The Red Signal (Musaicum Romance Classics). Grace Livingston Hill
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“And now I have special orders for your son. He must go up to town during this coming week and enlist in the American Army. His orders are in this envelope, and he will bring all his 'reports' here to you———”
Schwarz's voice murmured a protest, but the hard, cultured voice went on:
“It is of no use to urge such woman's foolishness. It is the command! Is it not what you sent him to the Fatherland to be educated for, that he might serve his country? He will be in a remarkable position to obtain information which is very much needed. He should be glad he has the great honor to serve in so high a capacity. Now, will you show me where you have put the powder?”
The two men moved softly away over the grass, and their voices were audible no longer. Hilda drew a long breath and found she was trembling from head to foot. What did it all mean? Could she be dreaming?
When she scrambled out of bed the next morning in answer to the angry summons at her door the occurrences of the night came at once sharply to her mind, and she found her fingers trembling as they tried to fasten the buttons in her hasty toilet. Had it all really happened, or was it only an ugly dream? She went and looked out of her window. The sky was crimson with dawn, and the grass below her window was quite visible. There were no signs in the short young turf of recent footsteps. There was nothing to mark the place but a large iron cover with a big thick ring by which to lift it. It looked as if it might be the cover to an old cistern, or possibly a coal pit. It had not excited her curiosity when she had seen it before, but now she recalled some of the sentences spoken beneath her window, and looked again. Could this be the trap-door the stranger had spoken of? But no, it must all have been a dream, of course!
She hurried down the stairs, fastening her apron and trying to put thoughts of the night before out of her mind.
Mrs. Schwarz was putting on a clean table-cloth and making the room tidy. She had an air of suppressed excitement, and two spots on her cheeks blazed forth redder than usual. Her eyes snapped like electric sparks, and there was something about her that made Hilda hasten to the kitchen to be out of her way.
The men were more quiet than usual when they came down, and they stood about restlessly, casting furtive glances out of the door as though they awaited a superior.
Hilda had about decided that her experience of the night had been all a hallucination, when she heard voices, and glancing out saw Schwarz and a tall, well-built stranger coming out of the barn. They paused a moment, looking at something just within the door, Schwarz nodding respectful assent to some evident criticism or direction, then Schwarz closed the barn door and they came on together up the path, the stranger pointing here and there and talking as they came. Hilda hurried to put the breakfast on the table that she might escape notice, but turned from arranging the dishes just in time to see all the men give the stranger a military salute as he entered. She gave him one quick glance as she slid back to the kitchen, but she knew that he had seen her. He had a face that made you sure nothing escaped his keen glance. His eyes were blue and cold and haughty, and reminded her of an eagle she had once seen in the Zoological Gardens. He had a quantity of yellow hair, combed straight back from a retreating forehead, and a long yellow moustache, curled at the ends. She could see that the other men stood in great awe of him. Even Schwarz waited to sit down until he had taken his seat. The conversation was all in German that drifted out to the kitchen as Hilda baked great plates of hot cakes, and carried on by the stranger in the tone of a superior giving orders. Hilda caught snatches of sentences now and then as she carried the plates of cakes to the table, but she could make nothing of their import. She was always aware that the stranger was watching her, and with quick alarm she schooled herself to look “dumb” as Schwarz had reported her. By sheer force of will she kept her calm, steady color even when the stranger spoke of her to Schwarz, remarking on her good looks in bold, calculating terms that made her wish to turn and flee. She felt instinctively that he was saying these insulting things to test her knowledge of the German, and she tried to look as stupid as she could, though her blood was boiling, and her heart was thumping wildly in her breast. The ordeal of the breakfast seemed an eternity in passing, and for once she welcomed the long dishwashing that would keep her in the kitchen out of view.
Even here, however, she was not safe. She heard footsteps behind her, and, with a growing consciousness of being watched, looked up to see the stranger standing silently by her, watching her like a big cat waiting to spring on a mouse. As her eyes met his a half-cynical smile began to dawn on his face:
“What is your name, my pretty one?”
The question was asked in his perfect German, with just the touch of contemptuous patronage that one gives to an inferior. Almost she forgot herself and lifted her chin haughtily. But just in time her part came to her and she simply stared at him a second uncomprehendingly and went on with her dishwashing, splashing around in the soapy water without regard to his fine coat; and quite naturally, as she had hoped he would do, he stepped back.
Then, horrified at Hilda's presumption, out came Mrs. Schwarz, with angry brows and mortified apologies:
“She doesn't understand the German, Captain. You'll have to excuse her; she's awful dumb, und she don't know no petter. Hilda, the gentleman is asking your name. Can't you answer him civilly?; And for mercy's sake schtop splashing him with that dirty vater!”
Hilda, with well-feigned calmness, lifted her eyes indifferently to the man's face, then turned deliberately toward her mistress and answered quietly:
“You will tell him, please, Mrs. Schwarz, that I am Miss Lessing.”
Then she dropped her eyes and went on with her dishwashing, far from feeling the calmness she would have had them think she felt.
The young German stared at her in amazement for a moment, then threw his head back and laughed. But beyond a faint pink stealing into her cheeks there was no change in the gentle dignity of the girl, though she was maintaining herself by the utmost strain of nerve and will. She felt that if she were to break down now she would never be able to protect herself against something indefinable, which was, nevertheless, very real in the atmosphere of this strange house.
She succeeded well in convincing the man that she did not understand his language. But the fineness of her was something she could not hide, not at least with her inexperience. Had she but known it, she aroused his interest