Part 23 (1/2)

Henriette replied to her queries bashfully, bobbing her head at every reply. She was much impressed by the lady's attention. Finally the latter looked full at Ruth, and asked:

”Your friend is from the hospital, Hetty?”

”Oh, yes, Madame!” Henriette hastened to say. ”She is an _Americaine_.

Of the Red Cross.”

”I could imagine her nativity,” said the countess, bowing to Ruth, and with cordiality. ”I traveled much with the count-years ago. All over America. I deem all Americans my friends.”

”Thank you, Madame,” replied Ruth gravely.

At the moment the stern-faced Bessie came through the little postern gate. She approached the countess and stood for a moment respectfully waiting her mistress' attention.

”Ah, here is the good Bessie,” said the countess, and pa.s.sed the serving woman the loop of the dog's leather leash. ”Take him away, Bessie.

Naughty Bubu! Do you know, he should be punished-and punished severely.

He had slipped his collar again. See his legs? You must draw the collar up another hole, Bessie.”

The harsh voice of the old woman replied, but Ruth could not understand what she said. The dog was led away; but Ruth saw that Bessie stared at her, Ruth, curiously-or was it threateningly?

The countess turned again to speak to the two girls. ”Old Bessie comes from America, Mademoiselle,” she explained. ”I brought her over years ago. She has long served me.”

”She comes from Mexico, does she not?” Ruth asked quietly.

”Yes. I see you have bright eyes-you are observant,” said the countess.

”Yes. Mexico was Bessie's birthplace, although she is not all Spanish.”

Ruth thought to herself: ”I could guarantee that. She is part German.

'Elizabeth'-yes, indeed! And does this lady never suspect what her serving woman may be?”

The countess dismissed them with another kindly word and gesture.

Henriette was very much wrought up over the incident.

”She is a great lady,” she whispered to Ruth. ”Wait till I tell my father and mother how she spoke to me. They will be delighted.”

”And this is a republic!” smiled Ruth. Even mild toadyism did not much please this American girl. ”Still,” she thought, ”we are inclined to bow down and wors.h.i.+p a less worthy aristocracy at home-the aristocracy of wealth.”

Henriette ran her down to the town and to the hospital gate. Ruth was more than tired-she felt exhausted when she got out of the car. But she saw the matron before retiring to her own cell for a few hours' sleep.

”We shall need you, Mademoiselle,” the Frenchwoman said distractedly.

”Oh! so many poor men are here. They have been bringing them in all day.

There is a lull on the front, or I do not know what we should do. The poor, poor men!”

Ruth had to rest for a while, however, although she did not sleep. Her mind was too painfully active.

Her thoughts drummed continually upon two subjects, the mystery regarding Tom Cameron-his letter to her found in another man's pocket.

Secondly, the complications of the plot in which the woman in black, the two crooks from America, and the occupants of the chateau seemed all entangled.

She hoped hourly to hear from Tom; but no word came. She wished, indeed, that she might even see Charlie Bragg again; but n.o.body seemed to have seen him about the hospital of late. The ambulance corps was s.h.i.+fted around so frequently that there was no knowing where he could be found, save at his headquarters up near the front. And Ruth Fielding felt that she was quite as near the front here at Clair as she ever wished to be!