The governor listened coldly and at the end of the speech inclined his head.
“Colonel Grau,” said he, “has been relieved of his duties here and transferred to another station. To you I have personally apologized. You will find my endorsement on your papers and, in addition, an order that will grant you safe conduct wherever you may wish to go. If that is not enough, make your demands and I will consider them.”
“Why, that is all I can expect, your Excellency, under the circumstances,” replied Mr. Merrick. “I suppose I ought to thank you for your present act of justice.”
“No; it is your due. Good evening, Mr. Merrick.”
He swung around on his heel and every officer of the group turned with him, like so many automatons, all facing the door. But Mr. Merrick touched the governor upon the arm.
“One moment, your Excellency. This young officer, Lieutenant von Holtz, has treated us kindly and courteously. I want you to know that one of your men, at least, has performed his duty in a way to merit our thanks — and yours.”
The governor scowled at Lieutenant von Holtz, who stood like a statue, with lowered eyes.
“Lieutenant, you are commissioned to guide Mr. Merrick as long as he remains within our lines. You will guard his safety and that of his party. When he departs, come to me personally with your report.”
The young officer bowed; the governor tramped to the door and went out, followed by his staff. Grau left the room last, with hang-dog look, and Patsy slammed the door in the hope of bumping his wooden head.
“So we’re free?” she said, turning to von Holtz.
“Not only that, Fraulein, but you are highly favored,” he replied. “All German territory is now open to you.”
“It’s about time they came to their senses,” remarked Uncle John, with a return to his accustomed cheerfulness.
“And, best of all,” said Patsy exultantly, “they’ve fired that awful colonel!”
The captain thoughtfully filled and lighted his pipe.
“I wonder,” said he, “how that happened. Was it the council, do you think, Lieutenant?”
Von Holtz shook his head.
“I think it was the governor,” he replied. “He is a just man, and had you been able to see him personally on your arrival you would have been spared any annoyance.”
“Perhaps,” said Patsy doubtfully. “But your governor’s a regular bear.”
“I believe that is merely his way,” asserted Uncle John. “I didn’t mind the man’s tone when I found his words and deeds were all right. But he — ”
Another rap at the door. Patsy opened it and admitted Henderson. He saluted the captain, bowed to the others and said:
“We’ve got her, sir.”
“Mrs. Denton?” cried Patsy, delightedly.
Henderson nodded.
“Yes, Miss Doyle; Mrs. Denton and the children.”
“The children! Why, there aren’t any.”
“I beg your pardon, Miss; there are two.”
“Two children!” she exclaimed in dismay. “There must be some mistake. The young people have only been married five months.”
Henderson stood stiff as a poker, refusing to argue the point.
“A governess, maybe,” suggested the captain.
“More likely,” said Uncle John, “young Denton married a widow, with — eh — eh — incumbrances.”
“That’s it, sir,” said Henderson earnestly.
“What’s it?”
“The incumbrances, sir. No other word could describe ‘em.”
Patsy’s heart sank; she was greatly disappointed.
“And she so young and pretty!” she murmured.
Henderson started to smile, but quickly suppressed it.
“Shall I show them up, Miss?” he inquired.
“Of course,” answered Uncle John, as the girl hesitated. “You should have brought her to us at once. Where is that Belgian — Rondel?”
“He is guarding the woman, sir.”
“Guarding her!”
“She’s a little difficult to manage, sir, at times. She left Charleroi willingly enough, but she’s tricky, and it is our duty to deliver her to you safely.”
“Get her at once, Henderson,” exclaimed Patsy, recovering her wits; “and the dear children, too.”
Presently there was a sound of shuffling on the stairs and through the corridor. The door opened to admit the arrivals from Charleroi.
Henderson first pushed in a big woman dressed in a faded blue-checked gown, belted around the waist in a manner that made her look like a sack tied in the middle. Her head was bare, her hair awry, her face sullen and hard; she was undeniably “fleshy” and not altogether clean. She resisted Henderson at every step and glared around her with shrewd and shifting eyes.
Following her came Monsieur Rondel leading a boy and a girl, the latter being a small replica of the woman. The boy was viciously struggling to bite the hand of the Belgian, who held him fast.
“Ah, well,” said Rondel, first sighing and then turning with a smile to face the lieutenant, “we have performed our mission. But heaven guard us from another like it!”
Patsy stared hard at the woman.
“This cannot be Mrs. Denton,” she gasped, bewildered.
“Indeed?” answered Rondel in English. “She declares that is her name. Question her in French or Flemish, Miss Doyle.”
Patsy addressed the woman in French but could elicit no reply. She stood impassive and silent.
“How did you make the mistake?” asked the girl, looking reproachfully first at Henderson and then at Rondel, both of whom were evidently astonished to find themselves at fault. “I have seen a photograph of Mrs. Andrew Denton, taken recently, and she is young and pretty and — and — rather small.”
Monsieur Rondel cleared his throat to answer:
“It happened in this way, mademoiselle: We searched one whole day in Charleroi for Mrs. Denton but could not find her. My friends, on whom I had relied for assistance, had unfortunately moved away or joined the army. The townspeople were suspicious of Monsieur Henderson, who is a foreigner. We could get no information whatever. I appealed to the burgomaster and he said he would try to find Mrs. Denton for us the next day. In the morning came to us this woman, who said she was the person we sought. If we promised her safe conduct to Dunkirk, she would go with us. She had wanted to go to Dunkirk for some weeks, but the Germans would not let her pass the lines. We suspected nothing wrong, for she admitted she was aware that her husband is in Dunkirk, and she wanted to get to him. So we brought her to you.”
Patsy faced the woman resolutely and said in French:
“Why did you wish to get to Dunkirk?”
“He has said it. To find my husband,” replied the woman in a surly tone.
“What is your name?”
No reply.
“Answer me!”
The woman eyed her obstinately and remained silent.
“Very well. Release those children, Monsieur Rondel. Madam, you have imposed upon us; you have tricked us in order to get to Ostend at our expense. Now go, and take your children with you.”
She pointed dramatically at the door, but the woman retained her position, only moving to cuff the boy, who was kicking Henderson on his shins. Then, setting her hands on her hips she said defiantly:
“They promised me passage to Dunkirk, and they must take me there.”
“Who promised you?”
“Those men,” pointing to them, “and the burgomaster.”
“Yes,” admitted Henderson, “we agreed with the burgomaster to take her out of the country. We signed a paper to that effect.”
“But she is a Belgian. And she is not the person she claimed to be.”
To this neither Rondel nor Henderson had an answer.
“See here,” said Uncle John, “I’ll untangle this matter in a jiffy. Here is money; give it to the woman and tell her to get out — or we’ll eject her by force.”
The w
oman grabbed the money eagerly, but after placing it in an ample pocket she said: “I will go no place but Dunkirk. I will not leave you until you take me there.”
But here the lieutenant interfered. He suddenly faced the woman, who had not noticed his presence before, and she shrank back in fear at sight of his uniform. The boy and girl both began to cry.
“I know you,” said von Holtz sternly. “You are the wife of a spy who has been condemned to death by both the Belgians and the Germans, since he betrayed them both. The last time you came to Ostend to annoy us you were driven out of the city. There is still an edict against you. Will you leave this room peaceably, or shall I order you under arrest?”
“Dog of a German!” she hissed, “the day is coming when I will help to drive you out of Belgium, even as you now drive me. Brave soldiers are you, to make war on women and children. Guh! I would kill you where you stand — if I dared.” With venomous hate she spat upon the floor, then seized her wailing children, shook them and waddled out of the room.
There was a general sigh of relief.
“You may return to the launch, Henderson,” said the captain.
“Monsieur Rondel,” said Uncle John, grasping the young Belgian’s hand, “we are grateful to you for your kindness. The failure of your mission was not your fault. We thank you. The governor has given us our liberty and permission to travel where we please, so to-morrow we will go to Charleroi ourselves to search for Mrs. Denton.”
“My motor car is at your disposal, sir, and my services.”
“To-morrow? Oh, let us go to-night, Uncle!” cried Patsy.
Mr. Merrick looked inquiringly at the Belgian.
“I am ready now,” said Rondel with a bow.
“Then,” said Patsy, “we will start in half an hour. You see, we have wasted two whole days — two precious days! I hope Dr. Gys will keep his promise, and that we shall find poor Denton alive on our return.”
CHAPTER XIV
FOUND AT LAST
The pretty city of Charleroi had suffered little damage from the German invasion, yet many of the townspeople had gone away since the occupation and those who remained kept well within their houses or huddled in anxious groups upon the streets. The civic affairs were still administered by the Belgian burgomaster, but the martial law of the Germans prevailed over all.
When Patsy Doyle, escorted by Uncle John and accompanied by Captain Carg, Lieutenant von Holtz and Monsieur Rondel, arrived in the early morning, the streets were comparatively deserted. The Hotel Royal received them hospitably and the landlord and his daughters prepared them an excellent breakfast.
While eating, Patsy chatted with the Belgian girls, who were neat, modest and intelligent. She found that Henderson and Rondel had not stopped at this hotel while in Charleroi, but at a smaller inn at the other end of the town. The girls remembered hearing of their visit and of their inquiries for a Mrs. Denton, but did not know whether they had succeeded in their quest or not.
“We have lived here all our lives,” said the eldest of the landlord’s three daughters, “but we have not known, during that time, any family of Dentons in Charleroi.”
Patsy reflected.
“They were married only five months ago, these Dentons,” said she, “and the young man may have come from some other town. Do you remember that any of your young girls were married about five months ago?”
Yes; there was Hildegarde Bentel, but she had married Anthony Mattison, who was not a soldier. Could the American mamselle remember what the girl’s first name was?
“Oh, yes!” exclaimed Patsy. “She signed her letters ‘Elizabeth.’“
They shook their heads.
“My name is also Elizabeth,” said one. “We have many Elizabeths in Charleroi, but none has lately married.”
“And her husband told me that she was now living here with her mother.”
“Ah, let us see, then,” responded another. “Could she have been a lady of rank, think you?”
“I — I do not know.”
“Is her husband an officer?”
“No; a private, I believe.”
“Then we are on the wrong scent,” laughed the girl. “I had in mind the daughter of the Countess Voig, whose name chances to be Elizabeth. She was educated at a convent in Antwerp, and the countess has lived in that city for several years, in order to be nearer her daughter. There was some gossip here that the young lady had married in Antwerp, just after leaving the convent; but we know little of the life of the Voigs because they are very reserved. Two or three months ago they returned to their castle, which is four miles to the north of Charleroi, and there they are still living in retirement. Every day the old steward drives into town to visit the post office, but we have not seen the countess nor her daughter since they came back.”
Patsy related this news to Uncle John, who did not understand French.
“Let us drive over to Castle Voig the first thing,” she said.
“But, my dear, it’s unreasonable,” he objected. “Do you suppose a high-born young lady would marry a common soldier? In America, where we have no caste, it would be quite probable, but here — ”
“He wasn’t a soldier five months ago,” said Patsy. “He’s just a volunteer, who joined the army when his country needed him, as many of the wealthy and aristocratic Belgians did. He may be high-born himself, for all we know. At any rate I mean to visit that castle. Tell Rondel to bring around the automobile.”
They had no trouble in passing the guards, owing to the presence of von Holtz, and in half an hour they were rolling through a charming, peaceful country that as yet had suffered no blemish through the German conquest.
At Castle Voig they were received by an aged retainer who was visibly nervous at their arrival. He eyed the uniform of young von Holtz with ill-concealed terror and hurried away to carry their cards to the countess. After a long wait they learned that the countess would receive the Americans, but it was a full half hour after that when they were ushered into a reception room where a lady sat in solitary state.
Under other circumstances Patsy could have spent a day in admiring the quaint, old-fashioned furniture and pictures and the wonderful carvings of the beamed ceiling, but now she was so excited that she looked only at the countess. The lady was not very imposing in form or dress but her features were calm and dignified and she met her guests with a grave courtesy that was impressive if rather chilly. Before Patsy had summoned courage to explain her errand a younger woman — almost a girl — hurriedly entered the room and took a position beside the other.
“Oh, it’s Elizabeth — it really is!” cried Patsy, clapping her hands together joyfully.
Mother and daughter regarded the American girl wonderingly and somewhat haughtily, but Patsy was not in the least dismayed.
“Isn’t this Mrs. Denton?” she asked, stepping forward to lay a hand upon the other girl’s arm.
“Yes,” was the quiet reply.
Patsy’s great eyes regarded her a moment with so sad and sympathetic a look that Mrs. Denton shrank away. Then she noticed for the first time the Red Cross uniform, and her hand went swiftly to her heart as she faltered:
“You — you have brought bad news of Andrew — of my husband?”
“Yes, I am sorry to admit that it is bad news,” answered Patsy soberly. “He has been wounded and is now lying ill in our hospital ship at Dunkirk. We came here to find you, and to take you to him.”
Mrs. Denton turned to her mother, a passionate appeal in her eyes. But it was some moments before the hard, set look on the face of the countess softened. It did soften at last, however, and she turned to Patsy and said simply:
“We will prepare for the journey at once. Pray excuse us; Niklas will serve refreshments. We will not detain you long.”
As they turned to leave the room Elizabeth Denton suddenly seized Patsy’s hand.
“He will live?” she whispered. “Tell me he will live!”
Patsy’s heart sank, but she sum
moned her wits by an effort.
“I am not a surgeon, my dear, and do not know how serious the wound may be,” she answered, “but I assure you it will gladden his heart to see you again. He thinks and speaks only of you.”
The girl-wife studied her face a moment and then dropped her hand and hurried after her mother.
“I fibbed, Uncle,” said Patsy despondently. “I fibbed willfully. But — how could I help it when she looked at me that way?”
CHAPTER XV
DR. GYS SURPRISES HIMSELF
Henderson was waiting with the launch at the Ostend docks. Lieutenant von Holtz was earnestly thanked by Patsy and Uncle John for his kindness and in return he exacted a promise from them to hunt him up in Germany some day, when the war was ended. The countess and Mrs. Denton, sad and black-robed, had been made comfortable in the stern seats of the boat and the captain was just about to order Henderson to start the engine when up to them rushed the fat Belgian woman and her two children.
Without an instant’s hesitation the two youngsters leaped aboard like cats and their mother would have followed but for the restraining hand of Captain Carg.
“What does this mean?” cried Mr. Merrick angrily.
The woman jabbered volubly in French.
“She says,” interpreted Patsy, “that we promised to take her to Dunkirk, so she may find her husband.”
“Let her walk!” said Uncle John.
“The Germans won’t allow her to cross the lines. What does it matter, Uncle? We have plenty of room. In three hours we can be rid of them, and doubtless the poor thing is really anxious to find her lost husband, who was last seen in Dunkirk.”
“He is a spy, and a traitor to both sides, according to report.”
“That isn’t our affair, is it? And I suppose even people of that class have hearts and affections.”
“Well, let her come aboard, Captain,” decided Uncle John. “We can’t waste time in arguing.”
They stowed her away in the bow, under Henderson’s care, and threatened the children with dire punishment if they moved from under her shadow. Then the launch sped out into the bay and away toward Dunkirk.
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 530