“Get your passport viséed before you start. Never neglect your passport over here in these times,” advised the major.
Should she speak? She hesitated, and the major sat down to his desk and took up his pen again.
“Good-day, Miss Fielding,” he said. “And the best of luck!”
The girl left the office, still in a hesitating frame of mind. There were yet several hours before she left the town. Her bags were quickly packed. All the workers of the Red Cross “traveled light,” as Clare Biggars laughingly said.
Ruth decided that she could not confide in Clare. Already the Western girl was quite enamored of the smiling, snaky Rose Mantel. It would be useless to ask Clare to watch the woman. Nor could Ruth feel that it would be wise to go to the French police and tell them of her suspicions concerning the woman in black.
The French have a very high regard for the American Red Cross—as they have for their own Croix Rouge. They can, and do, accept assistance for their needy poilus and for others from the American Red Cross, because, in the end, the organization is international and is not affiliated with any particular religious sect.
To accuse one of the Red Cross workers in this great hospital at Lyse would be very serious—no matter to what Ruth’s suspicions pointed. The girl could not bring herself to do that.
When she went to the prefect of police to have her passport viséed she found a white-mustached, fatherly man, who took a great interest in her as an Americaine mademoiselle who had come across the ocean to aid France.
“I kiss your hand, Mademoiselle!” he said. “Your bravery and your regard for my country touches me deeply. Good fortune attend your efforts at Clair. You may be under bombardment there, my child. It is possible. We shall hope for your safety.”
Ruth thanked him for his good wishes, and, finally, was tempted to give some hint of her fears regarding the supposed Professor Perry and the Italian Clare had spoken of.