He lifted the calico screen and revealed a Prussian officer’s grey field-uniform, worn and faded, and stained with mud and rust. Beside it hung a hunting dress like the one Herr Johann usually wore, and a heavy fur-lined overcoat.
“He’s a colonel,” said Bob, touching the insignia on the blouse, “colonel of artillery. This must be a mild sort of hunting compared to what he’s done. Larry, I believe you’re right. Elizabeth stifled my suspicions for a while, but they’re all coming back.”
“They’d better,” said Larry grimly.
“But not of Elizabeth!” cried Lucy hotly.
“All right, if you can explain it some other way,” said Larry. “Well, there’s nothing else to see here.”
He and Bob approached the window. “Look, Larry, it’s clearing. There are not more than two inches of snow on the ground. I think even my delicate little feet can pick their way home now.”
Larry laughed, then pointed out through the woodland. “There’s the road, see it, Bob? That’s Franz’ route when he takes his wood to Coblenz—or elsewhere. He’s right under Herr Johann’s eye.”
“But old Johann doesn’t spend much time here, only an occasional visit,” remarked Bob.
While the two young officers talked together Lucy and Michelle lingered on the far side of the room, Lucy’s eyes on the grey uniform, her loyal heart troubled by the sight of it, by the evidence of Herr Johann’s profession. He was Franz’ master and Franz was Elizabeth’s friend. What could be the explanation?
With restless fingers she touched the grey cloth, felt something in the pocket, mechanically plunged in her hand and drew out a square, folded paper.