Bob felt baffled, hot and angry. He began to feel that his proofs were insufficient, and, though he was no less than before convinced of Herr Johann’s duplicity, it was hard, in his labored German, to win any battle of words against his wily antagonist.
“Have you any objection to telling me plainly what your business is with Franz?” he asked, taking back the slip of paper. “Are you in the habit of wandering about the forest in winter?”
Herr Johann gave a faint, mocking laugh, more at himself than at Bob. “Why, no, Herr Captain, nor am I in the habit of living as I live now. The war has changed the world for such as I. My name is von Eckhardt. I am of Berlin, but since the armistice I have lived in and near Coblenz, trying to help our stricken Fatherland rebuild itself. I have some influence with our people—ex-soldiers such as this Franz—and I urge them to courage and unity. Do our conquerors object to patriotism in Germany?”
There was something of a hidden sneer in Herr Johann’s last words and Bob felt himself flushing as he answered, with more roughness than he had heretofore allowed himself, “I do not understand how Germany is served by meeting farmers and woodcutters at midnight.”
“And do you know, Herr Captain, that reunions are forbidden in Coblenz?” demanded the German.
Bob opened his lips to ask what took place at the reunions that were to serve the new Germany so well, but something checked him to silence. He felt that Herr Johann had an answer to everything and that questions were entirely useless. The German could advance the best of motives for his secret meetings and Bob was not yet in a position to contradict him. At that moment Bob, too simple and direct by nature to unravel a tangle of falsehood, longed for Alan’s careless, defiant tongue to fling challenges at Herr Johann which would make the cautious Prussian lose his temper and forget to play his part.
Herr Johann read something of Bob’s angry disbelief in his face, for with a deprecating sort of gesture he said regretfully, “I am sorry that the Herr Captain is not convinced. What can I do to satisfy him?”
“Nothing at all. Good-day,” said Bob, turning on his heel, disgusted at himself, at Herr Johann, at the doubts which must continue to trouble him when all should have been peaceful serenity.
He walked to the door, let himself out and re-crossed the clearing. In his keen annoyance his one consolation was the certainty that he had left both Germans still more uncomfortable. The Prussian’s calm glibness had deceived him not at all. His answers were good enough to stifle questioning, but not to put suspicion to sleep.
“I’m not quite the fool he thinks me,” he remarked to himself, as he picked up a pine-cone and tossed it at a squirrel frisking and chattering above his head. “Scat, you German beast,” he said moodily. “I don’t believe a word you’re saying.”