Who Goes There!

It was dark and deserted; and when Guild came in sight of the Lodge, that, too, was dark.

Up the long avenue he hastened to the house; the fountain splashed monotonously in the star-light; the circle of tall trees looked down mournfully; the high planets twinkled.

He walked around the house, hoping to find a light in the kitchen. All was black, silent, and wrapped in profoundest shadow.

He picked up a few pebbles from the driveway, counted the windows until he was certain which one was Karen's. Her window was open. He tossed a pebble against it; and then another into the room itself.

Suddenly the girl appeared at the window.

"Karen!" he called. She leaned out swiftly, her braided hair falling to the sill.

"Kervyn!" she whispered.

"Dear, I've only a moment. Could you come down and let me in without waking the others?"

"The others? Kervyn, they have gone!"

"Gone!"

"Everybody's gone! A patrol of hussars galloped here from Trois Fontaines and ordered them across the Dutch frontier. I felt dreadfully; but there was nothing to do. So poor Mrs. Courland and her daughter and her servants have gone on toward Luxembourg with all their luggage. I'm here alone with the Frau Förster. Shall I let you in?"

"Did my luggage go to Luxembourg?"

"No; it is in the room you occupied."

"Then come down quickly and let me in," he said. "If there are German patrols abroad I don't care to be caught here."

The girl disappeared; Guild went to the front door and stood looking down the driveway and listening to catch any warning sound.

The next moment the door behind him opened and Karen's trembling hands were in his.

He gazed down into the pale face framed by its heavy braids. In her slim nightdress and silken chamber robe she appeared very girlish.

"What has happened, Kervyn? Your clothes are torn and muddy and you look dreadfully white and tired."

"Karen, they burned Lesse this morning."

"Oh!" she gasped.

"Everything at Lesse is in ashes. Some of the men are dead. The survivors are in the woods behind your house waiting for me."

She clung to his arm as they entered the house; Guild picked up one of the lighted candles from the oak table. She took the other and they ascended the stairs together.

"There was sniping," he said. "That always brings punishment to innocent and guilty alike. Lesse is a heap of cinders; they drove the forest and shot the driven game from the steps of the carrefour shrine. Men fell there, too, under their rifles – the herdsman, Schultz, the Yslemont men, the little shepherd lad with both his dogs. When their bearers came our way we fired on them."

"You! Oh, Kervyn! It means death if they find you!"

"I shall not be found." He took her by the hands a moment, smiled at her, then turned swiftly and entered his room holding the candle above his head.

After his door had remained closed for a few moments she knocked.

"Kervyn," she called, "I am frightened and I am going to dress."

"No need of that," came his voice; "I shall be gone in five minutes."

But she went away with her lighted candle and entered her room. The travelling gown she wore from England lay ready; boots, spats, and waist.

Swiftly she unbraided and shook out her hair and twisted it up again, her slim fingers flying. A sense of impending danger seized and possessed her; almost feverishly she flung from her the frail night garments she wore, and dressed with ever-increasing fear of something indefinitely menacing but instant. What it might be she did not even try to formulate in thought; but it frightened her, and it seemed very, very near.

She dragged on her brown velvet hat and pinned it, and at the same moment she heard a sound in the hallway which almost stopped her heart.

It was the ringing step of a spurred boot.

Terrified, she crept to her door, listened, opened a little way. Near the stair-head a candle shone, its yellow light glimmering on the wall of the passage. Then she heard Guild's guarded voice:

"Karen?"

"Y-yes," she faltered in amazement as a tall figure turned toward her clothed in the complete uniform of the Guides.

"Kervyn! Is it you? Why are you in that uniform?" She came toward him slowly, her knees still tremulous from fear, and rested one hand on his arm.

"Dearest, dearest," he said gently, "why are you trembling? There is no reason for fear. I am in uniform because I shall attempt to take a few recruits and volunteers across the railway line tonight. We are going to try to make Antwerp, which is a quicker, and I think a surer, route than through Luxembourg and Holland. Besides, they might interne us. They would without a doubt if I were in uniform and if the Lesse men came to the frontier with their guns and bandoulières."

"Kervyn, how can you get to Antwerp? You can't walk, dear!"

"We'll start on foot, anyway," he said cheerfully. "Now I must go. They're waiting. Why did you dress, Karen?"

"I don't know." She looked up at him in a dazed way. "I wanted to be with you."

"I'm going back to the forest, dear."

"Could I come?"

"No. I don't want you to be out at night. There's only a fireless camp there and a dozen ragged and dirty men. Besides, there might be some sort of trouble."

"Trouble?"

"Not likely. Still there might be patrols out from Trois Fontaines, even from Lesse. I don't know. Michaud says he can take us across the railway line before daylight. If he can do that I think we shall find the country clear beyond. Anyway, we'll know soon. Now I must say good-bye."

She laid her cold hands in his, tried to speak, but could not. Then, of a sudden, her fingers gripped his in terror; there came the rushing swish of an automobile around the gravel circle outside, a loud resonant humming, a sharp voice speaking in German, a quick reply in the same tongue.

"The – the valet's room. Quick!" she gasped, pushing him backward across the room and through the doorway. Behind him the swinging leather door closed silently again; the girl stood rigid, white as a sheet, then she walked to the oak table, picked up a book, and dropped into the depths of a leather arm-chair.

Outside the mellow whirr of the motor had ceased; the door of the car closed with a click; quick, firm steps ascended the path; there came a low jingling sound, the clash of metal, then a key was rattled in the outer lock, turned sharply, and the door creaked open.

Karen rose to her feet. Every atom of colour had fled her cheeks.

"Karen!"