Ruth Fielding at the War Front; or The Hunt for the Lost Soldier Read online

  CHAPTER II

  AT THE CHATEAU

  The two girls, arm in arm, approached the postern gate beside the wideiron grille that was never opened save for the passage of horses or amotor car. There was a little round shutter in the postern at theheight of a man's head; for aforetime the main gateway had been ofmassive oak, bolt-studded and impervious to anything less than cannonshot. The wall of masonry that surrounded the chateau was both highand thick, built four hundred years or so before for defence.

  An old-fashioned rope-pull hung beside the postern. Henriette draggedon this sharply, but the girls could not hear the tongue of the bell,for it struck far back in the so-called offices of the chateau, wherethe serving people had had their quarters before these war times hadcome upon the earth.

  Now there were but few servants remaining at the chateau. For the mostpart the elderly Countess Marchand lived alone and used but few of therooms.

  As the girls waited an answer to their summons, Henriette said, inreference to what had already passed in conversation between them:

  "It hurts me, dear friend, that anybody should doubt the loyalty of ourcountess whom _we_ know to be so good. Why! there are people evenwicked enough to connect her with that--that awful Thing we know of,"and the girl dropped her voice and looked suddenly around her, asthough she feared an unseen presence.

  "As though she were a werwolf," she added, with a shudder.

  "Pooh!" and Ruth Fielding laughed. "Nobody in their senses wouldconnect Madame la Countess with such tales, having once seen her."

  She thought now, as they waited, of her first visit to the chateau, andof the appearance of the Countess Marchand in her bare library.Whatever her sons might be--the young count who was missing, or thismajor whom she had just met in the grassy lane--Ruth Fielding wasconfident that the lady of the chateau was a loyal subject of France,and that she was trusted by the Government.

  Ruth had called here herself on that occasion with a secret agent,Monsieur Lafrane, to clear up the mystery of a trio of criminals whohad come from America to prey upon the Red Cross. These crooks hadsucceeded in robbing the Supply Department of the Red Cross, in whichRuth herself was engaged. But in the end they had fallen into thetoils of the French secret service and Ruth had aided in theiroverthrow.

  All this is told in the volume of this series immediately preceding ourpresent story, entitled: "Ruth Fielding in the Red Cross; or, Doing HerBest for Uncle Sam." This was the thirteenth volume of the RuthFielding Series.

  Of the twelve books that have gone before that only a brief mention canbe made while Ruth and the young French girl are waiting for an answerto the bell.

  At first we meet Ruth Fielding as she approaches Cheslow and the RedMill beside the Lumano River, where Uncle Jabez, the miserly miller,awaits her coming in no pleasant frame of mind. He is her only livingrelative and he considers little Ruth Fielding a "charity child." Sheis made to feel this by his treatment and by the way in which the girlsin the district school talk of her.

  Ruth makes three friends from the start, however, who, in their severalways, help her to endure her troubles. One is Aunt Alvirah Boggs, whois nobody's relation but everybody's aunt, and whom Jabez Potter, themiller, has taken from the poorhouse to keep his home tidy andcomfortable. Aunt Alvirah sees the good underlying miserly UncleJabez's character when nobody else can. She lavishes upon the littleorphan girl all the love and affection that she would have given to herown children had she been blessed with any.

  Ruth's other two close friends were the Cameron twins, Helen and Tom,the children of a wealthy storekeeper who lived not far from the RedMill. The early adventures of these three are all related in the firstbook of the series, "Ruth Fielding of the Red Mill."

  One virtue of Uncle Jabez's, which shines as brightly in his rathergloomy character as a candle in the dark, is that he always pays hisdebts. If he considers he owes anybody anything he is not satisfieduntil he pays it. Therefore, when Ruth recovers some money which hadbeen stolen from him, he is convinced that it is only right for him topay her tuition for at least a year at Briarwood Hall, where she goesto school with Helen Cameron, while Tom goes to a boy's boarding schoolcalled Seven Oaks.

  The girls and Tom and his friends often got together for good timesduring their school years, and, in successive volumes, we meet them inwinter adventures in the Northern woods at Snow Camp; in the summer atLighthouse Point; in Wyoming at Silver Ranch; in lakeside and woodsyadventures on Cliff Island; enjoying most exciting weeks at SunriseFarm, where Ruth wins a reward of five thousand dollars in aiding inthe recovery of a pearl necklace stolen by the Gypsies. There arevolumes, too, telling of the serious loss by fire of a dormitorybuilding at Briarwood and how Ruth Fielding rebuilt it by theproduction of a moving picture; of her vacation down in Dixie; of herfirst year at Ardmore College, which she and Helen and several of herBriarwood chums entered; then of Ruth Fielding in the saddle when shewent West again, this time for the production of a great pictureentitled: "The Forty-Niners."

  With the entrance into the war of the United States, Tom Cameronenlisted and went to France as a second lieutenant with the firstExpeditionary Force. Ruth and Helen went into Red Cross work, leavingcollege before the end of their sophomore year for that purpose.

  Ruth could not go as a nurse, but in the Supply Department she gainedcommendation and when a supply unit of the Red Cross was sent to Franceshe went with it, while Helen went over with her father, who was on acommission to the front. Once there, the black-eyed girl found work todo in Paris while Ruth was enabled to be of use much nearer the front.

  Indeed, at the opening of the present story the girl of the Red Mill isat work in the evacuation hospital at Clair, right behind a sector ofthe battle line that had been taken over by General Pershing's forces.Tom Cameron is with his regiment not many miles away. Indeed, hiscompany might be engaged in this very activity that had suddenly brokenout within sound, if not in sight, of Clair and the Chateau Marchand.

  There was reason for Ruth Fielding's gravity of countenance--and graveit was, despite its natural cheerfulness of expression--for herinterest in Tom Cameron and his interest in her had long been marked bytheir friends. Tom was in peril daily--hourly. It was no wonder thatshe revealed the ravages of war upon her mind.

  "Sh!" whispered Henriette. "Here comes Dolge, the gardener. Now thatBessie is gone he is the oldest person Madame la Countess has in heremploy."

  "I wonder what became of Bessie. Monsieur Lafrane told me she was notapprehended with those men who helped her get away from the chateau."

  "It is a mystery. She had served Madame so many years. And then--atthe last--they say she was a spy for _les Boches_!"

  Dolge appeared, with his toothless grin, at the round opening in thepostern.

  "The little Hetty and _Mademoiselle l'Americaine_," he mumbled."Madame la Countess expects you."

  He unchained the door and let them pass through. Then he shut andchained the door again just as though the chateau was besieged.

  The girls did not wait for him. They walked up the curved avenue tothe wide entrance to the great pile of masonry. The chateau was aslarge as a good-sized hotel.

  Before the war there had been many comforts, Ruth understood, that nowthe countess was doing without. For instance, electric lights and somekind of expensive heating arrangement.

  Now the lady of the chateau burned oil, or candles, like the peasants,and the chateau doors were wide open that the sun and air of thisgrateful day might help dry the tomb-like atmosphere of the receptionhall.

  "_Ma foi_!" said Henriette, commenting on this in a low voice, "eventhe beautiful old armor--the suits of mail that the ancient Marchandswore in the times of the Crusades--is rusty. See you! madame has notservants enough now to _begin_ to care for the place."

  "I suppose she has stored away the rugs and the books from the libraryshelves," began Ruth; but Henriette quickly said:

  "_Non_! _non_! You do not understand, Madem
oiselle, what our good ladyhas done. The wonderful rugs she has sold--that off the library floor,which, they say, the old count himself brought from Bagdad. And thebooks--all her library--have gone to the convalescent hospitals, or tothe poilus in the trenches. For they, poor men, need the distractionof reading."

  "And some of your neighbors suspect her," repeated Ruth thoughtfully.

  "It is because of that awful Thing--the werwolf!" hissed Henriette.

  Then there was time for no further speech. A middle-aged womanappeared, asked the girls in, and led the way to the library. A tablewas set near the huge open fireplace in which a cheerful fire crackled.On the table was a silver tea service and some delicate porcelain cupsand saucers.

  The kettle bubbled on the hob. Chairs were drawn close before theblaze, for, despite the "springiness" in the air without, theatmosphere in the vast library of the chateau was damp and chill.

  As the girls waited before the fire a curtain at the end of the roomswayed, parted, and the tall and plainly robed figure of the countessentered. She had the air of a woman who had been strikingly beautifulin her younger days. Indeed, she was beautiful still.

  Her snowy hair was dressed becomingly; her checks were naturally pinkand quite smooth, despite the countless wrinkles that netted herthroat. The old lace at the neck of her gown softened her ivory-huedskin and made its texture less noticeable.

  Her gown was perfectly plain, cut in long, sweeping lines. Nor did shewear a single jewel. She swept forward, smiling, and holding out herhand to Ruth.

  "Here is our little Hetty," she said, nodding to the French girl, whoblushed and bridled. "And Mademoiselle Fielding!" giving the latter awarm handclasp and then patting Henriette's cheek. "Welcome!" She putthem at their ease at once.

  The few family portraits on the walls were all the decorations of theroom. The book cases themselves were empty. Madame la Countess madethe tea. On the table were thin slices of war bread. There was nobutter, no sugar, and no milk.

  "We are learning much these days," laughed the countess. "I am evenlearning to like my chocolate without milk or cream."

  "Oh!" And Henriette whipped from the pocket of her underskirtsomething that had been making her dress sag on that side. When sheremoved the wrappings she produced a small jar of thick yellow cream.

  "My child! It is a luxury!" cried the countess. "I shall feel wicked."

  "Perhaps it will be nice to feel wicked for once," Ruth said, feeling alittle choke in her throat.

  She drew from concealment her own contribution to the "feast"--severallumps of sugar.

  "Do not fear," she added, smiling. "None of the poor poilus aredeprived. This is from my own private store. I wish there was more ofit, but I can't resist giving a lump now and then to the villagechildren. They are so hungry for it. They call me 'Mam'zelle Sucre'."

  "And I would bring you cream often, Madame," Henriette hastened to add,"but our good old Lally died, you know, and the little cow does notgive much milk as yet, and it is not as rich. Oh! if that werwolf hadnot appeared to us! You remember, Mademoiselle Ruth? Then old Lallydied at once," and the French girl nodded her head vigorously, beingfully convinced of the truth of the old superstition.

  The countess flushed and then paled, but nobody but Ruth noticed this.The American girl watched her hostess covertly. The bare mention of asuperstition that had the whole countryside by the throat, disturbedmuch the countess' self-control.

  The next moment there was a step in the hall and then the door openedto admit the same young officer Ruth Fielding had met in thelane--Major Henri Marchand.

  "Pardon, Maman," he said, bowing, and speaking to his mother quite likea little boy. "Do I offend?"

  "Do come in and have a cup of tea, Henri. There is sugar and realcream--thanks to our two young friends here. You remember our petiteHetty, of course? And this is our very brave Mademoiselle RuthFielding, of the American Red Cross. My younger son, Monsieur Henri,"the countess said easily.

  Major Marchand advanced into the room promptly. To Henriette he bowedwith a smile. Ruth put out her hand impulsively, and he bowed lowabove it and touched his lips to her fingers.

  The girl started a little and glowed. The manner of his address rathershocked her, for she was unused to the European form of greeting.Henri's deep, purple eyes looked long into her own brown ones as helingeringly released her hand.

  "Mademoiselle!" he murmured. "I am charmed."

  Ruth did not know whether she was altogether charmed or not! She feltthat there was something rather overpowering in such a greeting, andshe rather doubted the sincerity of it.

  She could understand, however, little Henriette's sentimental worshipof the young major. Henri Marchand was the type of man to hold theinterest of most girls. His eyes were wonderful; his cheek as clearand almost as soft as a woman's; he wore his uniform with an airscarcely to be expressed in ordinary words.

  Henriette immediately became tongue-tied. Ruth's experience had,however, given her ease in any company. The wonderful Major Marchandmade little impression upon her. It was plain that he wished tointerest the Americaine Mademoiselle.

  The little tea party was interrupted by the appearance of Dolge at thelibrary door.

  "A young American in an ambulance inquires for Mademoiselle Fielding atthe gate," said Dolge, cap in hand. "She is needed in haste, belowthere at the hospital."