Part 30 (2/2)

”Look here! Do you know that I am an officer on the staff of the army in possession of this village? I'm going to be billeted here and I propose to choose my room.”

He moved toward the door that led to the stairs.

”Certainly!” she answered, pa.s.sing through it ahead of him. He was dumbfounded at her compliance and suspicious of its promptness.

”Henriette, the beast is going to billet himself here!” she shouted up the stairs. ”You pa.s.s through the other way and I will meet you outside and we'll go to the cure, who will speak to the General in command about it. The General may be a decent, respectable man.”

Von Eichborn drew back from the doorway. Again he tried to fasten his eyegla.s.s in his eye; again it would not stick. As Helen looked around at him after her call to her sister, with that in her stare which made him appear the most ridiculous little puppy that ever left a kennel, he mumbled:

”Unnecessary!”

Then she saw Phil hurrying across the grounds. She only knew how glad she was to see him and that she felt limp in her relief as he appeared in the room, looking so strong and ready for any eventuality. It was another picture of him that she would never forget.

Von Eichborn, as he turned in surprise and stood there between the two, was sheepish and confused as a human being, before his sense of authority and position vented its truculence with a snarling irony of inference.

”You seem not to have been looking after your cousins,” he said. ”I judge that the pretty one is quite devoted to you and the shrew here keeps guard in your absence.”

Something carried Phil a step nearer to von Eichborn involuntarily; and what came into his eyes was distilled of that old blood and tempered by three years in the Southwest.

”And you, I judge,” he replied, ”are a cowardly beast, going about sneaking into homes when no men are present and others in your uniform are under fire!”

Cowardly was the word that sent von Eichborn out of his head with anger. He struck at Phil's face with his gloves, but missed. The rest was very simple. Von Eichborn went sprawling. His descent was rapid and unexpected and the stunning effect of the impact was accentuated by the way his head hit the floor.

”Good! good!” Helen cried, clapping her hands. ”It was never done better in the movies! Good! goo----” The word was unfinished, her jaw dropping aghast with the seriousness of the situation.

When von Eichborn came to and realised what had happened, that he had been brutally knocked down by a civilian, he reached for his revolver.

There was murder in his little eyes. But Phil had already taken the revolver out of its holster.

”You have struck a Prussian officer on duty!” he stammered as he got to his feet. ”That is death, as you will find out as soon as I can bring some men.”

He was going past Phil out of the door; but Phil barred the way.

”Wait!”

And von Eichborn had to wait. The position was strange. Here was the darling of Berlin salons and the aide of the General who commanded a division of troops which possessed the land balked by a mere civilian, a mere tourist; neither being armed. It was humiliating, disgusting, shameful. Von Eichborn could not try to force his way to the door for fear that he might be knocked down again.

”Yes, wait and consider,” Phil added. ”Let's not do anything rash, but think it over. Now----”

”Phil, don't!” Helen broke in wildly. ”You, an American, don't realise. He can have you shot for striking him.”

”After he struck me?”

”That has nothing to do with it!” put in von Eichborn hoa.r.s.ely. ”I'm an officer!”

”It's all true what he says!” said Helen. There was no banter of melodrama about her now. The scene had become tensely real and horrible.

”But it does not stand to reason! It's----”

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