"You know, some of our boys went across and visited the Heinies last night," Charlie said gently. "They got right into the German trenches and drove out the Heinies. And in a German dugout—before they blew it up with bombs—this chap I talked with picked up that box."
"Oh, Charlie!" gasped the girl.
"Yes. He didn't see the significance of the monogram. He didn't know Mr. Cameron personally, I think. He was slightly wounded and I helped him with first aid. He gave the box to me as a German souvenir," and the driver of the ambulance looked grim.
"Then they surely have got poor Tom!" whispered Ruth.
"At least, it looks as though he went over that way," agreed the boy sadly.
"Don't speak so, Charlie!" she cried. "I tell you he has been taken prisoner."
"We-ell," drawled her friend again, "we can't know about that."
"But we will know!" she said, with added vehemence. "It will all come out in time. Only—it will be too late to help poor Tom, then."
"Gosh!" groaned Charlie Bragg. "It's too late to help him now—if you should ask me!"
Ruth had nobody to talk to about Tom Cameron save the young ambulance driver. And him she could see but seldom.