The girl paled visibly and shrank back into her seat. Ruth cried out, fearing the steering wheel would get away from Henriette.
"Oh! Did you see?" gasped the latter.
The white object had suddenly disappeared. It seemed to Ruth as though it had actually melted into thin air.
"That was the werwolf!" continued the French girl, and crossed herself.
"Oh, my dear Mademoiselle, something is sure now to happen-something very bad!"
CHAPTER XXII-THE COUNTESS AND HER DOG
RUTH FIELDING had almost instantly identified the swiftly moving object in the road as the same that she had seen weeks before while riding with Charlie Bragg toward Clair. And yet she could not admit as true the a.s.sertion made both by the ambulance driver and the excited French girl.
To recognize the quickly disappearing creature as a werwolf-the beast-form of a human being, sold irrevocably to the Powers of Darkness-was quite too much for a sane American girl like Ruth Fielding!
"Why, Henriette!" she cried, "that is nothing but a dog."
"A wolf, Mademoiselle. A werwolf, as I have told you. A very wicked thing."
"There isn"t such a thing," declared Ruth bluntly. "That was a dog-a white or a gray one. And of large size. I have seen it once before-perhaps twice," Ruth added, remembering the glimpse she had caught of such a creature with Bessie at the chateau gate.
"Oh, it is such bad fortune to see it!" sighed Henriette.
"Don"t be so childish," Ruth adjured, brusquely. "Nothing about that dog can hurt you. But I have an idea the poor creature may be doing the French cause harm."
"Oh, Mademoiselle! You have heard the vile talk about the dear countess!" cried Henriette. "It is not so. She is a brave and lovely lady. She gives her all for France. She would be filled with horror if she knew anybody connected her with the spies of _les Boches_."
"I thought it was generally believed that she was an Alsatian _of the wrong kind_."
"It is a wicked calumny," Henriette declared earnestly. "But I have heard the tale of the werwolf ever since I was a child-long before this dreadful war began."
"Yes?"
"It was often seen racing through the country by night," the girl declared earnestly. "They say it comes from the chateau, and goes back to it. But that the lovely countess is a wicked one, and changes herself into a devouring wolf-ah, no, no, Mademoiselle! It is impossible!
"The werwolf comes and goes across the battle front, it is said. Indeed, it used to cross the old frontier into Germany in pre-war times. Why may not some wicked German woman change herself into a wolf and course the woods and fields at night? Why lay such a thing to the good Countess Marchand?"
Ruth saw that the girl was very much in earnest, and she cast no further doubt upon the occupant of the chateau, the towers of which had been in sight in the twilight for some few minutes. Henriette was now driving slowly and had not recovered from her fright. They came to a road which turned up the hill.
"Where does that track lead?" Ruth asked quickly.
"Past the gates of the chateau, Mademoiselle."
"You say you will take me to the hospital at Clair before going home,"
Ruth urged. "Can we not take this turn?"
"But surely," agreed Henriette, and steered the car into the narrow and well-kept lane.
Ruth made no explanation for her request. But she felt sure that the object which had startled them both, dog or whatever it was, had dived into this lane to disappear so quickly. The "werwolf" was going toward the chateau on this evening instead of away from it.
There was close connection between the two criminals, who had come from America on the Red Cross steamship, Legrand and Jose, with whatever was going on between the Chateau Marchand and the Germans. Werwolf, or despatch dog, Ruth was confident that the creature that ran by night across the sh.e.l.l-racked fields was trained to spy work.
Who was guilty at the chateau? That seemed to be an open question.
Henriette"s declaration that it was not the Countess Marchand, strengthened the suspicion already rife in Ruth"s mind that the old servant, Bessie, was the German-lover.
The latter was known to Jose, one of the crooks from America. She might easily be of the same nationality as Jose-Mexican. And the Mexicans largely are pro-German.
Jose and Legrand were already under suspicion of a huge swindle in Red Cross stores. It would seem that if these men would steal, it was fair to presume they would betray the French Government for money.
It was a mixed-up and doubtful situation at best. Ruth Fielding intuitively felt that she had hold of the ends of certain threads of evidence that must, in time, lead to the unraveling of the whole scheme of deceit and intrigue.
It was still light enough on the upland for the girls to see some distance along the road ahead. Henriette drove the car slowly as they approached the wide gateway of the chateau.
Ruth distinguished the flutter of something white by the gate and wondered if it was the "werwolf" or the old serving woman. But when she called Henriette"s attention to the moving object the French girl cried, under her breath:
"Oh! It is the countess! Look you, Mademoiselle Ruth, perhaps she will speak to us."
"But there"s something with her. It _is_ a dog," the American girl declared.
"Why that is only Bubu, the old hound. He is always with the countess when she walks out. He is a greyhound-see you? It is foolish, Mademoiselle, to connect Bubu with the werwolf," and she shrugged her plump shoulders.
Ruth paid more attention to the dog at first than she did to the lady who held the loop of his leash. He wore a dark blanket, which covered most of his body, even to his ears. His legs were long, of course, and Ruth discovered another thing in a moment, while the car rolled nearer.
The thin legs of the slate-colored beast were covered with mud. That mud was not yet dry. The dog had been running at large within the last few minutes, the girl was sure.
CHAPTER XXIII-RUTH DOES HER DUTY
The query that came sharply to Ruth Fielding"s mind was: Without his blanket and off his leash, what would Bubu, the greyhound, look like in the gloaming? The next moment the tall old lady walking by the observant dog"s side, raised her hand and nodded to Henriette.
"Oh, Madame!" gasped the French girl, and brought the car to an instant stop.
"I thought it was my little Hetty," the countess said in French, and smiling. "Hast been to Lyse for the good father?"
"Yes, Madame," replied the girl.
"And what news do you bring?"
The voice of the old lady was very kind. Ruth, watching her closely, thought that if the Countess Marchand was a spy for Germany, and was wicked at heart, she was a wonderfully good actress.
She had a most graceful carriage. Her hair, which was snow white, was dressed most becomingly. Her cheeks were naturally pink; yet her throat and under her chin the skin was like old ivory and much wrinkled. She was dressed plainly, although the cape about her shoulders was trimmed with expensive fur.