The Old Blood Part 28

"Then you are quite alone here?" he continued.

"My sister and Cousin Phil are here."

"Oh!" He glanced back at Phil casually.

"I hope that we may be disturbed as little as possible," she ventured.

"We are not such barbarians as you think," he said, with a laugh. "As a matter of fact, I do not see why you should be disturbed at all.

There is another chateau on the list which belongs to the Count de la Grange, and as I have the say for my uncle, the General, I do not see why that will not serve as well."

"Yes, the Count is away!" put in Henriette quickly. "Thank you very much!" This with a gracious smile as a livelier expression of her acknowledgment of his courtesy.

"Done!" he answered promptly, smiling back at her. "I shall see that you are quite undisturbed, I promise you, unless some one has to billet here. We may be crowded and may be here some time if your scepticism about our taking of Paris is well-grounded." He made the bow of a Berlin salon, his heels clicking together, as he withdrew.

Phil went into the grounds with him.

"It's very good of you," he managed to say.

"Don't mention it!" replied von Eichborn. "A very charming cousin.

She speaks French like a Frenchwoman and looks like one. And you are an American?"

"A distant cousin;" and Phil tried to explain a situation whose awkwardness von Eichborn only emphasised the more by one or two subtle remarks. Phil bit his lip and reminded himself that he was in the presence of Prussian force.

"A peculiar position for an American," von Eichborn observed. "I hope your papers are all right."

"Quite!"

"That is fortunate. You may be interrogated. The secret service is very watchful, you know. Good-morning!"

Phil watched the ramrod form to the tune of the jingling spurs disappear past the gate-post. He was disgusted and thoughtful.

"I am very glad that you are here with us," said Henriette soberly, when he returned to the house. She, too, had been thinking.

CHAPTER XX

UNDER ARREST

An hour later a Prussian sergeant and two privates marched into the grounds. The sergeant mounted the steps and having rung the bell proceeded to hammer on the door. Phil answered the call, and was not long in realising that he was under arrest. The sergeant could not say why, such details not being in his...o...b..t of duty. His orders were to bring one young man from the chateau to headquarters. The only thing for Phil was to take the situation philosophically.

"I never did like melodrama," he said, as he stood by the steps under the guard of the two privates, while the sergeant was searching his room for incriminating evidence.

"Don't!" pleaded the girls together. "Don't joke about it!"

"And answer all their questions politely," added Helen. "If we don't hear anything by to-night we'll come to headquarters or get the cure to go there."

"I'll be as polite as pie," said Phil. "And don't you be too serious about it," he added warningly, in turn. "When I show my papers to some one in authority I'll be all right."

"It was I who got you into this!" Helen exclaimed, beset by a new thought. "If I hadn't stayed----"

Perhaps a better "if" would have referred to Henriette's beauty.

"Nonsense! It's all a mistake!" said Phil.

"Plot complete!" he added, as the sergeant appeared with the letters and papers that he had found in Phil's room carefully tied up and announced, with barrack-room gruffness that it was time to march.

Phil could only smile over his shoulder as he was faced about under the escort of the two privates. From Helen he had an encouraging smile in response; from Henriette a look of fright and appeal. Inwardly he was boiling. It was the first time that he or any Sanford for many generations had known the loss of liberty for five minutes. This callous old sergeant, these two men with fixed bayonets walking on either side of Phil, had no business in France. They were invaders.

On through the village street beside the gorge of transport he was conducted, then down the long avenue of trees to Count de la Grange's chateau. There he was halted and every sc.r.a.p of paper in his pockets removed. He stood for a time, while officers and messengers pa.s.sed up and down the steps, before he was taken indoors.

At the end of the long hall, its ceiling cracked and yellow from the neglect of impoverished n.o.bility, its walls hung with family portraits, sat General Rousseau under guard, his aquiline nose and finely-moulded chin in bold relief. As Phil was directed along the hall, the sound of his steps on the marble flooring drew the General's attention. The glances of the two met. Phil was about to speak, when his impulse was stayed by the fact that he was looking at a profile which seemed oblivious of his presence.

"He is in trouble and does not want to recognise me lest he get me in trouble," Phil thought, "or I might get him into deeper trouble."

The General sat stiffly erect, a s.p.a.ce between his coat back and the chair back, something distinguished and calm in his manner, with a smiling turn to his lips which completed an air of quiet triumph unaffected by his surroundings. Directly an officer came out from one of the rooms and motioned to the General to enter the open door in front of him. Phil was then moved up to the seat thus vacated, whence he could look into the salon, with its long French windows open on the garden. Before a table sat a German general of fifty-five or so, his bullet head close-cropped and his profile as set as if it were carved out of stone. On the wall at his back was a large map with blue pencil markings. In front of him stood old Rousseau, head up, his lips still having the turn of a faint smile.

Division Commander von Stein was reading from a paper, which stated that the General had given information to the enemy by means of carrier pigeons.

"What have you to say?" demanded von Stein.

"That I am not a lawyer; but, speaking as a soldier," replied General Rousseau in an even voice, "I am happy to say that my last pigeon went before you could intercept it."

"As a soldier you knew what to report," said von Stein rather affably.

"It was clever of you and you must have sent some valuable information."

If he could learn the nature of the information it might enable him to counteract some of its results; but General Rousseau's smile broadened a little at this obvious bait of flattery.

"I'm even a good enough soldier not to tell you that," he replied.

"Perhaps your soldiers are learning this moment," he added proudly.

"As you have confessed----" von Stein rapped out in irritation.

"Yes," replied the General calmly, almost sweetly.

"You know the penalty?"

"Yes. I expected it. I found a way to serve France and I am ready."

Without waiting on further instructions, closing the interview himself with a certain disdainful impatience, he saluted and turned toward his guard. The full light through the large windows limned his fine, aristocratic profile and his gaunt, tall form. He was victorious in that moment and a gentleman; and the man in the chair, conscious of some quality in the Frenchman lacking in himself but admiring as soldier to soldier, exclaimed, "It is war!" and rose to his feet, saluting the man whom he had condemned, in turn.

Phil had the call to disregard his own position and rush to General Rousseau's side in his tribute of admiration. It seemed horrible at first thought to see that gallant veteran go to his death without a friendly word. But two girls were waiting at the chateau for Phil's return. He imagined that the General preferred to be alone. Nothing could equal the knowledge of his deed for France in comforting him.

Still disdainful of the Prussian, lips still turned in a smile, he was marched out into the grounds--which is the full explanation of why Madame Ribot had only the Count for an escort to Paris.

Since an old man had been caught releasing pigeons which carried information to the French as to the location of three divisions of German troops and might cost the Germans five thousand men, von Stein was taking a hand in the espionage problem himself. Phil was summoned and, standing on the same spot where General Rousseau had stood, he saw all his letters and his diary lying on the Commander's table. Two officers were standing on either side of him. One of them went out after the Commander had signed some papers, and through the open door Phil had a glimpse through other open doors of rooms with walls hung with maps and of telegraph instruments and officers writing and conferring. Here was the inner circle of a division command directing all the action of guns and men which he had seen from the terrace at Mervaux, with office routine in a secluded chateau; while von Stein, the man with the responsibility of decisions, sat aloof in the salon.

The remaining officer, a major, evidently had something to do with Phil's case. Phil recalled Helen's advice: Answer all their questions politely. This he would do; and, with the example of General Rousseau as an inspiration, he waited for the first move. Von Stein looked up slowly, raising his bushy eyebrows to see what sort of dirt this was in front of him, and then regarded Phil with a sweeping glance of ferocity. It was the very thing to give Phil smiling confidence.