Grace Harlowe with the American Army on the Rhine

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Grace pondered for a long time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER XV

AN INTERRUPTED INTERVIEW

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

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

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

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

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

“Who is it?” she called.

“It is I, Frau Woelber.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The German woman laughed harshly.

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

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

The woman shook her head.

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

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

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

Grace regarded her inquiringly.