Grace Harlowe with the American Army on the Rhine

“You savvy Missie Slith?” questioned a voice in her ear.

“Yes, I savvy her, Won. What about her?”

“Me savvy Missie Slith.” Won chuckled and shook hands with himself. Grace regarded him half amusedly, then turned to her customers.

All at once the Overton girls found themselves alone, so far as customers were concerned. The doughboys had remained as long as they could find an excuse for remaining, for they were happy to be able to talk to two bright, good-looking American girls, the “girls from God’s country,” as they expressed it, but they were careful not to outstay their welcome. Had they known it both girls were just as eager to talk with the soldiers as the soldiers were to talk with them.

“Now that we aren’t busy, tell me about the doctor,” urged Elfreda.

Grace perched herself on the counter with her back to the door and told the story of her walk with the German physician, but failed to mention what had occurred in the house. She did admit that she was waiting in the shop to see who came out of the house, and mentioned the doctor’s bold move in going directly to the store. Grace was convinced, after her talk with the physician, that he did not know that she had been in the house. It was probable, as she reasoned it out, that he must have seen her enter the second store, if not the first.

“That was fine. I could not have given it to him straighter myself,” declared Miss Briggs mischievously. “You made him dizzy, I’ll warrant. I know just how you did it. You could talk a deaf and dumb man to death, I really believe. Why were you so curious about seeing who came out of the house?”

“Just a little idea that I had in mind. I – ” The expression on her companion’s face caused Grace to pause. Elfreda’s face had suddenly assumed a strained expression, the lines had hardened ever so little and the eyes had narrowed.

It was not necessary for “Captain” Grace to turn around facing the door to see who or what had so changed her companion.

“Girl, you will please get down from the counter!” commanded the cold voice of Mrs. Chadsey Smythe, though it was a more restrained tone than she had ever employed in speaking to Grace.

“You are right, Mrs. Smythe. It is not a dignified position,” answered Grace laughingly, hopping down from the counter.

“Why bother her? She seems to be enjoying it so much,” urged a voice that was pleasing. “I know I should be perched up there all the time were I on duty here.”

Grace suddenly felt the color mounting to her cheeks. She had not yet turned about to face the newcomers, but the Overton girl knew that voice, and at the same time knew that she must control herself before she faced the owner of it. When she finally did turn, after a meaningless word or two to Elfreda to aid the process of control, Grace presented a smiling face and laughing eyes that offered no trace of recognition as she looked into the eyes of the woman who accompanied Mrs. Smythe.

“You will kindly remain standing while on duty after this,” added the supervisor. “Are all of our supplies here, none missing?”

“Yes, Mrs. Smythe, all that were sent over last evening from the wreck.” Grace was wondering what had come over Mrs. Smythe that she was exercising so much self-control. Ordinarily in the circumstances the supervisor would have worked herself into a towering rage. Then wonder of wonders! Mrs. Smythe introduced her companion.

“This is Mrs. Gray. Miss Marshall, Mrs. Gray.” It was done sourly and resentfully, but it was better than Grace Harlowe had any reason to expect of her immediate superior.

Grace extended a hand and greeted the young woman smilingly.

“I am glad to meet you,” she said, but as she said it “Captain” Grace again saw this same face beside that of a German officer on the other side of the Rhine, and heard these smiling lips utter the words: “She is as hideous and as ugly as no doubt her soul is black.”

CHAPTER XX

IN A MAZE OF MYSTERIES

“I HEAR you have been having a most unpleasant time, Mrs. Gray,” volunteered Molly Marshall. “Between falling from the skies and being made a prisoner by the enemy you have had, I should consider, enough thrills to satisfy any one.”

“C’est la guerre (it is war),” answered Grace smiling and shrugging her shoulders.

“Oui,” agreed Miss Marshall. “I shall hope to see more of you. Mrs. Smythe has kindly offered to share her apartment with me, and I understand that you are billeted in the same house, so we should have some pleasant chats. I should love to know you better.”

Grace said the sentiment was reciprocated. While they were speaking, the supervisor was taking her revenge on the Chinaman. She was abusing him shamefully, so much so that Grace could stand it no longer.

“Won, you go now. You savvy too much talk,” declared Grace nodding to him.

“Me savvy talk like machine glun, a-la. Me go.”

Grace smiled and handed him the promised gift, whereupon Madame’s rage broke out afresh.

“Girl, how dare you!”

“Won has been working for me, Mrs. Smythe. It is best that he go now. He has worked too faithfully for me to stand by and see him abused, begging your pardon.” Grace signalled to the Chinaman to be gone. He lost no time in leaving the place, giving Grace a sly wink and a grimace as he backed from the doorway. Molly Marshall saved the situation by leading Mrs. Smythe to the rear of the canteen, where she soon had the supervisor laughing. Shortly afterwards the young woman walked out with her, much to Grace’s relief.

“Chad came in here intending to keep her temper, but she lost it,” declared Elfreda.

“It was my fault that she did, Elfreda. Some one has been advising her to behave herself. It is my idea that she went to headquarters to enter a complaint against me this morning, but that she was advised to be good if she wished to remain with the Army of Occupation. Here, Buddy, are you headed in the direction of the Intelligence Department?” she called to a soldier who was passing. He said he could go that way, whereupon Grace asked him to carry a note and leave it there. The note, which she scribbled on a piece of wrapping paper, was addressed to Captain Boucher and read: “Yat Sen,” and was signed, “G. G.”

“More mystery?” questioned Elfreda.

“Oceans of it. Miss Marshall is a good-looking woman, isn’t she?”

“Yes, I suppose so, but I can’t get over my first impression that there is something queer about her. Doesn’t she impress you that way?”

“Considering what I know about her, she does.”

“Eh? What do you know?” demanded Elfreda.

“Do you recall my telling you about a German officer and a woman who, the day I was released on the other side, stood making remarks as I passed – how the woman said, ‘She is as hideous and as ugly no doubt as her soul is black’?”

“Yes.”

“You ask me what I know of Miss Marshall. When I tell you that she is the woman who made that remark, you will understand that I know altogether too much about her.”

“A spy!” gasped Miss Briggs.

Grace nodded.

“Yes, but which way?”

“Captain Boucher informs me that she is an American spy and a brilliant one. It is difficult for me to believe that, in view of what I saw and heard. She at least appears to be playing the game both ways.”

“Have you told Captain Boucher of that?”

“Not yet, but I shall at the first opportunity. I intended to do so, but after what he said to me I decided to wait. He told me further that I might with perfect safety coöperate with Miss Marshall, which I shall not do.”

“Loyalheart, you are wonderful. How you could meet her, as you did after what you knew of her, is beyond me. I could no more have done it than I could fly. I don’t believe she even suspects that you recognized her.”

“I hope not for the sake of the work I have before me. Of course this is between us only, and I wish you would not breathe a word of it or any other confidential matter while we are in our rooms. I suspect those walls have ears.”

Mrs. Smythe did not return to the canteen again that afternoon, being engaged, as Grace surmised, in arranging for a new building to take the place of the one destroyed when the ammunition dump blew up. At six o’clock Grace went home to prepare their supper, leaving Elfreda to wait for their relief at the canteen. There was no effort on Grace’s part this time to enter her home quietly, still she made no noise that she was conscious of, but she had no more than gotten to her room than there came a tap on the door. It was Marie.

Grace welcomed her smilingly.

“I am glad to see you out again. How do you feel?”

“Not very well, Madame. I am sore all over. All Huns are brutes!”

“Do you include the good doctor?”

“Ah, the doctor. He is fine on the outside, but the soul, Madame! Why should one say it when one does not know?”

Grace nodded thoughtfully and asked who was with Mrs. Smythe. Marie informed her that Miss Marshall was taking supper with Madame and talking of the war.

“Madame told me to say to you when you came in that you were to go to the new canteen in the morning. It is near the river on the same street as the old one. You are to be there at six o’clock in the morning. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“I believe you have already done something for me. Did you make up the bed and slick up the room?” Grace regarded her smilingly.

“Yes, Madame.”

“Thank you very much. Did Madame go to headquarters this morning?”

Marie nodded and grinned.

“She went to ask them to send you home, but instead they told her she was the one who should be sent home. Was that not glorious? Oo-lá-lá, how I should have loved to hear it and to see the face of Madame.”

“That will do, please, Marie,” rebuked the Overton girl. “She is our superior. Thank you for your kindness about the room.”

Marie smiled and nodded as she backed to the door, then closed it softly behind her. Grace stepped over and locked the door, and pulling the shade down began a thorough examination of the room. First she examined the furniture, then the fireplace, the lighting fixtures and the baseboard that extended all the way around the room.

“All clear,” muttered the girl.

Next, the walls came in for a scrutiny. Not only did she look the walls over, but felt them gingerly with her finger tips. What the result of that search was Grace Harlowe did not even confide to Elfreda Briggs, but she was satisfied that her intuition again had served her well, and was now determined to be more watchful than ever.

Her suspicions were still further confirmed when she heard the voices of Mrs. Smythe and Miss Marshall in conversation with the doctor in his apartment that evening. They were making merry and Madame was actually laughing. When Grace discovered that they were discussing subjects that she knew were of military value she was horrified that Mrs. Smythe could so far forget herself, but what to do about it she did not know. Grace felt that she should take the matter to Captain Boucher, yet she could not quite bring herself to carry tales about the woman she did not like. It looked petty to her, beneath her, so Grace decided to await developments and continue with her work.

That night as she lay wide awake in her bed, she heard the doctor go to the cellar. She heard him fix the furnace for the night; then the sound of distant conversation floated up to her. After a time the doctor came up and the house settled down to silence.

This same thing, so far as the cellar excursion was concerned, continued for three nights. During that time Grace did not get much sleep. Much of the time, after Elfreda went to sleep, Grace spent sitting in a chair tipped back against the wall where she appeared to be resting in profound thought. On the third night she was aroused by an alarm of fire in the street. She did not learn the cause of it until the following morning, when she was informed that the fire had been discovered in the basement of the main barracks, where nearly a thousand American soldiers were sleeping.

Grace asked few questions about this blaze, though in the light of what she already knew she had certain well-founded suspicions. The next night nothing occurred to disturb the Army of Occupation, though Grace Harlowe increased her rapidly enlarging fund of information to an extent that alarmed even her. She saw that she must turn over some of it to the Intelligence Department without delay. Human lives depended upon her doing so. It was too late to do so that night, for to leave the place might upset all her plans were she discovered.

After pondering over the subject from all angles the Overton girl went to bed. How she did wish she might confide in Elfreda Briggs. Grace, however, had learned that in these secret matters there was but one safe course – to keep one’s own counsel. Well-intentioned as those in whom one confided might be, there was always the possibility of a word slipping out, of a facial expression or of an unconsciously antagonistic attitude toward the wrong person.

“Dear Elfreda shall know all that I know after I have completed my work. I must confess to myself that it is the most interesting work I have ever done, this pitting one’s wits against some of the keenest ones in Europe. However, I still have some distance to go before I arrive at my objective.” These thoughts and many others drifted through Grace Harlowe’s mind before she got to sleep.

In the morning she asked Elfreda to report for her at the canteen, as she expected to be late in arriving there. After breakfast, during which the girls discussed nothing beyond their own personal affairs, “Captain” Grace went out, this time by way of the front door, heading straight for the canteen.

The place was not yet open, so, unlocking the door, the Overton girl stepped in and, sitting down, studied the street keenly. What Grace was seeking to determine was whether or not she had been followed. There being no indication that she had been followed she went out, locking the door behind her, and proceeded directly to the headquarters of the Intelligence Department, which was located in the executive building on the river front.

Captain Boucher had not yet come in, and Grace waited for the better part of an hour for him, preferring not to have him called up, for reasons known only to herself. The captain came in briskly, humming to himself, but stopped short when he discovered the demure figure of “Captain” Grace seated at his desk.

The Overton girl rose and saluted.

“Ah! I have been looking for you. Thank you for the name you sent over. We have been watching that gentleman since, but while his actions at times have been suspicious, we have as yet nothing on him. Can you give me further information that will assist?”

Grace said she was not prepared to do so, that what knowledge she had of Yat Sen was only circumstantial, but that she expected to round out the matter very soon and have something more definite for the Bureau.

“I suppose, sir, that you discovered that the cause of the fire in Barracks Number One was due to a short circuit?” she questioned innocently.

“What! How did you know that?”

“Perhaps I surmised it, sir. If I may do so I would offer the suggestion that the wiring of Number Two Barracks be looked over before to-night. If you do not watch out the place will be on fire before you know it.”

“Mrs. Gray, what do you mean?”

“That there is a Hun plot to cut the ground from under the Army of Occupation, if I may put it that way. There is a big plot on foot here, reaching out through many lines.”

“I know it, but that is about all I do know on the subject. If you succeed in leading us to a solution of this problem you will have done quite the biggest thing that has been done yet for the American Army of Occupation. What do you know?”

“I know that it is part of the plan to burn down the barracks. Of course the Huns do not wish to destroy Coblenz, but they are perfectly willing to lose such buildings as the barracks. Then again, according to Hun reasoning, the moral effect on the Army of Occupation will be of great value.”

“The fools! They haven’t learned their lesson yet. You believe that this attempt is to be made by short-circuiting the electric wires?”

“It may be. I should advise that the building be closely watched, even to the extent of hiding watchers in the cellar, but you must be very careful. Personally I hope you do not catch any one to-night, nor for several nights, until I have completed my work. Of course I don’t mean that you are to let a building burn down,” added Grace smilingly. “Are you quite certain of Miss Marshall?”

“Yes! No doubt at all about her.”

Grace told him of what she had heard and seen on the other side of the Rhine when she was on her way across to the American lines.

“Thank you!” he exclaimed after a brief reflection over what she told him, but offered no further comment on the subject of the woman who appeared to Grace to be playing a double game. “How long do you believe it will take you to gather in the ends of the clues you have? I take it that is what you mean?”

“That is it exactly, sir. Perhaps a day or two; perhaps longer. If I make as much headway in the next twenty-four hours as I have done in the last, I may be able to close my case in less time. Please be careful how you communicate with me and never do so at my billet. What do you know about Doctor Klein, my landlord? I wish to be certain about what sort of a house I am living in. You see Miss Briggs and I being alone makes some difference.”

The captain chuckled and stroked his chin, Grace regarding him solemnly. The Intelligence officer understood in a way why she asked the question.

“He is one of the finest Germans I know, Mrs. Gray, and that is much for me to say about a Hun. I might say considerably more, but I am going to let you work out your own problem. You will be surprised when you get yourself set straight on this matter.”

“Thank you. I am sure I do not know what you mean. I will report as soon as I have something further of a definite nature for you,” promised Grace, rising to go to her work.

“Do you need assistance?”

“No, thank you. There are too many persons mixed up in this affair already.”

“Clever woman! If you wish anything, let me know.”

“Well, sir, so long as you have made the offer, I do need some assistance. If convenient I should like the loan of an auger.”

“A what?”

“Auger, sir, to bore holes with.”

“Are you in earnest?”

“I am, sir. I wish one about two inches in diameter if I can get it, but if not I can use a smaller one. I should like to have a saw, but I fear I cannot use it to advantage.”

“Are you thinking of building a house?” questioned the officer whimsically.

“No, sir, but I am going to partially tear down one. When may I have it?”

“Now. I will order it, or shall I send it to the canteen?”

“Neither, I think,” decided Grace after refection. “I think I shall have some one call for it. Please see that it is well wrapped so that no one can tell from the appearance of the package what is in it. Good morning, sir. I must return to the canteen or I shall be in difficulties,” she added laughingly, and saluting, walked out without another word.

CHAPTER XXI

A MOUSE IN THE TRAP

THE Intelligence officer spent some moments in profound meditation after the departure of “Captain” Grace, but what his conclusions were did not appear, either in words or in the expression of his face. The captain ordered the package for Grace and, addressing it, left it with his orderly to be turned over to any one bearing Mrs. Gray’s order.

It was a doughboy who called for the package later in the day and who handed it to Grace on the street according to arrangement. She went home with her package concealed in a bag of groceries which she had purchased on her way.

After listening for some time and being convinced that there was no one in the adjoining rooms, Grace covered the keyhole, pinned her overseas cap on the wall, pulled down the shades and very carefully moved the bed out a few feet from the wall. She then removed the tacks down one side of the carpet at the back of the bed, and as many more from the end of the floor covering at the head of the bed. She drew the carpet back, estimated distances with her eyes and, putting the bit in its stock, began boring a hole in the floor.

The auger went through the soft pine flooring with rather too great ease and made a noise that led the girl to fear that she would arouse the household. Not only that, but, should there chance to be some one in the cellar, discovery would be certain.

“If any shavings have gone down to the cellar floor I am lost anyway,” she muttered. Applying her eye to the hole she had made in the floor Grace was relieved to find that only the point of the bit had gone through the lower side of the pine flooring. The job could not have turned out more to her satisfaction. She would have liked to make the opening wider so that she could look into the cellar, but the Overton girl was dealing, as she believed, with keen people, people who were ever on the alert, and who would not hesitate at anything to protect themselves and their interests.

“Now that I have made the hole, I must hide it,” reflected Grace.

This was easily done. A piece of cardboard was laid over the opening, the carpet replaced and the tacks pressed back into place without a sound that could have been heard a dozen feet away.

Having accomplished all this the Overton girl locked the hammer in her trunk, removed her cap from the wall and also all traces that might indicate that something unusual had been going on, after which she wrapped the auger in paper and tucked it inside of her blouse, over which she threw her cloak and walked out on her way to the canteen.

Elfreda and Marie, with the assistance of Won Lue, had arranged the stock and were nearly ready to open, though it had been decided that this should not be done until the following day for the reason that the lights would not be in place that evening.

Just before leaving the canteen for home Grace wrote a note to Captain Boucher in which she said, “The house is demolished, thank you.” This she wrapped about the handle of the bitstock, enclosing the whole in heavy wrapping paper, and gave it to Won.

“Captain Boucher,” she said in a low tone. “You savvy?”

“Me savvy, la.”

“You savvy nobody, see?”

Won chuckled and nodded. She turned to answer a question asked by Elfreda and when she looked around again Won was not there, not even Elfreda Briggs’ sharp eyes having seen him go.

“Those Orientals give me the creeps,” declared Miss Briggs. “Now you see them, now you don’t. Did you send him on an errand?”

“Please don’t ask questions. Some one might hear. Marie is down in the cellar and – ”

Elfreda interrupted with a laugh.

“Marie is a thick-head. Don’t worry about her, Grace.”

“I am not worrying about any one. Just the same, think before you speak, no matter if only a cat is within hearing. There is serious business on foot; serious for our boys and for you and myself.”

“So serious as that, Grace?” whispered Elfreda.

“Captain” Grace nodded and gave her companion a warning look, for Marie was faintly heard coming up the stairs. Grace said it was time to close and go home.

“Marie, you have done well. Thank you. Madame should be pleased.”

“Nothing will please her,” complained the French girl.

Elfreda said she agreed with Marie, and declared that the maid was a girl of good common sense, which made Marie smile, a thing she seldom did. The three went home together, Grace engaging the maid in conversation most of the way, asking her questions about her home in France, her family and how she came to be with the Army of Occupation. Marie said that Madame was billeted in her home and had asked her to come along with the welfare workers.

Reaching the house Grace thrust a hand to the maid, a bright new shining franc piece resting in the palm.

Marie Debussy drew herself up, shook her head, and smiled as she opened the door and entered Mrs. Smythe’s apartment.

“My! What offended dignity,” exclaimed Elfreda when the girls had gained their own room. “Did you see the look she gave you?”

“Yes,” answered Grace meekly, placing a finger on her lips and giving Miss Briggs a warning glance. “Remember, Elfreda,” she reminded in a low tone, “if I talk rather erratically at any time this evening and place my finger on my cheek this way, you will understand that I have a motive, and that you are not to express any opinions out loud,” whispered Grace in her companion’s ear.