard. + +Sterner measures had been decided on, and, in fact, had already been +applied, when the prisoner escaped by tunnelling. + +Now, it is most necessary to discover this McKay (man's whereabouts +and to have him destroyed by our agents in New York). Only his death +can restore to the (Imperial German) Government its perfect sense of +security and its certainty of (ultimate) victory. + +The necessity (for his destruction) lies in the unfortunate and +terrifying fact that he is cognisant of the Great Secret! He should +have been executed at Holzminden within an hour (of his +incarceration). + +This was the urgent advice of Von Tirpitz. But unfortunately High +Command intervened with the expectation (of securing from the +prisoner) further information (concerning others who, like himself, +might possibly have become possessed in some measure of a clue to +the Great Secret)? E. E. + +The result is bad. (That the prisoner has escaped without betraying +a single word of information useful to us.) E. E. + +Therefore, find him and have him silenced without delay. The +security of the Fatherland depends on this (man's immediate death). + +M 17. (Evidently the writer of the letter) E. E. + +For a long time Vaux sat studying cipher and translation. And at +last he murmured: + +"Surely, surely. Fine--very fine.... Excellent work. But--WHAT is +the Great Secret?" + +There was only one man in America who knew. + +And he had landed that morning from the Scandinavian steamer, Peer +Gynt, and, at that very moment, was standing by the bar of the Hotel +Astor, just sober enough to keep from telling everything he knew to +the bartenders, and just drunk enough to talk too much in a place +where the enemy always listens. + +He said to the indifferent bartender who had just served him: + +"'F you knew what I know 'bout Germany, you'd be won'ful man! I'M +won'ful man. I know something! Going tell, too. Going see 'thorities +this afternoon. Going tell 'em great secret!... Grea' milt'ry +secret! Tell 'em all 'bout it! Grea' secresh! Nobody knows +grea'-sekresh 'cep m'self! Whaddya thinka that? Gimme l'il +Hollanschnapps n'water onna side!" + +Hours later he was, apparently, no drunker--as though he could not +manage to get beyond a certain stage of intoxication, no matter how +recklessly he drank. + +"'Nother Hollenschnapps," he said hazily. "Goin' see 'thorities +'bout grea' sekresh! Tell 'em all 'bout it. Anybody try stop me, +knockem down. Thassa way.... N-n-nockem out!--stan' no nonsense! Ge' +me?" + +Later he sauntered off on slightly unsteady legs to promenade +himself in the lobby and Peacock Alley. + +Three men left the barroom when he left. They continued to keep him +in view. + +Although he became no drunker, he grew politer after every +drink--also whiter in the face--and the bluish, bruised look +deepened under his eyes. + +But he was a Chesterfield in manners; he did not stare at any of the +lively young persons in Peacock Alley, who seemed inclined to look +pleasantly at him; he made room for them to pass, hat in hand. + +Several times he went to the telephone desk and courteously +requested various numbers; and always one of the three men who had +been keeping him in view stepped into the adjoining booth, but did +not use the instrument. + +Several times he strolled through the crowded lobby to the desk and +inquired whether there were any messages or visitors for Mr. Kay +McKay; and the quiet, penetrating glances of the clerks on duty +immediately discovered his state of intoxication but nothing else, +except his extreme politeness and the tense whiteness of his face. + +Two of the three men who were keeping him in view tried, at various +moments, to scrape acquaintance with him in the lobby, and at the +bar; and without any success. + +The last man, who had again stepped into an adjoining booth while +McKay was telephoning, succeeded, by inquiring for McKay at the desk +and waiting there while he was being paged. + +The card on which this third man of the trio had written bore the +name Stanley Brown; and when McKay hailed the page and perused the +written name of his visitor he walked carefully back to the +lobby--not too fast, because he seemed to realise that his legs, at +that time, would not take kindly to speed. + +In the lobby the third man approached him: + +"Mr. McKay?" + +"Mr. Brown?" + +"A. I. O. agent," said Brown in a low voice. "You telephoned to +Major Biddle, I believe." + +McKay inspected him with profound gravity: + +"How do," he said. "Ve' gla', m'sure. Ve' kind 'f'you come way up +here see me. But I gotta see Major Biddle." + +"I understand. Major Biddle has asked me to meet you and bring you +to him." + +"Oh. Ve' kind, 'm'sure. Gotta see Major. Confidential. Can' tell +anybody 'cep Major." + +"The Major will meet us at the Pizza, this evening," explained +Brown. "Meanwhile, if you will do me the honour of dining with +me--" + +"Ve' kind. Pleasure, 'm'sure. Have li'l drink, Mr. Brown?" + +"Not here," murmured Brown. "I'm not in uniform, but I'm known." + +"Quite so. Unnerstan' perfec'ly. Won'do. No." + +"Had you thought of dressing for dinner?" inquired Mr. Brown +carelessly. + +McKay nodded, went over to the desk and got his key. But when he +returned to Brown he only laughed and shoved the key into his +pocket. + +"Forgot," he explained. "Just came over. Haven't any clothes. Got +these in Christiania. Ellis Island style. 'S'all I've got. Good +overcoat though." He fumbled at his fur coat as he stood there, +slightly swaying. + +"We'll get a drink where I'm not known," said Brown. "I'll find a +taxi." + +"Ve' kind," murmured McKay, following him unsteadily to the swinging +doors that opened on Long Acre, now so dimly lighted that it was +scarcely recognisable. + +An icy blast greeted them from the darkness, refreshing McKay for a +moment; but in the freezing taxi he sank back as though weary, +pulling his beaver coat around him and closing his battered eyes. + +"Had a hard time," he muttered. "Feel done in. ... Prisoner. .. . +Gottaway. . . . Three months making Dutch border.... Hell. Tell +Major all 'bout it. Great secret." + +"What secret is that?" asked Brown, peering at him intently through +the dim light, where he swayed in the corner with every jolt of the +taxi. + +"Sorry, m'dear fellow. Mussn' ask me that. Gotta tell Major n'no one +else." + +"But I am the Major's confidential--" + +"Sorry. You'll 'scuse me, 'm'sure. Can't talk Misser Brow!--'gret +'ceedingly 'cessity reticence. Unnerstan'?" + +The taxi stopped before a vaguely lighted saloon on Fifty-ninth +Street east of Fifth Avenue. McKay opened his eyes, looked around +him in the bitter darkness, stumbled out into the snow on Brown's +arm. + +"A quiet, cosy little cafe," said Brown, "where I don't mind joining +you in something hot before dinner." + +"Thasso? Fine! Hot Scotch we' good 'n'cold day. We'll havva l'il +drink keep us warm 'n'snug." + +A few respectable-looking men were drinking beer in the cafe as they +entered a little room beyond, where a waiter came to them and took +Brown's orders. + +Hours later McKay seemed to be no more intoxicated than he had been; +no more loquacious or indiscreet. He had added nothing to what he +had already disclosed, boasted no more volubly about the "great +secret," as he called it. + +Now and then he recollected himself and inquired for the "Major," +but a drink always sidetracked him. + +It was evident, too, that Brown was becoming uneasy and impatient to +the verge of exasperation, and that he was finally coming to the +conclusion that he could do nothing with the man McKay as far as +pumping was concerned. + +Twice, on pretexts, he left McKay alone in the small room and went +into the cafe, where his two companions of the Hotel Astor were +seated at a table, discussing sardine sandwiches and dark brew. + +"I can't get a damned thing out of him," he said in a low voice. +"Who the hell he is and where he comes from is past me. Had I better +fix him and take his key?" + +"Yess," nodded one of the other men, "it iss perhaps better that we +search now his luggage in his room." + +"I guess that's all we can hope for from this guy. Say! He's a clam. +And he may be only a jazzer at that." + +"He comes on the Peer Gynt this morning. We shall not forget that +alretty, nor how he iss calling at those telephones all afternoon." + +"He may be a nosey newspaper man--just a fresh souse," said Brown. +"All the same I think I'll fix him and we'll go see what he's got in +his room." + +The two men rose, paid their reckoning, and went out; Brown returned +to the small room, where McKay sat at the table with his curly brown +head buried in his arms. + +He did not look up immediately when Brown returned--time for the +latter to dose the steaming tumbler at the man's elbow, and slip the +little bottle back into his pocket. + +Then, thinking McKay might be asleep, he nudged him, and the young +man lifted his marred and dissipated visage and extended one hand +for his glass. + +They both drank. + +"Wheresa Major?" inquired McKay. "Gotta see him rightaway. Great +secreksh--" + +"Take a nap. You're tired." + +"Yess'm all in," muttered the other. "Had a hard +time--prisoner--three--three months hiding--" His head fell on his +arms again. + +Brown rose from his chair, bent over him, remained poised above his +shoulder for a few moments. Then he coolly took the key from McKay's +overcoat pocket and very deftly continued the search, in spite of +the drowsy restlessness of the other. + +But there were no papers, no keys, only a cheque-book and a wallet +packed with new banknotes and some foreign gold and silver. Brown +merely read the name written in the new cheque-book but did not take +it or the money. + +Then, his business with McKay being finished, he went out, paid the +reckoning, tipped the waiter generously, and said: + +"My friend wants to sleep for half an hour. Let him alone until I +come back for him." + +Brown had been gone only a few moments when McKay lifted his head +from his arms with a jerk, looked around him blindly, got to his +feet and appeared in the cafe doorway, swaying on unsteady legs. + +"Gotta see the Major!" he said thickly. "'M'not qui' well. Gotta--" + +The waiter attempted to quiet him, but McKay continued on toward the +door, muttering that he had to find the Major and that he was not +feeling well. + +They let him go out into the freezing darkness. Between the saloon +and the Plaza Circle he fell twice on the ice, but contrived to find +his feet again and lurch on through the deserted street and square. + +The black cold that held the city in its iron grip had driven men +and vehicles from the streets. On Fifth Avenue scarcely a moving +light was to be seen; under the fuel-conservation order, club, hotel +and private mansion were unlighted at that hour. The vast marble +mass of the Plaza Hotel loomed enormous against the sky; the New +Netherlands, the Savoy, the Metropolitan Club, the great Vanderbilt +mansion, were darkened. Only a few ice-dimmed lamps clustered around +the Plaza fountain, where the bronze goddess, with her basket of +ice, made a graceful and shadowy figure under the stars. + +The young man was feeling very ill now. His fur overcoat had become +unbuttoned and the bitter wind that blew across the Park seemed to +benumb his body and fetter his limbs so that he could barely keep +his feet. + +He had managed to cross Fifth Avenue, somehow; but now he stumbled +against the stone balustrade which surrounds the fountain, and he +rested there, striving to keep his feet. + +Blindness, then deafness possessed him. Stupefied, instinct still +aided him automatically in his customary habit of fighting; he +strove to beat back the mounting waves of lethargy; half-conscious, +he still fought for consciousness. + +After a while his hat fell off. He was on his knees now, huddled +under his overcoat, his left shoulder resting against the +balustrade. Twice one arm moved as though seeking something. It was +the mind's last protest against the betrayal of the body. Then the +body became still, although the soul still lingered within it. + +But now it had become a question of minutes--not many minutes. +Fate had knocked him out; Destiny was counting him out--had nearly +finished counting. Then Chance stepped into the squared circle of +Life. And Kay McKay was in a very bad way indeed when a coupe, +speeding northward through the bitter night, suddenly veered +westward, ran in to the curb, and stopped; and Miss Erith's +chauffeur turned in his seat at the wheel to peer back through the +glass at his mistress, whose signal he had just obeyed. + +Then he scrambled out of his seat and came around to the door, just +as Miss Erith opened it and hurriedly descended. + +"Wayland," she said, "there's somebody over there on the sidewalk. +Can't you see?--there by the marble railing?--by the fountain! +Whoever it is will freeze to death. Please go over and see what is +the matter." + +The heavily-furred chauffeur ran across the snowy oval. Miss Erith +saw him lean over the shadowy, prostrate figure, shake it; then she +hurried over too, and saw a man, crouching, fallen forward on his +face beside the snowy balustrade. + +Down on her knees in the snow beside him dropped Miss Erith, calling +on Wayland to light a match. + +"Is he dead, Miss?" + +"No. Listen to him breathe! He's ill. Can't you hear the dreadful +sounds he makes? Try to lift him, if you can. He's freezing here!" + +"I'm thinkin' he's just drunk an' snorin,' Miss." + +"What of it? He's freezing, too. Carry him to the carl" + +Wayland leaned down, put both big arms under the shoulders of the +unconscious man, and dragged him, upright, holding him by main +strength. + +"He's drunk, all right, Miss," the chauffeur remarked with a sniff +of disgust. + +That he had been drinking was evident enough to Miss Erith now. She +picked up his hat; a straggling yellow light from the ice-bound +lamps fell on McKay's battered features. + +"Get him into the car," she said, "he'll die out here in this cold." + +The big chauffeur half-carried, half-dragged the inanimate man to +the car and lifted him in. Miss Erith followed. + +"The Samaritan Hospital--that's the nearest," she said hastily. +"Drive as fast as you can, Wayland." + +McKay had slid to the floor of the coupe; Miss Erith turned on the +ceiling light, drew the fur robe around him, and lifted his head to +her knees, holding it there supported between her gloved hands. + +The light fell full on his bruised visage, on the crisp brown hair +dusted with snow, which lay so lightly on his temples, making him +seem very frail and boyish in his deathly pallor. + +His breathing grew heavier, more laboured; the coupe reeked with the +stench of alcohol; and Miss Erith, feeling almost faint, opened the +window a little way, then wrapped the young man's head in the skirt +of her fur coat and covered his icy hands with her own. + +The ambulance entrance to the Samaritan Hospital was dimly +illuminated. Wayland, turning in from Park Avenue, sounded his horn, +then scrambled down from the box as an orderly and a watchman +appeared under the vaulted doorway. And in a few moments the +emergency case had passed out of Miss Erith's jurisdiction. + +But as her car turned homeward, upon her youthful mind was stamped +the image of a pale, bruised face--of a boyish head reversed upon +her knees--of crisp, light-brown hair dusted with particles of +snow. + +Within the girl's breast something deep was stirring--something +unfamiliar--not pain--not pity--yet resembling both, perhaps. She +had no other standard of comparison. + +After she reached home she called up the Samaritan Hospital for +information, and learned that the man was suffering from the effects +of alcohol and chloral--the latter probably an overdose +self-administered--because he had not been robbed. Miss Erith also +learned that there were five hundred dollars in new United States +banknotes in his pockets, some English sovereigns, a number of Dutch +and Danish silver pieces, and a new cheque-book on the Schuyler +National Bank, in which was written what might be his name. + +"Will he live?" inquired Miss Erith, solicitous, as are people +concerning the fate of anything they have helped to rescue. + +"He seems to be in no danger," came the answer. "Are you interested +in the patient, Miss Erith?" + +"No--that is--yes. Yes, I am interested." + +"Shall we communicate with you in case any unfavourable symptoms +appear?" + +"Please do!" + +"Are you a relative or friend?" + +"N-no. I am very slightly interested--in his recovery. Nothing +more." + +"Very well. But we do not find his name in any directory. We have +attempted to communicate with his family, but nobody of that name +claims him. You say you are personally interested in the young man?" + +"Oh, no," said Miss Erith, "except that I hope he is not going to +die.... He seems so--young--f-friendless--" + +"Then you have no personal knowledge of the patient?" + +"None whatever.... What did you say his name is?" + +"McKay." + +For a moment the name sounded oddly familiar but meaningless in her +ears. Then, with a thrill of sudden recollection, she asked again +for the man's name. + +"The name written in his cheque-book is McKay." + +"McKay!" she repeated incredulously. "What else?" + +"Kay." + +"WHAT!!" + +"That is the name in the cheque-book--Kay McKay." + +Dumb, astounded, she could not utter a word. + +"Do you know anything about him, Miss Erith?" inquired the distant +voice. + +"Yes--yes!... I don't know whether I do.... I have heard the--that +name--a similar name--" Her mind was in a tumult now. Could such a +thing happen? It was utterly impossible! + +The voice on the wire continued: + +"The police have been here but they are not interested in the case, +as no robbery occurred. The young man is still unconscious, +suffering from the chloral. If you are interested, Miss Erith, would +you kindly call at the hospital to-morrow?" + +"Yes.... Did you say that there was FOREIGN money in his pockets?" + +"Dutch and Danish silver and English gold." + +"Thank you.... I shall call to-morrow. Don't let him leave before I +arrive." + +"What?" + +"I wish to see him. Please do not permit him to leave before I get +there. It--it is very important--vital--in case he is the man--the +Kay McKay in question." + +"Very well. Good-night." + +Miss Erith sank back in her armchair, shivering even in the warm +glow from the hearth. + +"Such things can NOT happen!" she said aloud. "Such things do not +happen in life!" + +And she told herself that even in stories no author would dare--not +even the veriest amateur scribbler--would presume to affront +intelligent readers by introducing such a coincidence as this +appeared to be. + +"Such things do NOT happen!" repeated Miss Erith firmly. + +Such things, however, DO occur. + +Was it possible that the Great Secret, of which the Lauffer cipher +letter spoke, was locked within the breast of this young fellow who +now lay unconscious in the Samaritan Hospital? + +Was this actually the escaped prisoner? Was this the man who, +according to instructions in the cipher, was to be marked for death +at the hands of the German Government's secret agents in America? + +And, if this truly were the same man, was he safe, at least for the +present, now that the cipher letter had been intercepted before it +had reached Herman Lauffer? + +Hour after hour, lying deep in her armchair before the fire, Miss +Erith crouched a prey to excited conjectures, not one of which could +be answered until the man in the Samaritan Hospital had recovered +consciousness. + +Suppose he never recovered consciousness. Suppose he should die-- + +At the thought Miss Erith sprang from her chair and picked up the +telephone. + +With fast-beating heart she waited for the connection. Finally she +got it and asked the question. + +"The man is dying," came the calm answer. A pause, then: "I +understand the patient has just died." + +Miss Erith strove to speak but her voice died in her throat. +Trembling from head to foot, she placed the telephone on the table, +turned uncertainly, fell into the armchair, huddled there, and +covered her face with both hands. + +For it was proving worse--a little worse than the loss of the Great +Secret--worse than the mere disappointment in losing it--worse even +than a natural sorrow in the defeat of an effort to save life. + +For in all her own life Miss Erith had never until that evening +experienced the slightest emotion when looking into the face of any +man. + +But from the moment when her brown eyes fell upon the pallid, +dissipated, marred young face turned upward on her knees in the +car--in that instant she had known for the first time a new and +indefinable emotion--vague in her mind, vaguer in her heart--yet +delicately apparent. + +But what this unfamiliar emotion might be, so faint, so vague, she +had made no effort to analyse.... It had been there; she had +experienced it; that was all she knew. + +It was almost morning before she rose, stiff with cold, and moved +slowly toward her bedroom. + +Among the whitening ashes on her hearth only a single coal remained +alive. + + + + + + +CHAPTER III + +TO A FINISH + + + + + +The hospital called her on the telephone about eight o'clock in the +morning: + +"Miss Evelyn Erith, please?" + +"Yes," she said in a tired voice, "who is it?" + +"Is this Miss Erith?" + +"Yes." + +"This is the Superintendent's office, Samaritan, Hospital, Miss +Dalton speaking." + +The girl's heart contracted with a pang of sheer pain. She closed +her eyes and waited. The voice came over the wire again: + +"A wreath of Easter lilies with your card came early--this morning. +I'm very sure there is a mistake--" + +"No," she whispered, "the flowers are for a patient who died in the +hospital last night--a young man whom I brought there in my car--Kay +McKay." + +"I was afraid so--" + +"What!" + +"McKay isn't dead! It's another patient. I was sure somebody here +had made a mistake." + +Miss Erith swayed slightly, steadied herself with a desperate effort +to comprehend what the voice was telling her. + +"There was a mistake made last night," continued Miss Dalton. +"Another patient died--a similar case. When I came on duty a few +moments ago I learned what had occurred. The young man in whom you +are interested is conscious this morning. Would you care to see him +before he is discharged?" + +Miss Erith said, unsteadily, that she would. + +She had recovered her self-command but her knees remained weak and +her lips tremulous, and she rested her forehead on both hands which +had fallen, tightly clasped, on the table in front of her. After a +few moments she felt better and she rang up her D. C., Mr. Vaux, and +explained that she expected to be late at the office. After that she +got the garage on the wire, ordered her car, and stood by the window +watching the heavily falling snow until her butler announced the +car's arrival. + +The shock of the message informing her that this man was still alive +now rapidly absorbed itself in her reviving excitement at the +prospect of an approaching interview with him. Her car ran +cautiously along Park Avenue through the driving snow, but the +distance was not far and in a few minutes the great red quadrangle +of the Samaritan Hospital loomed up on her right. And even before +she was ready, before she quite had time to compose her mind in +preparation for the questions she had begun to formulate, she was +ushered into a private room by a nurse on duty who detained her a +moment at the door: + +"The patient is ready to be discharged," she whispered, "but we have +detained him at your request. We are so sorry about the mistake." + +"Is he quite conscious?" + +"Entirely. He's somewhat shaken, that is all. Otherwise he shows no +ill effects." + +"Does he know how he came here?" + +"Oh, yes. He questioned us this morning and we told him the +circumstances." + +"Does he know I have arrived?" + +"Yes, I told him." + +"He did not object to seeing me?" inquired Miss Erith. A slight +colour dyed her face. + +"No, he made no objection. In fact, he seemed interested. He expects +you. You may go in." + +Miss Erith stepped into the room. Perhaps the patient had heard the +low murmur of voices in the corridor, for he lay on his side in bed +gazing attentively toward the door. Miss Erith walked straight to +the bedside; he looked up at her in silence. + +"I am so glad that you are better," she said with an effort made +doubly difficult in the consciousness of the bright blush on her +cheeks. Without moving he replied in what must have once been an +agreeable voice: "Thank you. I suppose you are Miss Erith." + +"Yes." + +"Then--I am very grateful for what you have done." + +"It was so fortunate--" + +"Would you be seated if you please?" + +She took the chair beside his bed. + +"It was nice of you," he said, almost sullenly. "Few women of your +sort would bother with a drunken man." + +They both flushed. She said calmly: "It is women of my sort who DO +exactly that kind of thing." + +He gave her a dark and sulky look: "Not often," he retorted: "there +are few of your sort from Samaria." + +There was a silence, then he went on in a hard voice: + +"I'd been drinking a lot... as usual.... But it isn't an excuse when +I say that my beastly condition was not due to a drunken stupor. It +just didn't happen to be that time." + +She shivered slightly. "It happened to be due to chloral," he added, +reddening painfully again. "I merely wished you to know." + +"Yes, they told me," she murmured. + +After another silence, during which he had been watching her +askance, he said: "Did you think I had taken that chloral +voluntarily?" + +She made no reply. She sat very still, conscious of vague pain +somewhere in her breast, acquiescent in the consciousness, dumb, and +now incurious concerning further details of this man's tragedy. + +"Sometimes," he said, "the poor devil who, in chloral, seeks +a-refuge from intolerable pain becomes an addict to the drug.... I +do not happen to be an addict. I want you to understand that." + +The painful colour came and went in the girl's face; he was now +watching her intently. + +"As a matter of fact, but probably of no interest to you," he +continued, "I did not voluntarily take that chloral. It was +administered to me without my knowledge--when I was more or less +stupid with liquor.... It is what is known as knockout drops, and is +employed by crooks to stupefy men who are more or less intoxicated +so that they may be easily robbed." + +He spoke now so calmly and impersonally that the girl had turned to +look at him again as she listened. And now she said: "Were you +robbed?" + +"They took my hotel key: nothing else." + +"Was that a serious matter, Mr. McKay?" + +He studied her with narrowing brown eyes. + +"Oh, no," he said. "I had nothing of value in my room at the Astor +except a few necessaries in a steamer-trunk.... Thank you so much +for all your kindness to me, Miss Erith," he added, as though +relieving her of the initiative in terminating the interview. + +As he spoke he caught her eye and divined somehow that she did not +mean to go just yet. Instantly he was on his guard, lying there with +partly closed lids, awaiting events, though not yet really +suspicious. But at her next question he rose abruptly, supported on +one elbow, his whole frame tense and alert under the bed-coverings +as though gathered for a spring. + +"What did you say?" he demanded. + +"I asked you how long ago you escaped from Holzminden camp?" +repeated the girl, very pale. + +"Who told you I had ever been there?--wherever that is!" + +"You were there as a prisoner, were you not, Mr. McKay?" + +"Where is that place?" + +"In Germany on the River Weser. You were detained there under +pretence of being an Englishman before we declared war on Germany. +After we declared war they held you as a matter of course." + +There was an ugly look in his eyes, now: "You seem to know a great +deal about a drunkard you picked up in the snow near the Plaza +fountain last night." + +"Please don't speak so bitterly." + +Quite unconsciously her gloved hand crept up on her fur coat until +it rested over her heart, pressing slightly against her breast. +Neither spoke for a few moments. Then: + +"I do know something about you, Mr. McKay," she said. "Among other +things I know that--that if you have become--become intemperate--it +is not your fault.... That was vile of them-unutterably wicked-to do +what they did to you--" + +"Who are you?" he burst out. "Where have you learned-heard such +things? Did I babble all this?" + +"You did not utter a sound!" + +"Then--in God's name--" + +"Oh, yes, yes!" she murmured, "in God's name. That is why you and I +are here together--in God's name and by His grace. Do you know He +wrought a miracle for you and me--here in New York, in these last +hours of this dreadful year that is dying very fast now? + +"Do you know what that miracle is? Yes, it's partly the fact that +you did not die last night out there on the street. Thirteen degrees +below zero! ... And you did not die.... And the other part of the +miracle is that I of all people in the world should have found +you!... That is our miracle." + +Somehow he divined that the girl did not mean the mere saving of his +life had been part of this miracle. But she had meant that, too, +without realising she meant it. + +"Who are you?" he asked very quietly. + +"I'll tell you: I am Evelyn Erith, a volunteer in the C. E. D. +Service of the United States." + +He drew a deep breath, sank down on his elbow, and rested his head +on the pillow. + +"Still I don't see how you know," he said. "I mean--the beastly +details--" + +"I'll tell you some time. I read the history of your case in an +intercepted cipher letter. Before the German agent here had received +and decoded it he was arrested by an agent of another Service. If +there is anything more to be learned from him it will be extracted. + +"But of all men on earth you are the one man I wanted to find. There +is the miracle: I found you! Even now I can scarcely force myself to +believe it is really you." + +The faintest flicker touched his eyes. + +"What did you want of me?" he inquired. + +"Help." + +"Help? From such a man as I? What sort of help do you expect from a +drunkard?" + +"Every sort. All you can give. All you can give." + +He looked at her wearily; his face had become pallid again; the dark +hollows of dissipation showed like bruises. + +"I don't understand," he said. "I'm no good, you know that. I'm done +in, finished. I couldn't help you with your work if I wanted to. +There's nothing left of me. I am not to be depended on." + +And suddenly, in his eyes of a boy, his self-hatred was revealed to +her in one savage gleam. + +"No good," he muttered feverishly, "not to be trusted--no will-power +left.... It was in me, I suppose, to become the drunkard I am--" + +"You are NOT!" cried the girl fiercely. "Don't say it!" + +"Why not? I am!" + +"You can fight your way free!" His laugh frightened her. + +"Fight? I've done that. They tried to pump me that way, too--tried +to break me--break my brain to pieces--by stopping my liquor.... I +suppose they thought I might really go insane, as they gave it back +after a while--after a few centuries in hell--and tried to make me +talk by other methods-- + +"Don't, please." She turned her head swiftly, unable to control her +quivering face. + +"Why not?" + +"I can't bear it." + +"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shock you." + +"I know." She sat for a while with head averted; and presently +spoke, sitting so: + +"We'll fight it, anyway," she said. + +"What do you mean?" + +"If you'll let me--" + +After a silence she turned and looked at him. He .stammered, very +red: + +"I don't quite know why you speak to me so." + +She herself was not entirely clear on that point, either. After all, +her business with this man was to use him in the service of her +Government." + +"What is THE GREAT SECRET?" she asked calmly. + +After a long while he said, lying there very still: "So you have +even heard about that." + +"I have heard about it; that is all." + +"Do you know what it is?" + +"All I know about it is that there is such a thing--something known +to certain Germans, and by them spoken of as THE GREAT SECRET. I +imagine, of course, that it is some vital military secret which they +desire to guard." + +"Is that all you know about it?" + +"No, not all." She looked at him gravely out of very clear, honest +eyes: + +"I know, also, that the Berlin Government has ordered its agents to +discover your whereabouts, and to'silence' you." + +He gazed at her quite blandly for a moment, then, to her amazement, +he laughed--such a clear, untroubled, boyish laugh that her +constrained expression softened in sympathy. + +"Do you think that Berlin doesn't mean it?" she asked, brightening a +little. + +"Mean it? Oh, I'm jolly sure Berlin means it!" + +"Then why--" + +"Why do I laugh?" + +"Well--yes. Why do you? It does not strike me as very humorous." + +At that he laughed again--laughed so whole-heartedly, so +delightfully, that the winning smile curved her own lips once more. + +"Would you tell me why you laugh?" she inquired. + +"I don't know. It seems so funny--those Huns, those Boches, already +smeared from hair to feet with blood--pausing in their wholesale +butchery to devise a plan to murder ME!" + +His face altered; he raised himself on one elbow: + +"The swine have turned all Europe into a bloody wallow. They're +belly-deep in it--Kaiser and knecht! But that's only part of it. +They're destroying souls by millions!... Mine is already damned." + +Miss Erith sprang to her feet: "I tell you not to say such a thing!" +she cried, exasperated. "You're as young as I am! Besides, souls are +not slain by murder. If they perish it's suicide, ALWAYS!" + +She began to pace the white room nervously, flinging open her fur +coat as she turned and came straight back to his bed again. Standing +there and looking down at him she said: + +"We've got to fight it out. The country needs you. It's your bit and +you've got to do it. There's a cure for alcoholism--Dr. Langford's +cure. Are you afraid because you think it may hurt?" + +He lay looking up at her with hell's own glimmer in his eyes again: + +"You don't know what you're talking about," he said. "You talk of +cures, and I tell you that I'm half dead for a drink right now! And +I'm going to get up and dress and get it!" + +The expression of his features and his voice and words appalled her, +left her dumb for an instant. Then she said breathlessly: + +"You won't do that!" + +"Yes I will." + +"No." + +"Why not?" he demanded excitedly. + +"You owe me something." + +"What I said was conventional. I'm NOT grateful to you for saving +the sort of life mine is!" + +"I was not thinking of your life." + +After a moment he said more quietly: "I know what you mean.... Yes, +I am grateful. Our Government ought to know." + +"Then tell me, now." + +"You know," he said brutally, "I have only your word that you are +what you say you are." + +She reddened but replied calmly: "That is true. Let me show you my +credentials." + +From her muff she drew a packet, opened it, and laid the contents on +the bedspread under his eyes. Then she walked to the window and +stood there with her back turned looking out at the falling snow. + +After a few minutes he called her. She went back to the bedside, +replaced the packet in her muff, and stood waiting in silence. + +He lay looking up at her very quietly and his bruised young features +had lost their hard, sullen expression. + +"I'd better tell you all I know," he said, "because there is really +no hope of curing me... you don't understand... my will-power is +gone. The trouble is with my mind itself. I don't want to be +cured.... I WANT what's killing me. I want it now, always, all the +time. So before anything happens to me I'd better tell you what I +know so that our Government can make the proper investigation. +Because what I shall tell you is partly a surmise. I leave it to you +to judge--to our Government." + +She drew from her muff a little pad and a pencil and seated herself +on the chair beside him. + +"I'll speak slowly," he began, but she shook her head, saying that +she was an expert stenographer. So he went on: + +"You know my name--Kay McKay. I was born here and educated at Yale. +But my father was Scotch and he died in Scotland. My mother had been +dead many years. They lived on a property called Isla which belonged +to my grandfather. After my father's death my grandfather allowed me +an income, and when I had graduated from Yale I continued here +taking various post-graduate courses. Finally I went to Cornell and +studied agriculture, game breeding and forestry--desiring some day +to have a place of my own. + +"In 1914 I went to Germany to study their system of forestry. In +July of that year I went to Switzerland and roamed about in the +vagabond way I like--once liked." His visage altered and he cast a +side glance at the girl beside him, but her eyes were fixed on her +pad. + +He drew a deep breath, like a sigh: + +"In that corner of Switzerland which is thrust westward between +Germany and France there are a lot of hills and mountains which were +unfamiliar to me. The flora resembled that of the Vosges--so did the +bird and insect life except on the higher mountains. + +"There is a mountain called Mount Terrible. I camped on it. There +was some snow. You know what happens sometimes in summer on the +higher peaks. Well, it happened to me--the whole snow field slid +when I was part way across it--and I thought it was all off--never +dreamed a man could live through that sort of thing--with the sheer +gneiss ledges below! + +"It was not a big avalanche--not the terrific thundering +sort--rather an easy slipping, I fancy--but it was a devilish thing +to lie aboard, and, of course, if there had been precipices where I +slid--" He shrugged. + +The girl looked up from her shorthand manuscript; he seemed to be +dreamily living over in his mind those moments on Mount Terrible. +Presently he smiled slightly: + +"I was horribly scared--smothered, choked, half-senseless.... Part +of the snow and a lot of trees and boulders went over the edge of +something with a roar like Niagara.... I don't know how long +afterward it was when I came to my senses. + +"I was in a very narrow, rocky valley, up to my neck in soft snow, +and the sun beating on my face. ... So I crawled out... I wasn't +hurt; I was merely lost. + +"It took me a long while to place myself geographically. But +finally, by map and compass, I concluded that I was in some one of +the innumerable narrow valleys on the northern side of Mount +Terrible. Basle seemed to be the nearest proper objective, judging +from my map.... Can you form a mental picture of that particular +corner of Europe, Miss Erith?" + +"No." + +"Well, the German frontier did not seem to be very far northward--at +least that was my idea. But there was no telling; the place where I +landed was a savage and shaggy wilderness of firs and rocks without +any sign of habitation or of roads. + +"The things that had been strapped on my back naturally remained +with me--map, binoculars, compass, botanising paraphernalia, rations +for two days--that sort of thing. So I was not worried. I prowled +about, experienced agreeable shivers by looking up at the mountain +which had dumped me down into this valley, and finally, after +eating, I started northeast by compass. + +"It was a rough scramble. After I had been hiking along for several +hours I realised that I was on a shelf high above another valley, +and after a long while I came out where I could look down over miles +of country. My map indicated that what I beheld must be some part of +Alsace. Well, I lay flat on a vast shelf of rock and began to use my +field-glasses." + +He was silent so long that Miss Erith finally looked up +questioningly. McKay's face had become white and stern, and in his +fixed gaze there was something dreadful. + +"Please," she faltered, "go on." + +He looked at her absently; the colour came back to his face; he +shrugged his shoulders. + +"Oh, yes. What was I saying? Yes--about that vast ledge up there +under the mountains... I stayed there three days. Partly because I +couldn't find any way down. There seemed to be none. + +"But I was not bored. Oh, no. Just anxious concerning my situation. +Otherwise I had plenty to look at." + +She waited, pencil poised. + +"Plenty to look at," he repeated absently. "Plenty of Huns to gaze +at. Huns? They were like ants below me, there. They swarmed under +the mountain ledge as far as I could see--thousands of busy +Boches--busy as ants. There were narrow-gauge railways, too, +apparently running right into the mountain; and a deep broad cleft, +deep as another valley, and all crawling with Huns. + +"A tunnel? Nobody alive ever dreamed of such a gigantic tunnel, if +it was one!... Well, I was up there three days. It was the first of +August--thereabouts--and I'd been afield for weeks. And, of course, +I'd heard nothing of war--never dreamed of it. + +"If I had, perhaps what those thousands of Huns were doing along the +mountain wall might have been plainer to me. + +"As it was, I couldn't guess. There was no blasting--none that I +could hear. But trains were running and some gigantic enterprise was +being accomplished--some enterprise that apparently demanded speed +and privacy--for not one civilian was to be seen, not one dwelling. +But there were endless mazes of fortifications; and I saw guns being +moved everywhere. + +"Well, I was becoming hungry up on that fir-clad battlement. I +didn't know how to get down into the valley. It began to look as +though I'd have to turn back; and that seemed a rather awful +prospect. + +"Anyway, what happened, eventually, was this: I started east through +the forest along that pathless tableland, and on the afternoon of +the next day, tired out and almost starved, I stepped across the +Swiss boundary line--a wide, rocky, cleared space crossing a +mountain flank like a giant's road. + +"No guards were visible anywhere, no sentry-boxes, but, as I stood +hesitating in the middle of the frontier--and just why I hesitated I +don't know--I saw half a dozen jagers of a German mounted regiment +ride up on the German side of the boundary. + +"For a second the idea occurred to me that they had ridden parallel +to the ledge to intercept me; but the idea seemed absurd, granted +even that they had seen me upon the ledge from below, which I never +dreamed they had. So when they made me friendly gestures to come +across the frontier I returned their cheery 'Gruss Gott!' and +plodded thankfully across. ... And their leader, leaning from his +saddle to take my offered hand, suddenly struck me in the face, and +at the same moment a trooper behind me hit me on the head with the +butt of a pistol." + +The girl's flying pencil faltered; she lifted her brown eyes, +waiting. + +"That's about all," he said--"as far as facts are concerned.... They +treated me rather badly.... I faced their firing-squads half-a-dozen +times. After that bluff wouldn't work they interned me as an English +civilian at Holzminden.... They hid me when, at last, an inspection +took place. No chance for me to communicate with our Ambassador or +with any of the Commission." + +He turned to her in his boyish, frank way: "But do you know, Miss +Erith, it took me quite a while to analyse the affair and to figure +out why they arrested me, lied about me, and treated me so +hellishly. + +"You see, I was kept in solitary confinement and never had a chance +to speak to any of the other civilians interned there at Holzminden. +There was no way of suspecting why all this was happening to me +except by the attitude of the Huns themselves and their endless +questions and threats and cruelties. They were cruel. They hurt me a +lot." + +Miss Erith's eyes suddenly dimmed as she watched him, and she +hastily bent her head over the pad. + +"Well," he went on, "the rest, as I say, is pure surmise. This is my +conclusion: I think that for the last forty years the Huns have been +busy with an astounding military enterprise. Of course, since 1870, +the Boche has expected war, and has been feverishly preparing for +it. All the world now knows what they have done--not everything that +they have done, however. + +"My conclusion is this: that, when Mount Terrible shrugged me off +its northern flank, the snow slide carried me to an almost +inaccessible spot of which even the Swiss hunters knew nothing. Or, +if they did, they considered it impossible to reach from their own +territory. + +"From Germany it could be reached, but it was Swiss territory. At +any rate I think I am the only civilian who has been there, and who +has viewed from there this enormous work in which the Huns are +engaged. + +"And I belive that this mysterious, overwhelmingly enormous work is +nothing less than the piercing--not of a mountain or a group of +mountains--but of that entire part of Switzerland which lies between +Germany and France. + +"I believe that a vast military road, deep, deep, under the earth, +is being carried by an enormous tunnel from far back on the German +side of the frontier, under Mount Terrible, under all the mountains, +hills, valleys, forests, rivers--under Switzerland, in fact--into +French territory. + +"I believe it has been building since 1871. I believe it is nearly +finished, and that it will, on French territory, give egress to a +Hun army debouching from Alsace, under Switzerland, into France +behind the French lines. That part of the Franco-Swiss frontier is +unguarded, unfortified, uninhabited. From there a Hun army can +strike the French trenches from the rear--strike Toul, Nancy, +Belfort, Verdun--why, the road is open to Paris that way--open to +Calais, to England!" + +"This is frightful!" cried the girl. "If such a dreadful--" + +"Wait! I told you that it is merely a surmise. I don't know. I +guess. Why I guess it I have told you.... They were savage with +me--those Huns.... They got nothing out of me. I lied steadily, even +when drunk. No, they got nothing out of me. I denied I had seen +anything. I denied--and truly enough--that anybody had accompanied +me. No, they wrenched nothing out of me--not by starving me, not by +water torture, not by their firing-squads, not by blows, not even by +making of me the drunkard I am." + +The pencil fell from Miss Erith's hand and the hand caught McKay's, +held it, crushed it. + +"You're only a boy," she murmured. "I'm not much more than a girl. +We've both got years ahead of us--the best of our lives." + +"YOU have." + +"You also! Oh, don't, don't look at me that way. I'll help you. +We've got work to do, you and I. Don't you see? Don't you +understand? Work to do for our Government! Work to do for America!" + +"It's too late for me to--" + +"No. You've got to live. You've got to find yourself again. This +depends on you. Don't you see it does? Don't you see that you have +got to go back there and PROVE what you merely suspect?" + +"I simply can't." + +"You shall! I'll make this right with you! I'll stick to you! I'll +fight to give you back your will-power--your mind. We'll do this +together, for our country. I'll give up everything else to make this +fight." + +He began to tremble. + +"I--if I could--" + +"I tell you that you shall! We must do our bit, you and I!" + +"You don't know--you don't know!" he cried in a bitter voice, then +fell trembling again with the sweat of agony on his face. + +"No, I don't know," she whispered, clutching his hand to steady him. +"But I shall learn." + +"You'll learn that a drunkard is a dirty beast!" he cried. "Do you +know what I'd do if anybody tried to keep me from drink? +ANYBODY!--even you!" + +"No, I don't know." She shook her head sorrowfully: "A mindless man +becomes a demon, I suppose. ... Would you--injure me?" + +He was shaking all over now, and presently he sat up in bed and +covered his head with one desperate hand. + +"You poor boy!" she whispered. + +"Keep away from me," he muttered, "I've told you all I know. I'm no +further use.... Keep clear of me.... I'm sorry--to be--what I am." + +"When I leave what are you going to do?" she asked gently. + +"Do? I'll dress and go to the nearest bar." + +"Do you need it so much already?" + +He nodded his bowed head covered by the hand that gripped his hair: +"Yes, I need it--badly." + +She rose, loosened his clutch on her slender hand, picked up her +muff: + +"I'll be waiting for you downstairs," she said simply. + +His face expressed sullen defiance as he passed through the +waiting-room. Yet he seemed a little taken aback as well as relieved +when Miss Erith did not appear among the considerable number of +people waiting there for discharged patients. He walked on, +buttoning his fur coat with shaky fingers, passed the doorway and +stepped out into the falling snow. At the same moment a chauffeur +buried in coon-skins moved forward touching his cap: + +"Miss Erith's car is here, sir; Miss Erith expects you." + +McKay hesitated, scowling now in his perplexity; passed his +quivering hand slowly across his face, then turned, and looked at +the waiting car drawn up at the gutter. Behind the frosty window +Miss Erith gave him a friendly smile. He walked over to the curb, +the chauffeur opened the door, and McKay took off his hat. + +"Don't ask me," he said in a low voice that trembled slightly like a +sick man's. + +"I DO ask you." + +"You know what's the matter with me, Miss Erith," he insisted in the +same low, unsteady voice. + +"Please," she said: and laid one small gloved hand lightly on his +arm. + +So he entered the car; the chauffeur drew the robe over them, and +stood awaiting orders. + +"Home," said Miss Erith faintly. + +If McKay was astonished he did not betray it. Neither said anything +more for a while. The man rested an elbow on the sill, his troubled, +haggard face on his hand; the girl kept her gaze steadily in front +of her with a partly resolute, partly scared expression. The car +went up Park Avenue and then turned westward. + +When it stopped the girl said: "You will give me a few moments in my +library with you, won't you?" + +The visage he turned to her was one of physical anguish. They sat +confronting each other in silence for an instant; then he rose with +a visible effort and descended, and she followed. + +"Be at the garage at two, Wayland," she said, and ascended the snowy +stoop beside McKay. + +The butler admitted them. "Luncheon for two," she said, and mounted +the stairs without pausing. + +McKay remained in the hall until he had been separated from hat and +coat; then he slowly ascended the stairway. She was waiting on the +landing and she took him directly into the library where a wood fire +was burning. + +"Just a moment," she said, "to make myself as--as persuasive as I +can." + +"You are perfectly equipped, Miss Erith--" + +"Oh, no, I must do better than I have done. This is the great moment +of our careers, Mr. McKay." Her smile, brightly forced, left his +grim features unresponsive. The undertone in her voice warned him of +her determination to have her way. + +He took an involuntary step toward the door like a caged thing that +sees a loophole, halted as she barred his way, turned his marred +young visage and glared at her. There was something terrible in his +intent gaze--a pale flare flickering in his eyes like the uncanny +light in the orbs of a cornered beast. + +"You'll wait, won't you?" she asked, secretly frightened now. + +After a long interval, "Yes," his lips motioned. + +"Thank you. Because it is the supreme moment of our lives. It +involves life or death.... Be patient with me. Will you?" + +"But you must be brief," he muttered restlessly. "You know what I +need. I am sick, I tell you!" + +So she went away--not to arrange her beauty more convincingly, but +to fling coat and hat to her maid and drop down on the chair by her +desk and take up the telephone: + +"Dr. Langford's Hospital?" + +"Yes." + +"Miss Erith wishes to speak to Dr. Langford. ... Is that you, +Doctor?... Oh, yes, I'm perfectly well.... Tell me, how soon can you +cure a man of--of dipsomania?... Of course.... It was a stupid +question. But I'm so worried and unhappy... Yes.... Yes, it's a man +I know.... It wasn't his fault, poor fellow. If I can only get him +to you and persuade him to tell you the history of his case... I +don't know whether he'll go. I'm doing my best. He's here in my +library.... Oh, no, he isn't intoxicated now, but he was yesterday. +And oh, Doctor! He is so shaky and he seems so ill--I mean in mind +and spirit more than in body.... Yes, he says he needs something.... +What?... Give him some whisky if he wants it?... Do you mean a +highball?... How many?... Oh... Yes... Yes, I understand ... I'll do +my very best.... Thank you. ... At three o'clock?... Thank you so +much, Doctor Langford. Good-bye!" + +She hung up the receiver, took a look at herself in the +dressing-glass, and saw reflected there a yellow-haired hazel-eyed +girl who looked a trifle scared. But she forced a smile, made a +hasty toilette and rang for the butler, gave her orders, and then +walked leisurely into the library. McKay lifted his tragic face from +his hands where he stood before the fire, his elbows resting on the +mantel. + +"Come," she said in her pretty, resolute way, "you and I are +perfectly human. Let's face this thing together and find out what +really is in it." + +She took one armchair, he the other, and she noticed that all his +frame was quivering now--his hands always in restless, groping +movement, as though with palsy. A moment later the butler came with +a decanter, ice, mineral water and a tall glass. There was also a +box of cigars on the silver tray. + +"You'll fix your own highball," she said carelessly, nodding +dismissal to the butler. But she looked only once at McKay, then +turned away--pretence of picking up her knitting--so terrible it was +to her to see in his eyes the very glimmer of hell itself as he +poured out what he "needed." + +Minute after minute she sat there by the fire knitting tranquilly, +scarcely ever even lifting her calm young eyes to the man. Twice +again he poured out what he "needed" for himself before the agony in +his sickened brain and body became endurable--before the tortured +nerves had been sufficiently drugged once more and the indescribable +torment had subsided. He looked at her once or twice where she sat +knitting and apparently quite oblivious to what he had been about, +but his glance was no longer furtive; he unconsciously squared his +shoulders, and his head straightened up. + +Without lifting her eyes she said: "I thought we'd talk over our +plans when you feel better." + +He glanced sideways at the decanter: "I am all right," he said. + +She had not yet lifted her eyes; she continued to knit while +speaking: + +"First of all," she said, "I shall place your testimony and my +report in the hands of my superior, Mr. Vaux. Does that meet with +your approval?" + +"Yes." + +She knitted in silence a few moments. He kept his eyes on her. +Presently--and still without looking up--she said: "Are you within +the draft age?" + +"No. I am thirty-two." + +"Will you volunteer?" + +"No." + +"Would you tell me why?" + +"Yes, I'll tell you why. I shall not volunteer because of my +habits." + +"You mean your temporary infirmity," she said calmly. But her cheeks +reddened and she bent lower over her work. A dull colour stained his +face, too, but he merely shrugged his comment. + +She said in a low voice: "I want you to volunteer with me for +overseas service in the Army Intelligence Department.... You and I, +together.... To prove what you have surmised concerning the German +operations beyond Mount Terrible.... And first I want you to go with +me to Dr. Langford's hospital .... I want you to go this afternoon +with me. ... And face the situation. And see it through. And come +out cured." She lifted her head and looked at him. "Will you?" And +in his altering gaze she saw the flicker of half-senseless anger +intensified suddenly to a flare of hatred. + +"Don't ask anything like that of me," he said. She had grown quite +white. + +"I do ask it.... Will you?" + +"If I wanted to I couldn't, and I don't want to. I prefer this hell +to the other." + +"Won't you make a fight for it?" + +"No!" he said brutally. + +The girl bent her head again over her knitting. But her white +fingers remained idle. After a long while, staring at her intently, +he saw her lip quiver. + +"Don't do that!" he broke out harshly. "What the devil do you care?" + +Then she lifted her tragic white face. And he had his answer. + +"My God!" he faltered, springing to his feet. "What's the matter +with you? Why do you care? You can't care! What is it to you that a +drunken beast slinks back into hell again? Do you think you are +Samaritan enough to follow him and try to drag him out by the +ears?... A man whose very brain is already cracking with it all--a +burnt-out thing with neither mind nor manhood left--" + +She got to her feet, trembling and deathly white. + +"I can't let you go," she whispered. + +Exasperation almost strangled him and set afire his unhinged brain. + +"For Christ's sake!" he cried. "What do you care?" + +"I--I care," she stammered--"for Christ's sake ... And yours!" + +Things went dark before her eyes.... She opened them after a while +on the sofa where he had carried her. He was standing looking down +at her. ... After a long while the ghost of a smile touched her +lips. In his haunted gaze there was no response. But he said in an +altered, unfamiliar voice: "I'll go if you say so. I'll do all +that's in me to do. ... Will you be there--for the first day or +two?" + +"Yes.... All day long.... Every day if you want me. Do you?" + +"Yes.... But God knows what I may do to you.... There'll be somebody +to--watch me--won't there?... I don't know what may happen to you +or to myself.... I'm in a bad way, Miss Erith... I'm in a very bad +way." + +"I know," she murmured. + +He said with an almost childish directness: "Do men always live +through such cures?... I don't see how I can live through it." + +She rose from the sofa and stood beside him, feeling still dizzy, +still tremulous and lacking strength. + +"Let us win through," she said, not looking at him. "I think you +will suffer more than I shall. A little more.... Because I had +rather feel pain than give it--rather suffer than look on suffering.... +It will be very hard for us both, I fear." + +Her butler announced luncheon. + + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +WRECKAGE + + + + + +The man had been desperately ill in soul and mind and body. And now +in some curious manner the ocean seemed to be making him physically +better but spiritually worse. Something, too, in the horizonwide +waste of waters was having a sinister effect on his brain. The grey +daylight of early May, bitter as December--the utter desolation, the +mounting and raucous menace of the sea, were meddling with normal +convalescence. + +Dull animosity awoke in a battered mind not yet readjusted to the +living world. What had these people done to him anyway? The sullen +resentment which invaded him groped stealthily for a vent. + +Was THIS, then, their cursed cure?--this foggy nightmare through +which he moved like a shade in the realm of phantoms? Little by +little what had happened to him was becoming an obsession, as he +began to remember in detail. Now he brooded on it and looked askance +at the girl who was primarily responsible--conscious in a confused +sort of way that he was a blackguard for his ingratitude. + +But his mind had been badly knocked about, and its limping machinery +creaked. + +"That meddling woman," he thought, knowing all the time what he owed +her, remembering her courage, her unselfishness, her loveliness. +"Curse her!" he muttered, amid the shadows confusing his wounded +mind. + +Then a meaningless anger grew with him: She had him, now! he was +trapped and caged. A girl who drags something floundering out of +hell is entitled to the thing if she wants it. He admitted that to +himself. + +But how about that "cure"? + +Was THIS it--this terrible blankness--this misty unreality of +things? Surcease from craving--yes. But what to take its place--what +to fill in, occupy mind and body? What sop to his restless soul? +What had this young iconoclast offered him after her infernal era of +destruction? A distorted world, a cloudy mind, the body-substance of +a ghost? And for the magic world she had destroyed she offered him a +void to live in--Curse her! + +There were no lights showing aboard the transport; all ports +remained screened. Arrows, painted on the decks in luminous paint, +pointed out the way. Below decks, a blue globe here and there +emitted a feeble glimmer, marking corridors which pierced a +depthless darkness. + +No noise was permitted on board, no smoking, no other lights in +cabin or saloon. There was scarcely a sound to be heard on the ship, +save the throbbing of her engines, the long, splintering crash of +heavy seas, and the dull creak of her steel vertebrae tortured by a +million rivets. + +As for the accursed ocean, that to McKay was the enemy paramount +which had awakened him to the stinging vagueness of things out of +his stupid acquiescence in convalescence. + +He hated the sea. It was becoming a crawling horror to him in its +every protean phase, whether flecked with ghastly lights in storms +or haunted by pallid shapes in colour--always, always it remained +repugnant to him under its eternal curse of endless motion. + +He loathed it: he detested the livid skies by day against which +tossing waves showed black: he hated every wave at night and their +ceaseless unseen motion. McKay had been "cured." McKay was very, +very ill. + +There came to him, at intervals, a girl who stole through the +obscurity of the pitching corridors guiding him from one faint blue +light to the next--a girl who groped out the way with him at night +to the deck by following the painted arrows under foot. Also +sometimes she sat at his bedside through the unreal flight of time, +her hand clasped over his. He knew that he had been brutal to her +during his "cure." + +He was still rough with her at moments of intense mental +pressure--somehow; realised it--made efforts toward +self-command--toward reason again, mental control; sometimes felt +that he was on the way to acquiring mental mastery. + +But traces of injury to the mind still remained--sensitive +places--and there were swift seconds of agony--of blind anger, of +crafty, unbalanced watching to do harm. Yet for all that he knew he +was convalescent--that alcohol was no longer a necessity to him; +that whatever he did had now become a choice for him; that he had +the power and the authority and the will, and was capable, once +more, of choosing between depravity and decency. But what had been +taken out of his life seemed to leave a dreadful silence in his +brain. And, at moments, this silence became dissonant with the +clamour of unreason. + +On one of his worst days when his crippled soul was loneliest the +icy seas became terrific. Cruisers and destroyers of the escort +remained invisible, and none of the convoyed transports were to be +seen. The watery, lowering daylight faded: the unseen sun set: the +brief day ended. And the wind went down with the sun. But through +the thick darkness the turbulent wind appeared to grow luminous with +tossing wraiths; and all the world seemed to dissolve into a +nebulous, hell-driven thing, unreal, dreadful, unendurable! + +"Mr. McKay!" + +He had already got into his wool dressing-robe and felt shoes, and +he sat now very still on the edge of his berth, listening stealthily +with the cunning of distorted purpose. + +Her tiny room was just across the corridor. She seemed to be +eternally sleepless, always on the alert night and day, ready to +interfere with him. + +Finally he ventured to rise and move cautiously to his door, and he +made not the slightest sound in opening it, but her door opened +instantly, and she stood there confronting him, an ulster buttoned +over her nightdress. + +"What is the matter?" she said gently. + +"Nothing." + +"Are you having a bad night?" + +"I'm all right. I wish you wouldn't constitute yourself my nurse, +servant, mentor, guardian, keeper, and personal factotum!" Sudden +rage left him inarticulate, and he shot an ugly look at her. "Can't +you let me alone?" he snarled. + +"You poor boy," she said under her breath. + +"Don't talk like that! Damnation! I--I can't stand much more--I +can't stand it, I tell you!" + +"Yes, you can, and you will. And I don't mind what you say to me." +His malignant expression altered. + +"Do you know," he said, in a cool and evil voice, "that I may stop +SAYING things and take to DOING them?" + +"Would you hurt me physically? Are you really as sick as that?" + +"Not yet.... How do I know?" Suddenly he felt tired and leaned +against the doorway, covering his dulling eyes with his right +forearm. But his hand was now clenched convulsively. + +"Could you lie down? I'll talk to you," she whispered. "I'll see you +through." + +"I can't--endure--this tension," he muttered. "For God's sake let me +go!" + +"Where?" + +"You know." + +"Yes.... But it won't do. We must carry on, you and I." + +"If you--knew--" + +"I do know! When these crises come try to fix your mind on what you +have become." + +"Yes.... A hell of a soldier. Do you really believe that my country +needs a thing like me?" She stood looking at him in silence--knowing +that he was in a torment of some terrible sort. His eyes were still +covered by his arm. On his boyish brow the blonde-brown hair had +become damp. + +She went across and passed her arm through his. His hand rested, +fell to his side, but he suffered her to guide him through the +corridors toward a far bluish spark that seemed as distant as Venus, +the star. + +They walked very slowly for a while on deck, encountering now and +then the shadowy forms of officers and crew. The personnel of the +several hospital units in transit were long ago in bed below. + +Once he said: "You know, Miss Erith, it is not _I_ who behaves like +a scoundrel to you." + +"I know," she said with a dauntless smile. + +"Because," he went on, searching painfully for thought as well as +words, "I'm not really a brute--was not always a blackguard--" + +"Do you suppose for one moment that I blame a man who has been +irresponsible through no fault of his, and who has made the fight +and has won back to sanity?" + +"I--am not yet--well!" + +"I understand." + +They paused beside the port rail for a few moments. + +"I suppose you know," he muttered, "that I have thought--at +times--of ending things--down there. ... You seem to know most +things. Did you suspect that?" + +"Yes." + +"Don't you ever sleep?" + +"I wake easily." + +"I know you do. I can't stir in bed but I hear you move, too.... I +should think you'd hate and loathe me--for all I've done--for all +I've cost you." + +"Nurses don't loathe their patients," she said lightly. + +"I should think they'd want to kill them." + +"Oh, Mr. McKay! On the contrary they--they grow to like +them--exceedingly." + +"You dare not say that about yourself and me." + +Miss Erith shrugged her pretty shoulders: "I don't have to say +anything, do I?" + +He made no reply. After a long silence she said casually: "The sea +is calmer, I think. There's something resembling faint moonlight up +among those flying clouds." + +He lifted his tragic face and gazed up at the storm-wrack speeding +overhead. And there through the hurrying vapours behind flying rags +of cloud, a pallid lustre betrayed the smothered moon. + +There was just enough light, now, to reveal the forward gun under +its jacket, and the shadowy gun-crew around it where the ship's bow +like a vast black, plough ripped the sea asunder in two deep, +foaming furrows. + +"I wish I knew where we are at this moment," mused the girl. She +counted the days on her fingertips: "We may be off Bordeaux.... It's +been a long time, hasn't it?" + +To him it had been a century of dread endured through half-awakened +consciousness of the latest inferno within him. + +"It's been very long," he said, sighing. + +A few minutes later they caught a glimpse of a strangled moon +overhead--a livid corpse of a moon, tarnished and battered almost +out of recognition. + +"Clearing weather," she said cheerfully, adding: "To-morrow we may +be in the danger zone.... Did you ever see a submarine?" + +"Yes. Did you?" + +"There were some up the Hudson. I saw them last summer while +motoring along Riverside Drive." + +The spectral form of an officer appeared at her elbow, said +something in a low voice, and walked aft. + +She said: "Well, then, I think we'd better dress. ... Do you feel +better?" + +He said that he did, but his sombre gaze into darkness belied him. +So again she slipped her arm through his and he suffered himself to +be led away along the path of shinning arrows under foot. + +At his door she said cheerfully: "No more undressing for bed, you +know. No more luxury of night-clothes. You heard the orders about +lifebelts?" + +"Yes," he replied listlessly. + +"Very well. I'll be waiting for you." + +She lingered a moment more watching him in his brooding revery where +he stood leaning against the doorway. And after a while he raised +his haunted eyes to hers. + +"I can't keep on," he breathed. + +"Yes you can!" + +"No.... The world is slipping away--under foot. It's going on +without me--in spite of me." + +"It's you that are slipping, if anything is. Be fair to the world at +least--even if you mean to betray it--and me." + +"I don't want to betray anybody--anything." He had begun to tremble +when he stood leaning against his door. "I--don't know--what to do." + +"Stand by the world. Stand by me. And, through me, stand by your own +self." + +The young fellow's forehead was wet with the vague horror of +something. He made an effort to speak, to straighten up; gave her a +dreadful look of appeal which turned into a snarl. + +He whispered between writhing lips: "Can't you let me alone? Can't I +end it if I can't stand it--without your blocking me every +time--every time I stir a finger--" + +"McKay! Wait! Don't touch me!--don't do that!" + +But he had her in a sudden grip now--was looking right and left for +a place to hurl her out of the way. + +"I've stood enough, by God!" he muttered between his teeth. "Now I'm +through--" + +"Please listen. You're out of your mind," she said breathlessly, not +struggling to free herself, but striving to twist both her arms +around one of his. + +"You hurt me," she whimpered. "Don't be brutal to me!" + +"I've got to get you out of my way." He tried to fling her across +the corridor into her own cabin, but she had fastened herself to +him. + +"Don't!" she panted. "Don't do anything to yourself--" + +"Let go of me! Unclasp your arms!" + +But she clung the more desperately and wound her limbs around his, +almost tripping him. + +"I WON'T give you up!" she gasped. + +"What do you care?" he retorted hoarsely, striving to tear himself +loose. "I want to get some rest--somewhere!" + +"You're hurting! You're breaking my arm! Kay! Kay! what are you +doing to me?" she wailed. + +Something--perhaps the sound of his own name falling from her lips +for the first time--checked his mounting frenzy. She could feel +every muscle in his body become rigidly inert. + +"Kay!" she whispered, fastening herself to him convulsively. For a +full minute she sustained his half-insane stare, then it altered, +and her own eyes slowly closed, though her head remained upright on +the rigid marble of her neck. + +The crisis had been reached: the tide of frenzy was turning, had +turned, was already ebbing. She felt it, was conscious that he also +had become aware of it. Then his grasp slackened, grew lax, +loosened, and almost spent. She ventured to unwind her limbs from +his, to relax her stiffened fingers, unclasp her arms. + +It was over. She could scarcely stand, felt blindly for support, +rested so, and slowly unclosed her eyes. + +"I've had to fight very hard for you," she whispered. "But I think +I've won." + +He answered with difficulty. + +"Yes--if you want the dog you fought for." + +"It isn't what _I_ want, Kay." + +"All right, I guess I can face it through--after this.... But I +don't know why you did it." + +"I do." + +"Do you? Don't you know I'm not a man, but a beast? And there are +half a hundred million real men to replace me--to do what you and +the country expect of real men." + +"What may be expected of them I expect of you. Kay, I've made a good +fight for you, haven't I?" + +He turned his quenched eyes on her. "From gutter to hospital, from +hospital to sanitarium, from sanitarium to ship," he said in a +colourless voice. "Yes, it was--a--good--fight." + +"What a Calvary!" she murmured, looking at him out of clear, +sorrowful eyes. "And on your knees, poor boy!" + +"You ought to know. You have made every station with me--on your +tender bleeding knees of a girl!" He choked, turned his head +swiftly; and she caught his hand. The break had come. + +"Oh, Kay! Kay!" she said, quivering all over, "I have done my bit +and you are cured! You know it, don't you? Look at me, turn your +head." She laid her slim hand flat against his tense cheek but could +not turn his face. But she did not care; the palm of her hand was +wet. The break had come. She drew a deep, uneven breath, let go his +hand. + +"Now," she said, "we can understand each other at last--our minds +are rational; and whether in accord or conflict they are at least in +contact; and mine isn't clashing with something disordered and +foreign which it can't interpret, can't approach." + +He said, not turning toward her: "You are kind to put it that +way.... I think self-control has returned--will-power--all that.... +I won't-betray you--Miss Erith." + +"YOU never would, Mr. McKay. But I--I've been in terror of what has +been masquerading as you." + +"I know.... But whatever you think of such a--a man--I'll do my +bit, now. I'll carry on--until the end." + +"I will too! I promise you." + +He turned his head at that and a mirthless laugh touched his wet +eyes and drawn visage: + +"As though you had to promise anybody that you'd stick! You! You +beautiful, magnificent young thing--you superb kid--" + +Her surprise and the swift blaze of colour in her face silenced him. + +After a moment, the painful red still staining his face, he muttered +something about dressing. + +He watched her turn and enter her room; saw that she had closed her +door-something she had not dared do heretofore; then he went into +his own room and threw himself down on the bunk, shaking in every +nerve. + +For a long while, preoccupied with the obsession for +self-destruction, he lay there face downward, exhausted, trying to +fight off the swimming sense of horror that was creeping over him +again..... Little by little it mounted like a tide from hell.... He +struggled to his feet with the unuttered cry of a dreamer tearing +his throat. An odd sense of fear seized him and he dressed and +adjusted his clumsy life-suit. For the ship was in the danger zone, +now, and orders had been given, and dawn was not far off. Perhaps it +was already day! he could not tell in his dim cabin. + +And after he was completely accoutred for the hazard of the +Hun-cursed seas he turned and looked down at his bunk with the odd +idea that his body still lay there--that it was a thing apart from +himself--something inert, unyielding, corpse-like, sprawling there +in a stupor--something visible, tangible, taking actual proportion +and shape there under his very eyes. + +He turned his back with a shudder and went on deck. To his surprise +the blue lights were extinguished, and corridor and saloon were all +rosy with early sunlight. + +Blue sky, blue sea, silver spindrift flying and clouds of silvery +gulls--a glimmer of Heaven from the depths of the pit--a glimpse of +life through a crack in the casket--and land close on the starboard +bow! Sheer cliffs, with the bonny green grass atop all furrowed by +the wind--and the yellow-flowered broom and the shimmering whinns +blowing. + +"Why, it's Scotland," he said aloud, "it's Glenark Cliffs and the +Head of Strathlone--my people's fine place in the Old World--where +we took root--and--O my God! Yankee that I am, it looks like home!" + +The cape of a white fleece cloak fluttered in his face, and he +turned and saw Miss Erith at his elbow. + +Yellow-haired, a slender, charming thing in her white wind-blown +coat, she stood leaning on the spray-wet rail close to his shoulder. + +And with him it was suddenly as though he had known her for +years--as though he had always been aware of her beauty and her +loveliness--as though his eyes had always framed her--his heart had +always wished for her, and she had always been the sole and +exquisite tenant of his mind. + +"I had no idea that we were off Scotland," he said--"off Strathlone +Head--and so close in. Why, I can see the cliff-flowers!" + +She laid one hand lightly on his arm, listening; high and heavenly +sweet above the rushing noises of the sea they heard the singing of +shoreward sky-larks above the grey cliff of Glenark. + +He began to tremble. "That nightmare through which I've struggled," +he began, but she interrupted: + +"It is quite ended, Kay. You are awake. It is day and the world's +before you." At that he caught her slim hand in both of his: + +"Eve! Eve! You've brought me through death's shadow! You gave me +back my mind!" + +She let her hand rest between his. At first he could not make out +what her slightly moving lips uttered, and bending nearer he heard +her murmur: "Beside the still waters." The sea had become as calm as +a pond. + +And now the transport was losing headway, scarcely moving at all. +Forward and aft the gun-crews, no longer alert, lounged lazily in +the sunshine watching a boat being loaded and swung outward from the +davits. + +"Is somebody going ashore?" asked McKay. + +"We are," said the girl. + +"Just you and I, Eve?" + +"Just you and I." + +Then he saw their luggage piled in the lifeboat.' + +"This is wonderful," he said. "I have a house a few miles inland +from Strathlone Head." + +"Will you take me there, Kay?" + +Such a sense of delight possessed him that he could not speak. + +"That's where we must go to make our plans," she said. "I didn't +tell you in those dark hours we have lived together, because our +minds were so far apart--and I was fighting so hard to hold you." + +"Have you forgiven me--you wonderful girl?" + +His voice shook so that he could scarcely control it. Miss Erith +laughed. + +"You adorable boy!" she said. "Stand still while I unlace your +life-belt. You can't travel in this." + +He felt her soft fingers at his throat and turned his face upward. +All the blue air seemed glittering with the sun-tipped wings of +gulls. The skylark's song, piercingly sweet, seemed to penetrate his +soul. And, as his life-suit fell about him, so seemed to fall the +heavy weight of dread like a shroud, dropping at his feet. And he +stepped clear--took his first free step toward her--as though +between them there were no questions, no barriers, nothing but this +living, magic light--which bathed them both. + +There seemed to be no need of speech, either, only the sense of +heavenly contact as though the girl were melting into him, +dissolving in his arms. + +"Kay!" + +Her voice sounded as from an infinite distance. There came a +smothered thudding like the soft sound of guns at sea; and then her +voice again, and a greyness as if a swift cloud had passed across +the sun. + +"Kay!" + +A sharp, cold wind began to blow through the strange and sudden +darkness. He heard her voice calling his name--felt his numbed body +shaken, lifted his head from his arms and sat upright on his bunk in +the dim chill of his cabin. + +Miss Erith stood beside his bed, wearing her life-suit. + +"Kay! Are you awake?' + +"Yes." + +"Then put on your life-suit. Our destroyers are firing at something. +Quick, please, I'll help you!" + +Dazed, shaken, still mazed by the magic of his dream, not yet clear +of its beauty and its passion, he stumbled to his feet in the +obscurity. And he felt her chilled hand aiding him. + +"Eve--I--thought--" + +"What?" + +"I thought your name--was Eve--" he stammered. "I've +been--dreaming." + +Then was a silence as he fumbled stupidly with his clothing and +life-suit. The sounds of the guns, rapid, distinct, echoed through +the unsteady obscurity. + +She helped him as a nurse helps a convalescent, her swift, cold +little fingers moving lightly and unerringly. And at last he was +equipped, and his mind had cleared darkly of the golden vision of +love and spring. + +Icy seas, monstrous and menacing, went smashing past the sealed and +blinded port; but there was no wind and the thudding of the guns +came distinctly to their ears. + +A shape in uniform loomed at the cabin door for an instant and a +calm, unhurried voice summoned them. + +Corridors were full of dark figures. The main saloon was thronged as +they climbed the companion-way. There appeared to be no panic, no +haste, no confusion. Voices were moderately low, the tone casually +conversational. + +Miss Erith's arm remained linked in McKay's where they stood +together amid the crowd. + +"U-boats, I fancy," she said. + +"Probably." + +After a moment: "What were you dreaming about, Mr. McKay?" she asked +lightly. In the dull bluish dusk of the saloon his boyish face grew +hot. + +"What was it you called me?" she insisted. "Was it Eve?" + +At that his cheeks burnt crimson. + +"What do you mean?" he muttered. + +"Didn't you call me Eve?" + +"I--when a man is dreaming--asleep--" + +"My name is Evelyn, you know. Nobody ever called me Eve.... +Yet--it's odd, isn't it, Mr. McKay? I've always wished that somebody +would call me Eve.... But perhaps you were not dreaming of me?" + +"I--was." + +"Really. How interesting!" He remained silent. + +"And did you call me Eve--in that dream?... That is curious, isn't +it, after what I've just told you?... So I've had my wish--in a +dream." She laughed a little. "In a dream--YOUR dream," she +repeated. "We must have been good friends in your dream--that you +called me Eve." + +But the faint thrill of the dream was in him again, and it troubled +him and made him shy, and he found no word to utter--no defence to +her low-voiced banter. + +Then, not far away on the port quarter, a deck-gun spoke with a +sharper explosion, and intense stillness reigned in the saloon. + +"If there's any necessity," he whispered, "you recollect your boat, +don't you?" + +"Yes.... I don't want to go--without you." He said, in a pleasant +firm voice which was new to her: "I know what you mean. But you are +not to worry. I am absolutely well." + +The girl turned toward him, the echoes of the guns filling her ears, +and strove to read his face in the ghastly, dreary light. + +"I'm really cured, Miss Erith," he said. "If there's any emergency +I'll fight to live. Do you believe me?" + +"If you tell me so." + +"I tell you so." + +The girl drew a deep, unsteady breath, and her arm tightened a +trifle within his. + +"I am--so glad," she said in a voice that sounded suddenly tired. + +There came an ear-splitting detonation from the after-deck, +silencing every murmur. + +"Something is shelling us," whispered McKay. "When orders come, go +instantly to your boat and your station." + +"I don't want to go alone." + +"The nurses of the unit to which you--" + +The crash of a shell drowned his voice. Then came a deathly silence, +then the sound of the deck-guns in action once more. + +Miss Erith was leaning rather heavily on his arm. He bent it, +drawing her closer. + +"I don't want to leave you," she said again. + +"I told you--" + +"It isn't that.... Don't you understand that I have become--your +friend?" + +"Such a brute as I am?" + +"I like you." + +In the silence he could hear his heart drumming between the +detonations of the deck-guns. He said: "It's because you are you. No +other woman on earth but would have loathed me... beastly rotter +that I was--" + +"Oh-h, don't," she breathed.... "I don't know--we may be very close +to death.... I want to live. I'd like to. But I don't really mind +death. ... But I can't bear to have things end for you just as +you've begun to live again--" + +Crash! Something was badly smashed on deck that time, for the brazen +jar of falling wreckage seemed continuous. + +Through the metallic echo she heard her voice: + +"Kay! I'm afraid--a little." + +"I think it's all right so far. Listen, there go our guns again. +It's quite all right, Eve dear." + +"I didn't know I was so cowardly. But of course I'll never show it +when the time comes." + +"Of course you won't. Don't worry. Shells make a lot of noise when +they explode on deck. All that tinpan effect we heard was probably a +ventilator collapsing--perhaps a smokestack." + +After a silence punctured by the flat bang of the deck-guns: + +"You ARE cured, aren't you, Kay?" + +"Yes." + +She repeated in a curiously exultant voice: "You ARE cured. All of a +sudden--after that black crisis, too, you wake up, well!" + +"You woke me." + +"Of course, I did--with those guns frightening me!" + +"You woke me, Eve," he repeated coolly, "and my dream had already +cured me. I am perfectly well. We'll get out of this mess shortly, +you and I. And--and then--"He paused so long that she looked up at +him in the bluish dusk: + +"And what then?" she asked. + +He did not answer. She said: "Tell me, Kay." + +But as his lips unclosed to speak a terrific shock shook the +saloon--a shock that seemed to come from the depths of the ship, +tilt up the cabin floor, and send everybody reeling about. + +Through the momentary confusion in the bluish obscurity the cool +voice of an officer sounded unalarmed, giving orders. There was no +panic. The hospital units formed and started for the deck. A young +officer passing near exchanged a calm word with McKay, and passed on +speaking pleasantly to the women who were now moving forward. + +McKay said to Miss Erith: "It seems that we've been torpedoed. We'll +go on deck together. You know your boat and station?" + +"Yes." + +"I'll see you safely there. You're not afraid any more, are you?" + +"No." + +He gave a short dry laugh. "What a rotten deal," he said. "My dream +was--different.... There is your boat--THAT one!... I'll say good +luck. I'm assigned to a station on the port side. ... Good luck.... +And thank you, Eve." + +"Don't go--" + +"Yes, I must.. We'll find each other--ashore--or somewhere." + +"Kay! The port boats can't be launched--" + +"Take your place! you're next, Eve."... Her hand, which had clung to +his, he suddenly twisted up, and touched the convulsively tightening +fingers with his lips. + +"Good luck, dear," he said gaily. And watched her go and take her +place. Then he lifted his cap, as she turned and looked for him, and +sauntered off to where his boat and station should have been had not +the U-boat shells annihilated boat and rail and deck. + +"What a devil of a mess!" he said to a petty officer near him. A +young doctor smoking a cigarette surveyed his own life-suit and the +clumsy apparel of his neighbours with unfeigned curiosity! + +"How long do these things keep one afloat?" he inquired. + +"Long enough to freeze solid," replied an ambulance driver. + +"Did we get the Hun?" asked McKay of the petty officer. + +"Naw," he replied in disgust, "but the destroyers ought to nail him. +Look out, sir--you'll go sliding down that slippery toboggan!" + +"How long'll she float?" asked the young ambulance driver. + +"This ship? SHE'S all right," remarked the petty officer absently. + +She went down, nose first. Those in the starboard boats saw her +stand on end for full five minutes, screws spinning, before a +muffled detonation blew the bowels out of her and sucked her down +like a plunging arrow. + +Destroyers and launches from some of the cruisers were busy amid the +wreckage where here, on a spar, some stunned form clung like a +limpet, and there, a-bob in the curling seas, a swimmer in his +life-suit tossed under the wintry sky. + +There were men on rafts, too, and several clinging to hatches; there +was not much loss of life, considering. + +Toward midday a sea-plane which had been releasing depth-bombs and +hovering eagerly above the wide iridescent and spreading stain, +sheered shoreward and shot along the coast. + +There was a dead man afloat in a cave, rocking there rather +peacefully in his life-suit--or at least they supposed him to be +dead. + +But on a chance they signalled the discovery to a distant trawler, +then soared upward for a general coup de l'oeil, turned there aloft +like a seahawk for a while, sheering in widening spirals, and +finally, high in the grey sky, set a steady course for parts +unknown. + +Meanwhile a boat from the trawler fished out McKay, wrapped him in +red-hot blankets, pried open his blue lips, and tried to fill him +full of boiling rum. Then he came to life. But those honest +fishermen knew he had gone stark mad because he struck at the +pannikin of steaming rum and cursed them vigorously for their +kindness. And only a madman could so conduct himself toward a +pannikin of steaming rum. They understood that perfectly. And, +understanding it, they piled more hot blankets upon the struggling +form of Kay McKay and roped him to his bunk. + +Toward evening, becoming not only coherent but frightfully emphatic, +they released McKay. + +"What's this damn place?" he shouted. + +"Strathlone Firth," they said. + +"That's my country!" he raged. "I want to go ashore!" + +They were quite ready to be rid of the cracked Yankee, and told him +so. + +"And the boats? How about them?" he demanded. + +"All in the Firth, sir." + +"Any women lost?" + +"None, sir." + +At that, struggling into his clothes, he began to shed gold +sovereigns from his ripped money-belt all over the cabin. +Weatherbeaten fingers groped to restore the money to him. But it was +quite evident that the young man was mad. He wouldn't take it. And +in his crazy way he seemed very happy, telling them what fine lads +they were and that not only Scotland but the world ought to be proud +of them, and that he was about to begin to live the most wonderful +life that any man had ever lived as soon as he got ashore. + +"Because," he explained, as he swung off and dropped into the small +boat alongside, "I've taken a look into hell and I've had a glimpse +of heaven, but the earth has got them both stung to death, and I +like it and I'm going to settle down on it and live awhile. You +don't get me, do you?" They did not. + +"It doesn't matter. You're a fine lot of lads. Good luck!" + +And so they were rid of their Yankee lunatic. + +On the Firth Quay and along the docks all the inhabitants of Glenark +and Strathlone were gathered to watch the boats come in with living, +with dead, or merely the news of the seafight off the grey head of +Strathlone. + +At the foot of the slippery waterstairs, green with slime, McKay, +grasping the worn rail, lifted his head and looked up into the faces +of the waiting crowd. And saw the face of her he was looking for +among them. + +He went up slowly. She pushed through the throng, descended the +steps, and placed one arm around him. + +"Thanks, Eve," he said cheerfully. "Are you all right?" + +"All right, Kay. Are you hurt?" + +"No.... I know this place. There's an inn ... if you'll give me your +arm--it's just across the street." + +They went very leisurely, her arm under his--and his face, suddenly +colourless, half-resting against her shoulder. + + + + + + +CHAPTER V + +ISLA WATER + + + + + +Earlier in the evening there had been a young moon on Isla Water. +Under it spectres of the mist floated in the pale lustre; a painted +moorhen steered through ghostly pools leaving fan-shaped wakes of +crinkled silver behind her; heavy fish splashed, swirling again to +drown the ephemera. + +But there was no moonlight now; not a star; only fog on Isla Water, +smothering ripples and long still reaches, bank and upland, wall and +house. + +The last light had gone out in the stable; the windows of Isla were +darkened; there was a faint scent of heather in the night; a fainter +taint of peat smoke. The world had grown very still by Isla Water. + +Toward midnight a dog-otter, swimming leisurely by the Bridge of +Isla, suddenly dived and sped away under water; and a stoat, +prowling in the garden, also took fright and scurried through the +wicket. Then in the dead of night the iron bell hanging inside the +court began to clang. McKay heard it first in his restless sleep. +Finally the clangour broke his sombre dream and he awoke and sat up +in bed, listening. + +Neither of the two servants answered the alarm. He swung out of bed +and into slippers and dressing-gown and picked up a service pistol. +As he entered the stone corridor he heard Miss Erith's door creak on +its ancient hinges. + +"Did the bell wake you?" he asked in a low voice. + +"Yes. What is it?" + +"I haven't any idea." + +She opened her door a little wider. Her yellow hair covered her +shoulders like a mantilla. "Who could it be at this hour?" she +repeated uneasily. + +McKay peered at the phosphorescent dial of his wrist-watch: + +"I don't know," he repeated. "I can't imagine who would come here at +this hour." + +"Don't strike a light!" she whispered. + +"No, I think I won't." He continued on down the stone stairs, and +Miss Erith ran to the rail and looked over. + +"Are you armed?" she called through the darkness. + +"Yes." + +He went on toward the rear of the silent house and through the +servants' hall, then around by the kitchen garden, then felt his way +along a hedge to a hutchlike lodge where a fixed iron bell hung +quivering under the slow blows of the clapper. + +"What the devil's the matter?" demanded McKay in a calm voice. + +The bell still hummed with the melancholy vibrations, but the +clapper now hung motionless. Through the brooding rumour of metallic +sound came a voice out of the mist: + +"The hours of life are numbered. Is it true?" + +"It is," said McKay coolly; "and the hairs of our head are numbered +too!" + +"So teach us to number our days," rejoined the voice from the fog, +"that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom." + +"The days of our years are three-score years and ten," said McKay. +"Have you a name?" + +"A number." + +"And what number will that be?" + +"Sixty-seven. And yours?" + +"You should know that, too." + +"It's the reverse; seventy-six." + +"It is that," said McKay. "Come in." + +He made his way to the foggy gate, drew bolt and chain from the left +wicket. A young man stepped through. + +"Losh, mon," he remarked with a Yankee accent, "it's a fearful nicht +to be abroad." + +"Come on in," said McKay, re-locking the wicket. "This way; follow +me." + +They went by the kitchen garden and servants' hall, and so through +to the staircase hall, where McKay struck a match and Sixty-seven +instantly blew it out. + +"Better not," he said. "There are vermin about." + +McKay stood silent, probably surprised. Then he called softly in the +darkness: + +"Seventy-seven!" + +"Je suis la!" came her voice from the stairs. + +"It's all right," he said, "it's one of our men. No use sittin' up +if you're sleepy." He listened but did not hear Miss Erith stir. + +"Better return to bed," he said again, and guided Sixty-seven into +the room on the left. + +For a few moments he prowled around; a glass tinkled against a +decanter. When he returned to the shadow-shape seated motionless by +the casement window he carried only one glass. + +"Don't you?" inquired Sixty-seven. "And you a Scot!" + +"I'm a Yankee; and I'm through." + +"With the stuff?" + +"Absolutely." + +"Oh, very well. But a Yankee laird--tiens c'est assez drole!" He +smacked his lips over the smoky draught, set the half-empty glass on +the deep sill. Then he began breezily: + +"Well, Seventy-six, what's all this I hear about your misfortunes?" + +"What do you hear?" inquired McKay guilelessly. + +The other man laughed. + +"I hear that you and Seventy-seven have entered the Service; that +you are detailed to Switzerland and for a certain object unknown to +myself; that your transport was torpedoed a week ago off the Head of +Strathlone, that you wired London from this house of yours called +Isla, and that you and Seventy-seven went to London last week to +replenish the wardrobe you had lost." + +"Is that all you heard?" + +"It is." + +"Well, what more do you wish to hear?" + +"I want to know whether anything has happened to worry you. And I'll +tell you why. There was a Hun caught near Banff! Can you beat it? +The beggar wore kilts!--and the McKay tartan--and, by jinks, if his +gillie wasn't rigged in shepherd's plaid!--and him with his Yankee +passport and his gillie with a bag of ready-made rods. Yellow trout, +is it? Sea-trout, is it! Ho, me bucko, says I when I lamped what he +did with his first trout o' the burn this side the park--by Godfrey! +thinks I to myself, you're no white man at all!--you're Boche. And +it was so, McKay." + +"Seventy-six," corrected McKay gently. + +"That's better. It should become a habit." + +"Excuse me, Seventy-six; I'm Scotch-Irish way back. You're straight +Scotch--somewhere back. We Yankees don't use rods and flies and net +and gaff as these Scotch people use 'em. But we're white, +Seventy-six, and we use 'em RIGHT in our own fashion." He moistened +his throat, shoved aside the glass: + +"But this kilted Boche! Oh, la-la! What he did with his rod and +flies and his fish and himself! AND his gillie! Sure YOU'RE not +white at all, thinks I. And at that I go after them." + +"You got them?" + +"Certainly--at the inn--gobbling a trout, blaue gesotten--having +gone into the kitchen to show a decent Scotch lassie how to concoct +the Hunnish dish. I nailed them then and there--took the chance that +the swine weren't right. And won out." + +"Good! But what has it to do with me?" asked McKay. + +"Well, I'll be telling you. I took the Boche to London and I've come +all the way back to tell you this, Seventy-six; the Huns are on to +you and what you're up to. That Boche laird called himself Stanley +Brown, but his name is--or was--Schwartz. His gillie proved to be a +Swede." + +"Have they been executed?" + +"You bet. Tower style! We got another chum of theirs, too, who set +up a holler like he saw a pan of hogwash. We're holding him. And +what we've learned is this: The Huns made a special set at your +transport in order to get YOU and Seventy-seven! + +"Now they know you are here and their orders are to get you before +you reach France. The hog that hollered put us next. He's a +Milwaukee Boche; name Zimmerman. He's so scared that he tells all he +knows and a lot that he doesn't. That's the trouble with a Milwaukee +Boche. Anyway, London sent me back to find you and warn you. Keep +your eye skinned. And when you're ready for France wire Edinburgh. +You know where. There'll be a car and an escort for you and +Seventy-seven." + +McKay laughed: "You know," he said, "there's no chance of trouble +here. Glenark is too small a village--" + +"Didn't I land a brace of Boches at Banff?" + +"That's true. Well, anyway, I'll be off, I expect, in a day or so." +He rose; "and now I'll show you a bed--" + +"No; I've a dog-cart tied out yonder and a chaser lying at Glenark. +By Godfrey, I'm not finished with these Boche-jocks yet!" + +"You're going?" + +"You bet. I've a date to keep with a suspicious character--on a +trawler. Can you beat it? These vermin creep in everywhere. Yes, by +Godfrey! They crawl aboard ship in sight of Strathlone Head! Here's +hoping it may be a yard-arm jig he'll dance!" + +He emptied his glass, refused more. McKay took him to the wicket and +let him loose. + +"Well, over the top, old scout!" said Sixty-seven cheerily, +exchanging a quick handclasp with McKay. And so the fog took him. + +A week later they found his dead horse and wrecked dog-cart five +miles this side of Glenark Burn, lying in a gully entirely concealed +by whinn and broom. It was the noise the flies made that attracted +attention. As for the man himself, he floated casually into the +Firth one sunny day with five bullets in him and his throat cut very +horridly. + +But, before that, other things happened on Isla Water--long before +anybody missed No. 67. Besides, the horse and dog-cart had been +hired for a week; and nobody was anxious except the captain of the +trawler, held under mysterious orders to await the coming of a man +who never came. + +So McKay went back through the fog to his quaint, whitewashed +inheritance--this legacy from a Scotch grandfather to a Yankee +grandson--and when he came into the dark waist of the house he +called up very gently: "Are you awake, Miss Yellow-hair?" + +"Yes. Is all well?" + +"All's well," he said, mounting the stairs. + +"Then--good night to you Kay of Isla!" she said. + +"Don't you want to hear--" + +"To-morrow, please." + +"But--" + +"As long as you say that all is well I refuse to lose any more +sleep!" + +"Are you sleepy, Yellow-hair?" + +"I am." + +"Aren't you going to sit up and chat for a few--" + +"I am not!" + +"Have you no curiosity?" he demanded, laughingly. + +"Not a bit. You say everything is all right. Then it is all +right--when Kay of Isla says so! Good night!" + +What she had said seemed to thrill him with a novel and delicious +sense of responsibility. He heard her door close; he stood there in +the stone corridor a moment before entering his room, experiencing +an odd, indefinite pleasure in the words this girl had +uttered--words which seemed to reinstate him among his kind, words +which no woman would utter except to a man in whom she believed. + +And yet this girl knew him--knew what he had been--had seen him in +the depths--had looked upon the wreck of him. + +Out of those depths she had dragged what remained of him--not for +his own sake perhaps--not for his beaux-yeux--but to save him for +the service which his country demanded of him. + +She had fought for him--endured, struggled spiritually, mentally, +bodily to wrench him out of the coma where drink had left him with a +stunned brain and crippled will. + +And now, believing in her work, trusting, confident, she had just +said to him that what he told her was sufficient security for her. +And on his word that all was well she had calmly composed herself +for sleep as though all the dead chieftains of Isla stood on guard +with naked claymores! Nothing in all his life had ever so thrilled +him as this girl's confidence. + +And, as he entered his room, he knew that within him the accursed +thing that had been, lay dead forever. + +He was standing in the walled garden switching a limber trout-rod +when Miss Erith came upon him next morning,--a tall straight young +man in his kilts, supple and elegant as the lancewood rod he was +testing. + +Conscious of a presence behind him he turned, came toward her in the +sunlight, the sun crisping his short hair. And in his pleasant level +eyes the girl saw what had happened--what she had wrought--that +this young man had come into his own again--into his right mind and +his manhood--and that he had resumed his place among his fellow men +and peers. + +He greeted her seriously, almost formally; and the girl, excited and +a little upset by the sudden realisation of his victory and hers, +laughed when he called her "Miss Erith." + +"You called me Yellow-hair last night," she said. "I called you Kay. +Don't you want it so?" + +"Yes," he said reddening, understanding that it was her final +recognition of a man who had definitely "come back." + +Miss Erith was very lovely as she stood there in the garden whither +breakfast was fetched immediately and laid out on a sturdy green +garden-table--porridge, coffee, scones, jam, and an egg. + +Chipping the latter she let her golden-hazel eyes rest at moments +upon the young fellow seated opposite. At other moments, sipping her +coffee or buttering a scone, she glanced about her at the new grass +starred with daisies, at the daffodils, the slim young +fruit-trees,--and up at the old white facade of the ancient abode of +the Lairds of Isla. + +"Why the white flag up there, Kay?" she inquired, glancing aloft. + +He laughed, but flushed a little. "Yankee that I am," he admitted, +"I seem to be Scot enough to observe the prejudices and folk-ways of +my forebears." + +"Is it your clan flag?" + +"Bratach Bhan Chlaun Aoidh," he said smilingly. "The White Banner of +the McKays." + +"Good! And what may that be--that bunch of weed you wear in your +button-hole?" Again the young fellow laughed: "Seasgan or Cuilc--in +Gaelic--just reed-grass, Miss Yellow-hair." + +"Your clan badge?" + +"I believe so." + +"You're a good Yankee, Kay. You couldn't be a good Yankee if you +treated Scotch custom with contempt.... This jam is delicious. And +oh, such scones!" + +"When we go to Edinburgh we'll tea on Princess Street," he remarked. +"It's there you'll fall for the Scotch cakes, Yellow-hair." + +"I've already fallen for everything Scotch," she remarked demurely. + +"Ah, wait! This Scotland is no strange land to good Americans. It's +a bonnie, sweet, clean bit of earth made by God out of the same +batch he used for our own world of the West. Oh, Yellow-hair, I mind +the first day I ever saw Scotland. 'Twas across Princess +Street--across acres of Madonna lilies in that lovely foreland +behind which the Rock lifted skyward with Edinburgh Castle atop made +out of grey silver slag! It was a brave sight, Yellow-hair. I never +loved America more than at that moment when, in my heart, I married +her to Scotland." + +"Kay, you're a poet!" she exclaimed. + +"We all are here, Yellow-hair. There's naught else in Scotland," he +said laughing. + +The man was absolutely transformed, utterly different. She had never +imagined that a "cure" meant the revelation of this unsuspected +personality--this alternation of pleasant gravity and boyish charm. + +Something of what preoccupied her he perhaps suspected, for the +colour came into his handsome lean features again and he picked up +his rod, rising as she rose. + +"Are there no instructions yet?" she inquired. + +As he stood there threading the silk line through the guides he told +her about the visit of No. 67. + +"I fancy instructions will come before long," he remarked, casting a +leaderless line out across the grass. After a moment he glanced +rather gravely at her where she stood with hands linked behind her, +watching the graceful loops which his line was making in the air. + +"You're not worried, are you, Yellow-hair?" + +"About the Boche?" + +"I meant that." + +"No, Kay, I'm not uneasy." + +And when the girl had said it she knew that she had meant a little +more; she had meant that she felt secure with this particular man +beside her. + +It was a strange sort of peace that was invading her--an odd courage +quite unfamiliar--an effortless pluck that had suddenly become the +most natural thing in the world to this girl, who, until then, had +clutched her courage desperately in both hands, commended her soul +to God, her body to her country's service. + +Frightened, she had set out to do this service, knowing perfectly +what sort of fate awaited her if she fell among the Boche. + +Frightened but resolute she faced the consequences with this +companion about whom she knew nothing; in whom she had divined a +trace of that true metal which had been so dreadfully tarnished and +transmuted. + +And now, here in this ancient garden--here in the sun of earliest +summer, she had beheld a transfiguration. And still under the spell +of it, still thrilled by wonder, she had so utterly believed in it, +so ardently accepted it, that she scarcely understood what this +transfiguration had also wrought in her. She only felt that she was +no longer captain of their fate; that he was now; and she resigned +her invisible insignia of rank with an unconscious little sigh that +left her pretty lips softly parted. + +At that instant he chanced to look up at her. She was the most +beautiful thing he had ever seen in the world. And she had looked at +him out of those golden eyes when he had been less than a mere brute +beast.... That was very hard to know and remember .... But it was +the price he had to pay--that this fresh, sweet, clean young thing +had seen him as he once had been, and that he never could forget +what she had looked upon. + +"Kay!" + +"Yes, Lady Yellow-hair." + +"What are you going to do with that rod?" + +"Whip Isla for a yellow trout for you." + +"Isla?" + +"Not our Loch, but the quick water yonder." + +"You know," she said, "to a Yankee girl those moors appear +rather--rather lonely." + +"Forbidding?" + +"No; beautiful in their way. But I am in awe of Glenark moors." + +He smiled, lingering still to loop on a gossamer leader and a cast +of tiny flies. + +"Have you--" she began, and smiled nervously. + +"A gun?" he inquired coolly. "Yes, I have two strapped up under both +arms. But you must come too, Yellow-hair." + +"You don't think it best to leave me alone even in your own house?" + +"No, I don't think it best." + +"I wanted to go with you anyway," she said, picking up a soft hat +and pulling it over her golden head. + +On the way across Isla bridge and out along the sheep-path they +chatted unconcernedly. A faint aromatic odour made the girl aware of +broom and whinn and heath. + +As they sauntered on along the edge of Isla Water the lapwings rose +into flight ahead. Once or twice the feathery whirr of brown grouse +startled her. And once, on the edge of cultivated land, a partridge +burst from the heather at her very feet--a "Frenchman" with his red +legs and gay feathers brilliant in the sun. + +Sun and shadow and white cloud, heath and moor and hedge and +broad-tilled field alternated as they passed together along the edge +of Isla Water and over the road to Isla--the enchanting +river--interested in each other's conversation and in the loveliness +of the sunny world about them. + +High in the blue sky plover called en passant; larks too were on the +wing, and throstles and charming feathered things that hid in +hedgerows and permitted glimpses of piquant heads and twitching +painted tails. + +"It is adorable, this country!" Miss Erith confessed. "It steals +into your very bones; doesn't it?" + +"And the bones still remain Yankee bones," he rejoined. "There's the +miracle, Yellow-hair." + +"Entirely. You know what I think? The more we love the more loyal we +become to our own. I'm really quite serious. Take yourself for +example, Kay. You are most ornamental in your kilts and +heather-spats, and you are a better Yankee for it. Aren't you?" + +"Oh yes, a hopeless Yankee. But that drop of Scotch blood is singing +tunes to-day, Yellow-hair." + +"Let it sing--God bless it!" + +He turned, his youthful face reflecting the slight emotion in her +gay voice. Then with a grave smile he set his face straight in front +of him and walked on beside her, the dark green pleats of the McKay +tartan whipping his bared knees. Clan Morhguinn had no handsomer +son; America no son more loyal. + +A dragon-fly glittered before them for an instant. Far across the +rolling country they caught the faint, silvery flash of Isla +hurrying to the sea. + +Evelyn Erith stood in the sunny breeze of Isla, her yellow hair +dishevelled by the wind, her skirt's edge wet with the spray of +waterfalls. The wild rose colour was in her cheeks and the tint of +crimson roses on her lips and the glory of the Soleil d'or glimmered +on her loosened hair. A confused sense that the passing hour was the +happiest in her life possessed her: she looked down at the brace of +wet yellow trout on the bog-moss at her feet; she gazed out across +the crinkled pool where the Yankee Laird of Isla waded, casting a +big tinselled fly for the accidental but inevitable sea-trout always +encountered in Isla during the season--always surprising and +exciting the angler with emotion forever new. + +Over his shoulder he was saying to her: "Sea-trout and grilse don't +belong to Isla, but they come occasionally, Lady Yellow-hair." + +"Like you and I, Kay--we don't belong here but we come." + +"Where the McKay is, the Key of the World lies hidden in his +sporran," he laughed back at her over his shoulder where the clan +plaid fluttered above the cairngorm. + +"Oh, the modesty of this young man! Wherever he takes off his cap he +is at home!" she cried. + +He only laughed, and she saw the slim line curl, glisten, loop and +unroll in the long back cast, re-loop, and straighten out over Isla +like a silver spider's floating strand. Then silver leaped to meet +silver as the "Doctor" touched water; one keen scream of the reel +cut the sunny silence; the rod bent like a bow, staggered in his +hand, swept to the surface in a deeper bow, quivered under the +tremendous rush of the great fish. + +Miss Erith watched the battle from an angle not that of an angler. +Her hazel eyes followed McKay where he manoeuvred in midstream with +rod and gaff--happily aware of the grace in every unconscious +movement of his handsome lean body--the steady, keen poise of head +and shoulders, the deft and powerful play of his clean-cut, brown +hands. + +It came into her mind that he'd look like that on the firing-line +some day when his Government was ready to release him from his +obscure and terrible mission--the Government that was sending him +where such men as he usually perish unobserved, unhonoured, +repudiated even by those who send them to accomplish what only the +most brave and unselfish dare undertake. + +A little cloud cast a momentary shadow across Isla. The sea-trout +died then, a quivering limber, metallic shape glittering on the +ripples. + +In the intense stillness from far across the noon-day world she +heard the bells of Banff--a far, sweet reiteration stealing inland +on the wind. She had never been so happy in her life. + +Swinging back across the moor together, he with slanting rod and +weighted creel, she with her wind-blown yellow hair and a bunch of +reed at her belt in his honour, both seemed to understand that they +had had their hour, and that the hour was ending--almost ended now. + +They had remained rather silent. Perhaps grave thoughts of what lay +before them beyond the bright moor's edge--beyond the far blue +horizon--preoccupied their minds. And each seemed to feel that their +play-day was finished--seemed already to feel physically the +approach of that increasing darkness shrouding the East--that +hellish mist toward which they both were headed--the twilight of the +Hun. + +Nothing stained the sky above them; a snowy cloud or two drifted up +there,--a flight of lapwings now and then--a lone curlew. The long, +squat white-washed house with its walled garden reflected in Isla +Water glimmered before them in the hollow of the rolling hills. + +McKay was softly and thoughtfully whistling the "Lament for +Donald"--the lament of CLAN AOIDH--his clan. + +"That's rather depressing, Kay--what you're whistling," said Evelyn +Erith. + +He glanced up from his abstraction, nodded, and strode on humming +the "Over There" of that good bard George of Broadway. + +After a moment the girl said: "There seem to be some people by Isla +Water." + +His quick glance appraised the distant group, their summer tourist +automobile drawn up on the bank of Isla Water near the Bridge, the +hampers on the grass. + +"Trespassers," he said with a shrug. "But it's a pretty spot by Isla +Bridge and we never drive them away." + +She looked at them again as they crossed the very old bridge of +stone. Down by the water's edge stood their machine. Beside it on +the grass were picnicking three people--a very good-looking girl, a +very common-looking stout young man in flashy outing clothes, and a +thin man of forty, well-dressed and of better appearance. + +The short, stout, flashy young man was eating sandwiches with one +hand while with the other he held a fishing-rod out over the water. + +McKay noticed this bit of impudence with a shrug. "That won't do," +he murmured; and pausing at the parapet of the bridge he said +pleasantly: "I'm sorry to disturb you, but fishing isn't permitted +in Isla Water." + +At that the flashy young man jumped up with unexpected nimbleness--a +powerful frame on two very vulgar but powerful legs. + +"Say, sport," he called out, "if this is your fish-pond we're ready +to pay what's right. What's the damage for a dozen fish?" + +"Americans--awful ones," whispered Miss Erith. + +McKay rested his folded arms on the parapet and regarded the advance +of the flashy man up the grassy slope below. + +"I don't rent fishing privileges," he said amiably. + +"That's all right. Name your price. No millionaire guy I ever heard +of ever had enough money," returned the flashy man jocosely. + +McKay, amused, shook his head. "Sorry," he said, "but I couldn't +permit you to fish." + +"Aw, come on, old scout! We heard you was American same as us. +That's my sister down there and her feller. My name's Jim +Macniff--some Scotch somewhere. That there feller is Harry Skelton. +Horses is our business--Spitalfields Mews--here's my card--" +pulling it out--"I'll come up on the bridge--" + +"Never mind. What are you in Scotland for anyway?" inquired McKay. + +"The Angus Dhu stables at Inverness--auction next Wednesday. Horses +is our line, so we made it a holiday--" + +"A holiday in the Banff country?" + +"Sure, I ain't never seen it before. Is that your house?" + +McKay nodded and turned away, weary of the man and his vulgarity. +"Very well, picnic and fish if you like," he said; and fell into +step beside Miss Erith. + +They entered the house through the door in the garden. Later, when +Miss Erith came back from her toilet, but still wearing her outing +skirt, McKay turned from the long window where he had been standing +and watching the picnickers across Isla Bridge. The flashy man had a +banjo now and was strumming it and leering at the girl. + +"What people to encounter in this corner of Paradise," she said +laughingly. And, as he did not smile: "You don't suppose there's +anything queer about them, do you, Kay?" At that he smiled: "Oh, no, +nothing of that sort, Yellow-hair. Only--it's rather odd. But bagmen +and their kind do come into the northland--why, Heaven knows--but +one sees them playing about." + +"Of course those people are merely very ordinary Americans--nothing +worse," she said, seating herself at the table. + +"What could be worse?" he returned lightly. + +"Boche." + +They were seated sideways to the window and opposite each other, +commanding a clear view of Isla Water and the shore where the +picnickers sprawled apparently enjoying the semi-comatose pleasure +of repletion. + +"That other man--the thin one--has not exactly a prepossessing +countenance," she remarked. + +"They can't travel without papers," he said. + +For a little while luncheon progressed in silence. Presently Miss +Erith reverted to the picnickers: "The young woman has a foreign +face. Have you noticed?" + +"She's rather dark. Rather handsome, too. And she appears rather +nice." + +"Women of that class always appear superior to men of the same +class," observed Miss Erith. "I suppose really they are not superior +to the male of the species." + +"I've always thought they were," he said. + +"Men might think so." + +He smiled: "Quite right, Yellow-hair; woman only is competent to +size up woman. The trouble is that no man really believes this." + +"Don't you?" + +"I don't know. Tell me, what shall we do after luncheon?" + +"Oh, the moors--please, Kay!" + +"What!" he exclaimed laughingly; "you're already a victim to Glenark +moors!" + +"Kay, I adore them! ... Are you tired? ... Our time is short-our day +of sunshine. I want to drink in all of it I can ... before we--" + +"Certainly. Shall we walk to Strathnaver, Lady Yellow-hair?" + +"If it please my lord." + +"Now?" + +"In the cool of the afternoon. Don't you want to be lazy with me in +your quaint old garden for an hour or two?" + +"I'll send out two steamer-chairs, Yellow-hair." + +When they lay there in the shadow of a lawn umbrella, chair beside +chair, the view across Isla Water was unpolluted by the picnickers, +their hamper, and their car. + +"Stole away, the beggars," drawled McKay lighting a cigarette. +"Where the devil they got a permit for petrol is beyond me." + +The girl lay with deep golden eyes dreaming under her long dark +lashes. Sunlight crinkled Isla Water; a merle came and sang to her +in a pear-tree until, in its bubbling melody, she seemed to hear the +liquid laughter of Isla rippling to the sea. + +"Kay?" + +"Yes, Yellow-hair." Their voices were vague and dreamy. + +"Tell me something." + +"I'll tell you something. When a McKay of Isla is near his end he is +always warned." + +"How?" + +"A cold hand touches his hand in the dark." + +"Kay!" + +"It's so. It's called'the Cold Hand of Isla.' We are all doomed to +feel it." + +"Absurd!" + +"Not at all. That's a pretty story; isn't it? Now what more shall I +tell you?" + +"Anything you like, Kay. I'm in paradise--or would be if only +somebody would tell me stories till I fall asleep." + +"Stories about what?" + +"About YOU, Kay." + +"I'll not talk about myself." + +"Please!" + +But he shook his head without smiling: "You know all there is," he +said--"and much that is--unspeakable." + +"Kay!" + +"What?" + +"Never, never speak that way again!" + +He remained silent. + +"Because," she continued in her low, pretty voice, "it is not true. +I know about you only what I somehow seemed to divine the very +moment I first laid eyes on you. Something within me seemed to say +to me, 'This is a boy who also is a real man!' ... And it was true, +Kay." + +"You thought that when you knelt in the snow and looked down at that +beastly drunken--" + +"Yes! Don't use such words! You looked like a big schoolboy, +asleep-that is what you resembled. But I knew you to be a real man." + +"You are merciful, but I know what you went through," he said +morosely. + +She paid no attention: "I liked you instantly. I thought to myself, +'Now when he wakes he'll be what he looks like.' And you are!" + +He stirred in his chair, sideways, and glanced at her. + +"You know what I think about you, don't you?" + +"No." She shouldn't have let their words drift thus far and she knew +it. Also at this point she should have diverted the conversation. +But she remained silent, aware of an indefinite pleasure in the +vague excitement which had quickened her pulse a little. + +"Well, I shan't tell you," he said quietly. + +"Why not?" And at that her heart added a beat or two. + +"Because, even if I were different, you wouldn't wish me to." + +"Why?" + +"Because you and I are doomed to a rather intimate comradeship--a +companionship far beyond conventions, Yellow-hair. That is what is +ahead of us. And you will have enough to weary you without having +another item to add to it." + +"What item?" At that she became very silent and badly scared. What +demon was prompting her to such provocation? Her own effrontery +amazed and frightened her, but her words seemed to speak themselves +independently of her own volition. + +"Yellow-hair," he said, "I think you have guessed all I might have +dared say to you were I not on eternal probation." + +"Probation?" + +"Before a bitterly strict judge." + +"Who?" + +"Myself, Yellow-hair." + +"Oh, Kay! You ARE a boy--nothing more than a boy--" + +"Are you in love with me?" + +"No," she said, astonished. "I don't think so. What an amazing thing +to say to a girl!" + +"I thought I'd scare you," he remarked grimly. + +"You didn't. I--I was scarcely prepared--such a nonsensical thing to +say! Why--why I might as well ask you if you are in--in--" + +"In love with you? You wish to know, Yellow-hair?" + +"No, I don't," she replied hastily. "This is--stupid. I don't +understand how we came to discuss such--such--" But she did know and +she bit her lip and gazed across Isla Water in silent exasperation. + +What mischief was this that hid in the Scottish sunshine, whispering +in every heather-scented breeze--laughing at her from every little +wave on Isla Water?--counselling her to this new and delicate +audacity, imbuing her with a secret gaiety of heart, and her very +soul fluttering with a delicious laughter--an odd, perverse, +illogical laughter, alternately tremulous and triumphant! + +Was she in love, then, with this man? She remembered his unconscious +head on her knees in the limousine, and the snow clinging to his +bright hair-- + +She remembered the telephone, and the call to the hospital--and the +message. ... And the white night and bitter dawn. ... Love? No, not +as she supposed it to be; merely the solicitude and friendship of a +woman who once found something hurt by the war and who fought to +protect what was hers by right of discovery. That was not love. ... +Perhaps there may have been a touch of the maternal passion about +her feeling for this man. ... Nothing else--nothing more than that, +and the eternal indefinable charity for all boys which is inherent +in all womanhood--the consciousness of the enchantment that a boy +has for all women. ... Nothing more. ... Except that--perhaps she +had wondered whether he liked her--as much as she liked him.... Or +if, possibly, in his regard for her there were some slight depths +between shallows--a gratitude that is a trifle warmer than the +conventional virtue-- + +When at length she ventured to turn her head and look at him he +seemed to be asleep, lying there in the transformed shadow of the +lawn umbrella. + +Something about the motionless relaxation of this man annoyed her. +"Kay?" + +He turned his head squarely toward her, and 'o her exasperation she +blushed. + +"Did I wake you? I'm sorry," she said coldly. + +"You didn't. I was awake." + +"Oh! I meant to say that I think I'll stroll out. Don't come if you +feel lazy." + +He swung himself up to a sitting posture. + +"I'm quite ready," he said. ... "You'll always find me ready, +Yellow-hair--always waiting." + +"Waiting? For what?" + +"For your commands." + +"You very nice boy!" she said gaily, springing to her feet. Then, +the subtle demon of the sunlight prompting her: "You know, Kay, you +don't ever have to wait. Because I'm always ready to listen to any +pro--any suggestions--from you." + +The man looked into the girl's eyes: + +"You would care to hear what I might have to tell you?" + +"I always care to hear what you say. Whatever you say interests me." + +"Would it interest you to know I am--in love?" + +"Yes. ... With wh--whom are--" But her breath failed her. + +"With you. ... You knew it, Yellow-hair. ... Does it interest you to +know it?" + +"Yes." But the exhilaration of the moment was interfering with her +breath again and she only stood there with the flushed and audacious +little smile stamped on her lips forcing her eyes to meet his +curious, troubled, intent gaze. + +"You did know it?" he repeated. + +"No." + +"You suspected it." + +"I wanted to know what you--thought about me, Kay." + +"You know now." + +"Yes ... but it doesn't seem real. ... And I haven't anything to say +to you. I'm sorry--" + +"I understand, Yellow-hair." + +"--Except-thank you. And-and I am interested. ... You're such a boy.... +I like you so much, Kay.... And I AM interested in what you +said to me." + +"That means a lot for you to say, doesn't it?" + +"I don't know. ... It's partly what we have been through together, I +suppose; partly this lovely country, and the sun. Something is +enchanting me. ... And you are very nice to look at, Kay." His smile +was grave, a little detached and weary. + +"I did not suppose you could ever really care for such a man as I +am," he remarked without the slightest bitterness or appeal in his +voice. "But I'm glad you let me tell you how it is with me. ... It +always was that way, Yellow-hair, from the first moment you came +into the hospital. I fell in love then." + +"Oh, you couldn't have--" + +"Nevertheless, and after all I said and did to the contrary. ... I +don't think any woman remains entirely displeased when a man tells +her he is in love with her. If he does love her he ought to tell +her, I think. It always means that much tribute to her power. ... +And none is indifferent to power, Yellow-hair." + +"No. ... I am not indifferent. I like what you said to me. It seems +unreal, though--but enchanting--part of this day's enchantment. ... +Shall we start, Kay?" + +"Certainly." + +They went out together through the garden door into the open moor, +swinging along in rhythmic stride, side by side, smiling faintly as +dreamers smile when something imperceptible to the waking world +invades their vision. + +Again the brown grouse whirred from the whinns; again the subtle +fragrance of the moor sweetened her throat with its clean aroma; +again the haunting complaint of the lapwings came across acres of +bog and furze; and, high in the afternoon sky, an invisible curlew +sadly and monotonously repeated its name through the vast blue vault +of space. + +On the edge of evening with all the west ablaze they came out once +more on Isla Water and looked across the glimmering flood at the old +house in the hollow, every distant window-pane a-glitter. + +Like that immemorial and dragon-guarded jewel of the East the sun, +cradled in flaky gold, hung a hand's breadth above the horizon, and +all the world had turned to a hazy plum-bloom tint threaded with +pale fire. + +On Isla Water the yellow trout had not yet begun to jump; evening +still lingered beyond the world's curved ruin; but the wild duck +were coming in from the sea in twos and threes and sheering down +into distant reaches of Isla Water. + +Then, into the divine stillness of the universe came the unspeakable +twang of a banjo; and a fat voice, slightly hoarse: + + "Rocks on the mountain, + Fishes in the sea, + A red-headed girl + Raised hell with me. + She come from Chicago, R.F.D. + An' she ain't done a thing to a guy like me!" + +The business was so grotesquely outrageous, so utterly and +disgustingly hopeless in its surprise and untimelines, that McKay's +sharp laugh rang out under the sky. + +There they were, the same trespassers of the morning, squatted on +the heather at the base of Isla Craig--a vast heap of rocks--their +machine drawn up in the tall green brakes beside the road. + +The flashy, fat man, Macniff, had the banjo. The girl sat between +him and the thin man, Skelton. + +"Ah, there, old scout!" called out Macniff, flourishing one hand +toward McKay. "Lovely evening, ain't it? Won't you and the wife join +us?" + +There was absolutely nothing to reply to such an invitation. Miss +Erith continued to gaze out steadily across Isla Water; McKay, +deeply sensitive to the ludicrous, smiled under the grotesque +provocation, his eyes mischievously fixed on Miss Erith. After a +long while: "They've spoiled it," she said lightly. "Shall we go on, +Kay? I can't endure that banjo." + +They walked on, McKay grinning. The picnickers were getting up from +the crushed heather; Macniff with his banjo came toward them on his +incredibly thick legs, blocking their path. + +"Say, sport," he began, "won't you and the lady join us?" But McKay +cut him short: + +"Do you know you are impudent?" he said very quietly. "Step out of +the way there." + +"The hell you say!" and McKay's patience ended at the same instant. +And something happened very quickly, for the man only staggered +under the smashing blow and the other man's arm flew up and his +pistol blazed in the gathering dusk, shattering the cairngorm on +McKay's shoulder. The young woman fired from where she sat on the +grass and the soft hat was jerked from Miss Erith's head. At the +same moment McKay clutched her arm and jerked her violently behind a +jutting elbow of Isla Rock. When she recovered her balance she saw +he held two pistols. + +"Boche?" she gasped incredulously. + +"Yes. Keep your head down. Crouch among the ferns behind me!" + +There was a ruddy streak of fire from the pistol in his right hand; +shots answered, the bullets smacking the rock or whining above it. + +"Yellow-hair?" + +"Yes, Kay." + +"You are not scared, are you?" + +"Yes; but I'm all right." + +He said with quiet bitterness: "It's too late to say what a fool I +am. Their camouflage took me in; that's all--" + +He fired again; a rattling volley came storming among the rocks. + +"We're all right here," he said tersely. But in his heart he was +terrified, for he had only the cartridges in his clips. + +Presently he motioned her to bend over very low. Then, taking her +hand, he guided her along an ascending gulley, knee-deep in fern and +brake and brier, to a sort of little rocky pulpit. + +The lake lay behind them, lapping the pulpit's base. There was a man +in a boat out there. McKay fired at him and he plied both oars and +fled out of range. + +"Lie down," he whispered to Miss Erith. The girl mutely obeyed. + +Now, crouched up there in the deepening dusk, his pistol extended, +resting on the rock in front of him, his keen eyes searched +restlessly; his ears were strained for the minutest stirring on the +moor in front of him; and his embittered mind was at work +alternately cursing his own stupidity and searching for some chance +for this young girl whom his own incredible carelessness had +probably done to death. + +Presently, between him and Isla Water, a shadow moved. He fired; and +around them the darkness spat flame from a dozen different angles. + +"Damnation!" he whispered to himself, realising now what the sunlit +moors had hidden--a dozen men all bent on murder. + +Once a voice hailed him from the thick darkness promising immunity +if he surrendered. He hesitated. Who but he should know the Boche? +Still he answered back: "If you let this woman go you can do what +you like to me!" And knew while he was saying it that it was +useless--that there was no truth, no honour in the Boche, only +infamy and murder. A hoarse voice promised what he asked; but Miss +Erith caught McKay's arm. + +"No!" + +"If I dared believe them--" + +"No, Kay!" + +He shrugged: "I'd be very glad to pay the price--only they can't be +trusted. They can't be trusted, Yellow-hair." + +Somebody shouted from the impenetrable shadows: + +"Come out of that now, McKay! If you don't we'll go in and cut her +throat before we do for you!" + +He remained silent, quite motionless, watching the darkness. + +Suddenly his pistol flashed redly, rapidly; a heavy, soft bulk went +tumbling down the rocks; another reeled there, silhouetted against +Isla Water, then lurched forward, striking the earth with his face. +And now from every angle slanting lines of blood-red fire streaked +the night; Isla Craig rang and echoed with pelting lead. + +"Next!" called out McKay with his ugly careless laugh. "Two down. No +use to set 'em up again! Let dead wood lie. It's the law!" + +"Can they hear the shooting at the house?" whispered Miss Erith. + +"Too far. A shot on the moors carries only a little way." + +"Could they see the pistol flashes, Kay?" + +"They'd take them for fireflies or witch lights dancing on the +bogs." + +After a long and immobile silence he dropped to his knees, remained +so listening, then crept across the Pulpit's ferny floor. Of a +sudden he sprang up and fired full into a man's face; and struck the +distorted visage with doubled fist, hurling it below, crashing down +through the bracken. + +After a stunned interval Miss Erith saw him wiping that hand on the +herbage. + +"Kay?" + +"Yes, Yellow-hair." + +"Can you see your wrist-watch?" + +"Yes. It's after midnight." + +The girl prayed silently for dawn. The man, grim, alert, awaited +events, clutching his partly emptied pistols. He had not yet told +her that they were partly empty. He did not know whether to tell +her. After a while he made up his mind. + +"Yellow-hair?" + +"Yes, dear Kay." + +His lips went dry; he found difficulty in speaking: "I've--I've +undone you. I've bitten the hand that saved me, your slim white +hand, I'm afraid. I'm afraid I've destroyed you, Yellow-hair." + +"How, Kay?" + +"My pistols are half empty. ... Unless dawn comes quick--" + +Again one of his pistols flashed its crimson streak across the +blackness and a man began scrambling and thrashing and screaming +down there in the whinns. For a little while Miss Erith crouched +beside McKay in silence. Then he felt her light touch on his arm: + +"I've been thinking.", + +"Aye. So have I." + +"Is there a chance to drop into the lake?" + +He had not thought so. He had figured it out in every possible way. +But there seemed little chance to swim that icy water--none at +all--with that man in the boat yonder, and detection always imminent +if they left the Pulpit. McKay shook his head slightly: + +"He'd row us down and gralloch us like swimming deer." + +"But if one goes alone?" + +"Oh, Yellow-hair! Yellow-hair! If you only could!" + +"I can." + +"Swim it?" + +"Yes." + +"It's cold water. Few can swim Isla Water. It's a long swim from +Isla Craig to the house." + +"I can do it, I think." + +After a terrible silence he said: "Yes, best try it, Yellow-hair.... +I had meant to keep the last cartridge for you..." + +"Dear Kay," she breathed close to his cheek. + +Presently he was obliged to fire again, but remained uncertain as to +his luck in the raging storm of lead that followed. + +"I guess you better go, Yellow-hair," he whispered. "My guns are +about all in." + +"Try to hold them off. I'll come back. Of course you understand I'm +not going for myself, Kay, I'm going for ammunition." + +"What!" + +"What did you suppose?" she asked curtly. + +At that he blazed up: "If you can win through Isla Water you stay on +the other side and telephone Glenark! Do you hear? I'm all right. +It's--it's none of your business how I end this--" + +"Kay?" + +"What?" + +"Turn your back. I'm undressing." + +He heard her stripping, kneeling in the ferns behind him,--heard the +rip of delicate fabric and the rustle of silk-lined garments +falling. + +Presently she said: "Can I be noticed if I slip down through the +bushes to the water?" + +"O God," he whispered, "be careful, Yellow-hair. ... No, the man in +the boat is keeping his distance. He'll never see you. Don't splash +when you take the water. Swim like an otter, under, until you're +well out. ... You're young and sturdy, slim as you are. You'll get +through if the chill of Isla doesn't paralyse you. But you've got to +do it, Yellow-hair; you've GOT to do it." + +"Yes. Hold them off, Kay. I'll be back. Hold them off, dear Kay. +Will you?" + +"I'll try, Yellow-hair.... Good luck! Don't try to come back!" + +"Good luck," she whispered close to his ear; and, for a second he +felt her slim young hands on his shoulders--lightly--the very ghost +of contact. That was all. He waited a hundred years. Then another. +Then, his weapons levelled, listening, he cast a quick glance +backward. At the foot of the Pulpit a dark ripple lapped the rock. +Nothing there now; nothing in Isla Water save far in the stars' +lustre the shadowy boat lying motionless. + +Toward dawn they tried to rush the Pulpit. He used a heavy fragment +of rock on the first man up, and as his quarry went smashing +earthward, a fierce whine burst from the others: "Shot out! All +together now!" But his pistol spoke again and they recoiled, +growling, disheartened, cursing the false hope that had re-nerved +them. + +It was his last shot, however. He had a heavy clasp-knife such as +salmon-anglers carry. He laid his empty pistols on the rocky ledge. +Very patiently he felt for frost-loosened masses of rock, detached +them one by one and noiselessly piled them along the ledge. + +"It's odd," he thought to himself: "I'm going to be killed and I +don't care. If Isla got HER, then I'll see her very soon now, God +willing. But if she wins out--why it is going to be longer waiting.... +And I've put my mark on the Boche--not as often as I wished--but +I've marked some of them for what they've done to me--and to the +world--" + +A sound caught his ear. He waited, listening. Had it been a fighting +chance in Isla Water he'd have taken it. But the man in the +boat!--and to have one's throat cut--like a deer! No! He'd kill all +he could first; he'd die fighting, not fleeing. + +He looked at his wrist-watch. Miss Erith had been gone two hours. +That meant that her slender body lay deep, deep in icy Isla. + +Now, listening intently, he heard the bracken stirring and something +scraping the gorse below. They were coming; they were among the +rocks! He straightened up and hurled a great slab of rock down +through darkness; heard them scrambling upward still; seized slab +after slab and smashed them downward at the flashes as the red flare +of their pistols lit up his figure against the sky. + +Then, as he hurled the last slab and clutched his short, broad +knife, a gasping breath fell on his cheek and a wet and icy little +hand thrust a box of clips into his. And there and then The McKay +almost died, for it was as if the "Cold Hand of Isla" had touched +him. And he stared ahead to see his own wraith. + +"Quick!" she panted. "We can hold them, Kay!" + +"Yellow-hair! By God! You bet we can!" he cried with a terrible +burst of laughter; and ripped the clips from the box and snapped +them in with lightning speed. + +Then his pistols vomited vermilion, clearing the rock of vermin; and +when two fresh clips were snapped in, the man stood on the Pulpit's +edge, mad for blood, his fierce young eyes searching the blackness +about him. + +"You dirty rats!" he cried, "come back! Are you leaving your dead in +the bracken then?" + +There were distant sounds on the moor; nothing stirred nearer. + +"Are you coming back?" he shouted, "or must I go after you?" + +Suddenly in the night their motor roared. At the same moment, far +across the lake, he saw the headlights of other motors glide over +Isla Bridge like low-flying stars. + +"Yellow-hair!" + +There was no sound behind him. He turned. + +The fainting girl lay amid her drenched yellow hair in the ferns, +partly covered by the clothing which she had drawn over her with her +last conscious effort. + +It is a long way across Isla Water. And twice across is longer. And +"The Cold Hand of Isla" summons the chief of Clan Morhguinn when his +time has come to look upon his own wraith face to face. But The Cold +Hand of Isla had touched this girl in vain--MOLADH MAIRI!! + +"Yellow-hair! Yellow-hair!" he whispered. The roar of rushing motors +from Glenark filled his ears. He picked up one of her little hands +and chafed it. Then she opened her golden eyes, looked up at him, +and a flood of rose dyed her body from brow to ankle. + +"It--it is a long way across Isla Water," she stammered. "I'm very +tired--Kay!" + +"You below there!" shouted McKay. "Are there constables among you?" + +"Aye, sir!" came the loud response amid the roar of running engines. + +"Then there'll be whiskey and blankets, I'm thinkin'!" cried McKay. + +"Aye, blankets for the dead if there be any!" + +"Kick 'em into the whinns and bring what ye bring for the living!" +said McKay in a loud, joyous voice. "And if you've petrol and speed +take the Banff road and be on your way, for the Boche are crawling +to cover, and it's fine running the night! Get on there, ye Glenark +beagles! And leave a car behind for me and mine!" + +A constable, shining his lantern, came clumping up the Pulpit. McKay +snatched the heavy blankets and with one mighty movement swept the +girl into them. + +Half-conscious she coughed and gasped at the whiskey, then lay very +still as McKay lifted her in his arms and strode out under the +paling stars of Isla. + + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +MOUNT TERRIBLE + + + + + +Toward the last of May a handsome young man wearing a smile and the +uniform of an American Intelligence Officer arrived at Delle, a +French village on the Franco-Swiss frontier. + +His credentials being satisfactory he was directed by the Major of +Alpinists commanding the place to a small stucco house on the main +street. + +Here he inquired for a gentleman named Number Seventy. The +gentleman's other name was John Recklow, and he received the +Intelligence Officer, locked the door, and seated himself behind his +desk with his back to the sunlit window, and one drawer of his desk +partly open. + +Credentials being requested, and the request complied with +accompanied by a dazzling smile, there ensued a silent interval of +some length during which the young man wearing the uniform of an +American Intelligence Officer was not at all certain whether Recklow +was examining him or the papers of identification. + +After a while Recklow nodded: "You came through from Toul, Captain?" + +"From Toul, sir," with the quick smile revealing dazzling teeth. + +"Matters progress?" + +"It is quiet there." + +"So I understand," nodded Recklow. "There's blood on your uniform." + +"A scratch--a spill from my motor-cycle." + +Recklow eyed the cut on the officer's handsome face. One of the +young officer's hands was bandaged, too. + +"You've been in action, Captain." + +"No, sir." + +"You wear German shoes." + +The officer's brilliant smile wrinkled his good-looking features: +"There was some little loot: I'm wearing my share." + +Recklow nodded and let his cold eyes rest on the identification +papers. + +Then, slowly, and without a word, he passed them back over the desk. + +The Intelligence Officer stuffed them carelessly into his +side-pocket. + +"I thought I'd come over instead of wiring or 'phoning. Our people +have not come through yet, have they?" + +"Which people, sir?" + +"McKay and Miss Erith." + +"No, not yet." + +The officer mused for a moment, then: "They wired me from Paris +yesterday, so they're all right so far. You'll see to it personally +that they get through the Swiss wire, won't you?" + +"Through or over, sir." + +The Intelligence Officer displayed his mirthful teeth: + +"Thanks. I'm also sending three of my own people through the wire. +They'll have their papers in order--here are the duplicates I +issued; they'll have their photographs on the originals." + +He fished out a batch of papers and laid them on Recklow's desk. + +"Who are these people?" demanded Recklow. + +"Mine, sir." + +"Oh." + +There fell a silence; but Recklow did not examine the papers; he +merely pocketed them. + +"I think that's all," said the Intelligence Officer. "You know my +name--Captain Herts. In case you wish to communicate just wire my +department at Toul. They'll forward anything if I'm away on duty." + +He saluted: Recklow followed him to the door, saw him mount his +motor-cycle--a battered American machine--stood there watching until +he was out of sight. + +Hour after hour that afternoon Recklow sat in his quiet little house +in Delle poring over the duplicate papers. + +About five o'clock he called up Toul by telephone and got the proper +department. + +"Yes," came the answer, "Captain Herts went to you this morning on a +confidential matter.... No, we don't know when he will return to +Toul." + +Recklow hung up, walked slowly out into his little garden and, +seating himself on a green bench, took out the three packets of +duplicate papers left him by Captain Herts. Then he produced a +jeweller's glass and screwed it into his right eye. + +Several days later three people--two men and a young woman--arrived +at Delle, were conveyed under military escort to the little house of +Mr. Recklow, remained closeted with him until verification of their +credentials in duplicate had been accomplished, then they took their +departure and, that evening, they put up at the Inn. + +But by the next morning they had disappeared, presumably over the +Swiss wire--that being their destination as revealed in their +papers. But the English touring-car which brought them still +remained in the Inn garage. Recklow spent hours examining it. + +Also the arrival and the departure of these three people was +telephoned to Toul by Recklow, but Captain Herts still remained +absent from Toul on duty and his department knew nothing about the +details of the highly specialised and confidential business of +Captain Herts. + +So John Recklow went back to his garden and waited, and smoked a +short, dirty clay pipe, and played with his family of cats. + +Once or twice he went down at night to the French wire. All the +sentries were friends of his. + +"Anybody been through?" he inquired. + +The answer was always the same: Nobody had been through as far as +the patrol knew. + +"Where the hell," muttered Recklow, "did those three guys go?" + +A nightingale sang as he sauntered homeward. Possibly, being a +French nightingale, she was trying to tell him that there were three +people lying very still in the thicket near her. + +But men are stupid and nightingales are too busy to bother about +trifles when there is courting to be done and nests to be planned +and all the anticipated excitement of the coming new moon to +preoccupy a love-distracted bird. + +On a warm, sunny day early in June, toward three o'clock in the +afternoon, a peloton of French cavalry en vidette from Delle stopped +a rather rickety touring-car several kilometres west of the Swiss +frontier and examined the sheaf of papers offered for their +inspection by the young man who drove the car. + +A yellow-haired girl seated beside him leaned back in her place +indifferently to relax her limbs. + +From the time she and the young man had left Glenark in Scotland +their progress had been a series of similar interruptions. +Everywhere on every road soldiers, constables, military policemen, +and gentlemen in mufti had displayed, with varying degrees of +civility, a persistent curiosity to inspect such papers as they +carried. + +On the Channel transport it was the same; the same from Dieppe to +Paris; from Paris to Belfort; and now, here within a pebble's toss +of the Swiss frontier, military curiosity concerning their papers +apparently remained unquenched. + +The sous-officier of dragoon-lancers sat his splendid horse and +gravely inspected the papers, one by one. Behind him a handful of +troopers lolled in their saddles, their lances advanced, their +horses swishing their tails at the murderous, green-eyed bremsers +which, like other bloodthirsty Teutonic vermin, had their origin in +Germany, and raided both French and Swiss frontiers to the cruel +discomfort of horses and cattle. + +Meanwhile the blond, perplexed boy who was examining the papers of +the two motorists, scratched his curly head and rubbed his deeply +sunburned nose with a sunburned fist, a visible prey to indecision. +Finally, at his slight gesture, his troopers trotted out and formed +around the touring-car. + +The boyish sous-officier looked pleasantly at the occupants of the +car: "Have the complaisance to follow me--rather slowly if you +please," he said; wheeled his horse, and trotted eastward toward the +roofs of a little hamlet visible among the trees of the green and +rolling countryside. + +The young man threw in his clutch and advanced slowly, the cavalry +trotting on either side with lances in stirrup-boots and slanting +backward from the arm-loops. + +There was a barrier beyond and some Alpine infantry on guard; and to +the left, a paved street and houses. Half-way down this silent +little street they halted: the sous-officier dismounted and opened +the door of the tonneau, politely assisting the girl to alight. Her +companion followed her, and the sous-officier conducted them into a +stucco house, the worn limestone step of which gave directly on the +grass-grown sidewalk. + +"If your papers are in order, as they appear to be," said the +youthful sous-officier, "you are expected in Delle. And if it is you +indeed whom we expect, then you will know how to answer properly the +questions of a gentleman in the adjoining room who is perhaps +expecting you." And the young sous-officier opened a door, bowed +them into the room beyond, and closed the door behind them. As they +entered this room a civilian of fifty, ruddy, powerfully but trimly +built, and wearing his white hair clipped close, rose from a swivel +chair behind a desk littered with maps and papers. + +"Good-afternoon," he said in English. "Be seated if you please. And +if you will kindly let me have your papers--thank you." + +When the young man and the girl were seated, their suave and ruddy +host dropped back onto his swivel chair. For a long while he sat +there absently caressing his trim, white moustache, studying their +papers with unhurried and minute thoroughness. + +Presently he lifted his cold, greyish eyes but not his head, like a +man looking up over eyeglasses: + +"You are this Kay McKay described here?" he inquired pleasantly. But +in his very clear, very cold greyish eyes there was something +suggesting the terrifying fixity of a tiger's. + +"I am the person described," said the young man quietly. + +"And you," turning only his eyes on the young girl, "are Miss Evelyn +Erith?" + +"I am." + +"These, obviously, are your photographs?" + +McKay smiled: "Obviously." + +"Certainly. And all these other documents appear to be in order"--he +laid them carelessly on his desk--"IF," he added, "Delle is your +ultimate destination and terminal." + +"We go farther," said McKay in a low voice. + +"Not unless you have something further to offer me in the way of +credentials," said the ruddy, white-haired Mr. Recklow, smiling his +terrifying smile. + +"I might mention a number," began McKay in a voice still lower, "if +you are interested in the science of numbers!" + +"Really. And what number do you think might interest me?" + +"Seventy-six--for example." + +"Oh," said the other; "in that case I shall mention the very +interesting number, Seventy. And you, Miss Erith?" turning to the +yellow-haired girl. "Have you any number to suggest that might +interest me?" + +"Seventy-seven," she said composedly. Recklow nodded: + +"Do you happen to believe, either of you, that, at birth, the hours +of our lives are already irrevocably numbered?" + +Miss Erith said: "So teach us to number our days that we may apply +our hearts unto wisdom." + +Recklow got up, made them a bow, and reseated himself. He touched a +handbell; the blond sous-officier entered. + +"Everything is in order; take care of the car; carry the luggage to +the two rooms above," said Recklow. + +To McKay and Miss Erith he added: "My name is John Recklow. If you +want to rest before you wash up, your rooms are ready. You'll find +me here or in the garden behind the house." + +Toward sunset they found Recklow in the little garden, seated alone +there on a bench looking up at the eastward mountains with the +piercing, detached stare of a bird of prey. When they had seated +themselves on the faded-green bench on either side of him he said, +still gazing toward the mountains: "It's April up there. Dress +warmly." + +"Which is Mount Terrible?" inquired Miss Erith. + +"Those are the lower ridges. The summit is not visible from where we +sit," replied Recklow. And, to McKay: "There's some snow there +still, I hear." + +McKay's upward-turned face was a grim study. Beyond those limestone +shouldering heights his terrible Calvary had begun--a progress that +had ended in the wreckage of mind and soul had it not been for +Chance and Evelyn Erith. After Mount Terrible, with its grim "Great +Secret," had come the horrors of the prison camp at Holzminden and +its nameless atrocities, his escape to New York, the Hun cipher +orders to "silence him," his miraculous rescue and redemption by the +girl at his side--and now their dual mission to probe the mystery of +Mount Terrible. + +"McKay," said Recklow, "I don't know what the particular mission may +be that brings you and Miss Erith to the Franco-Swiss frontier. I +have been merely instructed to carry out your orders whenever you +are in touch with me. And I am ready to do so." + +"How much do you know about us?" asked McKay, turning to him an +altered face almost marred by hard features which once had been only +careworn and stern. + +"I know you escaped from the Holzminden prison-camp in Germany; that +you were inhumanly treated there by the Boche; that you entered the +United States Intelligence Service; and that, whatever may be your +business here, I am to help further it at your request." He looked +at the girl: "As concerning Miss Erith, I know only that she is in +the same Government service as yourself and that I am to afford her +any aid she requests." + +McKay said, slowly: "My orders are to trust you implicitly. On one +subject only am I to remain silent--I am not to confide to anybody +the particular object which brings us here." + +Recklow nodded: "I understood as much. Also I have been instructed +that the Boches are determined to discover your whereabouts and do +you in before your mission is accomplished. You, probably, are aware +of that, McKay?" + +"Yes, I am." + +"By the way--you know a Captain Herts?" + +"Not personally." + +"You've been in communication with him?" + +"Yes, for some time." + +"Did you wire him from Paris last Thursday?" + +"Yes." + +"Where did you wire him?" + +"At his apartment at Toul." + +"All right. He was here on Friday.... Somehow I feel uneasy.... He +has a way of smiling too brilliantly.... I suppose, after these +experiences I'll remain a suspicious grouch all my life--but his +papers were in order... I don't know just why I don't care for that +type of man.... You're bound for somewhere or other via Mount +Terrible, I understand?" + +"Yes." + +"This Captain Herts sent three of his own people over the Swiss wire +the other evening. Did you know about it?" + +McKay looked worried: "I'm sorry," he said. "Captain Herts proposed +some such assistance but I declined. It wasn't necessary. Two on +such a job are plenty; half-a-dozen endanger it." + +Recklow shrugged: "I can't judge, not knowing details. Tell me, if +you don't mind; have you been bothered at all so far by Boche +agents?" + +"Yes," nodded Evelyn Erith. + +"You've already had some serious trouble?" + +McKay said: "Our ship was torpedoed off Strathlone Head. In Scotland +a dozen camouflaged Boches caught me napping in spite of being +warned. It was very humiliating, Recklow." + +"You can't trust a soul on this frontier either," returned Recklow +with emphasis. "You cannot trust the Swiss on this border. Over +ninety per cent. of them are German-Swiss, speak German exclusively +along the Alsatian border. They are, I think, loyal Swiss, but their +origin, propinquity, customs and all their affiliations incline them +toward Germany rather than toward France. + +"I believe, in the event of a Hun deluge, the Swiss on this border, +and in the cantons adjoining, would defend their passes to the last +man. They really are first of all good Swiss. But," he shrugged, +"don't trust their friendship for America or for France; that's +all." + +Miss Erith nodded. McKay said: "How about the frontier? I understand +both borders are wired now as well as patrolled. Are the wires +electrically charged?" + +"No. There was some talk of doing it on both sides, but the French +haven't and I don't think the Swiss ever intended to. You can get +over almost anywhere with a short ladder or by digging under." He +smiled: "In fact," he said, "I took the liberty of having a sapling +ladder made for you in case you mean to cross to-night." + +"Many thanks. Yes; we cross to-night." + +"You go by the summit path past the Crucifix on the peak?" + +"No, by the neck of woods under the peak." + +"That might be wiser.... One never knows. ... I'm not quite at +ease--Suppose I go as far as the Crucifix with you--" + +"Thanks, no. I know the mountain and the neck of woods around the +summit. I shall travel no path to-night." + +There was a silence: Miss Erith's lovely face was turned tranquilly +toward the flank of Mount Terrible. Both men looked sideways at her +as though thinking the same thing. + +Finally Recklow said: "In the event of trouble--you understand--it +means merely detention and internment while you are on Swiss +territory. But--if you leave it and go north--" He did not say any +more. + +McKay's sombre eyes rested on his in grim comprehension of all that +Recklow had left unsaid. Swift and savage as would be the fate of a +man caught within German frontiers on any such business as he was +now engaged in, the fate of a woman would be unspeakable. + +If Miss Erith noticed or understood the silence between these two +men she gave no sign of comprehension. + +Soft, lovely lights lay across the mountains; higher rocks were +still ruddy in the rays of the declining sun. + +"Do the Boche planes ever come over?" asked McKay. + +"They did in 1914. But the Swiss stopped it." + +"Our planes--do they violate the frontier at all?" + +"They never have, so far. Tell me, McKay, how about your maps?" + +"Rather inaccurate--excepting one. I drew that myself from memory, +and I believe it is fairly correct." + +Recklow unfolded a little map, marked a spot on it with his pencil +and passed it to McKay. + +"It's for you," he said. "The sapling ladder lies under the filbert +bushes in the gulley where I have marked the boundary. Wait till the +patrol passes. Then you have ten minutes. I'll come later and get +the ladder if the patrol does not discover it." + +A cat and her kittens came into the garden and Evelyn Erith seated +herself on the grass to play with them, an attention gratefully +appreciated by that feline family. + +The men watched her with sober faces. Perhaps both were susceptible +to her beauty, but there was also about this young American girl in +all the freshness of her unmarred youth something that touched them +deeply under the circumstances. + +For this clean, wholesome girl was enlisted in a service the dangers +of which were peculiarly horrible to her because of the bestial +barbarity of the Boche. From the Hun--if ever she fell into their +hands--the greatest mercy to be hoped for was a swift death unless +she could forestall it with a swifter one from her own pistol +carried for that particular purpose. + +The death of youth is always shocking, yet that is an essential part +of war. But this was no war within the meaning accepted by +civilisation--this crusade of light against darkness, of cleanliness +against corruption, this battle of normal minds against the +diseased, perverted, and filthy ferocity of a people not merely +reverted to honest barbarism, but also mentally mutilated, and now +morally imbecile and utterly incompetent to understand the basic +truths of that civilisation from which they had relapsed, and from +which, God willing, they are to be ultimately and definitely kicked +out forever. + +The old mother cat lay on the grass blinking pleasantly at the +setting sun; the kittens frisked and played with the grass-stem in +Evelyn Erith's fingers, or chased their own ratty little tails in a +perfect orgy of feline excitement. + +Long bluish shadows spread delicate traceries on wall and grass; the +sweet, persistent whistle of a blackbird intensified the calm of +evening. It was hard to associate any thought of violence and of +devastation with the blessed sunset calm and the clean fragrance of +this land of misty mountains and quiet pasture so innocently aloof +from the strife and passion of a dusty, noisy and struggling world. + +Yet the red borders of that accursed land, the bloody altars of +which were served by the priests of Baal, lay but a few scant +kilometres to the north and east. And their stealthy emissaries were +over the border and creeping like vermin among the uncontaminated +fields of France. + +"Even here," Recklow was saying, in a voice made low and cautious +from habit, "the dirty Boche prowl among us under protean aspects. +One can never tell, never trust anybody--what with one thing and +another and the Alsatian border so close--and those +German-Swiss--always to be suspected and often impossible to +distinguish--with their pig-eyes and bushy flat-backed heads--from +the genuine Boche. ... Would Miss Erith like to have our little +dinner served out here in the garden?" + +Miss Erith was delightfully sure she would. + +It was long after sunset, though still light, when the simple little +meal ended; but they lingered over their coffee and cordial, +exchanging ideas concerning preparations for their departure, which +was now close at hand. + +The lilac bloom faded from mountain and woodland; already meadow and +pasture lay veiled under the thickening dusk. The last day-bird had +piped its sleepy "lights out"; bats were flying high. When the moon +rose the first nightingale acclaimed the pallid lustre that fell in +silver pools on walk and wall; and every flower sent forth its +scented greeting. + +Kay McKay and Evelyn Erith had been gone for nearly an hour; but +Recklow still sat there at the little green table, an unlighted +cigarette in his muscular fingers, his head slightly bent as though +listening. + +Once he rose as though on some impulse, went into the house, took a +roll of fine wire, a small cowbell, a heavy pair of wire clippers +and a pocket torch from his desk and pocketed them. A pair of +automatic handcuffs he also took, and a dozen clips to fit the brace +of pistols strapped under his armpits. + +Then he returned to the garden; and for a long while he sat there, +unstirring, just where the wall's shadow lay clean-cut across the +grass, listening to the distant tinkle of cattle-bells on the unseen +slope of Mount Terrible. + +No shots had come from the patrol along the Franco-Swiss frontier; +there was no sound save the ecstatic tumult of the nightingale drunk +with moonlight, and, at intervals, the faint sound of a cowbell from +those dark and distant pastures. + +To this silent, listening man it seemed certain that his two guests +had now safely crossed the boundary at the spot he had marked for +McKay on the detail map. Yet he remained profoundly uneasy. + +He waited a few moments longer; heard nothing to alarm him; and then +he left the garden, going out by way of the house, and turned to +lock the front door behind him. + +At that instant his telephone bell rang and he re-entered the house +with a sudden premonition--an odd, unreasonable, but dreadful sort +of certainty concerning what he was about to hear. Picking up the +instrument he was thinking all the time: "It has to do with that +damned Intelligence Officer! There was something wrong with him!" + +There was. + +Clearly over the wire from Toul came the information: "Captain +Herts's naked body was discovered an hour ago in a thicket beside +the Delle highway. He has been dead two weeks. Therefore the man you +saw in Delle was impersonating him. Probably also he was Captain +Herts's murderer and was wearing his uniform, carrying his papers, +and riding his motor-cycle. Do your best to get him!" + +Recklow, deadly cold and calm, asked a few questions. Then he hung +up the instrument, turned and went out, locking the door behind him. + +A few people were in the quiet street; here an Alpine soldier +strolling with his sweetheart, there an old cure on his way to his +little stone chapel, yonder a peasant in blouse and sabots plodding +doggedly along about some detail of belated work that never ends for +such as he. A few lanterns set in iron cages projected over ancient +doorways, lighting the street but dimly where it lay partly in deep +shadow, partly illuminated by the silvery radiance of the moon. + +Recklow turned into an alley smelling of stables, traversed it, and +came out behind into a bushy pasture with a cleared space beyond. +The place was rather misty now in the moonlight from the vapours of +a cold little brook which ran foaming and clattering through it +between banks thickset with fern. + +And now Recklow moved very swiftly but quietly, down through the +misty, ferny valley to the filbert and hazel thicket just beyond; +and went in among the bushes, treading cautiously upon the moist +black mould. + +There glimmered the French wires--merely a wide mesh and an ordinary +barbed barrier overhead; but the fence was deeply ditched on the +Swiss side. A man could climb over it; and Recklow started to do so; +and came face to face in the moonlight with the French patrol. The +recognition was mutual and noiseless: + +"You passed my two people over?" whispered Recklow. + +"An hour ago, mon Capitaine." + +"You've seen nobody else?" + +"Nobody." + +"Heard nothing?" + +"Not a sound. They must have gone over the Swiss wire without +interference, mon Capitaine." + +"You sometimes talk across with the Swiss sentinels?" + +"Oh, yes, if I'm in that humour. You know, mon Capitaine, that +they're like the Boche, only tame." + +"Not all." + +"No, not all. But in a wolf-pack who can excuse sheepdogs? A Boche +is always a Boche." + +"All the same, when the Swiss sentry passes, speak to him and hold +him while I get my ladder." + +"At your orders, Captain." + +"Listen. I am going over. When I return I shall leave with you a +reel of wire and a cowbell. You comprehend? I do not wish anybody +else to cross the French wire to-night." + +"C'est bien, mon Capitaine." + +Recklow went down into the bushy gulley. A few moments later the +careless Swiss patrol came clumping along, rifle slung, pipe glowing +and humming a tune as he passed. Presently the French sentry hailed +him across the wire and the Swiss promptly halted for a bit of +gossip concerning the pretty girls of Delle. + +But, to Recklow's grim surprise, and before he could emerge from the +bushes, no sooner were the two sentries engaged in lively gossip +than three dark figures crept out on hands and knees from the long +grass at the very base of the Swiss wire and were up the ladder +which McKay had left and over it like monkeys before he could have +prevented it even if he had dared. + +Each in turn, reaching the top of the wire, set foot on the wooden +post and leaped off into darkness--each except the last, who +remained poised, then twisted around as though caught by the top +barbed strand. + +And Recklow saw the figure was a woman's, and that her short skirt +had become entangled in the wire. + +In an instant he was after her; she saw him, strove desperately to +free herself, tore her skirt loose, and jumped. And Recklow jumped +after her, landing among the wet ferns on his feet and seizing her +as she tried to rise from where she had fallen. + +She struggled and fought him in silence, but his iron clutch was on +her and he dragged her by main force through the woods parallel with +the Swiss wire until, breathless, powerless, impotent, she gave up +the battle and suffered him to force her along until they were far +beyond earshot of the patrol and of her two companions as well, in +case they should return to the wire to look for her. + +For ten minutes, holding her by the arm, he pushed forward up the +wooded slope. Then, when it was safe to do so, he halted, jerked her +around to face him, and flashed his pocket torch. And he saw a +handsome, perspiring, sullen girl, staring at him out of dark eyes +dilated by terror or by fury--he was not quite sure which. + +She wore the costume of a peasant of the canton bordering the wire; +and she looked like that type of German-Swiss--handsome, sensual, +bad-tempered, but not stupid. + +"Well," he said in French, "you can explain yourself now, +mademoiselle. Allons! Who and what are you? Dites!" + +"What are you? A robber?" she gasped, jerking her arm free. + +"If you thought so why didn't you call for help?" + +"And be shot at? Do you take me for a fool? What are you--a Douanier +then? A smuggler?" + +"You answer ME!" he retorted. "What were you doing--crossing the +wire at night?" + +"Can't a girl keep a rendezvous without the custom-agents treating +her so barbarously?" she panted, one hand flat on her tumultuous +bosom. + +"Oh, that was it, was it?" + +"I do not deny it." + +"Who is your lover--on the French side?" + +"And if he happens to be an Alpinist?"--she shrugged, still +breathing fast and irregularly, picking up the torn edge of her wool +skirt and fingering the rent. + +"Really. An Alpinist? A rendezvous in Delle, eh? And who were your +two friends?" + +"Boys from my canton." + +"Is that so?" + +Her breast still rose and fell unevenly; she turned her pretty, +insolent eyes on him: + +"After all, what business is it of yours? Who are you, anyway? If +you are French you can do nothing. If you are Swiss take me to the +nearest poste." + +"Who were those two men?" repeated Recklow. + +"Ask them." + +"No; I think I'll take you back to France." + +The girl became silent at that but her attitude defied him. Even +when he snapped an automatic handcuff over one wrist she smiled +incredulously. + +But the jeering expression on her dark, handsome features altered +when they approached the Swiss wire. And when Recklow produced a +pair of heavy wire-cutters all defiance died out in her face. + +"Make a sound and I'll simply shoot you," he whispered. + +"W-what is it you want with me?" she asked in a ghost of a voice. + +"The truth." + +"I told it." + +"You did not. You are German." + +"Believe what you like, but I am on neutral territory. Let me go." + +"You ARE German! For God's sake admit it or we'll be too late!" + +"What?" + +"Admit it, I say. Do you want those two Americans to get away?" + +"What--Americans?" stammered the girl. "I d-don't know what you +mean--" + +Recklow laughed under his breath, unlocked the handcuffs. + +"Echt Deutsch," he whispered in German--"and ZERO-TWO-SIX. A good +hint to you!" + +"Waidman's Heil!" said the girl faintly. "O God! what a fright you +gave me.... There's a man at Delle--we were warned--Seventy is his +number, Recklow--a devil Yankee--" + +"A swine! a fathead, sleeping all day in his garden, too drunk to +open despatches!" sneered Recklow. + +"We were warned against him," she insisted. Recklow laughed his +contempt of Recklow and spat upon the dead leaves. + +"Stupid one, what then is closest to the Yankee heart? I was sent +here to buy this terrible devil Yankee, Recklow. That is how one +deals with Yankees. With dollars." + +"Is that why you are here?" + +"And to watch for McKay and the young woman with him!" + +"The Erith woman!" + +"That is her barbarous name, I believe. What is your number?" + +"Four-two-four. Oh, what a fright you gave me. What is your name?" + +"That is against regulations." + +"I know. What is it, all the same.... Mine is Helsa Kampf." + +"Mine is Johann Wolkcer." + +"Wolkcer? Is it Polish?" + +"God knows where we Germans had our origin. ... Who are your +companions, Fraulein?" + +"An Irish-American. Jim Macniff, and a British revolutionist, Harry +Skelton. Others await us on Mount Terrible--Germans in Swiss +uniforms." + +"You'd better keep an eye on Macniff and Skelton," grumbled Recklow. + +"No; they're to be trusted. We nearly caught McKay and the Erith +girl in Scotland; they killed four of our people and hurt two +others.... Listen, comrade Wolkcer, if a trodden path ascends Mount +Terrible, as Skelton pretended, you and I had better look for it. +Can you find your way back to where we crossed the wire? The dry bed +of the torrent was to have guided us." + +"I know a quicker way," said Recklow. "Come on." + +The girl took his hand confidingly and walked beside him, holding +one arm before her face to shield her eyes from branches in the +darkness. + +They had gone, perhaps, a dozen paces when a man stepped from behind +a great beech-tree, peered after them, then turned and hurried down +the slope to where the Swiss wire stretched glistening under the +stars. He ran along this wire until he came to the dry bed of a +torrent. + +Up this he stumbled under the forest patches of alternate moonlight +and shadow until he came to a hard path crossing it on a masonry +viaduct. + +"Harry!" he called in a husky, quavering voice, choking for breath. +"Cripes, Harry--where in hell are you?" + +"Here, you blighter! What's the bully row? Where's Helsa--" + +"With Recklow!" + +"What!!" + +"Double-crossed us!" he whispered; "I seen her! I was huntin' along +the fence when I come on them, thick as thieves. She's crossed us; +she's hollered! Oh, Cripes, Harry, Helsa has went an' squealed!" + +"HELSA!" + +"Yes, Helsa--I wouldn't 'a' believed it! But I seen 'em. I seen 'em +whispering. I seen her take his hand an' lead him up through the +trees. She's squealed on us! She's bringing Recklow--" + +"Recklow! Are you sure?" + +"I got closte to 'em. There was enough moonlight to spot him by. I +know the cut of him, don't I? That wuz him all right." He wiped his +face on his sleeve. "Now what are we goin' to do?" he demanded +brokenly. "Where do we get off, Harry?" + +Skelton appeared dazed: + +"The slut," he kept repeating without particular emphasis, "the +little slut! I thought she'd fallen for me. I thought she was my +girl. And now to do that! And now to go for to do us in like that--" + +"Well, we're all right, ain't we?" quavered Macniff. "We make our +getaway all right, don't we? Don't we?" + +"I can't understand--" + +"Say, listen, Harry. To blazes with Helsa! She's hollered and that +ends her. But can we make our getaway? And how about them Germans +waitin' for us by that there crucifix on top of this mountain? Where +do they get off? Does this guy, Recklow, get them?" + +"He can't get six men alone." + +"Well, can't he sic the Swiss onto 'em?" + +A terrible doubt arose in Skelton's mind: "Recklow wouldn't come +here alone. He's got his men in these woods! That damn woman fixed +all this. It's a plant! She's framed us! What do I care about the +Germans on the mountain! To hell with them. I'm going!" + +"Where?" + +"Into Alsace. Where do you think?" + +"You gotta cross the mountain, then--or go back into France." + +But neither man dared do that now. There was only one way out, and +that lay over Mount Terrible--either directly past the black +crucifix towering from its limestone cairn on the windy peak, or +just below through a narrow belt of woods. + +"It ain't so bad," muttered Macniff. "If the Germans up there catch +McKay and the girl they'll kill 'em and clear out." + +"Yes, but they don't know that the Americans have crossed the wire. +The neck of woods is open!" + +"McKay may go over the peak." + +"McKay knows this mountain," grumbled Skelton. "He's a fox, too. You +don't think he'd travel an open path, do you? And how can we catch +him now? We were to have warned the Germans that the two had crossed +the wire and then our only chance was to string out across that neck +of woods between the peak and the cliffs. That's the way McKay will +travel, not on a path in full moonlight. Aw--I'm sick--what with +Helsa doing that to me--I can't get over it!" + +Macniff started nervously and began to run along the path, upward: + +"Beat it, Harry," he called back over his shoulder; "it's the only +way out o' this now." + +"God," whimpered Skelton, "if I ever get my hooks on Helsa!" His +voice ended in a snivel but his features were white and ferocious as +he started running to overtake Macniff. + +Recklow, breathing easily, his iron frame insensible to any fatigue +from the swift climb, halted finally at the base of the abrupt slope +which marked the beginning of the last ascent to the summit. + +The girl, Helsa, speechless from exertion, came reeling up among the +rocks and leaned gasping against a pine. + +"Now," said Recklow, "you can wait here for your two friends. We've +come by a short cut and they won't be here for more than half an +hour. What's the matter? Are you ill?" for the girl, overcome by the +speed of the ascent, had dropped to the ground at the foot of the +tree and sat there, her head resting against the trunk. Her eyes +were closed and she was breathing convulsively. + +"Are you ill?" he repeated, bending over her. + +She heard him, opened her eyes, then shook her head faintly. + +"All right. You're a brave girl. You'll get your breath in a few +minutes. There's no hurry. You can take your time. Your friends will +be along in half an hour or so. Wait here for them. I am going on to +warn the Germans by the Crucifix that the two Americans are across +the Swiss wire." + +The girl, still speechless, wiped the blinding sweat from her eyes +and tried to clear the dishevelled hair from her face. Then, with a +great effort she found her voice: + +"But the--Americans--will pass--first!" she gasped. "I can't--stay +here alone." + +"If they do pass, what of it? They can't see you. Let them pass. We +hold the summit and the neck of the woods. Tell that to Macniff and +Skelton when they come; that's what I want you here for. I want to +cut off the Yankees' retreat. Do you understand?" + +"I--understand," she breathed. + +"You'll carry out my orders?" + +She nodded, strove to straighten up, then with both hands on her +breast she sank back utterly exhausted. Recklow looked at her a +moment in grim silence, then turned and walked away. + +After a few steps he crossed his arms with a quick, peculiar +movement and drew from under his armpits the pair of automatic +pistols. + +Like all "forested" forests, the woods on that flank of Mount +Terrible were regular and open--big trees with no underbrush and a +smooth carpet of needles and leaves under foot. And Recklow now +walked on very fast in the dim light until he came to a thinning +among the trees where just ahead of him, stars shimmered level in +the vast sky-gulf above Alsace. + +Here was the precipice; here the narrow, wooded neck--the only way +across the mountain except by the peak path and the Crucifix. + +Now Recklow took from his pockets his spool of very fine wire, +attached it low down to a slim young pine, carried it across to the +edge of the cliff, and attached the other end to a sapling on the +edge of the ledge. On this wire he hung his cowbell and hooked the +little clapper inside. + +Then, squatting down on the pine needles, he sat motionless as one +of the forest shadows, a pistol in either hand, and his cold grey +eyes ablaze. + +So silvery the pools of light from the planets, so depthless the +shadows, that the forest around him seemed but a vast mosaic in +mother-of-pearl and ebony. + +There was no sound, no murmur of cattle-bells from mountain pastures +now, nothing stirring through the magic aisles where the matched +columns of beech and pine towered in the perfect symmetry of all +planted forests. + +He had not been there very long; the luminous dial of his +wrist-watch told him that--when, although he had heard no sound on +the soft carpet of pine needles, something suddenly hit the wire and +the cowbell tinkled in the darkness. + +Recklow was on his feet in an instant and running south along the +wire. It might have been a deer crossing to the eastern slope; it +might have been the enemy; he could not tell; he could see nothing +stirring. And there seemed to be nothing for him to do but to take +his chances. + +"McKay!" he called in a low voice. + +Then, amid the checkered pools of light and shade among the trees a +shadow moved. + +"McKay! It's Number Seventy. If it's you, call out your number, +because I've got you over my sights and I shoot straight!" + +"Seventy-six and Seventy-seven!" came McKay's cautious voice. "Good +heavens, Recklow, why have you come up here?" + +"Don't touch the wire again," Recklow warned him. "Drop flat both of +you, and crawl under! Crawl toward my voice!" + +As he spoke he came toward them; and they rose from their knees +among the shadows, pistols drawn. + +"There's been some dirty business," said Recklow briefly. "Three +enemy spies went over the Swiss wire about an hour after you left +Delle. There are half a dozen Boches on the peak by the Crucifix. +And that's why I'm here, if you want to know." + +There was a silence. Recklow looked hard at McKay, then at Evelyn +Erith, who was standing quietly beside him. + +"Can we get through this neck of woods?" asked McKay calmly. + +"We can hold our own here against a regiment," said Recklow. "No +Swiss patrol is likely to cross the summit before daybreak. So if +our cowbell jingles again to-night after I have once called halt! +--let the Boche have it." To Evelyn he said: "Better step back here +behind this ledge." And, when McKay had followed, he told them +exactly what had happened. "I'm afraid it's not going to be very +easy going for you," he added. + +With the alarming knowledge that they had to do once more with their +uncanny enemies of Isla Water, McKay and Evelyn Erith looked at each +other rather grimly. Recklow produced his clay pipe, inspected it, +but did not venture to light it. + +"I wonder," he said carelessly, "what that she-Boche is doing over +yonder by the summit path.... Her name is Helsa.... She's not bad +looking," he added in a musing voice--"that young she-Boche. ... I +wonder what she's up to now? Her people ought to be along pretty +soon if they've travelled by the summit path from Delle." + +They had indeed travelled by the summit path--not ON it, but +parallel to it through woods, over rocks, made fearful by what they +believed to be the treachery of the girl, Helsa. + +For this reason they dared not take the trodden way, dreading +ambush. Yet they had to cross the peak; they dared not remain in a +forest where they believed Recklow was hunting them with many men +and their renegade comrade, Helsa, to guide them. + +As they toiled upward, Macniff heard Skelton fiercely muttering +sometimes, sometimes whining curses on this girl who had betrayed +them both--who had betrayed him in particular. Over and over again +he repeated his dreary litany: "No, by God, I didn't think she'd do +it to me. All I want is to get my hooks on her; that's all I +want--just that." + +Toward dawn they had reached the base of the cone where the last +rocky slope slanted high above them. + +"Cripes," panted Macniff, "I can't make that over them rocks! I +gotta take it by the path. Wot's the matter, Harry? Wot y' lookin' +at?" he added, following Skelton's fascinated stare. Then: "Well, +f'r Christ's sake!" + +The girl, Helsa, was coming toward them through the trees. + +"Where have you been?" she demanded. "Have you seen the Americans? +I've been waiting here beside the path. They haven't passed. I met +one of our agents in the woods--there was a misunderstanding at +first--" + +She stopped, stepped nearer, peered into Skelton's shadowy face: +"Harry! What's the matter? Wh-why do you look at me that way--what +are you doing! Let go of me--" + +But Skelton had seized her by one arm and Macniff had her by the +other. + +"Are you crazy?" she demanded, struggling between them. + +Skelton spoke first, but she scarcely recognised the voice for his: +"Who was that man you were talking to down by the Swiss wire?" + +"I've told you. He's one of us. His name is Wolkcer--" + +"What!" + +"Wolkcer! That is his name--" + +"Spell it backward!" barked Skelton. "We know what you have done to +us! You have sold us to Recklow! That's what you done!" + +"W-what!" stammered the girl. But Skelton, inarticulate with rage, +began striking her and jerking her about as though he were trying to +tear her to pieces. Only when the girl reeled sideways, limp and +deathly white under his fury, did he find his voice, or the hoarse +unhuman rags of it: + +"Damn you!" he gasped, "you'll sell me out, will you? I'll show you! +I'll fix you, you dirty slut--" + +Suddenly he started up the path to the summit dragging the +half-conscious girl. Macniff ran along on the other side to help. + +"Wot y' goin' to do with her, Harry?" he panted. "I ain't got no +stomach for scraggin' her. I ain't for no knifin'. W'y don't you +shove her off the top?" + +But Skelton strode on, half-dragging the girl, and muttering that +she had sold him and that he knew how to "fix" a girl who +double-crossed him. + +And now the gaunt, black Crucifix came into view, stark against the +paling eastern sky with its life-sized piteous figure hanging there +under the crown of thorns. + +Macniff looked up at the carved wooden image, then, at a word from +Skelton, dropped the girl's limp arm. + +The girl opened her eyes and stood swaying there, dazed. + +Skelton began to laugh in an unearthly way: "Where the hell are you +Germans?" he called out. "Come out of your holes, damn you. Here's +one of your own kind who's sold us all out to the Yankees!" + +Twice the girl tried to speak but Skelton shook the voice out of her +quivering lips as a shadowy figure rose from the scrubby growth +behind the Crucifix. Then another rose, another, and many others +looming against the sky. + +Macniff had begun to speak in German as they drew around him. +Presently Skelton broke in furiously: + +"All right, then! That's the case. She sold us. She sold ME! But +she's German. And it's your business. But if you Germans will listen +to me you'll shove her against that pile of rocks and shoot her." + +The girl had begun to cry now: "It's a lie! It's a lie!" she sobbed. +"If it was Recklow who talked to me I didn't know it. I thought he +was one of us, Harry! Don't go away! For God's sake, don't leave me +with those men--" + +Macniff sneered as he slouched by her: "They're Germans, ain't they? +Wot are you squealin' for?" + +"Harry! Harry!" she wailed--for her own countrymen had her now, held +her fast, thrust a dozen pig-eyed scowling visages close to hers, +muttering, making animal sounds at her. + +Once she screamed. But Skelton seated himself on a rock, his back +toward her, his head buried in his hands. + +To his dull, throbbing ears came now only the heavy trample of boots +among the rocks, guttural noises, a wrenching sound, then the +clatter of rolling stones. + +Macniff, squatting beside him, muttered uneasily, speculating upon +what was being done behind him. But with German justice upon a +German he had no desire to interfere, and he had no stomach to +witness it, either. + +"Why don't they shoot her and be done?" he murmured huskily. And, +later: "I can't make out what they're doing. Can you, Harry?" + +But Skelton neither answered nor stirred. After a while he rose, not +looking around, and strode off down the eastern slope, his hands +pressed convulsively over his ears. Macniff slouched after him, +listening for the end. + +They had gone a mile, perhaps, when Skelton's agonised voice burst +its barriers: "I couldn't--I couldn't stand it--to hear the shots!" + +"I ain't heard no shots," remarked Macniff. + +There had been no shots fired.... + +And now in the ghastly light of dawn the Germans on Mount Terrible +continued methodically the course of German justice. + +Two of them, burly, huge-fisted, wrenched the Christ from the +weather-beaten Crucifix which they had uprooted from the summit of +its ancient cairn of rocks, and pulled out the rusty spike-like +nails. + +The girl was already half dead when they laid her on the Crucifix +and nailed her there. After they had raised the cross and set it on +the summit she opened her eyes. + +Several of the Germans laughed, and one of them threw pebbles at her +until she died. + +Just before sunrise they went down to explore the neck of woods, but +found nobody. The Americans had been gone for a long time. So they +went back to the cross where the dead girl hung naked against the +sky and wrote on a bit of paper: + +"Here hangs an enemy of Germany." + +And, the Swiss patrol being nearly due, they scattered, moving off +singly, through the forest toward the frontier of the great German +Empire. + +A little later the east turned gold and the first sunbeam touched +the Crucifix on Mount Terrible. + + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE FORBIDDEN FOREST + + + + + +When the news of a Hun atrocity committed on Swiss territory was +flashed to Berne, the Federal Assembly instantly suppressed it and +went into secret session. Followed another session, in camera, of +the Federal Council, whose seven members sat all night long +envisaging war with haggard faces. And something worse than war when +they remembered the Forbidden Forest and the phantom Canton of Les +Errues. + +For war between the Swiss Republic and the Hun seemed very, very +near during that ten days in Berne, and neither the National Council +nor the Council of the States in joint and in separate consultation +could see anything except a dreadful repetition of that eruption of +barbarians which had overwhelmed the land in 400 A. D. till every +pass and valley vomited German savages. And even more than that they +feared the terrible reckoning with the nation and with civilisation +when war laid naked the heart-breaking secret of the Forbidden +Forest of Les Errues. + +No! War could not be. A catastrophe more vital than war threatened +Switzerland--the world--wide revelation of a secret which, exposed, +would throw all civilisation into righteous fury and the Swiss +Republic itself into revolution. + +And this sinister, hidden thing which must deter Switzerland from +declaring war against the Boche was a part of the Great Secret: and +a man and a woman in the Secret Service of the United States, lying +hidden among the forests below the white shoulder of Mount Thusis, +were beginning to guess more about that secret than either of them +had dared to imagine. + +There where they lay together side by side among Alpine roses in +full bloom--there on the crag's edge, watching the Swiss soldiery +below combing the flanks of Mount Terrible for the perpetrators of +that hellish murder at the shrine, these two people could see the +Via Mala which had been the Via Crucis--the tragic Golgotha for +that poor girl Helsa Kampf. + +They could almost see the gaunt, black cross itself from which the +brutish Boches had kicked the carved and weather-beaten figure of +Christ in order to nail to the massive cross the living hands and +feet of that half-senseless girl whom they supposed had betrayed +them. + +The man lying there on the edge of the chasm was Kay McKay; the girl +stretched on her stomach beside him was Evelyn Erith. + +All that day they watched the Swiss soldiers searching Mount +Terrible; saw a red fox steal from the lower thickets and bolt +between the legs of the beaters who swung their rifle-butts at the +streak of ruddy fur; saw little mountain birds scatter into flight, +so closely and minutely the soldiers searched; saw even a big +auerhahn burst into thunderous flight from the ferns to a pine and +from the pine out across the terrific depths of space below the +white shoulder of Thusis. At night the Swiss camp-fires glimmered on +the rocks of Mount Terrible while, fireless, McKay and Miss Erith +lay in their blankets under heaps of dead leaves on the knees of +Thusis, cold as the moon that silvered their forest beds. + +But it was the last of the soldiery on Mount Terrible; for dawn +revealed their dead fire and a summit untenanted save by the stark +and phantom crucifix looming through rising mists. + +Evelyn Erith still slept; McKay fed the three carrier-pigeons, +washed himself at the snow-rill in the woods, then went over to the +crag's gritty edge under which for three days now the ghoulish +clamour of a lammergeier had seldom ceased. And now, as McKay peered +down, two stein-adlers came flapping to the shelf on which hung +something that seemed to flutter at times like a shred of cloth +stirred by the abyss winds. + +The lammergeier, huge and horrible with scarlet eyes ablaze, came +out on the shelf of rock and yelped at the great rock-eagles; but, +if something indeed lay dead there, possibly it was enough for +all--or perhaps the vulture-like bird was too heavily gorged to +offer battle. McKay saw the rock-eagles alight heavily on the shelf, +then, squealing defiance, hulk forward, undeterred by the hobgoblin +tumult of the lammergeier. + +McKay leaned over the gulf as far as he dared. He could get down to +the shelf; he was now convinced of that. Only fear of being seen by +the soldiers on Mount Terrible had hitherto prevented him. + +Rope and steel-shod stick aided him. Sapling and shrub stood loyally +as his allies. The rock-eagles heard him coming and launched +themselves overboard into the depthless sea of air; the lammergeier, +a huge, foul mass of distended feathers, glared at him out of +blazing scarlet eyes; and all around was his vomit and casting in a +mass of bloody human bones and shreds of clothing. + +And it was in that nauseating place of peril, confronting the grisly +thing that might have hurled him outward into space with one +wing-blow had it not been clogged with human flesh and incapable, +that McKay reached for the remnants of the dead Hun's clothing and, +facing the feathered horror, searched for evidence and information. + +Never had he been so afraid; never had he so loathed a living +creature as this unclean and spectral thing that sat gibbering and +voiding filth at him--the ghastly symbol of the Hunnish empire +itself befouling the clean-picked bones of the planet it was +dismembering. + +He had his pistol but dared not fire, not knowing what ears across +the gorge might hear the shot, not knowing either whether the +death-agonies of the enormous thing might hurl him a thousand feet +to annihilation. + +So he took what he found in the rags of clothing and climbed back as +slowly and stealthily as he had come. + +And found Miss Erith cross-legged on the dead leaves braiding her +yellow hair in the first sun-rays. + +Tethered by long cords attached to anklets over one leg the three +pigeons walked busily around under the trees gorging themselves on +last year's mast. + +That afternoon they dared light a fire and made soup from the beef +tablets in their packs--the first warm food they had tasted in a +week. + +A declining sun painted the crags in raw splendour; valleys were +already dusky; a vast stretch of misty glory beyond the world of +mountains to the north was Alsace; southward there was no end to the +myriad snowy summits, cloud-like, piled along the horizon. The brief +meal ended. + +McKay set a pannikin of water to boil and returned to his +yellow-haired comrade. Like some slim Swiss youth--some boy +mountaineer--and clothed like one, Miss Erith sat at the foot of a +tree in the ruddy sunlight studying once more the papers which McKay +had discovered that morning among the bloody debris on the shelf of +rock. + +As he came up he knew he had never seen anything as pretty in his +life, but he did not say so. Any hint of sentiment that might have +budded had been left behind when they crossed the Swiss wire beyond +Delle. An enforced intimacy such as theirs tended to sober them +both; and if at times it preoccupied them, that was an added reason +not only to ignore it but also to conceal any effort it might entail +to take amiably but indifferently a situation foreseen, deliberately +embraced, yet scarcely entirely discounted. + +The girl was so pretty in her youth's clothing; her delicate ankles +and white knees bare between the conventional thigh-length of green +embossed leather breeches, rough green stockings, and fleece-lined +hob-nailed shoes. And over the boy's shirt the mountaineer's frieze +jacket!--with staghorn buttons. And the rough wool cuff fell on the +hands of a duchess!--pistols at either hip, and a murderous +Bavarian knife in front. + +Glancing up at him where he stood under the red pine beside her: +"I'll do the dishes presently," she said. + +"I'll do them," he remarked, his eyes involuntarily seeking her +hands. + +A pink flush grew on her weather-tanned face--or perhaps it was the +reddening sunlight stealing through some velvet piny space in the +forest barrier. If it was a slight blush in recognition of his +admiration she wondered at her capacity for blushing. However, Marie +Antoinette coloured from temple to throat on the scaffold. But the +girl knew that the poor Queen's fate was an enviable one compared to +what awaited her if she fell into the hands of the Hun. + +McKay seated himself near her. The sunny silence of the mountains +was intense. Over a mass of alpine wild flowers hanging heavy and +fragrant between rocky clefts two very large and intensely white +butterflies fought a fairy battle for the favours of a third--a +dainty, bewildering creature, clinging to an unopened bud, its snowy +wings a-quiver. + +The girl's golden eyes noted the pretty courtship, and her side +glance rested on the little bride to be with an odd, indefinite +curiosity, partly interrogative, partly disdainful. + +It seemed odd to the girl that in this Alpine solitude life should +be encountered at all. And as for life's emotions, the frail, +frivolous, ephemeral fury of these white-winged ghosts of daylight, +embattled and all tremulous with passion, seemed exquisitely amazing +to her here between the chaste and icy immobility of white-veiled +peaks and the terrific twilight of the world's depths below. + +McKay, studying the papers, glanced up at Miss Erith. A bar of rosy +sunset light slanted almost level between them. + +"There seems to be," he said slowly, "only one explanation for what +you and I read here. The Boche has had his filthy fist on the throat +of Switzerland for fifty years." + +"And what is 'Les Errues' to which these documents continually +refer?" asked the girl. + +"Les Errues is the twenty-seventh canton of Switzerland. It is the +strip of forest and crag which includes all the northeastern region +below Mount Terrible. It is a canton, a secret canton unrepresented +in the Federal Assembly--a region without human population--a secret +slice of Swiss wilderness OWNED BY GERMANY!" + +"Kay, do you believe that?" + +"I am sure of it now. It is that wilderness into which I stumbled. +It overlooks the terrain in Alsace where for fifty years the Hun has +been busy day and night with his sinister, occult operations. Its +entrance, if there be any save by the way of avalanches--the way I +entered--must be guarded by the Huns; its only exit into Hunland. +That is Les Errues. That is the region which masks the Great Secret +of the Hun." + +He dropped the papers and, clasping his knees in his arms, sat +staring out into the infernal blaze of sunset. + +"The world," he said slowly, "pays little attention to that +agglomeration of cantons called Switzerland. The few among us who +know anything about its government might recollect that there are +twenty-six cantons--the list begins, Aargau, Appenzell, +Ausser-Rhoden, Inner-Rhoden--you may remember--and ends with Valais, +Vaud, Zug, and Zurich. And Les Errues is the twenty-seventh canton!" + +"Yes," said the girl in a low voice, "the evidence lies at your +feet." + +"Surely, surely," he muttered, his fixed gaze lost on the crimson +celestial conflagration. She said, thinking aloud, and her clear +eyes on him: + +"Then, of the Great Secret, we have learned this much anyway--that +there exists in Switzerland a secret canton called Les Errues; that +it is practically Hun territory; that it masks what they call their +Great Secret; that their ownership or domination of Les Errues is +probably a price paid secretly by the Swiss government for its +national freedom and that this arrangement is absolutely unknown to +anybody in the world outside of the Imperial Hun government and the +few Swiss who have inherited, politically, a terrible knowledge of +this bargain dating back, probably, from 1870." + +"That is the situation we are confronting," admitted McKay calmly. + +She said with perfect simplicity: "Of course we must go into Les +Errues." + +"Of course, comrade. How?" + +He had no plan--could have none. She knew it. Her question was +merely meant to convey to him a subtle confirmation of her loyalty +and courage. She scarcely expected to escape a dreadful fate on this +quest--did not quite see how either of them could really hope to +come out alive. But that they could discover the Great Secret of the +Hun, and convey to the world by means of their pigeons some details +of the discovery, she felt reasonably certain. She had much faith in +the arrangements they had made to do this. + +"One thing worries me a lot," remarked McKay pleasantly. + +"Food supply?" + +He nodded. + +She said: "Now that the Boche have left Mount Terrible--except that +wretched creature whose bones lie on the shelf below--we might +venture to kill whatever game we can find." + +"I'm going to," he said. "The Swiss troops have cleared out. I've +got to risk it. Of course, down there in Les Errues, some Hun +guarding some secret chamois trail into the forbidden wilderness may +hear our shots." + +"We shall have to take that chance," she remarked. + +He said in the low, quiet voice which always thrilled her a little: +"You poor child--you are hungry." + +"So are you, Kay." + +"Hungry? These rations act like cocktails: I could barbecue a +roebuck and finish him with you at one sitting!" + +"Monsieur et Madame Gargantua," she mocked him with her enchanting +laughter. Then, wistful: "Kay, did you see that very fat and saucy +auerhahn which the Swiss soldiers scared out of the pines down +there?" + +"I did," said McKay. "My mouth watered." + +"He was quite as big as a wild turkey," sighed the girl. + +"They're devils to get," said McKay, "and with only a pistol--well, +anyway we'll try to-night. Did you mark that bird?" + +"Mark him?" + +"Yes; mark him down?" + +She shook her pretty head. + +"Well, I did," grinned McKay. "It's habit with a man who shoots. +Besides, seeing him was like a bit of Scotland--their auerhahn is +kin to the black-cock and capercailzie. So I marked him to the +skirt of Thusis, yonder--in line with that needle across the gulf +and, through it, to that bunch of pinkish-stemmed pines--there +where the brook falls into silver dust above that gorge. He'll lie +there. Just before daybreak he'll mount to the top of one of those +pines. We'll hear his yelping. That's our only chance at him." + +"Could you ever hit him in the dark of dawn, Kay?" + +"With a pistol? And him atop a pine? No, not under ordinary +conditions. But I'm hungry, dear Yellow-hair, and that is not all: +you are hungry--" He looked at her so intently that the colour +tinted her face and the faint little thrill again possessed her. + +Her glance stole involuntarily toward the white butterflies. One had +disappeared. The two others, drunk with their courtship, clung to a +scented blossom. + +Gravely Miss Erith lifted her young eyes to the eternal peaks--to +Thusis, icy, immaculate, chastely veiled before the stealthy advent +of the night. + +Oddly, yet without fear, death seemed to her very near. And love, +also--both in the air, both abroad and stirring, yet neither now of +vital consequence. Only service meant anything now to this young man +so near her--to herself. And after that--after +accomplishment--love?--death?--either might come to them then. And +find them ready, perhaps. + +The awful, witch-like screaming of the lammergeier saluted the +falling darkness where he squatted, a huge huddle of unclean plumage +amid the debris of decay and death. + +"I don't believe I could have faced that," murmured the girl. "You +have more courage than I have, Kay." + +"No! I was scared stiff. A bird like that could break a man's arm +with a wing-blow.... That--that thing he'd been feeding on--it must +have been a Boche of high military rank to carry these papers." + +"You could not find out?" + +"There were only the rags of his mufti there and these papers inside +them. Nothing to identify him personally--not a tag, not a shred of +anything. Unless the geier bolted it--" + +She turned aside in disgust at the thought. + +"When do you suppose he happened to fall to his death there, Kay?" + +"In the darkness when the Huns scattered after the crucifixion. +Perhaps the horror of it came suddenly upon him--God knows what +happened when he stepped outward into depthless space and went +crashing down to hell." + +They had stayed their hunger on the rations. It was bitter cold in +the leafy lap of Thusis, but they feared to light a fire that night. + +McKay fed and covered the pigeons in their light wicker box which +was carried strapped to his mountain pack. + +Evelyn Erith fell asleep in her blanket under the dead leaves piled +over her by McKay. After awhile he slept too; but before dawn he +awoke, took a flash-light and his pistol and started down the slope +for the wood's edge. + +Her sweet, sleepy voice halted him: "Kay dear?" + +"Yes, Yellow-hair." + +"May I go?" + +"Don't you want to sleep?" + +"No." + +She sat up under a tumbling shower of silvery dead leaves, shook out +her hair, gathered it and twisted it around her brow like a turban. + +Then, flashing her own torch, she sprang to her feet and ran lightly +down to where the snow brook whirled in mossy pools below. + +When she came back he took her cold smooth little hand fresh from +icy ablutions: "We must beat it," he said; "that auerhahn won't stay +long in his pine-tree after dawn. Extinguish your torch." + +She obeyed and her warning fingers clasped his more closely as +together they descended the path of light traced out before them by +his electric torch. + +Down, down, down they went under hard-wood and evergreen, across +little fissures full of fern, skirting great slabs of rock, making +detours where tangles checked progress. + +Through tree-tops the sky glittered--one vast sheet of stars; and in +the forest was a pale lustre born of this celestial splendour--a +pallid dimness like that unreal day which reigns in the regions of +the dead. + +"We might meet the shade of Helen here," said the girl, "or of +Eurydice. This is a realm of spirits. ... We may be one with them +very soon--you and I. Do you suppose we shall wander here among +these trees as long as time lasts?" + +"It's all right if we're together, Yellow-hair." + +There was no accent from his fingers clasped in hers; none in hers +either. + +"I hope we'll be together, then," she said. + +"Will you search for me, Yellow-hair?" + +"Yes. Will you, Kay?" + +"Always." + +"And I--always--until I find you or you find me." ... Presently she +laughed gaily under her breath: "A solemn bargain, isn't it?" + +"More solemn than marriage." + +"Yes," said the girl faintly. + +Something went crashing off into the woods as they reached the +hogback which linked them with the group of pines whither the big +game-bird had pitched into cover. Perhaps it was a roe deer; McKay +flashed the direction in vain. + +"If it were a Boche?" she whispered. + +"No; it sounded like a four-legged beast. There are chamois and roe +deer and big mountain hares along these heights." + +They went on until the hog-back of sheer rock loomed straight ahead, +and beyond, against a paling sky, the clump of high pines toward +which they were bound. + +McKay extinguished his torch and pocketed it. + +"The sun will lead us back, Yellow-hair," he whispered. "Now hold +very tightly to my hand, for it's a slippery and narrow way we tread +together." + +The rocks were glassy. But there were bushes and mosses; and +presently wild grass and soil on the other side. + +All around them, now, the tall pines loomed, faintly harmonious in +the rising morning breeze which, in fair weather, always blows DOWN +from the upper peaks into the valleys. Into the shadows they passed +together a little way; then halted. The girl rested one shoulder +against a great pine, leaning there and facing him where he also +rested, listening. + +There reigned in the woods that intense stillness which precedes +dawn--an almost painful tension resembling apprehension. Always the +first faint bird-note breaks it; then silence ends like a deep sigh +exhaling and death seems very far away. + +Now above them the stars had grown very dim; and presently some +faded out. + +And after a little while a small mountain bird twittered sleepily. +Then unseen by them, the east glimmered like a sheet of tarnished +silver. And out over the dark world of mountains, high above the +solitude, rang the uncanny cry of an auerhahn. + +Again the big, unseen bird saluted the coming day. McKay stole +forward drawing his pistol and the girl followed. + +The weird outcry of the auerhahn guided them, sounding from +somewhere above among the black crests of the pines, nearer at hand, +now, clearer, closer, more weird, until McKay halted peering upward, +his pistol poised. + +As yet the crests of the pines were merely soft blots above. Yet as +they stood straining their eyes upward, striving to discover the +location of the great bird by its clamour, vaguely the branches +began to take shape against the greying sky. + +Clearer, more distinct they grew until feathery masses of +pine-needles stood clustered against the sky like the wondrous +rendering in a Japanese print. And all the while, at intervals, the +auerhahn's ghostly shrieking made a sinister tumult in the woods. + +Suddenly they saw him. Miss Erith touched McKay and pointed +cautiously. There, on a partly naked tree-top, was a huge, crouching +mass--an enormous bird, pumping its head at every uttered cry and +spreading a big fan-like tail and beating the air with stiff-curved +drooping wings. + +McKay whispered: "I'll try to shoot straight because you're hungry, +Yellow-hair"; and all the while his pistol-arm slanted higher and +higner. For a second, it remained motionless; then a red streak +split the darkness and the pistol-shot crashed in her ears. + +There came another sound, too--a thunderous flapping and thrashing +in the tree-top, the furious battering, falling tumult of broken +branches and blindly beating wings, drumming convulsively in +descent. Then came a thud; a feathery tattoo on the ground; silence +in the woods. + +"And so you shall not go hungry, Yellow-hair," said McKay with his +nice smile. + +They had done a good deal by the middle of the afternoon; they had +broiled the big bird, dined luxuriously, had stored the remainder in +their packs which they were preparing to carry with them into the +forbidden forest of Les Errues. + +There was only one way and that lay over the white shoulder of +Thusis--a cul-de-sac, according to all guide-books, and terminating +in a rest-hut near a cave glistening with icy stalagmites called +Thusis's Hair. + +Beyond this there was nothing--no path, no progress possible--only a +depthless gulf unabridged and the world of mountains beyond. + +There was no way; yet, the time before, McKay had passed over the +white shoulder of Thusis and had penetrated the forbidden land--had +slid into it sideways, somewhere from Thusis's shoulder, on a +fragment of tiny avalanche. So there was a way! + +"I don't know how it happened, Yellow-hair," he was explaining as he +adjusted and buckled her pack for her, "and whether I slid north or +east I never exactly knew. But if there's a path into Les Errues +except through the Hun wire, it must lie somewhere below Thusis. +Because, unless such a path exists, except for that guarded strip +lying between the Boche wire and the Swiss, only a winged thing +could reach Les Errues across these mountains." + +The girl said coolly: "Could you perhaps lower me into it?" + +A slight flush stained his cheek-bones: "That would be my role, not +yours. But there isn't rope enough in the Alps to reach Les Errues." + +He was strapping the pigeon-cage to his pack as he spoke. Now he +hoisted and adjusted it, and stood looking across at the mountains +for a moment. Miss Erith's gaze followed him. + +Thusis wore a delicate camouflage of mist. And there were other bad +signs to corroborate her virgin warning: distant mountains had +turned dark blue and seemed pasted in silhouettes against the +silvery blue sky. Also the winds had become prophetic, blowing out +of the valleys and UP the slopes. + +All that morning McKay's thermometer had been rising and his +barometer had fallen steadily; haze had thickened on the mountains; +and, it being the season for the Fohn to blow, McKay had expected +that characteristic warm gale from the south to bring the violent +rain which always is to be expected at that season. + +But the Fohn did not materialise; in the walnut and chestnut forest +around them not a leaf stirred; and gradually the mountains cleared, +became inartistically distinct, and turned a beautiful but +disturbing dark-blue colour. And Thusis wore her vestal veil in the +full sun of noon. + +"You know, Yellow-hair," he said, "all these signs are as plain as +printed notices. There's bad weather coming. The wind was south; now +it's west. I'll bet the mountain cattle are leaving the upper +pastures." + +He adjusted his binoculars; south of Mount Terrible on another +height there were alms; and he could see the cattle descending. + +He saw something else, too, in the sky and level with his levelled +lenses--something like a bird steering toward him through the +whitish blue sky. + +Still keeping it in his field of vision he spoke quietly: "There's +an airplane headed this way. Step under cover, please." + +The girl moved up under the trees beside him and unslung her +glasses. Presently she also picked up the oncomer. + +"Boche, Kay?" + +"I don't know. A monoplane. A Boche chaser, I think. Yes.... Do you +see the cross? What insolence! What characteristic contempt for a +weaker people! Look at his signal! Do you see? Look at those +smoke-balls and ribbons! See him soaring there like a condor looking +for a way among these precipices." + +The Hun hung low above them in mid-air, slowly wheeling over the +gulf. Perhaps it was his shadow or the roar of his engines that +routed out the lammergeier, for the unclean bird took the air on +enormous pinions, beating his way upward till he towered yelping +above the Boche, and their combined clamour came distinctly to the +two watchers below. + +Suddenly the Boche fired at the other winged thing; the enraged and +bewildered bird sheered away in flight and the Hun followed. + +"That's why he shot," said McKay. "He's got a pilot, now." + +Eagle and plane swept by almost level with the forest where they +stood staining with their shadows the white shoulder of Thusis. + +Down into the gorge the great geier twisted; after him sped the +airplane, banking steeply in full chase. Both disappeared where the +flawless elbow of Thusis turns. Then, all alone, up out of the gulf +soared the plane. + +"The Hun has discovered a landing-place in Les Errues," said McKay. +"Watch him." + +"There's another Hun somewhere along the shoulder of Thusis," said +McKay. "They're exchanging signals. See how the plane circles like a +patient hawk. He's waiting for something. What's he waiting for, I +wonder?" + +For ten minutes the airplane circled leisurely over Thusis. Then +whatever the aviator was waiting for evidently happened, for he shut +off his engine; came down in graceful spirals; straightened out; +glided through the canyon and reappeared no more to the watchers in +the forest of Thusis. + +"Now," remarked McKay coolly, "we know where we ought to go. Are you +ready, Yellow-hair?" + +They had been walking for ten minutes when Miss Erith spoke in an +ordinary tone of voice: "Kay? Do you think we're likely to come out +of this?" + +"No," he said, not looking at her. + +"But we'll get our information, you think?" + +"Yes." + +The girl fell a few paces behind him and looked up at the pigeons +where they sat in their light lattice cage crowning his pack. + +"Please do your bit, little birds," she murmured to herself. + +And, with a smile at them and a nod of confidence, she stepped +forward again and fell into the rhythm of his stride. + +Very far away to the west they heard thunder stirring behind Mount +Terrible. + +It was late in the afternoon when he halted near the eastern edges +of Thusis's Forest. + +"Yellow-hair," he said very quietly, "I've led you into a trap, I'm +afraid. Look back. We've been followed!" + +She turned. Through the trees, against an inky sky veined with +lightning, three men came out upon the further edge of the hog-back +which they had traversed a few minutes before, and seated themselves +there In the shelter of the crag. All three carried shotguns. + +"Yellow-hair?" + +"Yes, Kay." + +"You understand what that means?" + +"Yes." + +"Slip off your pack." + +She disengaged her supple shoulders from the load and he also +slipped off his pack and leaned it against a tree. + +"Now," he said, "you have two pistols and plenty of ammunition. I +want you to hold that hog-back. Not a man must cross." + +However, the three men betrayed no inclination to cross. They sat +huddled in a row sheltered from the oncoming storm by a great ledge +of rock. But they held their shotguns poised and ready for action. + +The girl crept toward a big walnut tree and, lying flat on her +stomach behind it, drew both pistols and looked around at McKay. She +was smiling. + +His heart was in his throat as he nodded approval. He turned and +went rapidly eastward. Two minutes later he came running back, +exchanged a signal of caution with Miss Erith, and looked intently +at the three men under the ledge. It was now raining. + +He drew from his breast a little book and on the thin glazed paper +of one leaf he wrote, with water-proof ink, the place and date. +And began his message: + +"United States Army Int. Dept No. 76 and No. 77 are trapped on the +northwest edge of the wood of Les Errues which lies under the elbow +of Mount Thusis. From this plateau we had hoped to overlook that +section of the Hun frontier in which is taking place that occult +operation known as 'The Great Secret,' and which we suspect is a +gigantic engineering project begun fifty years ago for the purpose +of piercing Swiss territory with an enormous tunnel under Mount +Terrible, giving the Hun armies a road into France BEHIND the French +battle-line and BEHIND Verdun. + +"Unfortunately we are now trapped and our retreat is cut off. It is +unlikely that we shall be able to verify our suspicions concerning +the Great Secret. But we shall not be taken alive. + +"We have, however, already discovered certain elements intimately +connected with the Great Secret. + +"No. 1. Papers taken from a dead enemy show that the region called +Les Errues has been ceded to the Hun in a secret pact as the price +that Switzerland pays for immunity from the Boche invasion. + +"2nd. The Swiss people are ignorant of this. + +"3rd. The Boche guards all approaches to Les Errues. Except by way +of the Boche frontier there appears to be only one entrance to Les +Errues. We have just discovered it. The path is as follows: From +Delle over the Swiss wire to the Crucifix on Mount Terrible; from +there east-by-north along the chestnut woods to the shoulder of +Mount Thusis. From thence, north over hog-backs 1, 2, and 3 to the +Forest of Thusis where we are now trapped. + +"Northeast of the forest lies a level, treeless table-land half a +mile in diameter called The Garden of Thusis. A BOCHE AIRPLANE +LANDED THERE ABOUT THREE HOURS AGO. + +"To reach the Forbidden Forest the aviators, leaving their machine +in the Garden of Thusis, walked southwest into the woods where we +now are. These woods end in a vast gulf to the north which separates +them from the Forbidden Forest of Les Errues. + +"BUT A CABLE CROSSES! + +"That is the way they went; a tiny car holding two is swung under +this cable and the passengers pull themselves to and fro across the +enormous chasm. + +"At the west end of this cable is a hut; in the hut is the +machinery--a drum which can be manipulated so that the cable can be +loosened and permitted to sag. + +"The reason for dropping the cable is analogous to the reason for +using drawbridges over navigable streams; there is only one +landing-place for airplanes in this entire region and that is the +level, grassy plateau northeast of Thusis Woods. It is so entirely +ringed with snow-peaks that there is only one way to approach it for +a landing, and that is through the canyon edging Thusis Woods. Now +the wire cable blocks this canyon. An approaching airplane therefore +hangs aloft and signals to the cable-guards, who lower the cable +until it sags sufficiently to free the aerial passage-way between +the cliffs. Then the aviator planes down, sweeps through the canyon, +and alights on the plateau called Thusis's Garden. But now he must +return; the cable must be lifted and stretched taut; and he must +embark across the gulf in the little car which runs on grooved +wheels to Les Errues. + +"This is all we are likely to learn. Our retreat is cut off. Two +cable-guards are in front of us; in front of them the chasm; and +across the chasm lies Les Errues whither the aviator has gone and +where, I do not doubt, are plenty more of his kind. + +"This, and two carbons, I shall endeavour to send by pigeon. In +extremity we shall destroy all our papers and identification cards +and get what Huns we can, RESERVING FOR OUR OWN USES one cartridge +apiece. + +"(Signed) Nos. 76 AND 77." + +It was raining furiously, but the heavy foliage of chestnut and +walnut had kept his paper dry. Now in the storm-gloom of the woods +lit up by the infernal glare of lightning he detached the long +scroll of thin paper covered by microscopical writing and, taking +off the rubber bands which confined one of the homing pigeons, +attached the paper cylinder securely. + +Then he crawled over with his bird and, lying flat alongside of Miss +Erith, told her what he had discovered and what he had done about +it. The roar of the rain almost obliterated his voice and he had to +place his lips close to her ear. + +For a long while they lay there waiting for the rain to slacken +before he launched the bird. The men across the hog-back never +stirred. Nobody approached from the rear. At last, behind Mount +Terrible, the tall edges of the rain veil came sweeping out in +ragged majesty. Vapours were ascending in its wake; a distant peak +grew visible, and suddenly brightened, struck at the summit by a +shaft of sunshine. + +"Now!" breathed McKay. The homing pigeon, released, walked nervously +out over the wet leaves on the forest floor, and, at a slight motion +from the girl, rose into flight. Then, as it appeared above the +trees, there came the cracking report of a shotgun, and they saw the +bird collapse in mid-air and sheer downward across the hog-back. But +it did not land there; the marksman had not calculated on those +erratic gales from the chasm; and the dead pigeon went whirling down +into the viewless gulf amid flying vapours mounting from unseen +depths. + +Miss Erith and McKay lay very still. The Hunnish marksman across the +hog-back remained erect for a few moments like a man at the traps +awaiting another bird. After awhile he coolly seated himself again +under the dripping ledge. + +"The swine!" said McKay calmly. He added: "Don't let them cross." +And he rose and walked swiftly back toward the northern edge of the +forest. + +From behind a tree he could see two Hun cable-guards, made alert by +the shot, standing outside their hut where the cable-machinery was +housed. + +Evidently the echoes of that shot, racketing and rebounding from +rock and ravine, had misled them, for they had their backs turned +and were gazing eastward, rifles pointed. + +Without time for thought or hesitation, McKay ran out toward them +across the deep, wet moss. One of them heard him too late and +McKay's impact hurled him into the gulf. Then McKay turned and +sprang on the other, and for a minute it was a fight of tigers there +on the cable platform until the battered visage of the Boche split +with a scream and a crashing blow from McKay's pistol-butt drove him +over the platform's splintered edge. + +And now, panting, bloody, dishevelled, he strained his ears, +listening for a shot from the hog-back. The woods were very silent +in their new bath of sunshine. A little Alpine bird was singing; no +other sound broke the silence save the mellow, dripping noise from a +million rain-drenched leaves. + +McKay cast a rapid, uneasy glance across the chasm. Then he went +into the cable hut. + +There were six rifles there in a rack, six wooden bunks, and +clothing on pegs--not military uniforms but the garments of Swiss +mountaineers. + +Like the three men across the hog-back, and the two whom he had so +swiftly slain, the Hun cable-patrol evidently fought shy of the +Boche uniform here on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. + +Two of the cable-guard lay smashed to a pulp thousands of feet +below. Where was the remainder of the patrol? Were the men with the +shotguns part of it? + +McKay stood alone in the silent hut, still breathless from his +struggle, striving to think what was now best to do. + +And, as he stood there, through the front window of the hut he saw +an aviator and another man come down from the crest of Thusis to the +chasm's edge, jump into the car which swung under the cable, and +begin to pull themselves across toward the hut where he was +standing. + +The hut screened his retreat to the wood's edge. From there he saw +the aviator and his companion land on the platform; heard them +shouting for the dead who never would answer from their Alpine +deeps; saw the airman at last go away toward the plateau where he +had left his machine; heard the clanking of machinery in the hut; +saw the steel cable begin to sag into the canyon; AND REALISED THAT +THE AVIATOR WAS GOING BACK OVER FRANCE TO THE BOCHE TRENCHES FROM +WHENCE HE HAD ARRIVED. + +In a flash it came to McKay what he should try to do--what he MUST +do for his country, for the life of the young girl, his comrade, for +his own life: The watchers at the hog-back must never signal to that +airman news of his presence in the Forbidden Forest! + +The clanking of the cog-wheels made his steps inaudible to the man +who was manipulating the machinery in the hut as he entered and shot +him dead. It was rather sickening, for the fellow pitched forward +into the machinery and one arm became entangled there. + +But McKay, white of cheek and lip and fighting off a deathly nausea, +checked the machinery and kicked the carrion clear. Then he set the +drum and threw on the lever which reversed the cog-wheels. Slowly +the sagging cable began to tighten up once more. + +He had been standing there for half an hour or more in an agony of +suspense, listening for any shot from the forest behind him, +straining eyes and ears for any sign of the airplane. + +And suddenly he heard it coming--a resonant rumour through the +canyon, nearer, louder, swelling to a roar as the monoplane dashed +into view and struck the cable with a terrific crash. + +For a second, like a giant wasp suddenly entangled in a spider's +strand, it whirled around the cable with a deafening roar of +propellers; then a sheet of fire enveloped it; both wings broke off +and fell; other fragments dropped blazing; and then the thing itself +let go and shot headlong into awful depths! + +Above it the taut cable vibrated and sang weirdly in the silence of +the chasm. + +The girl was still lying flat under the walnut-tree when McKay came +back. + +Without speaking he knelt, levelled his pistol and fired across at +the man beyond the hog-back. + +Instantly her pistol flashed, too; one of the men fell and tried to +get up in a blind sort of way, and his comrades caught him by the +arms and dragged him back behind the ledge. + +"All right!" shouted one of the men from his cover, "we've plently +of time to deal with you Yankee swine! Stay there and rot!" + +"That was Skelton's voice," whispered Miss Erith with an involuntary +shudder. + +"They'll never attempt that hog-back under our pistols now," said +McKay coolly. "Come, Yellow-hair; we're going forward." + +"How?" she asked, bewildered. + +"By cable, little comrade," he said, with a shaky gaiety that +betrayed the tension of his nerves. "So pack up and route-step once +more!" + +He turned and looked at her and his face twitched: + +"You wonderful girl," he said, "you beautiful, wonderful girl! We'll +live to fly our pigeons yet, Yellow-hair, under the very snout of +the whole Hun empire!" + + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE LATE SIR W. BLINT + + + + + +That two spies, a man and a woman, had penetrated the forest of Les +Errues was known in Berlin on the 13th. Within an hour the entire +machinery of the German Empire had been set in motion to entrap and +annihilate these two people. + +The formula distributed to all operators in the Intelligence +Department throughout Hundom, and wherever Boche spies had filtered +into civilised lands, was this: + +"Two enemy secret agents have succeeded in penetrating the forest of +Les Errues. One is a man, the other a woman. + +"Both are Americans. The man is that civilian prisoner, Kay McKay, +who escaped from Holzminden, and of whom an exact description is +available. + +"The woman is Evelyn Erith. Exact information concerning her is also +available. + +"The situation is one of extremest delicacy and peril. Exposure of +the secret understanding with a certain neutral Power which permits +us certain temporary rights within an integral portion of its +territory would be disastrous, and would undoubtedly result in an +immediate invasion of this neutral (sic) country by the enemy as +well as by our own forces. + +"This must not happen. Yet it is vitally imperative that these two +enemy agents should be discovered, seized, and destroyed. + +"Their presence in the forest of Les Errues is the most serious +menace to the Fatherland that has yet confronted it. + +"Upon the apprehension and destruction of these two spies depends +the safety of Germany and her allies. + +"The war can not be won, a victorious German peace can not be +imposed upon our enemies, unless these two enemy agents are found +and their bodies absolutely destroyed upon the spot along with every +particle of personal property discovered upon their persons. + +"More than that: the war will be lost, and with it the Fatherland, +unless these two spies are seized and destroyed. + +"The Great Secret of Germany is in danger. + +"To possess themselves of it--for already they suspect its +nature--and to expose it not only to the United States Government +but to the entire world, is the mission of these two enemy agents. + +"If they succeed it would mean the end of the German Empire. + +"If our understanding with a certain neutral Power be made public, +that also would spell disaster for Germany. + +"The situation hangs by a hair, the fate of the world is suspended +above the forest of Les Errues." + +On the 14th the process of infiltration began. But the Hun invasion +of Les Errues was not to be conducted in force, there must be no +commotion there, no stirring, no sound, only a silent, stealthy, +death-hunt in that shadowy forest--a methodical, patient, thorough +preparation to do murder; a swift, noiseless execution. + +Also, on the 14th, the northern sky beyond the Swiss wire swarmed +with Hun airplanes patrolling the border. + +Not that the Great Secret could be discovered from the air; that +danger had been foreseen fifty years ago, and half a century's +camouflage screened the results of steady, calculating relentless +diligence. + +But French or British planes might learn of the presence of these +enemy agents in the dark forest of Les Errues, and might hang like +hawks above it exchanging signals with them. + +Therefore the northern sky swarmed with Boche aircraft--cautiously +patrolling beyond the Swiss border, and only prepared to risk its +violation if Allied planes first set them an example. + +But for a week nothing moved in the heavens above Les Errues except +an eagle. And that appeared every day, sheering the blue void above +the forest, hovering majestically in circles hour after hour and +then, at last, toward sundown, setting its sublime course westward, +straight into the blinding disk of the declining sun. + +The Hun airmen patrolling the border noticed the eagle. After a +while, as no Allied plane appeared, time lagged with the Boche, and +he came to look for this lone eagle which arrived always at the same +hour in the sky above Les Errues, soared there hour after hour, then +departed, flapping slowly westward until lost in the flames of +sunset. + +"As though," remarked one Boche pilot, "the bird were a phoenix +which at the close of every day renews its life from its own ashes +in the flames." + +Another airman said: "It is not a Lammergeier, is it?" + +"It is a Stein-Adler," said a third. + +But after a silence a fourth airman spoke, seated before the hangar +and studying a wild flower, the petals of which he had been +examining with the peculiar interest of a nature-student: + +"For ten days I have had nothing more important to watch than that +eagle which appears regularly every day above the forest of Les +Errues. And I have concluded that the bird is neither a Lammergeier +nor a Stein-Adler." + +"Surely," said one young Hun, "it is a German eagle." + +"It must be," laughed another, "because it is so methodical and +exact. Those are German traits." + +The nature-student contemplated the wild blossom which he was now +idly twirling between his fingers by its stem. + +"It perplexes me," he mused aloud. + +The others looked at him; one said: "What perplexes you, Von +Dresslin?" + +"That bird." + +"The eagle?" + +"The eagle which comes every day to circle above Les Errues. I, an +amateur of ornithology am, perhaps, with all modesty, permitted to +call myself?" + +"Certainly," said several airmen at once. + +Another added: "We all know you to be a naturalist." + +"Pardon--a student only, gentlemen. Which is why, perhaps, I am both +interested and perplexed by this eagle we see every day." + +"It is a rare species?" + +"It is not a familiar one to the Alps." + +"This bird, then, is not a German eagle in your opinion, Von +Dresslin?" + +"What is it? Asiatic? African? Chinese?" asked another. + +Von Dresslin's eyebrows became knitted. + +"That eagle which we all see every day in the sky above Les Errues," +he said slowly, "has a snow-white crest and tail." + +Several airmen nodded; one said: "I have noticed that, too, watching +the bird through my binoculars." + +"I know," continued Von Dresslin slowly, "of only one species of +eagle which resembles the bird we all see every day... It inhabits +North America," he added thoughtfully. + +There was a silence, then a very young airman inquired whether Von +Dresslin knew of any authentic reports of an American eagle being +seen in Europe. + +"Authentic? That is somewhat difficult to answer," replied Von +Dresslin, with the true caution of a real naturalist. "But I venture +to tell you that, once before--nearly a year ago now--I saw an eagle +in this same region which had a white crest and tail and was +otherwise a shining bronze in colour." + +"Where did you see such a bird?" + +"High in the air over Mount Terrible." A deep and significant +silence fell over the little company. If Count von Dresslin had seen +such an eagle over the Swiss peak called Mount Terrible, and had +been near enough to notice the bird's colour, every man there knew +what had been the occasion. + +For only once had that particular region of Switzerland been +violated by their aircraft during the war. It had happened a year +ago when Von Dresslin, patrolling the north Swiss border, had +discovered a British flyer planing low over Swiss territory in the +air-region between Mount Terrible and the forest of Les Errues. + +Instantly the Hun, too, crossed the line: and the air-battle was +joined above the forest. + +Higher, higher, ever higher mounted the two fighting planes until +the earth had fallen away two miles below them. + +Then, out of the icy void of the upper air-space, now roaring with +their engines' clamour, the British plane shot earthward, down, +down, rushing to destruction like a shooting-star, and crashed in +the forest of Les Errues. + +And where it had been, there in mid-air, hung an eagle with a crest +as white as the snow on the shining peaks below. + +"He seemed suddenly to be there instead of the British plane," said +Von Dresslin. "I saw him distinctly--might have shot him with my +pistol as he sheered by me, his yellow eyes aflame, balanced on +broad wings. So near he swept that his bright fierce eyes flashed +level with mine, and for an instant I thought he meant to attack me. + +"But he swept past in a single magnificent curve, screaming, then +banked swiftly and plunged straight downward in the very path of the +British plane." + +Nobody spoke. Von Dresslin twirled his flower and looked at it in an +absent-minded way. + +"From that glimpse, a year ago, I believe I had seen a species of +eagle the proper habitat of which is North America," he said. + +An airman remarked grimly: "The Yankees are migrating to Europe. +Perhaps their eagles are coming too." + +"To pick our bones," added another. + +And another man said laughingly to Von Dresslin: + +"Fritz, did you see in that downfall of the British enemy, and the +dramatic appearance of a Yankee eagle in his place, anything +significant?" + +"By gad," cried another airman, "we had John Bull by his fat throat, +and were choking him to death. And now--the Americans!" + +"If I dared cross the border and shoot that Yankee eagle to-morrow," +began another airman; but they all knew it wouldn't do. + +One said: "Do you suppose, Von Dresslin, that the bird we see is the +one you saw a year ago?" + +"It is possible." + +"An American white-headed eagle?" + +"I feel quite sure of it." + +"Their national bird," said the same airman who had expressed a +desire to shoot it. + +"How could an American eagle get here?" inquired another man. + +"By way of Asia, probably." + +"By gad! A long flight!" + +Dresslin nodded: "An omen, perhaps, that we may also have to face +the Yankee on our Eastern front." + +"The swine!" growled several. + +Von Dresslin assented absently to the epithet. But his thoughts were +busy elsewhere, his mind preoccupied by a theory which, Hunlike, he, +for the last ten days, had been slowly, doggedly, methodically +developing. + +It was this: Assuming that the bird really was an American eagle, +the problem presented itself very clearly--from where had it come? +This answered itself; it came from America, its habitat. + +Which answer, of course, suggested a second problem; HOW did it +arrive? + +Several theories presented themselves: + +1st. The eagle might have reached Asia from Alaska and so made its +way westward as far as the Alps of Switzerland. + +2nd. It may have escaped from some public European zoological +collection. + +3rd. It may have been owned privately and, on account of the +scarcity of food in Europe, liberated by its owner. + +4th. It MIGHT have been owned by the Englishman whose plane Von +Dresslin had destroyed. + +And now Von Dresslin was patiently, diligently developing this +theory: + +If it had been owned by the unknown Englishman whose plane had +crashed a year ago in Les Errues forest, then the bird was +undoubtedly his mascot, carried with him in his flights, doubtless a +tame eagle. + +Probably when the plane fell the bird took wing, which accounted for +its sudden appearance in mid-air. + +Probably, also, it had been taught to follow its master; and, +indeed, had followed in one superb plunge earthward in the wake of a +dead man in a stricken plane. + +But--WAS this the same bird? + +For argument, suppose it was. Then why did it still hang over Les +Errues? Affection for a dead master? Only a dog could possibly show +such devotion, such constancy. And besides, birds are incapable of +affection. They only know where to go for kind treatment and +security. And tamed birds, even those species domesticated for +centuries, know only one impulse that draws them toward any human +protector--the desire for food. + +Could this eagle remember for a whole year that the man who lay dead +somewhere in the dusky wilderness of Les Errues had once been kind +to him and had fed him? And was that why the great bird still +haunted the air-heights above the forest? Possibly. + +Or was it not more logical to believe that here, suddenly cast upon +its own resources, and compelled to employ instincts hitherto +uncultivated or forgotten, to satisfy its hunger, this solitary +American eagle had found the hunting good? Probably. And, knowing no +other region, had remained there, and for the first time, or at +least after a long interval of captivity and dependence on man, it +had discovered what liberty was and with liberty the necessity to +struggle for existence. + +An airman, watching Dresslin's thoughtful features, said: + +"You never found out who that Englishman was, did you? + +"No." + +"Did our agents search Les Errues?" + +"I suppose so. But I have never heard anything further about that +affair," he shrugged; "and I don't believe we ever will until after +the war, and until--" + +"Until Switzerland belongs to us," said an airman with a light +laugh. + +Others, listening, looked at one another significantly, smiling the +patient, confident and brooding smile of the Hun. + +Knaus unwittingly wrote his character and his epitaph: + +"Ich kann warten." + +The forest of Les Errues was deathly still. Hunters and hunted both +were as silent as the wild things that belonged there in those dim +woods--as cautious, as stealthy. + +A dim greenish twilight veiled their movements, the damp carpet of +moss dulled sounds. + +Yet the hunted knew that they were hunted, realised that pursuit and +search were inevitable; and the hunters, no doubt, guessed that +their quarry was alert. + +Now on the tenth day since their entrance into Les Errues those two +Americans who were being hunted came to a little wooded valley +through which a swift stream dashed amid rock and fern, flinging +spray over every green leaf that bordered it, filling its clear +pools with necklaces of floating bubbles. + +McKay slipped his pack from his shoulders and set it against a tree. +One of the two carrier pigeons in their cage woke up and ruffled. +Looking closely at the other he discovered it was dead. His heart +sank, but he laid the stiff, dead bird behind a tree and said +nothing to his companion. + +Evelyn Erith now let go of her own pack and, flinging herself on the +moss, set her lips to the surface of a brimming pool. + +"Careful of this Alpine water!" McKay warned her. But the girl +satisfied her thirst before she rose to her knees and looked around +at him. + +"Are you tired, Yellow-hair?" he asked. + +"Yes.... Are you, Kay?" + +He shook his head and cast a glance around him. + +It was beautiful, this little woodland vale with its stream dashing +through and its slopes forested with beech and birch--splendid great +trees with foliage golden green in the sun. + +But it was not the beauty of the scene that preoccupied these two. +Always, when ready to halt, their choice of any resting-place +depended upon several things more important than beauty. + +For one matter the place must afford concealment, and also a water +supply. Moreover it must be situated so as to be capable of defence. +Also there must be an egress offering a secure line of retreat. + +So McKay began to roam about the place, prowling along the slopes +and following the stream. Apparently the topography satisfied him; +for after a little while he came back to where Miss Erith was lying +on the moss, one arm resting across her eyes. + +"You ARE tired," he said. + +She removed her arm and looked up at him out of those wonderful +golden eyes. + +"Is it all right for us to remain here, Kay?" + +"Yes. You can see for yourself. Anybody coming into this valley must +be visible on that ridge to the south. And there's an exit. This +brook dashes through it--two vast granite gates that will let us +through into the outer forest, where they might as well hunt for two +pins as for us." + +The girl smiled; her eyes closed. "I'm glad we can rest," she +murmured. So McKay went about his duties. + +First he removed his pack and hers a hundred yards down stream, +through the granite gateway, and placed them just beyond. + +Then he came back for Miss Erith. Scarcely awakened as he lifted +her, she placed one arm around his neck with the sleepy +unconsciousness of a tired child. They had long been on such terms; +there was no escaping them in the intimacy of their common isolation +and common danger. + +He laid her on the moss, well screened by the granite barrier, and +beyond range of the brook's rainbow spray. She was already asleep +again. + +He took off both her shoes, unwound the spiral puttees and gave her +bruised little feet a chance to breathe. + +He made camp, tested the wind and found it safe to build a fire, set +water to simmer, and unpacked the tinned rations. Then he made the +two beds side by side, laying down blankets and smoothing away the +twigs underneath. + +The surviving carrier pigeon was hungry. He fed it, lifted it still +banded from its place, cleaned the cage and set it to dry in a patch +of sunshine. + +The four automatic pistols he loaded and laid on a shelf in the +granite barricade; set ammunition and flashlight beside them. + +Then he went to his pack and got his papers and material, and +unrolled the map upon which he had been at work since he and Evelyn +Erith had entered the enemy's zone of operations. + +From time to time as he worked, drawing or making notes, he glanced +at the sleeping girl beside him. + +Never but once had the word "love" been mentioned between these two. + +For a long while, now--almost from the very beginning--he had known +that he was in love with this girl; but, after that one day in the +garden, he also knew that there was scarcely the remotest chance +that he should live to tell her so again, or that she could survive +to hear him. + +For when they had entered the enemy's zone below Mount Terrible they +both realised that there was almost no chance of their returning. + +He had lighted his pipe; and now he sat working away at his +drawings, making a map of his route as best he could without +instruments, and noting with rapid pencil all matters of interest +for those upon whose orders he and this girl beside him had +penetrated the forbidden forest of Les Errues. This for the slim +chance of getting back alive. But he had long believed that, if his +pigeons failed him at the crisis, no report would ever be delivered +to those who sent him here, either concerning his discoveries or his +fate and the fate of the girl who lay asleep beside him. + +An hour later she awoke. He was still bent over his map, and she +presently extended one arm and let her hand rest on his knee. + +"Do you feel better, Yellow-hair?" + +"Yes. Thank you for removing my shoes." + +"I suppose you are hungry," he remarked. + +"Yes. Are you?" + +He smiled: "As usual. I wish to heaven I could run across a +roebuck." They both craved something to satisfy the hunger made keen +by the Alpine air, and which no concentrated rations could satisfy. +McKay seldom ventured to kill any game--merely an auerhahn, a hare +or two, a red squirrel--and sometimes he had caught trout in the +mountain brooks with his bare hands--the method called "tickling" +and only too familiar to Old-World poachers. + +"Roebuck," she repeated trying not to speak wistfully. + +He nodded: "One crossed the stream below. I saw the tracks in the +moss, which was still stirring where the foot had pressed." + +"Dare you risk a shot in Les Errues, Kay?" + +"I don't think I'd hesitate." + +After a silence: "Why don't you rest? You must be dead tired," she +said. And he felt a slight pressure of her fingers drawing him. + +So he laid aside his work, dropped upon his blanket, and turned on +his left side, looking at her. + +"You have not yet seen any sign of the place from which you once +looked out across the frontier and saw thousands and thousands of +people as busy as a swarm of ants--have you, Kay?" + +"I remember this stream and these woods. I can't seem to recollect +how far or in which direction I turned after passing this granite +gorge." + +"Did you go far?" + +"I can't recollect," he said. "I'd give my right arm if I could." +His worn and anxious visage touched her. + +"Don't fret, Kay, dear," she said soothingly. "We'll find it. We'll +find out what the Hun is doing. We'll discover what this Great +Secret really is. And our pigeons shall tell it to the world." + +And, as always, she smiled cheerfully, confidently. He had never +heard her whine, had never seen her falter save from sheer physical +weariness. + +"We'll win through, Yellow-hair," he said, looking steadily into her +clear brown-gold eyes. + +"Of course. You are so wonderful, Kay." + +"That is the most wonderful thing in the world, Evelyn--to hear you +tell me such a thing!" + +"Don't you know I think so?" + +"I can't believe it--after what you know of me--" + +"Kay!" + +"I'm sorry--but a scar is a scar--" + +"There is no scar! Do you hear me! No scar, no stain! Don't you +suppose a woman can judge? And I have my own opinion of you, +Kay--and it is a perfectly good opinion and suits me." + +She smiled, closed her eyes as though closing the discussion, opened +them and smiled again at him. + +And now, as always, he wondered how this fair young girl could find +courage to smile in the very presence of the most dreadful death any +living woman could suffer--death from the Hun. + +He lay looking at her and she at him, for a while. + +In the silence, a dry stick snapped and McKay was on his feet as +though it had been the crack of a pistol. + +Presently he stooped, and she lifted her pretty head and rested one +ear close to his lips: + +"It's that roebuck, I think, down stream." Then something happened; +her ear touched his mouth--or his lips, forming some word, came into +contact with her--so that it was as though he had kissed her and she +had responded. + +Both recoiled; her face was bright with mounting colour and he +seemed scared. Yet both knew it was not a caress; but she feared he +thought she had invited one, and he feared she believed he had +offered one. + +He went about his affair with the theoretical roebuck in silence, +picking up one of his pistols, loosening his knife in its sheath; +then, without the usual smile or gesture for her, he started off +noiselessly over the moss. + +And the girl, supporting herself on one arm, her fingers buried in +the moss, looked after him while her flushed face cooled. + +McKay moved down stream with pistol lifted, scanning the hard-wood +ridges on either hand. For even the reddest of roe deer, in the +woods, seem to be amazingly invisible unless they move. + +The stream dashed through shadow and sun-spot, splashing a sparkling +way straight into the wilderness of Les Errues; and along its +fern-fringed banks strode McKay with swift, light steps. His eyes, +now sharpened by the fight for life--which life had begun to be +revealed to him in all its protean aspects, searched the dappled, +demi-light ahead, fiercely seeking to pierce any disguise that +protective colouration might afford his quarry. + +Silver, russet, green and gold, and with the myriad fulvous nuances +that the, forest undertones lend to its ensembles, these were the +patterned tints that met his eye on every side in the subdued +gradations of woodland light. + +But nothing out of key, nothing either in tone, colour, or shape, +betrayed the discreet and searched for discord in the vague and +lovely harmony;--no spiked head tossed in sudden fright; no +chestnut flank turned too redly in the dim ensemble, no delicate +feet in motion disturbed the solemn immobility of tree-trunk and +rock. Only the fern fronds quivered where spray rained across them; +and the only sounds that stirred were the crystalline clash of icy +rapids and the high whisper of the leaves in Les Errues. + +And, as he stood motionless, every sense and instinct on edge, his +eyes encountered something out of key with this lovely, sombre +masterpiece of God. Instantly a still shock responded to the +mechanical signal sent to his eyes; the engine of the brain was +racing; he stood as immobile as a tree. + +Yes, there on the left something was amiss,--something indistinct +in the dusk of heavy foliage--something, the shape of which was not +in harmony with the suave design about him woven of its Creator. +After a long while he walked slowly toward it. + +There was much more of it than he had seen. Its consequences, too, +were visible above him where broken branches hung still tufted with +bronze leaves which no new buds would ever push from their dead +clasp of the sapless stems. And all around him yearling seedlings +had pushed up through the charred wreckage. Even where fire had +tried to obtain a foothold, and had been withstood by barriers of +green and living sap, in burnt spaces where bits of twisted metal +lay, tender shoots had pushed out in that eternal promise of +resurrection which becomes a fable only upon a printed page. + +McKay's business was with the dead. The weather-faded husk lay there +amid dry leaves promising some day to harmonise with the scheme of +things. + +Mice had cleaned the bony cage under the uniform of a British +aviator. Mice gnaw the shed antlers of deer. And other bones. + +The pockets were full of papers. McKay read some of them. Afterward +he took from the bones of the hand two rings, a wrist-watch, a +whistle which still hung by a short chain and a round object +attached to a metal ring like a sleigh-bell. + +There was a hollow just beyond, made once in time of flood by some +ancient mountain torrent long dry, and no longer to be feared. + +The human wreckage barely held together, but it was light; and McKay +covered it with a foot of deep green moss, and made a cairn above it +out of glacial stones from the watercourse. And on the huge beech +that tented it he cut a cross with his trench-knife, making the +incision deep, so that it glimmered like ivory against the silvery +bark of the great tree. Under this sacred symbol he carved: + +"SIR W. BLINT, BART." + +Below this he cut a deep, white oblong in the bark, and with a coal +from the burned airplane he wrote: + +"THIS IS THE BEGINNING, NOT THE END. THIS ENGLISHMAN STILL CARRIES +ON!" + +He stood at salute for a full minute. Then turned, dropped to his +knees, and began another thorough search among the debris and dead +leaves. + +"Hello, Yellow-hair!" + +She had been watching his approach from where she was seated +balanced on the stream's edge, with both legs in the water to the +knees. + +He came up and dropped down beside her on the moss. + +"A dead airman in Les Errues," he said quietly, "a Britisher. I put +away what remained of him. The Huns may dig him up: some animals do +such things." + +"Where did you find him, Kay?" she asked quietly. + +"A quarter of a mile down-stream. He lay on the west slope. He had +fallen clear, but there was not much left of his machine." + +"How long has he lain there in this forest?" + +"A year--to judge. Also the last entry in his diary bears this out. +They got him through the head, and his belt gave way or was not +fastened.--Anyway he came down stone dead and quite clear of his +machine. His name was Blint--Sir W. Blint, Bart.... Lie back on the +moss and let your bruised feet hang in the pool.... Here--this way +--rest that yellow head of yours against my knees. ... Are you +snug?" + +"Yes." + +"Hold out your hands. These were his trinkets." + +The girl cupped her hands to receive the rings, watch, the gold +whistle in its little gem-set chains, and the sleigh-bell on its +bracelet. + +She examined them one by one in silence while McKay ran through the +pages of the notebook--discoloured pages all warped and stained in +their leather binding but written in pencil with print-like +distinction. + +"Sir W. Blint," murmured McKay, still busy with the notebook. "Can't +find what W. stood for." + +"That's all there is--just his name and military rank as an aviator: +I left the disk where it hung." + +The girl placed the trinkets on the moss beside her and looked up +into McKay's face. + +Both knew they were thinking of the same thing. They wore no disks. +Would anybody do for them what McKay had done for the late Sir W. +Blint? + +McKay bent a little closer over her and looked down into her face. +That any living creature should touch this woman in death seemed to +him almost more terrible than her dying. It was terror of that which +sometimes haunted him; no other form of fear. + +What she read in his eyes is not clear--was not quite clear to her, +perhaps. She said under her breath: + +"You must not fear for me, Kay.... Nothing can really touch me now." + +He did not understand what she meant by this immunity--gathering +some vague idea that she had spoken in the spiritual sense. And he +was only partly right. For when a girl is beginning to give her soul +to a man, the process is not wholly spiritual. + +As he looked down at her in silence he saw her gaze shift and her +eyes fix themselves on something above the tree-tops overhead. + +"There's that eagle again," she said, "wheeling up there in the +blue." + +He looked up; then he turned his sun-dazzled eyes on the pages of +the little notebook which he held open in both hands. + +"It's amusing reading," he said. "The late Sir W. Blint seems to +have been something of a naturalist. Wherever he was stationed the +lives of the birds, animals, insects and plants interested him. ... +Everywhere one comes across his pencilled queries and comments +concerning such things; here he discovers a moth unfamiliar to him, +there a bird he does not recognise. He was a quaint chap--" + +McKay's voice ceased but his eyes still followed the pencilled lines +of the late Sir W. Blint. And Evelyn Erith, resting her yellow head +against his knees, looked up at him. + +"For example," resumed McKay, and read aloud from the diary: + +"Five days' leave. Blighty. All top hole at home. Walked with +Constance in the park. + +Pair of thrushes in the spinney. Rookery full. Usual butterflies in +unusual numbers. Toward twilight several sphinx moths visited the +privet. No net at hand so did not identify any. Pheasants in bad +shape. Nobody to keep them down. Must arrange drives while I'm away. + +Late at night a barn owl in the chapel belfrey. Saw him and heard +him. Constance nervous; omens and that sort, I fancy; but no funk. +Rotten deal for her." + +"Who was Constance?" asked Miss Erith. + +"Evidently his wife.... I wish we could get those trinkets to her." +His glance shifted back to the pencilled page and presently he read +on, aloud: + +France again. Headquarters. Same rumour that Fritz has something up +his sleeve. Conference. Letter from Constance. Wrote her also. + +10th inst.: + +Conference. Interesting theory even if slightly incredible. Wrote +Constance. + +12th inst.: + +Another conference. Sir D. Haig. Back to hangar. A nightingale +singing, clear and untroubled above the unceasing thunder of the +cannonade. Very pretty moth, incognito, came and sat on my sleeve. +One of the Noctuidae, I fancy, but don't know generic or specific +names. About eleven o'clock Sir D. Haig. Unexpected honour. Sir D. +serene and cheerful. Showed him about. He was much amused at my +eagle. Explained how I had found him as an eaglet some twenty years +ago in America and how he sticks to me like a tame jackdaw. + +Told Sir D. that I had been taking him in my air flights everywhere +and that he adored it, sitting quite solemnly out of harm's way and, +if taking to the air for a bit of exercise, always keeping my plane +in view and following it to earth. + +Showed Sir D. H. all Manitou's tricks. The old chap did me proud. +This was the programme: + +I.--'Will you cheer for king and country, Manitou?' + +Manitou (yelping)--'Houp--gloup--houp!' + +I.--'Suppose you were a Hun eagle, Manitou--just a vulgar Boche +buzzard?' + +Manitou (hanging his head)--'Houp--gloup--houp!' + +I.-'But you're not! You're a Yankee eagle! Now give three cheers for +Uncle Sam!' + +Manitou (head erect)--'Houp--gloup--houp!' + +Sir D. convulsed. Ordered a trench-rat for Manitou as usual. While +he was discussing it I told Sir D. H. how I could always send +Manitou home merely by attaching to his ankle a big whistling-bell +of silver. + +Explained that Manitou hated it and that I had taught him to fly +home when I attached it by arranging that nobody except my wife +should ever relieve him of the bell. + +It took about two years to teach him where to go for relief. + +Sir D, much amused--reluctant to leave. Wrote to Connie later. Bed. + +13th inst.: + +Summoned by Sir D. H. Conference. Most interesting. Packed up. Of at +5 P. M., taking my eagle, Manitou. Wrote Constance. + +14th inst.: + +Paris. Yankees everywhere. Very ft. Have noticed no brag so far. +Wrote Constance. + +20th inst.: + +Paris. Yanks, Yanks, Yanks. And 'thanks' rimes. I said so to one of +'em. 'No,' said he, 'Tanks' is the proper rime--British Tanks!' Neat +and modest. Wrote Connie. + +21st inst.: + +Manitou and I are off. Most interesting quest I ever engaged in. +Wrote to my wife. + +Delle. Manitou and I both very fit. Machine in waiting. Took the air +for a look about. Manitou left me a mile up. Evidently likes the +Alps. Soared over Mount Terrible whither I dared not venture--yet! +Saw no Huns. Back by sundown. Manitou dropped in to dinner--like a +thunderbolt from the zenith. Astonishment of Blue Devils on guard. +Much curiosity. Manitou a hero. All see in him an omen of American +victory. Wrote Connie. + +30th inst.: + +Shall try 'it' very soon now. + +If it's true--God help the Swiss! If not--profound apologies I +suppose. Anyway its got to be cleared up. Manitou enamoured of +mountains. Poor devil, it's in his blood I suppose. Takes the air, +now, quite independent of me, but I fancy he gets uneasy if I delay, +for he comes and circles over the hangar until my machine takes the +air. And if it doesn't he comes down to find out why, mad and +yelping at me like an irritated goblin. + +I saw an Alpine butterfly to-day--one of those Parnassians all white +with wings veined a greenish black. Couldn't catch him. Wrote to +Connie. Bed. + +31st inst.: + +In an hour. All ready. It's hard to believe that the Hun has so +terrorised the Swiss Government as to force it into such an +outrageous concession. Nous verrons. + +A perfect day. Everything arranged. Calm and confident. Think much +of Constance but no nerves. Early this morning Manitou, who had been +persistently hulking at my heels and squealing invitations to take +wing with him, became impatient and went up. + +I saw him in time and whistled him down; and I told the old chap +very plainly that he could come up with me when I was ready or not +at all. + +He understood and sat on the table sulking, and cocking his silver +head at me while I talked to him. That's one thing about Manitou. +Except for a wild Canada goose I never before saw a bird who seemed +to have the slightest trace of brain. I know, of course, it's not +affection that causes him to trail me, answer his whistle, and obey +when he doesn't wish to obey. It's training and habit. But I like to +pretend that the old chap is a little fond of me. + +I'm of in a few minutes. Manitou is aboard. Glorious visibility. Now +for Fritz and his occult designs--if there are any. + +A little note to Connie--I scarcely know why. Not a nerve. Most +happy. Noticed a small butterfly quite unfamiliar to me. No time now +to investigate. + +Engines! Manitou yelling with excitement. Symptoms of taking wing, +but whistle checks insubordination.... All ready. Wish Connie were +here. + +McKay closed the little book, strapped and buckled the cover. + +"Exit Sir W. Blint," he said, not flippantly. "I think I should like +to have known that man." + +The girl, lying there with the golden water swirling around her +knees and her golden head on the moss, looked up through the foliage +in silence. + +The eagle was soaring lower over the forest now. After a little +while she reached out and let her fingers touch McKay's hand where +it rested on the moss: + +"Kay?" + +"Yes, Yellow-hair." + +"It isn't possible, of course.... But are there any eagles in Europe +that have white heads and tails?" + +"No." + +"I know.... I wish you'd look up at that eagle. He is not very +high." + +McKay lifted his head. After a moment he rose to his feet, still +looking intently skyward. The eagle was sailing very low now. + +"THAT'S AN AMERICAN EAGLE!" + +The words shot out of McKay's lips. The girl sat upright, +electrified. + +And now the sun struck full across the great bird as he sheered the +tree-tops above. HEAD AND TAIL WERE A DAZZLING WHITE. + +"Could--could it be that dead man's eagle?" said the girl. "Oh, +could it be Manitou? COULD it, Kay?" + +McKay looked at her, and his eye fell on the gold whistle hanging +from her wrist on its jewelled chain. + +"If it is," he said, "he might notice that whistle. Try it!" + +She nodded excitedly, set the whistle to her lips and blew a clear, +silvery, penetrating blast upward. + +"Kay! Look!" she gasped. + +For the response had been instant. Down through the tree-tops +sheered the huge bird, the air shrilling through his pinions, and +struck the solid ground and set his yellow claws in it, grasping the +soil of the Old World with mighty talons. Then he turned his superb +head and looked fearlessly upon his two compatriots. + +"Manitou! Manitou!" whispered the girl. And crept toward him on her +knees, nearer, nearer, until her slim outstretched hand rested on +his silver crest. + +"Good God!" said McKay in the low tones of reverence. + +McKay had drawn a duplicate of his route-map on thin glazed paper. + +Evelyn Erith had finished a duplicate copy of his notes and reports. + +Of these and the trinkets of the late Sir W. Blint they made two +flat packets, leaving one of them unsealed to receive the brief +letter which McKay had begun: + +"Dear Lady Blint-- + +It is not necessary to ask the wife of Sir W. Blint to have courage. + +He died as he had lived--a fine and fearless British sportsman. + +His death was painless. He lies in the forest of Les Errues. I +enclose a map for you. + +I and my comrade, Evelyn Erith, dare believe that his eagle, +Manitou, has not forgotten the air-path to England and to you. With +God's guidance he will carry this letter to you. And with it certain +objects belonging to your husband. And also certain papers which I +beg you will have safely delivered to the American Ambassador. + +If, madam, we come out of this business alive, my comrade and I will +do ourselves the honour of waiting on you if, as we suppose, you +would care to hear from us how we discovered the body of the late +Sir W. Blint. + +Madam, accept homage and deep respect from two Americans who are, +before long, rather likely to join your gallant husband in the great +adventure" + +"Yellow-hair?" + +She came, signed the letter. Then McKay signed it, and it was +enclosed in one of the packets. + +Then McKay took the dead carrier pigeon from the cage and tossed it +on the moss. And Manitou planted his terrible talons on the inert +mass of feathers and tore it to shreds. + +Evelyn attached the anklet and whistling bell; then she unwound a +yard of surgeon's plaster, and kneeling, spread the eagle's enormous +pinions, hold-ing them horizontal while McKay placed the two +packets and bound them in place under the out-stretched wings. + +The big bird had bolted the pigeon. At first he submitted with sulky +grace, not liking what was happening, but offering no violence. + +And even now, as they backed away from him, he stood in dignified +submission, patiently striving to adjust his closed wings to these +annoying though light burdens which seemed to have no place among +his bronze feathers. + +Presently, irritated, the bird partially unclosed one wing as though +to probe with his beak for the seat of his discomfort. At the same +time he moved his foot, and the bell rattled on his anklet. + +Instantly his aspect changed; stooping he inspected the bell, struck +it lightly with his beak as though in recognition. + +WAS it the hated whistling bell? Again the curved beak touched it. +And recognition was complete. + +Mad all through, disgust, indecision, gave rapid place to nervous +alarm. Every quill rose in wrath; the snowy crest stood upright; the +yellow eyes flashed fire. + +Then, suddenly, the eagle sprang into the air, yelping fierce +protest against such treatment: the shrilling of the bell swept like +a thin gale through the forest, keener, louder, as the enraged bird +climbed the air, mounting, mounting into the dazzling blue above +until the motionless watchers in the woods below saw him wheel. + +Which way would he turn? 'Round and round swept the eagle in wider +and more splendid circles; in tensest suspense the two below watched +motionless. + +Then the tension broke; and a dry sob escaped the girl. + +For the eagle had set his lofty course at last. Westward he bore +through pathless voids uncharted save by God alone--who has set His +signs to mark those high blue lanes, lest the birds--His lesser +children--should lose their way betwixt earth and moon. + + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE BLINDER TRAIL + + + + + +There was no escape that way. From the northern and eastern edges of +the forest sheer cliffs fell away into bluish depths where forests +looked like lawns and the low uplands of the Alsatian border +resembled hillocks made by tunnelling moles. And yet it was from +somewhere not far away that a man once had been, carried safely into +Alsace on a sudden snowslide. That man now lay among the trees on +the crag's edge looking down into the terrific chasm below. He and +the girl who crouched in the thicket of alpine roses behind him +seemed a part of the light-flecked forest--so inconspicuous were +they among dead leaves and trees in their ragged and weather-faded +clothing. + +They were lean from physical effort and from limited nourishment. +The skin on their faces and hands, once sanguine and deeply burnt by +Alpine wind and sun and snow glare, now had become almost +colourless, so subtly the alchemy of the open operates on those +whose only bed is last year's leaves and whose only shelter is the +sky. Even the girl's yellow hair had lost its sunny brilliancy, so +that now it seemed merely a misty part of the lovely, subdued +harmony of the woods. + +The man, still searching the depths below with straining, patient +gaze, said across his shoulder: + +"It was here somewhere--near here, Yellow-hair, that I went over, +and found what I found.... But it's not difficult to guess what you +and I should find if we try to go over now." + +"Death?" she motioned with serene lips. + +He had turned to look at her, and he read her lips. + +"And yet," he said, "we must manage to get down there, somehow or +other, alive." + +She nodded. Both knew that, once down there, they could not expect +to come out alive. That was tacitly understood. All that could be +hoped was that they might reach those bluish depths alive, live long +enough to learn what they had come to learn, release the pigeon with +its message, then meet destiny in whatever guise it confronted them. + +For Fate was not far off. Fate already watched them--herself unseen. +She had caught sight of them amid the dusk of the ancient trees--was +following them, stealthily, murderously, through the dim aisles of +this haunted forest of Les Errues. + +These two were the hunted ones, and their hunters were in the +forest--nearer now than ever because the woodland was narrowing +toward the east. + +Also, for the first time since they had entered the Forbidden +Forest, scarcely noticeable paths appeared flattening the carpet of +dead leaves--not trails made by game--but ways trodden at long +intervals by man--trails unused perhaps for months--then rendered +vaguely visible once more by the unseen, unheard feet of lightly +treading foes. + +Here for the first time they had come upon the startling spoor of +man--of men and enemies--men who were hunting them to slay them, and +who now, in these eastern woods, no longer cared for the concealment +that might lull to a sense of false security the human quarry that +they pursued. + +And yet the Hun-pack hunting them though the forbidden forest of Les +Errues had, in their new indifference to their quarry's alarm, and +in the ferocity of their growing boldness, offered the two fugitives +a new hope and a new reason for courage:--the grim courage of those +who are about to die, and who know it, and still carry on. + +For this is what the Huns had done--not daring to use signals +visible to the Swiss patrols on nearer mountain flanks. + +Nailed to a tree beside the scarcely visible trail of flattened +leaves--a trail more imagined and feared than actually visible--was +a sheet of white paper. And on it was written in the tongue of the +Hun,--and in that same barbarous script also--a message, the free +translation of which was as follows: + +"WARNING!" + +The three Americans recently sent into Les Errues by the Military +Intelligence Department of the United States Army now fighting in +France are still at large somewhere in this forest. Two of them are +operating together, the well-known escaped prisoner, Kay McKay, and +the woman secret-agent, Evelyn Erith. The third American, Alexander +Gray, has been wounded in the left hand by one of our riflemen, but +managed to escape, and is now believed to be attempting to find and +join the agents McKay and Erith. + +This must be prevented. All German agents now operating in Les +Errues are formally instructed to track down and destroy without +traces these three spies whenever and wherever encountered according +to plan. It is expressly forbidden to attempt to take any one or all +of these spies alive. No prisoners! No traces! Germans, do your +duty! The Fatherland is in peril! + +(Signed) "HOCHSTIM." + +McKay wriggled cautiously backward from the chasm's granite edge and +crawled into the thicket of alpine roses where Evelyn Erith lay. + +"No way out, Kay?" she asked under her breath. + +"No way THAT way, Yellow-hair." + +"Then?" + +"I don't--know," he said slowly. + +"You mean that we ought to turn back." + +"Yes, we ought to. The forest is narrowing very dangerously for us. +It runs to a point five miles farther east, overlooking impassable +gulfs.... We should be in a cul-de-sac, Yellow-hair." + +"I know." + +He mused for a few moments, cool, clear-eyed, apparently quite +undisturbed by their present peril and intent only on the mission +which had brought them here, and how to execute it before their +unseen trackers executed them. + +"To turn now, and attempt to go back along this precipice, is to +face every probability of meeting the men we have so far managed to +avoid," he said aloud in his pleasant voice, but as though +presenting the facts to himself alone. + +"Of course we shall account for some of the Huns; but that does not +help us to win through.... Even an exchange of shots would no doubt +be disastrous to our plans. We MUST keep away from them.... +Otherwise we could never hope to creep into the valley alive,... +Tell me, Yellow-hair, have you thought of anything new?" + +The girl shook her head. + +"No, Kay.... Except that chance of running across this new man of +whom we never had heard before the stupid Boche advertised his +presence in Les Errues." + +"Alexander Gray," nodded McKay, taking from his pocket the paper +which the Huns had nailed to the great pine, and unfolding it again. + +The girl rested her chin on his shoulder to reread it--an apparent +familiarity which he did not misunderstand. The dog that believes in +you does it--from perplexity sometimes, sometimes from loneliness. +Or, even when afraid--not fearing with the baser emotion of the +poltroon, but afraid with that brave fear which is a wisdom too, and +which feeds and brightens the steady flame of courage. + +"Alexander Gray," repeated McKay. "I never supposed that we would +send another man in here--at least not until something had been +heard concerning our success or failure.... I had understood that +such a policy was not advisable. You know yourself, Yellow-hair, +that the fewer people we have here the better the chance. And it was +so decided before we left New York.... And--I wonder what occurred +to alter our policy." + +"Perhaps the Boches have spread reports of our capture by Swiss +authorities," she said simply. + +"That might be. Yes, and the Hun newspapers might even have printed +it. I can see their scare-heads: 'Gross Violation of Neutral Soil! + +"'Switzerland invaded by the Yankees! Their treacherous and impudent +spies caught in the Alps!'--that sort of thing. Yes, it might be +that... and yet--" + +"You think the Boche would not call attention to such an attempt +even to trap others of our agents for the mere pleasure of murdering +them?" + +"That's what I think, Eve." + +He called her "Eve" only when circumstances had become gravely +threatening. At other times it was usually "Yellow-hair!" + +"Then you believe that this man, Gray, has been sent into Les Errues +to aid us to carry on independently the operation in which we have +so far failed?" + +"I begin to think so." The girl's golden eyes became lost in +retrospection. + +"And yet," she ventured after a few moments' thought, "he must have +come into Les Errues learning that we also had entered it; and +apparently he has made no effort to find us." + +"We can't know that, Eve." + +"He must be a woodsman," she argued, "and also he must suppose that +we are more or less familiar with American woodcraft, and fairly +well versed in its signs. Yet--he has left no sign that we could +understand where a Hun could not." + +"Because we have discovered no sign we can not be certain that this +man Gray has made none for us to read," said McKay. + +"No.... And yet he has left nothing that we have discovered--no +blaze; no moss or leaf, no stone or cairn--not a broken twig, not a +peeled stick, and no trail!" + +"How do we know that the traces of a trail marked by flattened +leaves might not be his trail? Once, on that little sheet of sand +left by rain in the torrent's wake, you found the imprint of a +hobnailed shoe such as the Hun hunters wear," she reminded him. "And +there we first saw the flattened trail of last year's leaves--if +indeed it be truly a trail." + +"But, Eve dear, never have we discovered in any dead and flattened +leaf the imprint of hobnails,--let alone the imprint of a human +foot." + +"Suppose, whoever made that path, had pulled over his shoes a heavy +woolen sock." He nodded. + +"I feel, somehow, that the Hun flattened out those leaves," she went +on. "I am sure that had an American made the trail he would also +have contrived to let us know--given us some indication of his +identity." + +The girl's low voice suddenly failed and her hand clutched McKay's +shoulder. + +They lay among the alpine roses like two stones, never stirring, the +dappled sunlight falling over them as harmoniously and with no more +and no less accent than it spotted tree-trunk and rock and moss +around them. + +And, as they lay there, motionless, her head resting on his thigh, a +man came out of the dimmer woods into the white sunshine that +flooded the verge of the granite chasm. + +The man was very much weather-beaten; his tweeds were torn; he +carried a rifle in his right hand. And his left was bound in bloody +rags. But what instantly arrested McKay's attention was the pack +strapped to his back and supported by a "tump-line." + +Never before had McKay seen such a pack carried in such a manner +excepting only in American forests. + +The man stood facing the sun. His visage was burnt brick colour, a +hue which seemed to accentuate the intense blue of his eyes and make +his light-coloured hair seem almost white. + +He appeared to be a man of thirty, superbly built, with a light, +springy step, despite his ragged and weary appearance. + +McKay's eyes were fastened desperately upon him, upon the strap of +the Indian basket which crossed his sun-scorched forehead, upon his +crystal-blue eyes of a hunter, upon his wounded left hand, upon the +sinewy red fist that grasped a rifle, the make of which McKay should +have known, and did know. For it was a Winchester 45-70--no chance +for mistaking that typical American weapon. And McKay fell +a-trembling in every limb. + +Presently the man cautiously turned, scanned his back trail with +that slow-stirrng wariness of a woodsman who never moves abruptly or +without good reason; then he went back a little way, making no sound +on the forest floor. + +AND MCKAY SAW THAT HE WORE KNEE MOCCASINS. + +At the same time Evelyn Erith drew her little length noiselessly +along his, and he felt her mouth warm against his ear: + +"Gray?" He nodded. + +"I think so, too. His left hand is injured. He wears American +moccasins. But in God's name be careful, Kay. It may be a trap." + +He nodded almost imperceptibly, keeping his eyes on the figure which +now stood within the shade of the trees in an attitude which might +suggest listening, or perhaps merely a posture of alert repose. + +Evelyn's mouth still rested against his ear and her light breath +fell warmly on him. Then presently her lips moved again: + +"Kay! He LOOKS safe." + +McKay turned his head with infinite caution and she inclined hers to +his lips: + +"I think it is Gray. But we've got to be certain, Eve." She nodded. + +"He does look right," whispered McKay. "No Boche cradles a rifle in +the hollow of his left arm so naturally. It is HABIT, because he +does it in spite of a crippled left hand." + +She nodded again. + +"Also," whispered McKay, "everything else about him is +convincing--the pack, tump-line, moccasins, Winchester: and his +manner of moving.... I know deer-stalkers in Scotland and in the +Alps. I know the hunters of ibex and chamois, of roe-deer and red +stag, of auerhahn and eagle. This man is DIFFERENT. He moves and +behaves like our own woodsmen--like one of our own hunters." + +She asked with dumb lips touching his ear: "Shall we chance it?" + +"No. It must be a certainty." + +"Yes. We must not offer him a chance." + +"Not a ghost of a chance to do us harm," nodded McKay. "Listen +attentively, Eve; when he moves on, rise when I do; take the pigeon +and the little sack because I want both hands free. Do you +understand, dear?" + +"Yes." + +"Because I shall have to kill him if the faintest hint of suspicion +arises in my mind. It's got to be that way, Eve." + +"Yes, I know." + +"Not for our own safety, but for what our safety involves," he +added. + +She inclined her head in acquiescence. + +Very slowly and with infinite caution McKay drew from their holsters +beneath his armpits two automatic pistols. + +"Help me, Eve," he whispered. + +So she aided him where he lay beside her to slip the pack straps +over his shoulders. Then she drew toward her the little osier cage +in which their only remaining carrier-pigeon rested secured by +elastic bands, grasped the smaller sack with the other hand, and +waited. + +They had waited an hour and more; and the figure of the stranger had +moved only once--shifted merely to adjust itself against a +supporting tree-trunk and slip the tump-line. + +But now the man was stirring again, cautiously resuming the +forehead-straps. + +Ready, now, to proceed in whichever direction he might believe lay +his destination, the strange man took the rifle into the hollow of +his left arm once more, remained absolutely motionless for five full +minutes, then, stirring stealthily, his moccasins making no sound, +he moved into the forest in a half-crouching attitude. + +And after him went McKay with Evelyn Erith at his elbow, his +sinister pistols poised, his eyes fixed on the figure which passed +like a shadow through the dim forest light ahead. + +Toward mid-afternoon their opportunity approached; for here was the +first water they had encountered--and the afternoon had become +burning hot--and their own throats were cracking with that fierce +thirst of high places where, even in the summer air, there is that +thirst-provoking hint of ice and snow. + +For a moment, however, McKay feared that the man meant to go on, +leaving the thin, icy rivulet untasted among its rocks and mosses; +for he crossed the course of the little stream at right angles, +leaping lithely from one rock to the next and travelling upstream on +the farther bank. + +Then suddenly he stopped stock-still and looked back along his +trail--nearly blind save for a few patches of flattened dead leaves +which his moccasined tread had patted smooth in the shadier +stretches where moisture lingered undried by the searching rays of +the sun. + +For a few moments the unknown man searched his own back-trail, +standing as motionless as the trunk of a lichened beech-tree. Then, +very slowly, he knelt on the dead leaves, let go his pack, and, +keeping his rifle in his right hand, stretched out his sinewy length +above the pool on the edge of which he had halted. + +Twice, before drinking, he lifted his head to sweep the woods around +him, his parched lips still dry. Then, with the abruptness--not of +man but of some wild thing--he plunged his sweating face into the +pool. + +And McKay covered him where he lay, and spoke in a voice which +stiffened the drinking man to a statue prone on its face: + +"I've got you right! Don't lift your head! You'll understand me if +you're American!" + +The man lay as though dead. McKay came nearer; Evelyn Erith was at +his elbow. + +"Take his rifle, Eve." + +The girl walked over and coolly picked up the Winchester. + +"Now cover him!" continued McKay. "Find a good rest for your gun and +keep him covered, Eve." + +She laid the rifle level across a low branch, drew the stock snug +and laid her cheek to it and her steady finger on the trigger. + +"When I say'squeeze,' let him have it! Do you understand, Eve?" + +"Perfectly." + +Then, with one pistol poised for a drop shot, McKay stepped forward +and jerked open the man's pack. And the man neither stirred nor +spoke. For a few minutes McKay remained busy with the pack, turning +out packets of concentrated rations of American manufacture, bits of +personal apparel, a meagre company outfit, spare ammunition--the +dozen-odd essentials to be always found in an American hunter's +pack. + +Then McKay spoke again: + +"Eve, keep him covered. Shoot when I say shoot." + +"Right," she replied calmly. And to the recumbent and unstirring +figure McKay gave a brief order: + +"Get up! Hands up!" + +The man rose as though made of steel springs and lifted both hands. + +Water still ran from his chin and lips and sweating cheeks. But +McKay, resting the muzzle of his pistol against the man's abdomen, +looked into a face that twitched with laughter. + +"You think it's funny?" he snarled, but the blessed relief that +surged through him made his voice a trifle unsteady. + +"Yes," said the man, "it hits me that way." + +"Something else may hit you," growled McKay, ready to embrace him +with sheer joy. + +"Not unless you're a Boche," retorted the man coolly. "But I guess +you're Kay McKay--" + +"Don't get so damned familiar with names!" + +"That's right, too. I'll just call you Seventy-Six, and this young +lady Seventy-Seven.... And I'm Two Hundred and Thirty." + +"What else?" + +"My name?" + +"Certainly." + +"It isn't expected--" + +"It is in this case," snapped McKay, wondering at himself for such +ultra precaution. + +"Oh, if you insist then, I'm Gray.... Alec Gray of the States United +Army Intelligence Serv___" + +"All right.... Gad!... It's all right, Gray!" + +He took the man's lifted right hand, jerked it down and crushed it +in a convulsive grasp: "It's good to see you.... We're in a +hole--deadlocked--no way out but back!" he laughed nervously. "Have +you any dope for us?" + +Gray's blue eyes travelled smilingly toward Evelyn and rested on the +muzzle of the Winchester. And McKay laughed almost tremulously: + +"All clear, Yellow-hair! This IS Gray--God be thanked!" + +The girl, pale and quiet and smiling, lowered the rifle and came +forward offering her hand. + +"It's pleasant to see YOU," she said quite steadily. "We were afraid +of a Boche trick." + +"So I notice," said Gray, intensely amused. + +Then the weather-tanned faces of all three sobered. + +"This is no place to talk things over," said Gray shortly. + +"Do you know a better place?" + +"Yes. If you'll follow me." + +He went to his pack, put it swiftly in order, hoisted it, resumed +the tump-line, and looked around at Evelyn for his rifle. + +But she had already slung it across her own shoulders and she +pointed at his wounded hand and its blood-black bandage and motioned +him forward. + +The sun hung on the shoulder of a snow-capped alp when at last these +three had had their brief understanding concerning one another's +identity, credentials, and future policy. + +Gray's lair, in a bushy hollow between two immense jutting cakes of +granite, lay on the very brink of the chasm. And there they sat, +cross-legged in the warmth of the declining sun in gravest +conference concerning the future. + +"Recklow insisted that I come," repeated Gray. "I was in the 208th +Pioneers--in a sawmilll near La Roche Rouge--Vosges--when I got my +orders." + +"And Recklow thinks we're caught and killed?" + +"So does everybody in the Intelligence. The Mulhausen paper had it +that the Swiss caught you violating the frontier, which meant to +Recklow that the Boche had done you in." + +"I see," nodded McKay. + +"So he picked me." + +"And you say you guided in Maine?" + +"Yes, when I was younger. After I was on my own I kept store at +South Carry, Maine, and ran the guides there." + +"I noticed all the ear-marks," nodded McKay. + +Gray smiled: "I guess they're there all right if a man knows 'em +when he sees 'em." + +"Were you badly shot up?" + +"Not so bad. They shoot a pea-rifle, single shot all over silver and +swallowtail stock--" + +"I know," smiled McKay. + +"Well, you know them. It drills nasty with a soft bullet, cleaner +with a chilled one. My left hand's a wreck but I sha'n't lose it." + +"I had better dress it before night," said Evelyn. + +"I dressed it at noon. I won't disturb it again to-day," said Gray, +thanking her with his eloquent blue eyes. + +McKay said: "So you found the place where I once slid off?" + +"It's plain enough, windfall and general wreckage mark it." + +"You say it's a dozen miles west of here?" + +"About." + +"That's odd," said McKay thoughtfully. "I had believed I recognised +this ravine. But these deep gulfs all look more or less alike. And I +saw it only once and then under hair-raising circumstances." + +Gray smiled, but Evelyn did not. McKay said: + +"So that's where they winged you, was it?" + +"Yes. I was about to negotiate the slide--you remember the V-shaped +slate cleft?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, I was just starting into that when the rifle cracked and I +jumped for a tree with a broken wing and a bad scare." + +"You saw the man?" + +"I did later. He came over to look for dead game, and I ached to let +him go; but it was too risky with Les Errues swarming alive with +Boches, and me with the stomach-sickness of a shot-up man. Figure it +out, McKay, for yourself." + +"Of course, you did the wise thing and the right one." + +"I think so. I travelled until I fainted." He turned and glanced +around. "Strangely enough I saw black right here!--fell into this +hole by accident, and have made it my home since then." + +"It was a Godsend," said the girl. + +"It was, Miss Erith," said Gray, resting his eloquent eyes on her. + +"And you say," continued McKay, "that the Boche are sitting up day +and night over that slide?" + +"Day and night. The swine seem to know it's the only way out. I go +every day, every night. Always the way is blocked; always I discover +one or more of their riflemen there in ambush while the rest of the +pack are ranging Les Errues." + +"And yet," said McKay, "we've got to go that way, sooner or later." + +There was a silence: then Gray nodded. + +"Yes," he said, "but it is a question of waiting." + +"There is a moon to-night," observed Evelyn Erith. + +McKay lifted his head and looked at her gravely: Gray's blue eyes +flashed his admiration of a young girl who quietly proposed to face +an unknown precipice at night by moonlight under the rifles of +ambushed men. + +"After all," said McKay slowly, "is there ANY other way?" + +In the silence which ensued Evelyn Erith, who had been lying between +them on her stomach, her chin propped up on both hands, suddenly +raised herself on one arm to a sitting posture. + +Instantly Gray shrank back, white as a sheet, lifting his mutilated +hand in its stiffened and bloody rags; and the girl gasped out her +agonised apology: + +"Oh--CAN you forgive me! It was unspeakable of me!" + +"It--it's all right," said Gray, the colour coming back to his face; +but the girl in her excitement of self-reproach and contrition +begged to be allowed to dress the mutilated hand which her own +careless movement had almost crushed. + +"Oh, Kay-I set my hand on his wounded fingers and rested my full +weight! Oughtn't he to let us dress it again at once?" + +But Gray's pluck was adamant, and he forced a laugh, dismissing the +matter with another glance at Evelyn out of clear blue eyes that +said a little more than that no harm had been done--said, in one +frank and deep-flashing look, more than the girl perhaps cared to +understand. + +The sun slipped behind the rocky flank of a great alp; a burst of +rosy glory spread fan-wise to the zenith. + +Against it, tall and straight and powerful, Gray rose and walking +slowly to the cliff's edge, looked down into the valley mist now +rolling like a vast sea of cloud below them. + +And, as he stood there, Evelyn's hand grasped McKay's arm: + +"If he touches his rifle, shoot! Quick, Kay!" + +McKay's right hand fell into his side-pocket--where one of his +automatics lay. He levelled it as he grasped it, hidden within the +side-pocket of his coat. + +"HIS HAND IS NOT WOUNDED," breathed the girl. "If he touches his +rifle he is a Hun!" + +McKay's head nodded almost imperceptibly. Gray's back was still +turned, but one hand was extended, carelessly reaching for the rifle +that stood leaning against the cake of granite. + +"Don't touch it!" said McKay in a low but distinct voice: and the +words galvanised the extended arm and it shot out, grasping the +rifle, as the man himself dropped out of sight behind the rock. + +A terrible stillness fell upon the place; there was not a sound, not +a movement. + +Suddenly the girl pointed at a shadow that moved between the +rocks--and the crash of McKay's pistol deafened them. + +Then, against the dazzling glory of the west a dark shape staggered +up, clutching a wavering rifle, reeling there against the rosy glare +an instant; and the girl turned her sick eyes aside as McKay's +pistol spoke again. + +Like a shadow cast by hell the black form swayed, quivered, sank +away outward into the blinding light that shone across the world. + +Presently a tinkling sound came up from the fog-shrouded depths--the +falling rifle striking ledge after ledge until the receding sound +grew fainter and more distant, and finally was heard no more. + +But that was the only sound they heard; for the man himself lay +still on the chasm's brink, propped from the depths by a tuft of +alpine roses in full bloom, his blue eyes wide open, a blue hole +just between them, and his bandaged hand freed from its camouflage, +lying palm upward and quite uninjured on the grass! + + + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE GREATER LOVE + + + + + +As the blinding lens of the sun glittered level and its first rays +poured over tree and rock, a man in the faded field-uniform of a +Swiss officer of mountain artillery came out on the misty ledge +across the chasm. + +"You over there!" he shouted in English. "Here is a Swiss officer to +speak with you! Show yourselves!" + +Again, after waiting a few moments, he shouted: "Show yourselves or +answer. It is a matter of life or death for you both!" + +There was no reply to the invitation, no sound from the forest, no +movement visible. Thin threads of vapour began to ascend from the +tremendous depths of the precipice, steaming upward out of +mist-choked gorges where, under thick strata of fog, night still lay +dark over unseen Alpine valleys below. + +The Swiss officer advanced to the cliff's edge and looked down upon +a blank sea of cloud. Presently he turned east and walked cautiously +along the rim of the chasm for a hundred yards. Here the gulf +narrowed so that the cleft between the jutting crags was scarcely a +hundred feet in width. And here he halted once more and called +across in a resonant, penetrating voice: + +"Attention, you, over there in the Forest of Les Errues! You had +better wake up and listen! Here is a Swiss officer come to speak +with you. Show yourselves or answer!" + +There came no sound from within the illuminated edges of the woods. + +But outside, upon the chasm's sparkling edge, lay a dead man stark +and transfigured and stiff as gold in the sun. + +And already the first jewelled death-flies zig-zagged over him, +lacing the early sunshine with ominous green lightning. + +They who had killed this man might not be there behind the sunlit +foliage of the forest's edge; but the Swiss officer, after waiting a +few moments, called again, loudly. Then he called a third time more +loudly still, because into his nostrils had stolen the faint taint +of dry wood smoke. And he stood there in silhouette against the +rising sun listening, certain, at last, of the hidden presence of +those he sought. + +Now there came no sound, no stirring behind the forest's sunny edge; +but just inside it, in the lee of a huge rock, a young girl in +ragged boy's clothing, uncoiled her slender length from her blanket +and straightened out flat on her stomach. Her yellow hair made a +spot like a patch of sunlight on the dead leaves. Her clear golden +eyes were as brilliant as a lizard's. + +From his blanket at her side a man, gaunt and ragged and deeply +bitten by sun and wind, was pulling an automatic pistol from its +holster. The girl set her lips to his ear: + +"Don't trust him, for God's sake, Kay," she breathed. + +He nodded, felt forward with cautious handgroping toward a damp +patch of moss, and drew himself thither, making no sound among the +dry leaves. + +"Watch the woods behind us, Yellow-hair," he whispered. + +The girl fumbled in her tattered pocket and produced a pistol. Then +she sat up cross-legged on her blanket, rested one elbow across her +knee, and, cocking the poised weapon, swept the southern woods with +calm, bright eyes. + +Now the man in Swiss uniform called once more across the chasm: +"Attention, Americans I I know you are there; I smell your fire. +Also, what you have done is plain enough for me to see--that thing +lying over there on the edge of the rocks with corpse-flies already +whirling over it! And you had better answer me, Kay McKay!" + +Then the man in the forest who now was lying flat behind a +birch-tree, answered calmly: + +"You, in your Swiss uniform of artillery, over there, what do you +want of me?" + +"So you are there!" cried the Swiss, striving to pierce the foliage +with eager eyes. "It is you, is it not, Kay McKay?" + +"I've answered, have I not?" + +"Are you indeed then that same Kay McKay of the Intelligence +Service, United States Army?" + +"You appear to think so. I am Kay McKay; that is answer enough for +you." + +"Your comrade is with you--Evelyn Erith?" + +"None of your business," returned McKay, coolly. + +"Very well; let it be so then. But that dead man there--why did you +kill your American comrade?" + +"He was a camouflaged Boche," said McKay contemptously. "And I am +very sure that you're another--you there, in your foolish Swiss +uniform. So say what you have to say and clear out!" + +The officer came close to the edge of the chasm: "I can not expect +you to believe me," he said, "and yet I really am what I appear to +be, an officer of Swiss Mountain Artillery. If you think I am +something else why do you not shoot me?" + +McKay was silent. "Nobody would know," said the other. "You can kill +me very easily. I should fall into the ravine--down through that +lake of cloud below. Nobody would ever find me. Why don't you +shoot?" + +"I'll shoot when I see fit," retorted McKay in a sombre voice. +Presently he added in tones that rang a little yet trembled +too--perhaps from physical reasons--"What do you want of a hunted +man like me?" + +"I want you to leave Swiss territory!" + +"Leave!" McKay's laugh was unpleasant. "You know damned well I can't +leave with Les Errues woods crawling alive with Huns." + +"Will you leave the canton of Les Ernies, McKay, if I show you a +safe route out?" + +And, as the other made no reply: "You have no right to be here on +neutral territory," he added, "and my Government desires you to +leave at once!" + +"I have as much right here as the Huns have," said McKay in his +pleasant voice. + +"Exactly. And these Germans have no right here either!" + +"That also is true," rejoined McKay gently, "so why has your +Government permitted the Hun to occupy the Canton of Les Errues? Oh, +don't deny it," he added wearily as the Swiss began to repudiate the +accusation; "you've made Les Errues a No-Man's Land, and it's free +hunting now! If you're sick of your bargain, send in your mountain +troops and turn out the Huns." + +"And if I also send an escort and a free conduct for you and your +comrade?" + +"No." + +"You will not be harmed, not even interned. We set you across our +wire at Delle. Do you accept?" + +"No." + +"With every guarantee--" + +"You've made this forest a part of the world's battle-field.... No, +I shall not leave Les Errues!" + +"Listen to reason, you insane American! You can not escape those who +are closing in on you--those who are filtering the forest for +you--who are gradually driving you out into the eastern edges of Les +Errues! And what then, when at last you are driven like wild game by +a line of beaters to the brink of the eastern cliffs? There is no +water there. You will die of thirst. There is no food. What is there +left for you to do with your back to the final precipice?" + +McKay laughed a hard, unpleasant laugh: "I certainly shall not tell +you what I mean to do," he said. "If this is all you have to say to +me you may go!" + +There ensued a silence. The Swiss began to pace the opposite cliff, +his hands behind him. Finally he halted abruptly and looked across +the chasm. + +"Why did you come into Les Errues?" he demanded. + +"Ask your terrified authorities. Perhaps they'll tell you--if their +teeth stop chattering long enough--that I came here to find out +what the Boche are doing on neutral territory." + +"Do you mean to say that you believe in that absurd rumour about +some secret and gigantic undertaking by the Germans which is +supposed to be visible from the plateau below us?" + +And, as McKay made no reply: "That is a silly fabrication. If your +Government, suspicious of the neutrality of mine, sent you here on +any such errand, it was a ridiculous thing to do. Do you hear me, +McKay?" + +"I hear you." + +"Well, then! And let me add also that it is a physical impossibility +for any man to reach the plateau below us from the forest of Les +Errues!" + +"That," said McKay, coldly, "is a lie!" + +"What! You offer a Swiss officer such an injury--" + +"Yes; and I may add an insulting bullet to the injury in another +minute. You've lied to me. I have already done what you say is an +impossibility. I have reached the plateau below Les Errues by way of +this forest. And I'm going there again, Swiss or no Swiss, Hun or no +Hun! And if the Boche do drive me out of this forest into the east, +where you say there is no water to be found among the brush and +bowlders, and where, at last, you say I shall stand with my back to +the last sheer precipice, then tell your observation post on the +white shoulder of Thusis to turn their telescopes on me!" + +"In God's name, for what purpose?" + +"To take a lesson in how to die from the man your nation has +betrayed!" drawled McKay. + +Then, lying flat, he levelled his pistol, supporting it across the +palm of his left hand. + +"Yellow-hair?"' he said in a guarded voice, not turning. + +"Yes, Kay." + +"Slip the pack over your shoulders. Take the pigeon and the rifle. +Be quick, dear." + +"It is done," she said softly. + +"Now get up and make no noise. Two men are lying in the scrub behind +that fellow across the chasm. I am afraid they have grenades.... Are +you ready, Yellow-hair?" + +"Ready, dear." + +"Go eastward, swiftly, two hundred yards parallel with the +precipice. Make no sound, Yellow-hair." + +The girl cast a pallid, heart-breaking look at him, but he lay there +without turning his head, his steady pistol levelled across the +chasm. Then, bending a trifle forward, she stole eastward through +the forest dusk, the pigeon in its wicker cage in one hand, and on +her back the pack. + +And all the while, across the gulf out of which golden vapours +curled more thickly as the sun's burning searchlight spread out +across the world, the man in Swiss uniform stood on the chasm's +edge, as though awaiting some further word or movement from McKay. + +And, after awhile, the word came, clear, startling, snapped out +across the void: + +"Unsling that haversack! Don't touch the flap! Take it off, quick!" + +The Swiss seemed astounded. "Quick!" repeated McKay harshly, "or I +fire." + +"What!" burst out the man, "you offer violence to a Swiss officer on +duty within Swiss territory?" + +"I tell you I'll kill you where you stand if you don't take off that +haversack!" + +Suddenly from the scrubby thicket behind the Swiss a man's left arm +shot up at an angle of forty degrees, and the right arm described an +arc against the sun. Something round and black parted from it, lost +against the glare of sunrise. + +Then in the woods behind McKay something fell heavily, the solid +thud obliterated in the shattering roar which followed. + +The man in Swiss uniform tore at the flap of his haversack, and he +must have jerked loose the plug of a grenade in his desperate haste, +for as McKay's bullet crashed through his face, the contents of his +sack exploded with a deafening crash. + +At the same instant two more bombs fell among the trees behind +McKay, exploding instantly. Smoke and the thick golden steam from +the ravine blotted from his sight the crag opposite. And now, +bending double, McKay ran eastward while behind him the golden dusk +of the woods roared and flamed with exploding grenades. + +Evelyn Erith stood motionless and deathly white, awaiting him. + +"Are you all right, Kay?" + +"All right, Yellow-hair." + +He went up to her, shifting his pistol to the other hand, and as he +laid his right arm about her shoulders the blaze in his eyes almost +dazzled her. + +"We trust no living thing on earth, you and I, Yellow-hair.... I +believed that man for awhile. But I tell you whatever is living +within this forest is our enemy--and if any man comes in the shape +of my dearest friend I shall kill him before he speaks!" + +The man was shaking now; the girl caught his right hand and drew it +close around her body--that once warm and slender body now become so +chill and thin under the ragged clothing of a boy. + +"Drop your face on my shoulder," she said. + +His wasted cheek seemed feverish, burning against her breast. + +"Steady, Kay," she whispered. + +"Right!... What got me was the thought of you--there when the +grenades fell.... They blew a black pit where your blanket lay!" + +He lifted his head and she smiled into the fever-bright eyes set so +deeply now in his ravaged visage. There were words on her lips, +trembling to be uttered. But she dared not believe they would add to +his strength if spoken. He loved her. She had long known that--had +long understood that loving her had not hardened his capacity for +the dogged duty which lay before him. + +To win out was a task sufficiently desperate; to win out and bring +her through alive was the double task that was slowly, visibly +killing this man whose burning, sunken eyes gazed into hers. She +dared not triple that task; the cry in her heart died unuttered, +lest he ever waver in duty to his country when in some vital crisis +that sacred duty clashed with the obligations that fettered him to a +girl who had confessed she loved him. + +No; the strength that he might derive from such a knowledge was not +that deathless energy and clear thinking necessary to blind, stern, +unswerving devotion to the motherland. Love of woman, and her love +given, could only make the burden of decision triply heavy for this +man who stood staring at space beside her here in the forest +twilight where shreds of the night mist floated like ghosts and a +lost sunspot glowed and waned and glowed on last year's leaves. + +The girl pressed her waist with his arm, straightened her shoulders +and stood erect; and with a quick gesture cleared her brow of its +cloudy golden hair. + +"Now," she said coolly, "we carry on, you and I, Kay, to the honour +and glory of the land that trusts us in her hour of need... Are you +are right again?" + +"All right, Yellow-hair," he said pleasantly. + +On the third day the drive had forced them from the hilly western +woods, eastward and inexorably toward that level belt of shaggy +forest, scrub growth, and arid, bowlder-strewn table-land where +there was probably no water, nothing living to kill for food, and +only the terrific ravines beyond where cliffs fell downward to the +dim green world lying somewhere below under its blanket of Alpine +mist. + +On the fourth day, still crowded outward and toward the ragged edge +of the mountain world, they found, for the first time, no water to +fill their bottles. Realising their plight, McKay turned desperately +westward, facing pursuit, ranging the now narrow forest in hopes of +an opportunity to break through the closing line of beaters. + +But it proved to be a deadline that he and his half-starved comrade +faced; shadowy figures, half seen, sometimes merely heard and +divined, flitted everywhere through the open woods beyond them. And +at night a necklace of fires--hundreds of them--barred the west to +them, curving outward like the blade of a flaming scimitar. + +On the fifth day McKay, lying in his blanket beside the girl, told +her that if they found no water that day they must let their +carrier-pigeon go. + +The girl sat up in her torn blanket and met his gaze very calmly. +What he had just said to her meant the beginning of the end. She +understood perfectly. But her voice was sweet and undisturbed as she +answered him, and they quietly discussed the chances of discovering +water in some sunken hole among the outer ledges and bowlders +whither they were being slowly and hopelessly forced. + +Noon found them still searching for some pocket of stale rain-water; +but once only did they discover the slightest trace of moisture--a +crust of slime in a rocky basin, and from it a blind lizard was +slowly creeping--a heavy, lustreless, crippled thing that toiled +aimlessly and painfully up the rock, only to slide back into the +slime again, leaving a trail of iridescent moisture where its +sagging belly dragged. + +In a grove of saplings there were a few ferns; and here McKay dug +with his trench knife; but the soil proved to be very shallow; +everywhere rock lay close to the surface; there was no water there +under the black mould. + +To and fro they roamed, doggedly seeking for some sign of water. And +the woods seemed damp, too; and there were long reaches of dewy +ferns. But wherever McKay dug, his knife soon touched the solid rock +below. And they wandered on. + +In the afternoon, resting in the shade, he noticed her lips were +bleeding--and turned away, sharply, unable to endure her torture. +She seemed to understand his abrupt movement, for she leaned +slightly against him where he sat amid the ferns with his back to a +tree--as a dog leans when his master is troubled. + +"I think," she said with an effort, "we should release our pigeon +now. It seems to be very weak." + +He nodded. + +The bird appeared languid; hunger and thirst were now telling fast +on the little feathered messenger. + +Evelyn shook out the last dusty traces of corn; McKay removed the +bands. But the bird merely pecked at the food once or twice and then +settled down with beak gaping and the film stealing over its eyes. + +McKay wrote on tissue the date and time of day; and a word more to +say that they had, now, scarcely any chance. He added, however, that +others ought to try because there was no longer any doubt in his +mind that the Boche were still occupied with some gigantic work +along the Swiss border in the neighbourhood of Mount Terrible; and +that the Swiss Government, if not abetting, at least was cognizant +of the Hun activities. + +This message he rolled into a quill, fastened it, took the bird, and +tossed it westward into the air. + +The pigeon beat the morning breeze feebly for a moment, then +fluttered down to the top of a rock. + +For five minutes that seemed five years they looked at the bird, +which had settled down in the sun, its bright eyes alternately +dimmed by the film or slowly clearing. + +Then, as they watched, the pigeon stood up and stretched its neck +skyward, peering hither and thither at the blue vault above. And +suddenly it rose, painfully, higher, higher, seeming to acquire +strength in the upper air levels. The sun flashed on its wings as it +wheeled; then the distant bird swept westward into a long straight +course, flying steadily until it vanished like a mote in mid-air. + +McKay did not trust himself to speak. Presently he slipped his pack +over both shoulders and took the rifle from where it lay against a +rock. The girl, too, had picked up the empty wicker cage, but +recollected herself and let it fall on the dead leaves. + +Neither she nor McKay had spoken. The latter stood staring down at +the patch of ferns into which the cage had rolled. And it was some +time before his dulled eyes noticed that there was grass growing +there, too--swale grass, which he had not before seen in this arid +eastern region. + +When finally he realised what it might signify he stood staring; a +vague throb of hope stirred the thin blood in his sunken cheeks. But +he dared not say that he hoped; he merely turned northward in +silence and moved into the swale grass. And his slim comrade +followed. + +Half an hour later he waited for the girl to come up along side of +him. "Yellow-hair," he said, "this is swale or marsh-grass we are +following. And little wild creatures have made a runway through +it... as though there were--a drinking-place--somewhere--" + +He forced himself to look up at her--at her dry, blood-blackened +lips: + +"Lean on me," he whispered, and threw his arm around her. + +And so, slowly, together, they came through the swale to a living +spring. + +A dead roe-deer lay there--stiffened into an indescribable attitude +of agony where it had fallen writhing in the swale; and its terrible +convulsions had torn up and flattened the grass and ferns around it. + +And, as they gazed at this pitiable dead thing, something else +stirred on the edge of the pool--a dark, slim bird, that strove to +move at the water's edge, struggled feebly, then fell over and lay a +crumpled mound of feathers. + +"Oh God!" whispered the girl, "there are dead birds lying everywhere +at the water's edge! And little furry creatures--dead--all dead at +the water's edge!" + +There was a flicker of brown wings: a bird alighted at the pool, +peered fearlessly right and left, drank, bent its head to drink +again, fell forward twitching and lay there beating the grass with +feeble wings. + +After a moment only one wing quivered. Then the little bird lay +still. + +Perhaps an ancient and tragic instinct possessed these two--for as a +wild thing, mortally hurt, wanders away through solitude to find a +spot in which to die, so these two moved slowly away together into +the twilight of the trees, unconscious, perhaps, what they were +seeking, but driven into aimless motion toward that appointed place. + +And somehow it is given to the stricken to recognise the ghostly +spot when they draw near it and their appointed hour approaches. + +There was a fallen tree--not long fallen--which in its earthward +crash had hit another smaller tree, partly uprooting the latter so +that it leaned at a perilous angle over a dry gully below. + +Here dead leaves had drifted deep. And here these two came, and +crept in among the withered branches and lay down among the fallen +leaves. For a long while they lay motionless. Then she moved, turned +over, and slipped into his arms. + +Whether she slept or whether her lethargy was unconsciousness due to +privation he could not tell. Her parted lips were blackened, her +mouth and tongue swollen. + +He held her for awhile, conscious that a creeping stupor threatened +his senses--making no effort to save his mind from the ominous +shadows that crept toward him like live things moving slowly, always +a little nearer. Then pain passed through him like a piercing thread +of fire, and he struggled upright, and saw her head slide down +across his knees. And he realised that there were things for him to +do yet--arrangements to make before the crawling shadows covered +his body and stained his mind with the darkness of eternal night. + +And first, while she still lay across his knees, he filled his +pistol. Because she must die quickly if the Hun came. For when the +Hun comes death is woman's only sanctuary. + +So he prepared a swift salvation for her. And, if the Hun came or +did not come, still this last refuge must be secured for her before +the creeping shadows caught him and the light in his mind died out. + +With his loaded pistol lifted he sat a moment, staring into the +woods out of bloodshot eyes; then he summoned all his strength and +rose, letting his unconscious comrade slip from his knees to the bed +of dead leaves. + +Now with his knife he tried the rocky forest floor again, feeling +blindly for water. He tried slashing saplings for a drop of sap. + +The great tree that had fallen had broken off a foot above ground. +The other tree slanted above a dry gully at such an angle that it +seemed as though a touch would push it over, yet its foliage was +still green and unwilted although the mesh of roots and earth were +all exposed. + +He noted this in a dull way, thinking always of water. And +presently, scarcely knowing what he was doing, he placed both arms +against the leaning trunk and began to push. And felt the leaning +tree sway slowly earthward. + +Then into the pain and confusion of his clouding mind something +flashed with a dazzling streak of light--the flare-up of dying +memory; and he hurled himself against the leaning tree. And it +slowly sank, lying level and uprooted. + +And in the black bed of the roots lay darkling a little pool of +water. + +The girl's eyes unclosed on his. Her face and lips were dripping +under the sopping, icy sponge of green moss with which he was +bathing her and washing out her mouth and tongue. + +Into her throat he squeezed the water, drop by drop only. + +It was late in the afternoon before he dared let her drink. + +During the night she slept an hour or two, awoke to ask for water, +then slept again, only to awake to the craving that he always +satisfied. + +Before sunrise he took his pack, took both her shoes from her feet, +tore some rags from the lining of her skirt and from his own coat, +and leaving her asleep, went out into the grey dusk of morning. + +When he again came to the poisoned spring he unslung his pack and, +holding it by both straps, dragged it through marsh grass and fern, +out through the fringe of saplings, out through low scrub and brake +and over moss and lichens to the edge of the precipice beyond. + +And here on a scrubby bush he left fragments of their garments +entangled; and with his hobnailed heels he broke crumbling edges of +rock and smashed the moss and stunted growth and tore a path among +the Alpine roses which clothed the chasm's treacherous edge, so that +it might seem as though a heavy object had plunged down into the +gulf below. + +Such bowlders as he could stir from their beds and roll over he +dislodged and pushed out, listening to them as they crashed +downward, tearing the cliff's grassy face until, striking some lower +shelf, they bounded out into space. + +Now in this bruised path he stamped the imprints of her two rough +shoes in moss and soil, and drove his own iron-shod feet wherever +lichen or earth would retain the imprint. + +All the footprints pointed one way and ended at the chasm's edge. +And there, also, he left the wicker cage; and one of his pistols, +too--the last and most desperate effort to deceive--for, near it, he +flung the cartridge belt with its ammunition intact--on the chance +that the Hun would believe the visible signs, because only a dying +man would abandon such things. + +For they must believe the evidence he had prepared for them--this +crazed trail of two poisoned human creatures--driven by agony and +madness to their own destruction. + +And now, slinging on his pack, he made his way, walking backward, to +the poisoned spring. + +It was scarcely light, yet through the first ghostly grey of +daybreak a few birds came; and he killed four with bits of rock +before the little things could drink the sparkling, crystalline +death that lay there silvered by the dawn. + +She was still asleep when he came once more to the bed of leaves +between the fallen trees. And she had not awakened when he covered +his dry fire and brought to her the broth made from the birds. + +There was, in his pack, a little food left. When he awakened her she +smiled and strove to rise, but he took her head on his knees and fed +her, holding the pannikin to her lips. And after he too had eaten he +went to look into the hollow where the tree had stood; and found it +brimming with water. + +So he filled his bottles; then, with hands and knife, working +cautiously and noiselessly he began to enlarge the basin, drawing +out stones, scooping out silt and fibre. + +All the morning he worked at his basin, which, fed by some +deep-seated and living spring, now overflowed and trickled down into +the dry gully below. + +By noon he had a pool as large and deep as a bathtub; and he came +and sat down beside her under the fallen mass of branches where she +lay watching the water bubble up and clear itself of the clouded +silt. + +"You are very wonderful, Kay," she sighed, but her bruised lips +smiled at him and her scarred hand crept toward him and lay in his. +Seated so, he told her what he had done in the grey of morning while +she slept. + +And, even as he was speaking, a far voice cried through the +woods--distant, sinister as the harsh scream of a hawk that has made +its kill. + +Then another voice shouted, hoarse with triumph; others answered, +near and far; the forest was full of the heavy, ominous sounds. For +the Huns were gathering in eastward from the wooded western hills, +and their sustained clamour filled the air like the unclean racket +of vultures sighting abomination and eager to feed. + +McKay laid his loaded pistol beside him. + +"Dear Yellow-hair," he whispered. + +She smiled up at him. "If they think we died there on the edge of +the precipice, then you and I should live.... If they doubt it they +will come back through these woods.... And it isn't likely that we +shall live very long." + +"I know," she said. And laid her other hand in his--a gesture of +utter trust so exquisite that, for a moment, tears blinded him, and +all the forest wavered grotesquely before his desperately fixed +gaze. And presently, within the field of his vision, something +moved--a man going westward among the trees his rifle slung over his +shoulder. And there were others, too, plodding stolidly back toward +the western forests of Les Errues--forms half-seen between trees, +none near, and only two who passed within hearing, the trample of +their heavy feet loud among the fallen leaves, their guttural voices +distinct. And, as they swung westward, rifles slung, pipes alight, +and with the air of surly hunters homeward bound after a successful +kill, the hunted, lying close under their roof of branches, heard +them boasting of their work and of the death their quarry had +died--of their agony at the spring which drove them to that death in +the depths of the awful gulf beyond. + +"And that," shouted one, stifling with laughter, "I should like to +have seen. It is all I have to regret of this jagd-that I did not +see the wilde die!" + +The other Hun was less cheerful: "But what a pity to leave that +roe-deer lying there. Such good meat poisoned! Schade, immer +schade!--to leave good meat like that in the forest of Les Errues!" + + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +VIA MALA + + + + + + +The girl sat bolt upright on her bed of dead leaves, still confused +by sleep, her ears ringing with the loud, hard voice which had +awakened her to consciousness of pain and hunger once again. + +Not ten feet from her, between where she lay under the branches of a +fallen tree, and the edge of the precipice beyond, full in the +morning sunlight stood two men in the dress of Swiss mountaineers. + +One of them was reading aloud from a notebook in a slow, decisive, +metallic voice; the other, swinging two dirty flags, signalled the +message out across the world of mountains as it was read to him in +that nasty, nasal Berlin dialect of a Prussian junker. + +"In the Staubbach valley no traces of the bodies have been +discovered," continued the tall, square-shouldered reader in his +deliberate voice; "It is absolutely necessary that the bodies of +these two American secret agents, Kay McKay and Evelyn Erith, be +discovered, and all their papers, personal property, and the +clothing and accoutrements belonging to them be destroyed without +the slightest trace remaining. + +"It is ordered also that, when discovered, their bodies be burned +and the ashes reduced to powder and sown broadcast through the +forest." + +The voice stopped; the signaller whipped his dirty tattered flags in +the sunlight for a few moments more, then ceased and stood stiffly +at attention, his sun-dazzled gaze fixed on a far mountain slope +where something glittered--perhaps a bit of mica, perhaps the mirror +of a helio. + +Presently, in the same disagreeable, distinct, nasal, and measured +voice, the speaker resumed the message: + +"Until last evening it has been taken for granted that the American +Intelligence Officer, McKay, and his companion, Miss Erith, made +insane through suffering after having drunk at a spring the water of +which we had prepared for them according to plan, had either jumped +or fallen from the eastward cliffs of Les Errues into the gulf +through which flows the Staubbach. + +"But, up to last night, my men, who descended by the Via Mala, have +been unable to find the bodies of these two Americans, although +there is, on the cliffs above, every evidence that they plunged down +there to the valley of the brook below, which is now being searched. + +"If, therefore, my men fail to discover these bodies, the alarming +presumption is forced upon us that these two Americans have once +more tricked us; and that they may still be hiding in the Forbidden +Forest of Les Errues. + +"In that event proper and drastic measures will be taken, the +air-squadron on the northern frontier co-operating." + +The voice ceased: the flags whistled and snapped in the wind for a +little while longer, then the signaller came to stiffest attention. + +"Tell them we descend by the Via Mala," added the nasal voice. + +The flags swung sharply into motion for a few moments more; then the +Prussian officer pocketed his notebook; the signaller furled his +flags; and, as they turned and strode westward along the border of +the forest, the girl rose to her knees on her bed of leaves and +peered after them. + +What to do she scarcely knew. Her comrade, McKay, had been gone +since dawn in quest of something to keep their souls and bodies en +liaison--mountain hare, a squirrel perhaps, perhaps a songbird or +two, or a pocketful of coral mushrooms--anything to keep them alive +on that heart-breaking trail of duty at the end of which sat old man +Death awaiting them, wearing a spiked helmet. + +And what to do in this emergency, and in the absence of McKay, +perplexed and frightened her; for her comrade's strict injunction +was to remain hidden until his return; and yet one of these men now +moving westward there along the forest's sunny edges had spoken of a +way out and had called it the Via Mala. And that is what McKay had +been looking for--a way out of the Forbidden Forest of Les Errues to +the table-land below, where, through a cleft still more profound, +rushed the black Staubbach under an endless mist of icy spray. + +She must make up her mind quickly; the two men were drawing away +from her--almost out of sight now. + +On her ragged knees among the leaves she groped for his coat where +he had flung it, for the weather had turned oppressive in the forest +of Les Errues-and fumbling, she found his notebook and pencil, and +tore out a leaf: + +"Kay dear, two Prussians in Swiss mountain dress have been +signalling across the knees of Thusis that our bodies have not been +discovered in the ravine. They have started for the ravine by a way +evidently known to them and which they speak of as the Via Mala. You +told me to stay here, but I dare not let this last chance go to +discover what we have been looking for--a path to the plateau below. +I take my pistol and your trench-knife and I will try to leave signs +for you to follow. They have started west along the cliffs and they +are now nearly out of sight, so I must hurry. Yellow-hair." + +This bit of paper she left on her bed of leaves and pinned it to the +ground with a twig. Then she rose painfully, drew in her belt and +laced her tattered shoes, and, taking the trench-knife and pistol, +limped out among the trees. + +The girl was half naked in her rags; her shirt scarcely hung to her +shoulders, and she fastened the stag-horn buttons on her jacket. Her +breeches, which left both knees bare, were of leather and held out +pretty well, but the heavy wool stockings gaped, and, had it not +been for the hob-nails, the soles must have fallen from her hunter's +shoes. + +At first she moved painfully and stiffly, but as she hurried, +limping forward over the forest moss, limbs and body grew more +supple and she felt less pain. + +And now, not far beyond, and still full in the morning sunshine, +marched the men she was following. The presumed officer strode on +ahead, a high-shouldered frame of iron in his hunter's garb; the +signaller with furled flags tucked under his arm clumped stolidly at +his heels with the peculiar peasant gait which comes from following +uneven furrows in the wake of a plow. + +For ten minutes, perhaps, the two men continued on, then halted +before a great mass of debris, uprooted trees, long dead, the vast, +mangled roots and tops of which sprawled in every direction between +masses of rock, bowlders, and an indescribable confusion of brush +and upheaved earth. + +Nearer and nearer crept the girl, until, lying flat behind a +beech-tree, she rested within earshot--so close, indeed, that she +could smell the cigarette which the officer had lighted--smell, +even, the rank stench of the sulphur match. + +Meanwhile the signaller had laid aside his flags and while the +officer looked on he picked up a heavy sapling from among the fallen +trees. Using this as a lever he rolled aside a tree-trunk, then +another, and finally a bowlder. + +"That will do," remarked the officer. "Take your flags and go +ahead." + +Then Evelyn Erith, rising cautiously to her scarred knees, saw the +signaller gather up his flags and step into what apparently was the +bed of the bowlder on the edge of the windfall. But it was deeper +than that, for he descended to his knees, to his waist, his +shoulders; and then his head disappeared into some hole which she +could not see. + +Now the officer who had remained, calmly smoking his cigarette, +flung the remains of it over the cliff, turned, surveyed the forest +behind him with minute deliberation, then stepped into the +excavation down which the signaller had disappeared. + +Some instinct kept the girl motionless after the man's head had +vanished; minute after minute passed, and Evelyn Erith never +stirred. And suddenly the officer's head and shoulders popped up +from the hole and he peered back at the forest like an alarmed +marmot. And the girl saw his hands resting on the edge of the hole; +and the hands grasped two pistols. + +Presently, apparently reassured and convinced that nobody was +attempting to follow him, he slowly sank out of sight once more. + +The girl waited; and while waiting she cut a long white sliver from +the beech-tree and carved an arrow pointing toward the heap of +debris. Then, with the keen tip of her trench-knife she scratched on +the silvery bark: + +"An underground way in the windfall. I have followed them. +Yellow-hair." + +She crept stealthily out into the sunshine through the vast abatis +of the fallen trees and came to the edge of the hole. Looking down +fearfully she realised at once that this was the dry, rocky stairs +of some subterranean watercourse through which, in springtime, great +fields of melting snow poured in torrents down the face of the +precipice below. + +There were no loose stones to be seen; the rocky escalier had been +swept clean unnumbered ages since; but the rocks were fearfully +slippery, shining with a vitreous polish where the torrents of many +thousand years had worn them smooth. + +And this was what they called the Via Mala!--this unsuspected and +secret underground way that led, God knew how, into the terrific +depths below. + +There was another Via Mala: she had seen it from Mount Terrible; but +it was a mountain path trodden not infrequently. This Via Mala, +however, wormed its way downward into shadows. Where it led and by +what perilous ways she could only imagine. And were these men +perhaps, lying in ambush for her somewhere below--on the chance that +they might have been seen and followed? + +What would they do to her--shoot her? Push her outward from some +rocky shelf into the misty gulf below? Or would they spring on her +and take her alive? At the thought she chilled, knowing what a woman +might expect from the Hun. + +She threw a last look upward where they say God dwells somewhere +behind the veil of blinding blue; then she stepped downward into the +shadows. + +For a rod or two she could walk upright as long as she could retain +her insecure footing on the glassy, uneven floor of rock; and a +vague demi-light reigned there making objects distinct enough for +her to see the stalactites and stalagmites like discoloured teeth in +a chevaux-de-frise. + +Between these gaping fangs she crept, listening, striving to set her +feet on the rocks without making any noise. But that seemed to be +impossible and the rocky tunnel echoed under her footsteps, +slipping, sliding, hob-nails scraping in desperate efforts not to +fall. + +Again and again she halted, listening fearfully, one hand crushed +against her drumming heart; but she had heard no sound ahead; the +men she followed must be some distance in advance; and she stole +forward again, afraid, desperately crushing out the thoughts--that +crowded and surged in her brain--the terrible living swarm of fears +that clamoured to her of the fate of white women if captured by the +things men called Boche and Hun. + +And now she was obliged to stoop as the roof of the tunnel dipped +lower and she could scarcely see in the increasing darkness, clearly +enough to avoid the stalactites. + +However, from far ahead came a glimmer; and even when she was +obliged to drop to her knees and creep forward, she could still make +out the patch of light, and the Via Mala again became visible with +its vitreous polished floor and its stalactites and water-blunted +stalagmites always threatening to trip her and transfix her. + +Now, very far ahead, something moved and partly obscured the distant +glimmer; and she saw, at a great distance, the two men she followed, +moving in silhouette across the light. When they had disappeared she +ventured to move on again. And her knees were bleeding when she +crept out along a heavy shelf of rock set like a balcony on the +sheer face of the cliff. + +Tufts of alpine roses grew on it, and slippery lichens, and a few +seedlings which next spring's torrent would wash away into the +still, misty depths below. + +But this shelf of rock was not all. The Via Mala could not end on +the chasm's brink. + +Cautiously she dragged herself out along the shadow of the cliff, +listening, peering among the clefts now all abloom with alpen rosen; +and saw nothing--no way forward; no steep path, hewn by man or by +nature, along the face of that stupendous battlement of rock. + +She lay listening. But if there was a river roaring somewhere +through the gorge it was too far below her for her to hear it. + +Nothing stirred there; the distant bluish parapets of rock across +the ravine lay in full sunshine, but nothing moved there, neither +man nor beast nor bird; and the tremendous loneliness of it all +began to frighten her anew. + +Yet she must go on; they had gone on; there was some hidden way. +Where? Then, all in a moment, what she had noticed before, and had +taken for a shadow cast by a slab of projecting rock, took the shape +of a cleft in the facade of the precipice itself--an opening that +led straight into the cliff. + +When she dragged herself up to it she saw it had been made by man. +The ancient scars of drills still marked it. Masses of rock had been +blasted from it; but that must have been years ago because a deep +growth of moss and lichen covered the scars and the tough stems of +crag-shrubs masked every crack. + +Here, too, bloomed the livid, over-rated edelweiss, dear to the +maudlin and sentimental side of an otherwise wolfish race, its +rather ghastly flowers starring the rocks. + +As at the entrance to a tomb the girl stood straining her frightened +eyes to pierce the darkness; then, feeling her way with outstretched +pistol-hand, she entered. + +The man-fashioned way was smooth. Or Hun or Swiss, whoever had +wrought this Via Mala out of the eternal rock, had wrought +accurately and well. The grade was not steep; the corridor descended +by easy degrees, twisting abruptly to turn again on itself, but +always leading downward in thick darkness. + +No doubt that those accustomed to travel the Via Mala always carried +lights; the air was clean and dry and any lighted torch could have +lived in such an atmosphere. But Evelyn Erith carried no lights +--had thought of none in the haste of setting out. + +Years seemed to her to pass in the dreadful darkness of that descent +as she felt her way downward, guided by the touch of her feet and +the contact of her hand along the unseen wall. + +Again and again she stopped to rest and to check the rush of +sheerest terror that threatened at moments her consciousness. + +There was no sound in the Via Mala. The thick darkness was like a +fabric clogging her movements, swathing her, brushing across her so +that she seemed actually to feel the horrible obscurity as some +concrete thing impeding her and resting upon her with an increasing +weight that bent her slender figure. + +There was something grey ahead.... There was light--a sickly +pin-point. It seemed to spread but grow duller. A pallid patch +widened, became lighter again. And from an infinite distance there +came a deadened roaring--the hollow menace of water rushing through +depths unseen. + +She stood within the shadow zone inside the tunnel and looked out +upon the gorge where, level with the huge bowlders all around her, +an alpine river raged and dashed against cliff and stone, flinging +tons of spray into the air until the whole gorge was a driving sea +of mist. Here was the floor of the canon; here was the way they had +searched for. Her task was done. And now, on bleeding little feet, +she must retrace her steps; the Via Mala must become the Via +Dolorosa, and she must turn and ascend that Calvary to the dreadful +crest. + +She was very weak. Privation had sapped the young virility that had +held out so long. She had not eaten for a long while--did not, +indeed, crave food any longer. But her thirst raged, and she knelt +at a little pool within the cavern walls and bent her bleeding mouth +to the icy fillet of water. She drank little, rinsed her mouth and +face and dried her lips on her sleeve. And, kneeling so, closed her +eyes in utter exhaustion for a moment. + +And when she opened them she found herself looking up at two men. + +Before she could move one of the men kicked her pistol out of her +nerveless hand, caught her by the shoulder and dragged the +trench-knife from her convulsive grasp. Then he said in English: + +"Get up." And the other, the signalman, struck her across her back +with the furled flags so that she lost her balance and fell forward +on her face. They got her to her feet and pushed her out among the +bowlders, through the storming spray, and across the floor of the +ravine into the sunlight of a mossy place all set with trees. And +she saw butterflies flitting there through green branches flecked +with sunshine. + +The officer seated himself on a fallen tree and crossed his heavy +feet on a carpet of wild flowers. She stood erect, the signaller +holding her right arm above the elbow. + +After the officer had leisurely lighted a cigarette he asked her who +she was. She made no answer. + +"You are the Erith woman, are you not?" he demanded. + +She was silent. + +"You Yankee slut," he added, nodding to himself and staring up into +her bloodless face. + +Her eyes wandered; she looked at, but scarcely saw the lovely +wildflowers under foot, the butterflies flashing their burnished +wings among the sunbeams. + +"Drop her arm." The signaller let go and stood at attention. + +"Take her knife and pistol and your flags and go across the stream +to the hut." + +The signaller saluted, gathered the articles mentioned, and went +away in that clumping, rocking gait of the land peasant of Hundom. + +"Now," said the officer, "strip off your coat!" + +She turned scarlet, but he sprang to his feet and tore her coat from +her. She fought off every touch; several times he struck her--once +so sharply that the blood gushed from her mouth and nose; but still +she fought him; and when he had completed his search of her person, +he was furious, streaked with sweat and all smeared with her blood. + +"Damned cat of a Yankee!" he panted, "stand there where you are or +I'll blow your face off!" + +But as he emptied the pockets of her coat she seized it and put it +on, sobbing out her wrath and contempt of him and his threats as she +covered her nearly naked body with the belted jacket and buttoned it +to her throat. + +He glanced at the papers she had carried, at the few poor articles +that had fallen from her pockets, tossed them on the ground beside +the log and resumed his seat and cigarette. + +"Where's McKay?" + +No answer. + +"So you tricked us, eh?" he sneered. "You didn't get your rat-poison +at the spring after all. The Yankees are foxes after all!" He +laughed his loud, nasal, nickering laugh--"Foxes are foxes but men +are men. Do you understand that, you damned vixen?" + +"Will you let me kill myself?" she asked in a low but steady voice. + +He seemed surprised, then realising why she had asked that mercy, +showed all his teeth and smirked at her out of narrow-slitted eyes. + +"Where is McKay?" he repeated. + +She remained mute. + +"Will you tell me where he is to be found?" + +"No!" + +"Will you tell me if I let you go?" + +"No." + +"Will you tell me if I give you back your trench-knife?" + +The white agony in her face interested and amused him and he waited +her reply with curiosity. + +"No!" she whispered. + +"Will you tell me where McKay is to be found if I promise to shoot +you before--" + +"No!" she burst out with a strangling sob. + +He lighted another cigarette and, for a while, considered her +musingly as he sat smoking. After a while he said: "You are rather +dirty--all over blood. But you ought to be pretty after you're +washed." Then he laughed. + +The girl swayed where she stood, fighting to retain consciousness. + +"How did you discover the Via Mala?" he inquired with blunt +curiosity. + +"You showed it to me!" + +"You slut!" he said between his teeth. Then, still brutishly +curious: "How did you know that spring had been poisoned? By those +dead birds and animals, I suppose.... And that's what I told +everybody, too. The wild things are bound to come and drink. But you +and your running-mate are foxes. You made us believe you had gone +over the cliff. Yes, even I believed it. It was well done--a true +Yankee trick. All the same, foxes are only foxes after all. And here +you are." + +He got up; she shrank back, and he began to laugh at her. + +"Foxes are only foxes, my pretty, dirty one!--but men are men, and a +Prussian is a super-man. You had forgotten that, hadn't you, little +Yankee?" + +He came nearer. She sprang aside and past him and ran for the river; +but he caught her at the edge of a black pool that whirled and flung +sticky chunks of foam over the bowlders. For a while they fought +there in silence, then he said, breathing heavily, "A fox can't +drown. Didn't you know that, little fool?" + +Her strength was ebbing. He forced her back to the glade and stood +there holding her, his inflamed face a sneering, leering mask for +the hot hell that her nearness and resistance had awakened in him. +Suddenly, still holding her, he jerked his head aside and stared +behind him. Then he pushed her violently from him, clutched at his +holster, and started to run. And a pistol cracked and he pitched +forward across the log upon which he had sat, and lay so, dripping +dark blood, and fouling the wild-flowers with the flow. + +"Kay!" she said in a weak voice. + +McKay, his pack strapped to his back, his blood-shot eyes brilliant +in his haggard visage, ran forward and bent over the thing. Then he +shot him again, behind the ear. + +The rage of the river drowned the sound of the shots; the man in the +hut across the stream did not come to the door. But McKay caught +sight of the shack; his fierce eyes questioned the girl, and she +nodded. + +He crossed the stream, leaping from bowlder to bowlder, and she saw +him run up to the door of the hut, level his weapon, then enter. She +could not hear the shots; she waited, half-dead, until he came out +again, reloading his pistol. + +She struggled desperately to retain her senses--to fight off the +deadly faintness that assailed her. She could scarcely see him as he +came swiftly toward her--she put out her arms blindly, felt his +fierce clasp envelop her, passed so into blessed unconsciousness. + +A drop or two of almost scalding broth aroused her. He held her in +his arms and fed her--not much--and then let her stretch out on the +sun-hot moss again. + +Before sunset he awakened her again, and he fed her--more this time. + +Afterward she lay on the moss with her golden-brown eyes partly +open. And he had constructed a sponge of clean, velvety moss, and +with this he washed her swollen mouth and bruised cheek, and her +eyes and throat and hands and feet. + +After the sun went down she slept again: and he stretched out beside +her, one arm under her head and about her neck. + +Moonlight pierced the foliage, silvering everything and inlaying the +earth with the delicate tracery of branch and leaf. + +Moonlight still silvered her face when she awoke. After a while the +shadow slipped from his face, too. + +"Kay?" she whispered. + +"Yes, Yellow-hair." + +And, after a little while she turned her face to his and her lips +rested on his. + +Lying so, unstirring, she fell asleep once more. + + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE GREAT SECRET + + + + + +All that morning American infantry had been passing through Delle +over the Belfort road. The sun of noon saw no end to them. + +The endless column of shadows, keeping pace with them, lengthened +with the afternoon along their lengthening line. + +Now and then John Recklow opened the heavy wooden door in his garden +wall and watched them until duty called him to his telephone or to +his room where maps and papers littered the long table. But he +always returned to the door in the garden wall when duty permitted +and leaned at ease there, smoking his pipe, keen-eyed, impassive, +gazing on the unbroken line of young men--men of his own race, +sun-scorched, dusty, swinging along the Belfort road, their right +elbows brushing Switzerland, their high sun-reddened pillar of dust +drifting almost into Germany, and their heavy tread thundering +through that artery of France like the prophetic pulse of victory. + +A rich September sunset light streamed over them; like a moving +shaft of divine fire the ruddy dust marched with them upon their +right hand; legions of avenging shadows led them forward where, for +nearly half a century beyond the barriers of purple hills, naked and +shackled, the martyr-daughters of the Motherland stood +waiting--Alsace and Lorraine. + +"We are on our way!" laughed the Yankee bugles. + +The Fortress of Metz growled "Nein!" + +Recklow went back to his telephone. For a long while he remained +there very busy with Belfort and Verdun. When again he returned to +the green door in his garden wall, the Yankee infantry had passed; +and of their passing there remained no trace save for the +smouldering pillar of fire towering now higher than the eastern +horizon and leagthened to a wall that ran away into the north as far +as the eye could see. + +His cats had come out into the garden for "the cats' hour"--that +mysterious compromise between day and evening when all things feline +awake and stretch and wander or sit motionless, alert, listening to +occult things. And in the enchantment of that lovely liaison which +links day and night--when the gold and rose soften to mauve as the +first star is born--John Recklow raised his quiet eyes and saw two +dead souls come into his garden by the little door in the wall. + +"Is it you, Kay McKay?" he said at last. + +But the shock of the encounter still fettered him so that he walked +very slowly to the woman who was now moving toward him across the +grass. + +"Evelyn Erith," he said, taking her thin hands in his own, which +were trembling now. + +"It's a year," he complained unsteadily. + +"More than a year," said McKay in his dead voice. + +With his left hand, then, John Recklow took McKay's gaunt hand, and +stood so, mute, looking at him and at the girl beside him. + +"God!" he said blankly. Then, with no emphasis: "It's rather more +than a year!... They sent me two fire-charred skulls--the head of a +man and the head of a woman.... That was a year ago.... After your +pigeon arrived... I found the scorched skulls wrapped in a Swiss +newspaper-lying inside the garden wall--over there on the grass!... +And the swine had written your names on the skulls...." + +Into Evelyn Erith's eyes there came a vague light--the spectre of a +smile. And as Recklow looked at her he remembered the living glory +she had once been; and wrath blazed wildly within him. "What have +they done to you?" he asked in an unsteady voice. But McKay laid his +hand on Recklow's arm: + +"Nothing. It is what they have not done--fed her. That's all she +needs--and sleep." + +Recklow gazed heavily upon her. But if the young fail rapidly, they +also respond quickly. + +"Come into the house," + +Perhaps it was the hot broth with wine in it that brought a slight +colour back into her ghastly face--the face once so youthfully +lovely but now as delicate as the mask of death itself. + +Candles twinkled on the little table where the girl now lay back +listlessly in the depths of an armchair, her chin sunk on her +breast. + +Recklow sat opposite her, writing on a pad in shorthand. McKay, +resting his ragged elbows on the cloth, his haggard face between +both hands, went on talking in a colourless, mechanical voice which +an iron will alone flogged into speech: + +"Killed two of them and took their clothes and papers," he continued +monotonously; "that was last August--near the end of the month.... +The Boche had tens of thousands working there. AND EVERY ONE OF THEM +WAS INSANE." + +"What!" + +"Yes, that is the way they were operating--the only way they dared +operate. I think all that enormous work has been done by the insane +during the last forty years. You see, the Boche have nothing to +dread from the insane. Anyway the majority of them died in harness. +Those who became useless--intractable or crippled--were merely +returned to the asylums from which they had been drafted. And the +Hun government saw to it that nobody should have access to them. + +"Besides, who would believe a crazy man or woman if they babbled +about the Great Secret?" + +He covered his visage with his bony hands and rested so for a few +moments, then, forcing himself again: + +"The Hun for forty years has drafted the insane from every asylum in +the Empire to do this gigantic work for him. Men, women, even +children, chained, guarded, have done the physical work.... The +Pyramids were builded so, they say.... And in this manner is being +finished that colossal engineering work which is never spoken of +among the Huns except when necessary, and which is known among them +as The Great Secret.... Recklow, it was conceived as a vast +engineering project forty-eight years ago--in 1870 during the +Franco-Prussian war. It was begun that same year.... And it is +practically finished. Except for one obstacle." + +Recklow's lifted eyes stared at him over his pad. + +"It is virtually finished," repeated McKay in his toneless, +unaccented voice which carried such terrible conviction to the other +man. "Forty-eight years ago the Hun planned a huge underground +highway carrying four lines of railroad tracks. It was to begin east +of the Rhine in the neighbourhood of Zell, slant into the bowels of +the earth, pass deep under the Rhine, deep under the Swiss frontier, +deep, deep under Mount Terrible and under the French frontier, and +emerge in France BEHIND Belfort, Toul, Nancy, and Verdun." + +Recklow laid his pad on the table and looked intently at McKay. The +latter said in his ghost of a voice: "You are beginning to suspect +my sanity." He turned with an effort and fixed his hollow eyes on +Evelyn Erith. + +"We are sane," he said. "But I don't blame you, Recklow. We have +lived among the mad for more than a year--among thousands and +thousands and thousands of them--of men and women and even children +in whose minds the light of reason had died out.... Thirty thousand +dying minds in which only a dreadful twilight reigned!... I don't +know how we endured it--and retained our reason.... Do you, +Yellow-hair?" + +The girl did not reply. He spoke to her again, then fell silent. For +the girl slept, her delicate, deathly face dropped forward on her +breast. + +Presently McKay turned to Recklow once more; and Recklow picked up +his pad with a slight shudder. + +"Forty-eight years," repeated McKay--"and the work of the Hun is +nearly done--a wide highway under the earth's surface flanked by +four lines of rails--broad-gauge tracks--everything now working, all +rolling-stock and electric engines moving smoothly and swiftly.... +Two tracks carry troops; two carry ammunition and munitions. A +highway a hundred feet wide runs between. + +"Ten miles from the Rhine, under the earth, there is a Hun city, +with a garrison of sixty thousand men!... There are other cities +along the line--" + +"Deep down!" + +"Deep under the earth." + +"There must be shafts!" said Recklow hoarsely. + +"None." + +"No shafts to the surface?" + +"Not one." + +"No pipe? No communication with the outer air?" + +Then McKay's sunken eyes glittered and he stiffened up, and his +wasted features seemed to shrink until the parting of his lips +showed his teeth. It was a dreadful laughter--his manner, now, of +expressing mirth. + +"Recklow," he said, "in 1914 that vast enterprise was scheduled to +be finished according to plan. With the declaration of war in August +the Hun was to have blasted his way to the surface of French soil +behind the barrier forts! He was prepared to do it in half an hour's +time. + +"Do you understand? Do you see how it was planned? For forty-eight +years the Hun had been preparing to seize France and crush Europe. + +"When the Hun was ready he murdered the Austrian archduke--the most +convenient solution of the problem for the Hun Kaiser, who presented +himself with the pretext for war by getting rid of the only Austrian +with whom he couldn't do business." + +Again McKay laughed, silently, showing his discoloured teeth. + +"So the archduke died according to plan; and there was +war--according to plan. And then, Recklow, GOD'S HAND MOVED!--very +slightly--indolently--scarcely stirring at all.... A drop of icy +water percolated the limestone on Mount Terrible; other drops +followed; linked by these drops a thin stream crept downward in the +earth along the limestone fissures, washing away glacial sands that +had lodged there since time began."... He leaned forward and his +brilliant, sunken eyes peered into Recklow's: + +"Since 1914," he said, "the Staubbach has fallen into the bowels of +the earth and the Hun has been fighting it miles under the earth's +surface. + +"They can't operate from the glacier on the white Shoulder of +Thusis; whenever they calk it and plug it and stop it with tons of +reinforced waterproof concrete--whenever on the surface of the world +they dam it and turn it into new channels, it evades them. And in a +new place its icy water bursts through--as though every stratum in +the Alps dipped toward their underground tunnel to carry the water +from the Glacier of Thusis into it!" + +He clenched his wasted hands and struck the table without a sound: + +"God blocks them, damn them!" he said in his ghost of a voice. "God +bars the Boche! They shall not pass!" + +He leaned nearer, twisting his clenched fingers together: "We saw +them, Recklow. We saw the Staubbach fighting for right of way; we +saw the Hun fighting the Staubbach--Darkness battling with +Light!--the Hun against the Most High!--miles under the earth's +crust, Recklow.... Do you believe in God?" + +"Yes." + +"Yes.... We saw Him at work--that young girl asleep there, and +I--month after month we watched Him check and dismay the modern +Pharaoh--we watched Him countermine the Nibelungen and mock their +filthy Gott! And Recklow, we laughed, sometimes, where laughter +among clouded minds means nothing--nothing even to the Hun--nor +causes suspicion nor brings punishment other than the accustomed +kick and blow which the Hun reserves for all who are helpless."... +He bowed his head in his hands. "All who are weak and stricken," he +whispered to himself. + +Recklow said: "Did they harm--HER?" And, + +McKay looked up at that, baring his teeth in a swift snarl: + +"No--you see her clipped hair--and the thin body.... In her blouse +she passed for a boy, unquestioned, unnoticed. There were thousands +of us, you see.... Some of the insane women were badly treated--all +of the younger ones.... But she and I were together.... And I had my +pistol in reserve--for the crisis!--always in reserve--always ready +for her." Recklow nodded. McKay went on: + +"We fought the Staubbach in shifts.... And all through those months +of autumn and winter there was no chance for us to get away. It is +not cold under ground.... It was like a dark, thick dream. We tried +to realise that war was going on, over our heads, up above us +somewhere in daylight--where there was sun and where stars were.... +It was like a thick dream, Recklow. The stars seemed very far...." + +"You had passed as inmates of some German asylum?" + +"We had killed two landwehr on the Staubbach. That was a year ago +last August--" He looked at the sleeping girl beside him: "My +little comrade and I undressed the swine and took their uniforms.... +After a long while--privations had made us both light-headed I +think--we saw a camp of the insane in the woods--a fresh relay from +Mulhaus. We talked with their guards--being in Landwehr uniform it +was easy. The insane were clothed like miners. Late that night we +exchanged clothes with two poor, demented creatures who retained +sufficient reason, however, to realise that our uniforms meant +freedom.... They crept away into the forest. We remained.... And +marched at dawn--straight into the jaws of the Great Secret!" + +Recklow had remained at the telephone until dawn. And now Belfort +was through with him and Verdun understood, and Paris had relayed to +Headquarters and Headquarters had instructed John Recklow. + +Before Recklow went to bed he parted his curtain and looked out at +the misty dawn. + +In the silvery dusk a cock-pheasant was crowing somewhere on a +wheat-field's edge. A barnyard chanticleer replied. Clear and +truculent rang out the challenge of the Gallic cock in the dawn, +warning his wild neighbour to keep to the wilds. So the French +trumpets challenge the shrill, barbaric fanfares of the Hun, warning +him back into the dull and shadowy wilderness from whence he +ventured. + +Recklow was awake, dressed, and had breakfasted by eight o'clock. + +McKay, in his little chamber on the right, still slept. Evelyn +Erith, in the tiny room on the left, slept deeply. + +So Recklow went out into his garden, opened the wooden door in the +wall, seated himself, lighted his pipe, and watched the Belfort +road. + +About ten o'clock two American electricians came buzzing up on +motor-cycles. Recklow got up and went to the door in the wall as +they dismounted. After a short, whispered consultation they guided +their machines into the garden, through a paved alley to a tiled +shed. Then they went on duty, one taking the telephone in Recklow's +private office, the other busying himself with the clutter of maps +and papers. And Recklow went back to the door in the wall. About +eleven an American motor ambulance drove up. A nurse carrying her +luggage got out, and Recklow met her. + +After another whispered consultation he picked up the nurse's +luggage, led her into the house, and showed her all over it. + +"I don't know," he said, "whether they are too badly done in to +travel as far as Belfort. There'll be a Yankee regimental doctor +here to-day or to-morrow. He'll know. So let 'em sleep. And you +can give them the once-over when they wake, and then get busy in the +kitchen." + +The girl laughed and nodded. + +"Be good to them," added Recklow. "They'll get crosses and legions +enough but they've got to be well to enjoy them. So keep them in bed +until the doctor comes. There are bathrobes and things in my room." + +"I understand, sir." + +"Right," said Recklow briefly. Then he went to his room, changed his +clothes to knickerbockers, his shoes for heavier ones, picked up a +rifle, a pair of field-glasses and a gas-mask, slung a satchel +containing three days' rations over his powerful shoulders, and went +out into the street. + +Six Alpinists awaited him. They were peculiarly accoutred, every +soldier carrying, beside rifle, haversack and blanket, a flat tank +strapped on his back like a knapsack. + +Their sergeant saluted; he and Recklow exchanged a few words in +whispers. Then Recklow strode away down the Belfort road. And the +oddly accoutred Alpinists followed him, their steel-shod soles +ringing on the pavement. + +Where the Swiss wire bars the frontier no sentinels paced that noon. +This was odd. Stranger still, a gap had been cut in the wire. + +And into this gap strode Recklow, and behind him trotted the nimble +blue-devils, single file; and they and their leader took the +ascending path which leads to the Calvary on Mount Terrible. + +Standing that same afternoon on the rocks of that grim Calvary, with +the weatherbeaten figure of Christ towering on the black cross above +them, Recklow and his men gazed out across the tumbled mountains to +where the White Shoulder of Thusis gleamed in the sun. + +Through their glasses they could sweep the glacier to its terminal +moraine. That was not very far away, and the "dust" from the +Staubbach could be distinguished drifting out of the green ravine +like a windy cloud of steam. + +"Allons," said Recklow briefly. + +They slept that night in their blankets so close to the Staubbach +that its wet, silvery dust powdered them, at times, like snow. + +At dawn they were afield, running everywhere over the rocks, +searching hollows, probing chasms, creeping into ravines, and always +following the torrent which dashed whitely through its limestone +canon. + +Perhaps the Alpine eagles saw them. But no Swiss patrol disturbed +them. Perhaps there was fear somewhere in the Alpine +Confederation--fear in high places. + +Also it is possible that the bellowing bluster of the guns at Metz +may have allayed that fear in high places; and that terror of the +Hun was already becoming less deathly among the cantons of a race +which had trembled under Boche blackmail for a hundred years. +However, for whatever reason it might have been, no Swiss patrols +bothered the blue devils and Mr. Recklow. + +And they continued to swarm over the Alpine landscape at their own +convenience; on the Calvary of Mount Terrible they erected a dwarf +wireless station; a hundred men came from Delle with radio- +impedimenta; six American airmen arrived; American planes circled +over the northern border, driving off the squadrilla of Count von +Dresslin. + +And on the second night Recklow's men built fires and camped +carelessly beside the brilliant warmth, while "mountain mutton" +frizzled on pointed sticks and every blue-devil smacked his lips. + +On the early morning of the third day Recklow discovered what he had +been looking for. And an Alpinist signalled an airplane over Mount +Terrible from the White Shoulder of Thusis. Two hours later a full +battalion of Alpinists crossed Mount Terrible by the Neck of Woods +and exchanged flag signals with Recklow's men. They had with them a +great number of cylinders, coils of wire, and other curious-looking +paraphernalia. + +When they came up to the ravine where Recklow and his men were +grouped they immediately became very busy with their cylinders, +wires, hose-pipes, and other instruments. + +It had been a beautiful ravine where Recklow now stood--was still as +pretty and picturesque as a dry water-course can be with the +bowlders bleaching in the sun and green things beginning to grow in +what had been the bed of a rushing stream. For, just above this +ravine, the water ended: the Staubbach poured its full, icy volume +directly downward into the bowels of the earth with a hollow, +thundering sound; the bed of the stream was bone-dry beyond. And now +the blue-devils were unreeling wire and plumbing this chasm into +which the Staubbach thundered. On the end of the wire was an +electric bulb, lighted. Recklow watched the wire unreeling, foot +after foot, rod after rod, plumbing the dark burrow of the Boche +deep down under the earth. + +And, when they were ready, guided by the wire, they lowered the +curious hose-pipe, down, down, ever down, attaching reel after reel +to the lengthening tube until Recklow checked them and turned to +watch the men who stood feeding the wire into the roaring chasm. + +Suddenly, as he watched, the flowing wire stopped, swayed violently +sideways, then was jerked out of the men's hands. + +"The Boche bites!" they shouted. Their officer, reading the measured +wire, turned to Recklow and gave him the depth; the hose-pipe ran +out sixty yards; then Recklow checked it and put on his gasmask as +the whistle signal rang out along the mountain. + +Now, everywhere, masked figures swarmed over the place; cylinders +were laid, hose attached, other batteries of cylinders were ranged +in line and connections laid ready for instant adjustment. + +Recklow raised his right arm, then struck it downward violently. The +gas from the first cylinder went whistling into the hose. + +At the same time an unmasked figure on the cliff above began talking +by American radiophone with three planes half a mile in the air +above him. He spoke naturally, easily, into a transmitter to which +no wires were attached. + +He was still talking when Recklow arrived at his side from the +ravine below, tore off his gas-mask, and put on a peculiar helmet. +Then, taking the transmitter into his right hand: "Do you get them?" +he demanded of his companion, an American lieutenant. + +"No trouble, sir. No need to raise one's voice. They hear quite +perfectly, and one hears them, sir." + +Then Recklow spoke to the three airplanes circling like hawks in the +sky overhead; and one by one the observers in each machine replied +in English, their voices easily audible. + +"I want Zell watched from the air," said Recklow. "The Boche have an +underground tunnel beginning near Zell, continuing under Mount +Terrible to the French frontier. + +"I want the Zell end of the tunnel kept under observation. + +"Send our planes in from Belfort, Toul, Nancy, and Verdun. + +"And keep me informed whether railroad trains, camions, or cavalry +come out. And whether indeed any living thing emerges from the end +of the tunnel near Zell. + +"Because we are gassing the tunnel from this ravine. And I think +we've got the dirty vermin wholesale!" + +At sundown a plane appeared overhead and talked to Recklow: + +"One railroad train came out. But it was manned by dead men, I +think, because it crashed into the rear masonry of the station and +was smashed." + +"Nothing else, living or dead, came out?" + +"Nothing, sir. There is wild excitement at Zell. Troops at the +tunnel's mouth wear gas-masks. We bombed them and raked them. The +Boche planes took the air but two crashed and the rest turned east." + +"You saw no living creature escape from the Zell end of the tunnel?" + +"Not a soul, sir." + +Recklow turned to the group of officers around him: + +"I guess they're done for," he said. "That fumigation cleaned out +the vermin. But keep the tunnel pumped full of gas.... Au revoir, +messieurs!" + +On his way back across Mount Terrible he encountered a relay of +Alpinists bringing fresh gas. tanks; and he laughed and saluted +their officers. "This poor old world needs a de-lousing," he said. +"Foch will attend to it up here on top of the world. See that you +gentlemen, purge her interior!" + +The nurse opened the door and looked into the garden. Then she +closed the door, gently, and went back into the house. + +For she had seen a slim girl with short yellow hair curling all over +her head, and that head was resting on a young man's shoulder. + +It seemed unnecessary, too, because there were two steamer chairs +under the rose arbor, side by side, and pillows sufficient for each. + +And why a slim young girl should prefer to pillow her curly, yellow +head upon the shoulder of a rather gaunt young man--the shoulder, +presumably, being bony and uncomfortable--she alone could explain +perhaps. + +The young man did not appear to be inconvenienced. He caressed her +hair while he spoke: + +"From here to Belfort," he was saying in his musing, agreeable +voice, "and from Belfort to Paris; and from Paris to London, and +from London to Strathlone Head, and from Strathlone Head to Glenark +Cliffs, and from Glenark Cliffs to Isla Water, and from Isla +Water--to our home! Our home, Yellow-hair," he repeated. "What do you +think of that?" + +"I think you have forgotten the parson's house on the way. You are +immoral, Kay." + +"Can't a Yank sky-pilot in Paris--" + +"Darling, I must have some clothing!" + +"Can't you get things in Paris?" + +"Yes, if you'll wait and not become impatient for Isla. And I warn +you, Kay, I simply won't marry you until I have some decent gowns +and underwear." + +"You don't care for me as much as I do for you," he murmured in lazy +happiness. + +"I care for you more. I've cared for you longer, too." + +"How long, Yellow-hair?" + +"Ever--ever since your head lay on my knees in my car a year ago +last winter! You know it, too," she added. "You are a spoiled young +man. I shall not tell you again how much I care for you!" + +"Say 'love',' Yellow-hair," he coaxed. + +"No!" + +"Don't you?" + +"Don't I what?" + +"Love me?" + +"Yes." + +"Then won't you say it?" + +She laughed contentedly. Then her warm head moved a little on his +shoulder; he looked down; lightly their lips joined. + +"Kay--my dear--dear Kay," she whispered. + +"There's somebody opening the garden door," she said under her +breath, and sat bolt upright. + +McKay also sat up on his steamer chair. + +"Oh!" he cried gaily, "hello, Recklow! Where on earth have you been +for three days?" + +Recklow came into the rose arbour. The blossoms were gone from the +vines but it was a fragrant, golden place into which the September +sun filtered. He lifted Miss Erith's hand and kissed it gravely. +"How are you?" he inquired. + +"Perfectly well, and ready for Paris!" she said smilingly. + +Recklow shook hands with McKay. + +"You'll want a furlough, too," he remarked. "I'll fix it. How do you +feel, McKay?" + +"All right. Has anything come out of our report on the Great +Secret?" + +Recklow seated himself and they listened in strained silence to his +careful report. Once Evelyn caught her breath and Recklow paused and +turned to look at her. + +"There were thousands and thousands of insane down there under the +earth," she said pitifully. + +"Yes," he nodded. + +"Did--did they all die?" + +"Are the insane not better dead, Miss Erith?" he asked calmly.... +And continued his recital. + +That evening there was a full moon over the garden. Recklow lingered +with them after dinner for a while, discussing the beginning of the +end of all things Hunnish. For Foch was striking at last; Pershing +was moving; Haig, Gouraud, Petain, all were marching toward the +field of Armageddon. They conversed for a while, the men smoking. +Then Recklow went away across the dewy grass, followed by two frisky +and factious cats. + +But when McKay took Miss Erith's head into his arms the girl's eyes +were wet. + +"The way they died down there--I can't help it, Kay," she faltered. +"Oh, Kay, Kay, you must love me enough to make me forget--forget--" + +And she clasped his neck tightly in both her arms. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of In Secret, by Robert W. Chambers + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN SECRET *** + +This file should be named nscrt10.txt or nscrt10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, nscrt11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, nscrt10a.txt + +Produced by David Moynihan, Charles Franks +and the Distributed Proofreading Team. + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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