  Left to herself, Bumble thought over the situation and laughed. As usual, she had got into a scrape, and, also as usual, she had fared very luckily. Suppose instead of the kind Mrs. Lummis, she had found a disagreeable hostess! But she had fallen on her feet, and with her care-free nature she bothered herself not a whit about unpleasant possibilities. She wandered about the pretty little bedroom, feeling very grateful for the safe harbour from the stormy night. She read a little, and then sat at the well-furnished toilet table to take down her hair. She could hear guests arriving, and though of no mind to eavesdrop, she could not help over-hearing their light talk and chatter. Helen was not curious by nature, and paid no attention to the voices until the name of Lieutenant Herron was mentioned. But then the voices were lowered, and she caught no connected sentences. A little ashamed of herself for listening at all to talk not meant for her ears, Bumble went to bed and was soon sound asleep. Next morning Mrs. Lummis tapped at the door, and entered cheerily. “Sleep well, little girl? Yes? That’s good. Now for a bath and some breakfast, then I’m going to pack you off. Sorry to speed my parting guest so hastily, but I have to go out of town on an early train.” Helen sprang out of bed, truly sorry to inconvenience her kind benefactor. She made especial haste with her dressing and soon the two were seated at a cosy breakfast. Mrs. Lummis asked a good many questions and out of the kindness of her heart Helen replied in full. Suddenly she realised that she was divulging secrets. Without thinking, she had told the story of the day at the Country Club and the masquerading man, who, they suspected, had surreptitiously opened the letter that was in the pocket of Patty’s fur stole. Mrs. Lummis was greatly interested, and urged further details, and it was not until Bumble had told of Bill’s sometimes giving Patty important letters to hide, that she bethought herself of her indiscretion. She had even told of the secret drawer in the old desk, where Patty concealed the papers, and the realisation of her mistake almost stunned her. “Don’t tell, will you?” she pleaded. “I oughtn’t to have told that!” Of a sudden Mrs. Lummis’ eyes gleamed brightly. “It’s all right,” she said, a trifle absent-mindedly, and rising abruptly she went to the telephone. She called a number and presently Helen heard her talking in a foreign language. Helen could understand no word, but she was quick-witted and it seemed to her that Mrs. Lummis was divulging important information to some one exceedingly interested. At last she caught what was, she felt sure, the house number of the Fairfield home. Frightened and appalled, she sat wondering what she must do. She had heard more or less spy talk, but she knew nothing of such matters definitely. However she felt she must warn Patty, and tell her what she had inadvertently done. The horror and regret of her deed was almost swallowed up in the necessity for immediate action. Helen was at her best in an emergency, and her sometimes careless and blundering habits didn’t affect her mental efficiency. Her mind worked rapidly and even while Mrs. Lummis was talking, she was planning a way to circumvent her. At last the vivacious lady returned to the table, with a murmured excuse for her lengthy absence. “That’s all right,” Bumble said, smiling, “and I’m going to ask a similar indulgence. May I telephone, please,—as I’ve a bothersome dressmaker’s engagement that I want to break.” “So sorry,” said Mrs. Lummis, looking at her shrewdly, “but the telephone is out of order. The storm, you know. Just as I finished talking, it went dead, and we can’t use it till it’s fixed.” Helen knew this for an untruth, and a hastily fabricated invention at that. But she saw that Mrs. Lummis was not going to let her use the telephone, and she felt her fears verified that there was some secret work going on. Mrs. Lummis then began chatting again, apparently forgetful of her impending journey, and as she adroitly led the talk to war matters and around to Captain Farnsworth, Helen grew more and more wary of what she said, and also more and more determined to speak to Patty without delay. Breakfast finished, they rose, and went back to the bedroom. Mrs. Lummis sat in a high-backed chair, and Bumble quickly formed her plan. She drew from her coat pocket a long chiffon veil or scarf, that she carried for cold weather. “You’ve been so kind,” she said, “I’m going to ask your acceptance of this as a little souvenir. It’s a Liberty scarf,—I bought it in London,—but it’s been little used.” “Oh, it’s lovely,” said Mrs. Lummis, admiring the silken fabric. “Yes, and it’s a real Liberty scarf,—to help me to my liberty!” As Helen spoke, she quickly threw it around Mrs. Lummis’ neck and then around the high back of the chair, knotting it tightly. “You little villain!” cried the victim, “take that off!” “Not at all,” and Bumble pulled the knot tighter. It did not hurt the prisoner, but it made it impossible for her to rise from the heavy, high-backed chair. Helen quickly tied two or three more strong knots in the long ends, and the firm silk fabric was as secure as a hempen rope would have been. “Now, I guess that’ll hold you!” she said, nodding approval at her work. Then, oblivious to the venomous looks of the captive lady, she took up the telephone and called Patty. “If you’re innocent of any wrong,” she said to Mrs. Lummis, as she waited for her response, “you can have no objection to my speaking to my friends. Hello, that you?” She mentioned no name but recognised Patty’s voice. “You know that little matter you put in the Winthrop?” “Yes,” said Patty, knowing at once Bumble meant the old Governor Winthrop desk. “Take it out at once,—now,—and put it somewhere else. See?” “No, I don’t see——” “Well, you don’t have to,” Bumble was nervously impatient, but kept her voice calm, “only in the name of your country, do as I say!” “I will.” “Yes; remove that to a place of safety,—absolute safety. Will you?” “I will, at once.” Patty’s clear voice betokened her complete comprehension, and Helen said no more. Helen drew a sigh of relief as she hung up the receiver. She looked calmly at Mrs. Lummis. “I suppose you’re doing what you consider your duty,” she said, “as I am doing mine. There’s no use of our quarrelling, is there?” “I’ve no desire to quarrel,” the speaker was quite evidently holding her temper under control with difficulty, “but I think this a most unkind return for the hospitality I’ve shown you.” “So do I!” and Helen laughed. “Let’s untie the baddy old scarf!” Still smiling, she untied the hard knots behind the chair, taking her time for it, however. “I may misjudge you entirely,” she went on, slowly, “but sumpum tells me you’ve used my information to your own—or to some one’s advantage.” “In-deed!” said Mrs. Lummis, looking at her curiously, “you’re a clever youngster, I see.” “Not so clever as I wish I had been,” and Helen freed her captive entirely, and then handed her the scarf, with an elaborate bow. “As I said, I beg your acceptance of this souvenir of our little visit.” “Thank you, I accept in the spirit it is offered.” “And now, if you please, I’ll get off, and you may proceed on your interrupted journey.” “Very well, I’ll call a cab for you.” Mrs. Lummis sprang toward the telephone with such alacrity, that Bumble intercepted her. “No, I’ll call one. I know the number.” She did so, and her hostess stood waiting, but with a determined expression on her face, that, Helen knew, betokened further planning. Meantime, Patty, greatly amazed at Bumble’s telephone message, was acting upon the instructions. She took the packet Farnsworth had confided to her care from the old Winthrop desk and thought deeply as to where she should hide it. She had no idea what danger threatened, but she knew from Helen’s voice that it must be something grave, and that the packet must be safely concealed. It was a thick parcel,—an envelope so full of folded papers that it was too bulky to place between the leaves of a book, which was Patty’s first impulse. She looked thoughtfully about. She mustn’t stand holding it! The danger, whatever it was, might come at any minute. Helen’s tone commanded instant action. A photograph album lay on a side table. This was not usually in evidence, but Patty and Helen had brought it from an old storeroom to look at the old-fashioned portraits in it. It was a large volume, holding pictures of “cabinet size.” In response to a sudden inspiration, Patty opened the album and extracted six of the photographs. This left a hollow space quite big enough to admit the insertion of the envelope. She put it in, clasped the big brass fastenings of the old plush album, and laid it back on the table, with two more books carelessly on top of it. She heard a ring at the door, and suspecting trouble, she quickly tossed the six pictures she held in a desk drawer, under some old papers. She heard a few words in the hall, and then Jane ushered in a man in khaki uniform. “Good morning,” he said, pleasantly, “Miss Fairfield?” “Yes,” said Patty, with a courteously inquiring glance. “Sorry to intrude on your time; won’t detain you but a minute. I’m Sergeant Colton, and I’m sent by Captain Farnsworth for the packet he left with you for me.” “But Captain Farnsworth left no packet with me for you,” Patty returned. Her heart was beating wildly, lest she commit some indiscretion, and she prayed that she might do exactly right in this emergency. “Of course, not by name.” The man spoke low, and glanced about him. “It’s a secret mission. But I’ve credentials and an order.” He drew from his pocket an official-looking document, and showed Patty an order for the envelope left with her. “This isn’t signed by Captain Farnsworth,” she said, examining it carefully. “No; he didn’t dare sign it, it’s a diplomatic matter. But it is signed, as you see, by Colonel Brent, and it is authoritative.” “It would seem so,”—Patty’s voice was calm, though her heart and nerves were in commotion, “but I have no parcel such as you describe.” “Not a parcel,—a packet,—of papers.” “Just what is the difference between a parcel and a packet?” Patty smiled at him, for a gleam of threatening intent in his eye convinced her it was better to temporise. “Don’t trifle, Miss Fairfield, this is your country’s business. I’m sent by the administration authorities for the envelope, and it is your duty to hand it over, otherwise there may be serious consequences—both to and because of you.” “But this order means nothing to me.” Patty stared blankly at the signed and stamped document, that was so complicated of wording and vague of intent. “Good for you! I’m glad you’re cautious. Now, listen; Captain Farnsworth said you might be wary about giving it up, and he told me to tell you that he sent you the words ‘Apple Blossom’ as a talisman. He said if I told you those words, you would know he sent me. I suppose they are code words.” Patty stared at the man. It seemed to her Bill must have sent him when he gave her such a key word as that! And yet, Patty was very wary of possible spies or alien influences. Would it not be better to withhold a necessary paper, than to give it wrongfully? Would it not be better to incur Farnsworth’s displeasure for not having done his bidding, than to do it if it were not really his? And then she remembered Helen’s frantic message. Surely that meant something! Surely it could mean nothing but that the packet must be kept from possible predatory hands! She determined, rightly or wrongly, she would not believe Farnsworth had sent this man unless she had some more indubitable proof. She knew that an alien spy in our country’s uniform was not an impossibility, and she feared to accept this man’s word. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but I must repeat that I have no such packet as you speak of.” The untruth of this did not disturb Patty’s conscience, for she knew that aside from the accepted law that all’s fair in love and war,—military secrets must be kept inviolate even at the sacrifice of truth. “I’m sorry,” the visitor returned, “that I must disbelieve that. Moreover, I regret to add, I must do my best to find the packet. Captain Farnsworth warned me that you might prove thus obdurate, and that in that case, I must seek the papers for myself. He even went so far as to tell me that they were in the old Winthrop desk. Now do you believe in my integrity?” It was only the triumphant glance of the man’s eye that kept Patty from believing him. She reasoned that if he were an honest messenger he would be earnestly anxious but not victoriously glad. His air of having conquered gave an immediate impression of expected opposition and she was on her guard. If Farnsworth had really told him the papers were in that old desk he would, she felt sure, have confided it to her, and not have announced it with an air of braggadocio. “It isn’t a question of your integrity,” she replied, “but a matter of fact. The papers are not in this old desk.” Colton strode forward and threw the desk open. “Where are the secret drawers?” he asked, abruptly. “Here,” and Patty showed him the small hidden springs that opened the concealed spaces so often found in old desks. With meticulous care, Colton went all over the desk, measuring and calculating, in his endeavour to find the papers. But he at last turned a baffled face to Patty. She looked pleasantly interested, but said simply, “You are mistaken, you see.” “As to the desk, yes, but I must find the papers. Sorry, Miss Fairfield, but my duty must be done. I believe what I seek is in this room, and I must make search for it. With your permission—or without——” “Oh, go ahead,” Patty laughed, for she deemed it wiser to make no objection, “search all you like. May I stay here, or would you rather be alone.” “Stay, please,” and a shrewd glance was thrown toward her. An indicative glance it was, too,—though it was not meant to be. But Patty’s quick wits told her that he wished her to remain, hoping she would by some involuntary glance, disclose the hiding-place. This gave her new courage, and she determined to look anywhere save toward the old album that held the papers. If he should find them, she would defend them with her life, if need be, she thought. But if they were not discovered the victory was hers. She was convinced now that this was no emissary of Farnsworth’s. Had he been, he would have gone back for further instructions, before he made such desperate search. Moreover, his attitude would have been confidential and persuasive,—not belligerent and domineering. So she watched him, a little amused smile on her face, that gave no hint of her perturbation of spirit. She carefully let her eyes follow the directions taken by his own, but never by any chance led him to a fresh field of search. Frequently he looked up quickly, hoping to catch her gaze straying to the real hiding-place, but Patty was too canny for that. Once or twice she allowed him to intercept a furtive glance, carefully turned in the wrong direction, and her look of embarrassment led him to turn his attention that way. But all to no purpose. He looked everywhere, as he supposed, where the packet could have been hidden. He even moved the books on the side table, taking up the album itself, and laying it down again, assuming that the thick packet could not be between the leaves of any book. And now came Patty’s supreme test of nerve and poise. “I suppose you think you’re very smart,” he said, irritatedly, “to have hidden the thing so securely.” “It must be so, if that exhaustive search of yours failed to find it,” she replied, but not triumphantly at all. “However, you must remember that I assured you I hadn’t the papers. You cannot, therefore, expect me to be surprised that you didn’t unearth them.” “I salute you, Miss Fairfield, as an exceedingly clever young woman in more ways than one. I cannot tarry longer,——” “Afraid you’ll be caught here?” Patty couldn’t resist this fling. “No; I must report to Captain Farnsworth. He will send some one else, doubtless, who may succeed where I have failed.” “Let us hope so,” said Patty, drily. |
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