The Girl Philippa
under the stairs.
As he stood there, tugging furiously at the fallen man's coat, into the
rear of the hallway ran Warner, his automatic lifted. Both men fired at
the same instant, and the intruder dropped Halkett's arm. Then he ran
for the stairway. Up the stairs he leaped, shooting back at Warner as
he mounted to the landing above; and the American sped after him,
followed by Philippa, as far as the foot of the stairway.
Here Warner hesitated for a few moments, then he began cautiously to
negotiate the stairway, creeping step by step with infinite precaution.
When at last he had disappeared on the landing above, Philippa,
listening breathlessly below, heard Halkett stir and then groan.
As she turned, the Englishman lifted himself on one elbow, fumbled
instinctively in his breast pockets, and drew out two envelopes.
"Take them to Sister Eila!--Hurry, Philippa----" He passed a shaking
hand across his eyes, swayed to a sitting posture, caught at the stair
rail, and dragged himself to his feet.
"Give me that pistol," he muttered. She handed it to him; he groped in
his pockets for a few moments, found a clip, reloaded, and, reeling
slightly, walked with her aid as far as the front door. Philippa opened
it for him.
"Where is this man?" he asked vaguely.
"Mr. Warner followed him upstairs."
He pressed his hand over his battered head, nodded, extended the two
envelopes to her.
"Sister Eila," he repeated.
Philippa took the papers; he straightened his shoulders with a visible
effort; then, steadying himself by the handrail, he started to ascend
the stairs.
The girl watched him mount slowly to the landing above, saw him
disappear, stood listening a moment longer.
Magda and Linette came stealing into the hallway; Philippa pointed to
the telephone.
"Call the gendarmes at Ausone!" she whispered. "I must go to----"
A shot from above cut her short. All three women stood gazing up at the
landing in startled silence.
"Quick--the telephone! The gendarmerie!" cried Philippa.
Magda ran to the box; and at the same instant a man climbed over the
stair well, dropped to the hallway below, swung around on Magda, pushed
her violently from the telephone, and, seizing the receiver, ripped it
out by the roots.
Philippa had already turned and slipped through the doorway, both
envelopes tightly clutched in her hand. Directly in her path stood the
intruder's bicycle; and she seized the handles, righted it, and leaped
into the saddle before he could reach the front door.
He ran up the road behind her for a little distance, but she had already
found her balance and was increasing her speed over the smooth, white
highway. Then the young man halted, carefully leveled his revolver,
steadied his aim with his left elbow, and, standing in mid-road, he
deliberately directed a stream of lead after the crouching fugitive.
The last bullet from his magazine sent her veering widely from her path;
the machine sheered in a half-circle, staggered, slid down into the
grassy ditch, flinging the girl off sideways among the weeds.
Philippa got up slowly, as though dazed or hurt. The young man hurried
forward, reloading his weapon as he ran, but a shot from behind warned
him away from the trail of the limping girl, who was now trying to
escape on foot.
Whirling in his tracks, he stood for a second glaring at Halkett and
Warner, who were advancing, shooting as they came on; then, with a
savage glance at Philippa, he fired at her once more, turned, mounted
the roadside bank in a single leap, and ran swiftly along the hedge,
evidently looking for an opening into the field beyond.
When he found one, he wriggled through and was off like a hare, across
the fields and headed for the river, before Halkett and Warner could
discover his avenue of escape. Checked for a few moments, they ranged
the thorny hedge up and down, like baffled beagles. They had overrun
the trail.
Warner was already within speaking distance of Philippa when the girl
hailed him.
"Are you hurt?" he called across to her, where she stood knee-deep among
the roadside weeds, trying to draw together the points of her torn
bodice, to cover her throat and shoulders.
"The tire burst. I have a few scratches!"
"Did he get the papers?" shouted Halkett.
She drew both envelopes from her bosom, and shook them high with a
gesture of defiance. Then, replacing them, she made a funnel of her
hands and called out to them:
"He crawled under the hedge by that third telephone pole behind you!
You have come too far this way! No--the _other_ pole! Wait a moment,
Mr. Warner----"
Still calling out her directions in her clear, calm voice, she started
to limp down the road toward them; and Warner glanced back at her for a
moment; then he suddenly flung up his arm and shouted:
"Philippa! Look out for that car behind you!"
The girl turned, saw the automobile coming, stepped aside into the ditch
as a cloud of white dust obscured her.
Before she realized that the car had stopped, three men had jumped out
into the ditch and caught hold of her.
Warner heard her cry out; started to run toward her; saw her flung
struggling into the car; saw Wildresse rise and strike her with his
great fist and knock her headlong across the back seat, where she lay,
her disheveled head hanging down over the rear of the tonneau. Then the
car started. As she hung there, blood dripping from her mouth, she
reached blindly toward her breast, drew out the envelopes, and dropped
them in the wake of the moving car.
They fluttered along behind it for a moment, drawn into the dusty
suction, then they were whirled away right and left into the roadside
ditches.
Evidently nobody in the car except Philippa knew what she had done, for
the car, at top speed, dashed on toward the north.
Halkett ran up and found Warner gazing vacantly after the receding
machine, pistol leveled, but not daring to shoot. Then they both saw
Wildresse jerk the half senseless girl upright, saw him strike her again
with the flat of his huge hand so heavily that she crumpled and dropped
back into the corner of the seat.
"God!" whispered Halkett at Warner's elbow. "Did you see that?"
Warner, as white as death, made no reply. The ear had vanished, but he
still stood there staring at the distant cloud of dust settling slowly
in the highway. Presently Halkett walked forward, picked up the two
envelopes, pocketed them, and returned swiftly to where the American
still stood, his grim features set, the red stain from his bitten lip
streaking his chin.
"Warner?"
"Yes?" he answered steadily.
"We'd better start after that man at once."
"Certainly."
Halkett said:
"Have your horse hooked up as soon as you can.... I think----" His
voice trembled, but he controlled it. "I am horribly afraid for that
child.... He would cut her throat if he dared."
Warner turned a ghastly visage to his companion:
"Why do you say that?"
"Because she knows enough about him to send him before a firing squad,"
said Halkett. "That's the trouble, Warner."
They turned and walked rapidly toward the inn.
Warner spoke presently in an altered voice, but with the mechanical
precision of a man afraid of emotion and any wavering of self-control.
"I'm going to Ausone at once to find her.... Wherever I find her I shall
take her.... It makes no difference to me who objects. She is going to
have her chance in life.... I shall see to that."
Halkett drew a deep breath:
"Did you ever hear of such a plucky battle as she gave that rascal after
he got me? I never shall forget what she has done."
They entered the front door of the inn, almost running; Warner continued
on toward the garden and the stable beyond; Halkett halted at the
telephone, gazed grimly at the ruined instrument, realized that he was
again isolated, and called impatiently to Linette who, with Magda, was
gathering up and sweeping aside the debris of the wrecked furniture.
"Linette," he said, "would you do something to help me?"
"Willingly, Monsieur."
"Go to the school; say to Sister Eila that I am in real need of her.
Ask her if she could come here at once, because I cannot go to her."
The girl nodded, turned, and went out rapidly by the front way. Halkett
hastened upstairs to his room.
When again he returned, the dogcart had just driven up, and Warner sat
waiting in silence, reins and whip in hand.
But Halkett had a letter to write before he could start; and it was slow
work, because the letter must be written in a cipher, the key to which
was the solar spectrum and the three metallic symbols.
He had scarcely completed his letter when Sister Eila and Linette
entered the hallway together.
The Sister of Charity caught sight of him through the doorway as he rose
from his seat in the empty dining-room; and she instantly went to him.
He thanked Linette, closed the door, and turned to Sister Eila.
"There's nobody else I can trust," he said. "Will you help me?"
"You know I will."
He drew the two envelopes from his breast pocket and handed them to her
in silence. Then he laid on the table the letter which he had just,
written.
"I am obliged to go to Ausone," he said. "It will take me several
hours, I suppose, to go, attend to my business, and return. Could you
remain here at the inn until I can get back?"
"Yes. Sister Felicite is with the children."
"Then this is what you must know and prepare for. If, while I am away, a
man should come here and ask for me, you will show him this letter lying
on the table, and you will say to him that I left it here for a man whom
I have been expecting. You will stand here and watch him while he is
reading this letter. If he really _can_ read it, then he will ask for
pen and ink, and he will _change the punctuation_ of what I have written
on the envelope: '_Ibis, redibis non, morieris in bello._' As I have
punctuated it, it means: 'Thou shalt go, thou shalt not return, thou
shalt die in battle.'
"So if he _can_ read what is _inside_ the envelope, he will erase the
comma after the word _non_, and insert a comma after the word _redibis_.
And the translation will then read: 'Thou shalt go, thou shalt return,
thou shalt _not_ die in battle.' Is all this quite clear to you,
Sister?"
"Perfectly."
"Then, if a man comes here and asks for me, and if you see that he
really has understood the letter which is written in cipher, then, after
he has repunctuated what I have written, give him the other two
envelopes which I have entrusted to you.
"Will you do this for--France, Sister Eila?"
"Yes"--she lifted her grave young eyes--"for France."
Through the open dining-room window Sister Eila watched his departure,
smiling her adieux as the two men turned toward her and uncovered.
Then she seated herself by the window sill and rested her cheek on her
palm, gazing out at the blue sky with vague, enraptured eyes that saw a
vision of beatitude perhaps, perhaps the glimmering aura of an earthly
martyrdom, in the summer sunshine.
And possibly a vision less holy invaded her tranquil trance, for she
suddenly straightened her young shoulders, picked up the crucifix at her
girdle, and gazed upon it rather fixedly.
The color slowly cooled in her cheeks till they were as white as the
spotless wimple that framed them in its snowy oval.
After a while rosary and crucifix fell between her relaxing hands, and
she looked up at the blue foothills of the Vosges with bluer eyes.
The next moment she sprang to her feet, startled. Over the sparkling
hills came sailing through the summer sky a gigantic bird--the most
enormous winged creature she had ever beheld. A moment later the high
clatter of the aeroplane became audible.