"Well, so long," he added, hopping into his car. "Next time I"m back this way maybe I"ll have some news for you-_good_ news."
"Oh, I hope so!" murmured Ruth, watching the battered ambulance wheel out of the hospital court.
Henriette Dupay had an errand in the village the next day and came to see Ruth, too. The little French girl was very much excited.
"Oh, my dear Mademoiselle Ruth!" she cried. "What do you think?"
"I could not possibly think-for _you_," smiled Ruth.
"It is so-just as I told you," wailed the other girl. "It always happens."
"Do tell me what you mean? What has happened now?"
"Something bad always follows the seeing of the werwolf. My grandmere says it is a curse on the neighborhood because many of our people neglect the church. Think!"
"Do tell me," begged the American girl.
"Our best cow died," cried Henriette. "Our-ve-ry-best-cow! It is an affliction, Mademoiselle."
Ruth could well understand that to be so, for cows, since the German invasion, have been very scarce in this part of France. Henriette was quite confident that the appearance of the "werwolf" had foretold the demise of "the poor Lally." The American girl saw that it was quite useless to seek to change her little friend"s opinion on that score.
"Of course, the thing we saw in the road could not have been the countess" dog?" she ventured.
But Henriette would have none of that. "Why, Bubu"s blanket is black,"
she cried. "And you know the werwolf is all of a white color-and so hu-u-uge!"
She would have nothing of the idea that Bubu was the basis of the countryside superst.i.tion. But the French girl had a second exciting bit of news.
"Think you!" she cried, "what I saw coming over to town this ve-ry day, Mademoiselle Ruth."
"Another mystery?"
"Quite so. But yes. You would never, as you say, "guess." I pa.s.sed old Bessie, Madame la Countess" serving woman, riding fast, _fast_ in a motor-car. Is it not a wonder?"
The statement startled Ruth, but she hid her emotion, asking:
"Not alone-surely? You do not mean that that old woman drives the countess" car?"
"Oh, no, Mademoiselle. The countess has no car. This was the strange car you and I saw on the road that day-the one that was stalled in the rut.
You remember the tall capitaine-and the little one?"
The shock of the French girl"s statement was almost too much for Ruth"s self-control. Her voice sounded husky in her own ears when she asked:
"Tell me, Henriette! Are you _sure_? The old woman was riding away with those two men?"
"But yes, Mademoiselle. And they drive fast, fast!" and she pointed east, away from the hospital, and away from the road which led to Lyse.
CHAPTER XXIV-A PARTIAL EXPOSURE
It was when Ruth was going off duty for the day that the matron sent for her to come to the office before going to her own cell, as the tiny immaculate little rooms were called in which the Red Cross workers slept.
Obeying the summons, Ruth crossed the wide entrance hall and saw in the court a high-powered, open touring car in which sat two military-appearing men, although neither was in uniform. In the matron"s room was another-a tall, dark young man, who arose from his chair the instant the girl entered the room.
"Monsieur Lafrane, Mademoiselle Fielding," said the matron nervously.
"Monsieur Lafrane is connected, he tells me, with the Department of Justice."
"With the secret police, Mademoiselle," the man said significantly. "The prefect of police at Lyse has sent me to you," and he bowed again to Ruth.
The matron was evidently somewhat alarmed as well as surprised, but Ruth"s calm manner rea.s.sured her to some extent.
"It is all right, Madame," the American girl told her. "I expected monsieur"s visit."
"Oh, if mademoiselle is a.s.sured--?"
"Quite, Madame."
The Frenchwoman hurried from the office and left the girl and the secret agent alone. The latter smiled quietly and asked Ruth to be seated.
"It is from Monsieur Joilette, at Lyse, that I come, as I say. He informs me you have the logic of a man-and a man"s courage, Mademoiselle. He thinks highly of you."
"Perhaps he thinks too highly of my courage," Ruth returned, smiling.
"Not so," proceeded Monsieur Lafrane, with rather a stern countenance, "for it must take some courage to tell but half your story when first you went to Monsieur Joilette. It is not-er-exactly safe to tell half truths to the French police, Mademoiselle."
"Not if one is an American?" smiled Ruth, not at all shaken. "Nor did I consider that I did wrong in saying nothing about Mrs. Mantel at the time, when I had nothing but suspicion against her. If Monsieur Joilette is as wise as I think him, he could easily have found the connection between those two dishonest men from America and the lady."
"True. And he did so," said the secret agent, nodding emphatically. "But already Legrand and this Jose had made what you Americans would call "a killing," yes?" Ruth nodded, smiling. "They got away with the money. But we are not allowing Madame Mantel, as she calls herself--"
"That isn"t her name then?"
"Name of a name!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the man in disgust. "I should say not. She is Rosa Bonnet, who married an American crook four years ago and went to the United States. He was shot, I understand, in an attempt of his gang to rob a bank in one of your Western States."
"Oh! And she came East and entered into our Red Cross work. How dreadful!"
"Rosa is a sharp woman. We believe she has done work for _les Boches_.
But then," he added, "we believe that of every crook we capture now."
"And is she arrested?"
"But yes, Mademoiselle," he said good-naturedly. "At least the police of Lyse were about to gather her in as I left this afternoon to come over here. But the men--"
"Oh, Monsieur!" cried Ruth, with clasped hands, "they have been in this neighborhood only to-day."
He shot in a quick: "How do you know that, Mademoiselle Fielding?"