Army Boys on German Soil: Our Doughboys Quelling the Mobs Part 25

Weeks pa.s.sed by and lengthened into months. Winter had disappeared and spring had come, bringing with it soft breezes and verdant fields and budding flowers and clothing the valley of the Rhine in beauty.

It was a welcome change to the Army Boys, who had chafed over the forced inaction and abstention from outdoor sports caused by the severe winter. Now most of the time off duty was spent in the open, and baseball and other games made the banishment from home seem less of a hardship. Company teams were organized and there was a good deal of healthy rivalry between the various nines. The Army Boys were expert players, and the work they did on the diamond speedily placed their nine in the lead.

But underneath all their work and fun lay the longing for home.

They were in an alien country, among a people that hated them, a people bitter from defeat and eager for revenge.

They flung themselves down on the river bank one afternoon to rest after an unusually exciting game of ball when they had just managed to nose out their opponents in the ninth inning.

"Beautiful river, isn't it?" remarked Frank, his eyes following the windings of the Rhine, visible there for many miles in either direction.

"Oh, the country's pretty enough," conceded Bart grudgingly. "It's the people in it that I object to."

"'Where every prospect pleases, And only man is vile,'"

quoted Billy.

"I wish the Paris Conference would get busy and finish up that treaty," observed Frank impatiently. "What in heck keeps them dawdling so long over it?"

"It's like a sewing circle," grumbled Bart. "There's a lot of talk and mighty little work done."

"We'll be doddering old men by the time they get through," added Tom.

"Time seems to be no object with them," commented Billy.

"Of course," admitted Frank, "I suppose there's an awful lot to do. The world's been ripped wide open by these pesky Huns, and it's some job to sew it up again. Still it does seem that they ought to hustle things a good deal more than they are doing. I'm anxious to shake the dust of Germany from my feet forever."

"What's the latest you've heard about the peace terms?" Billy inquired.

"Oh, Germany's going to get hers, all right," replied Frank grimly. "She's had her dance, and now she's going to pay the piper. She's going to lose her colonies, for one thing. She won't have a single foot of land outside of Germany itself, and a lot of that's going to be cut away from her, too. Alsace-Lorraine of course goes back to France. Schleswig, that Bismarck stole, will be given to Denmark. The Poles will get part of East and West Prussia, Posen and Silesia. The coal mines in the Sarre Basin go to France, to make up for the destruction of French coal mines at Lens. Germany's got to give back ton for ton the shipping sunk by her submarines. She must yield up all her aircraft, and can keep an army of only one hundred thousand men. Then, too, she'll have to fork over a little trifle of forty or fifty billion dollars, an amount that will keep her nose to the grindstone for the next thirty years. Oh, yes, Germany will pay the piper all right."

"It isn't enough," said Bart curtly.

"No," put in Billy. "She's getting off too easily. That's only sticking a knife in hen. They ought to twist the knife around."

"Even with all that," declared Tom, "she won't begin to pay for all the misery and death she caused. But what are they going to do with the Kaiser?" he continued. "Have you heard about that?"

"Oh, they're talking about yanking him out of Holland and putting him on trial," answered Frank; "but it's a gamble if they really will. He's such a skulking cowardly figure just now that perhaps it wouldn't be well to try him. It might dignify him too much, make a martyr of him. They may let him and the Crown Prince stay where they are. There's no telling."

"Well," remarked Tom, as they rose to their feet and started toward the barracks, "whatever the terms, I only hope they'll hurry them up and let us get back to the States."

A week of comparative quiet followed, and the situation in Coblenz seemed to be well in hand. That is, as far as disturbances were concerned. The mysterious disease, however, still seemed to be uncurbed, despite all the efforts of the medical staff.

Military restrictions now were somewhat relaxed. Leaves of absence were more easily obtained, but it was some time before the Army Boys were able to arrange things so that all their leaves fell on the same night.

That time came at last, however, and they started out soon after nightfall with the determination once for all to solve the mystery of the alley. The night was extremely dark, and as the moon would not rise till late they had comparatively little difficulty in seizing an opportunity when the street was practically deserted to slip into the alley un.o.bserved.

Their task was rendered easier by the fact that there was no longer ice to hinder their raising of the trap door. It creaked under the straining of their arms, but it yielded, and, using the utmost caution, they descended into the yawning chasm.

They had provided themselves with stout sticks that they felt sure would enable them to ward off any attack by rats, though they devoutly hoped that these would not be needed. Nor were they, for Billy's conjecture that the part infested by them was beyond the lighted corridor proved correct.

With the stealth of Indians they moved along the narrow pa.s.sage, darting glances into every opening that seemed to branch off from the main corridor. For some time nothing greeted their eyes but impenetrable blackness, and they began to think that either the light had been extinguished or that they had inadvertently pa.s.sed it by.

"Hist!" came from Billy's lips, and they halted.

"There it is," he said in a low tone.

They cl.u.s.tered about him as he pointed to the left. There, sure enough, was the electric bulb glowing, and behind it the outline of a door. Turning into the pa.s.sage and inwardly thankful that as yet no rats had been encountered, they made their way toward the light.

The door, as revealed by the light, was of heavy oak. There was no crack or crevice in it anywhere. Standing close to the door they listened intently for any sound from the other side. Everything was absolutely quiet. All that they could hear was their own excited breathing.

Frank put his hand on the k.n.o.b of the door and flashed a look of mute inquiry at his comrades. They nodded understandingly, and inch by inch Frank noiselessly drew the door open.

There was no light in the room beyond, but a ray from the electric bulb outside fell on a row of bottles and retorts that indicated a chemical laboratory.

Frank had drawn his flashlight from his section pocket and was about to turn it upon the room, when suddenly the room became radiant with a perfect flood of light. At the same time there was the sound of a quick step in the hall beyond the room, the click of a door k.n.o.b, and Frank had just time to push the heavy oaken door nearly to, when the further door opened and a man came into the room.

Through the crack of the door Frank caught a glimpse of the man's face and started back in surprise.

CHAPTER XXIV

THE DEADLY PHIAL

It was the famous physician, the man whose hate for Americans was so notorious, the man with whom they had already had unpleasant encounters, the man who had so often shot venomous looks at Frank and his comrades as they pa.s.sed and yet who of late had worn an air so jubilant.

It was his house then to which this mysterious pa.s.sage afforded secret entrance, that entrance which the Army Boys had felt sure was used by conspirators and a.s.sa.s.sins. What did it all mean?

The doctor approached one of the retorts in which some concoction was bubbling and examined it carefully, reducing the heat a little as he glanced at the thermometer. Then he walked over to a row of phials on one of the shelves and handled them almost caressingly.

One of them he pressed with an almost rapturous gesture to his breast, at the same time breaking out in a strain of mingled eulogy and denunciation. The eulogy seemed to be for the phial, the denunciation for the "accursed Americans," which phrase Frank heard him repeat several times.

The doctor then replaced the phials on the shelf and picked up an evening paper printed in German that was lying on a chair. He looked over the headlines which ran all the way across the page, and indulged in a chuckle. He read the article through, then threw down the paper and walked to and fro in the room, rubbing his hands and evidently in the highest spirits.

The paper had been thrown down in such a way that Frank could plainly see the flaring headlines. They ran thus:

"MYSTERIOUS DISEASE STILL UNABATED More Americans Stricken."

This then accounted for the doctor's elation. Frank's eye glanced from the paper to the phial and back again to the paper.

Suddenly a terrible conviction struck him with the force of a blow.

At that moment a bell rang somewhere outside. The doctor stopped in his pacing, listened a moment, and then with a gesture of impatience strode to the door and pa.s.sed out into the hall, closing the door after him.

Like a flash, Frank was in the room and had possessed himself of the mysterious phial. Then he was back again among his companions, who had gazed after him in wonder.

"Quick!" he directed as he closed the heavy door. "Back to the alley as fast as we can."