“From what city?” he inquired.
“Decatur, Illinois.”
“You are to make effort at once to leave Paris to go to the district of Roisel. Never mind the Americans; there will be few there. Observe British dispositions; of their Fifth Army; their headquarters; what forces in reserve present; what movements indicating a lengthening of their front. Return here after two weeks; not later than three. It is the wonder of America, observe!” he proceeded in the same tone as a man went by, “that it saves not only my country, my civilization, but even, for me, my hat! I thank you again, Mademoiselle. Bon jour!” He bowed and was off.
CHAPTER IX
TO PICARDY
Ruth stood galvanized for a second. The man, beyond doubt, was a German agent; he had addressed her as a spy. There was no other possible explanation.
When the woman at Mrs. Corliss’ had disclosed herself as an enemy, Ruth had balanced the harm the woman might do to America against the harm she, herself, might do Germany, and Ruth had decided, rightly or wrongly, to remain quiet. Now she could not do so. A German spy in Chicago was a distant, only indirectly dangerous person; a spy in Paris did most direct things—such as setting colored lights at the bottoms of chimneys to guide the great black-crossed Gothas which bombed Paris by night, blowing down those buildings in the ruins of which Ruth had seen men frantically digging by the early morning light; they did things such as ... Ruth did not delay to catalog in that flash the acts of Germans in Paris. She knew that man must be arrested at whatever cost to herself.
She started after him down the Rue St. Jacques in the first spur of this impulse. Fortunately, after leaving her, he did not gaze back, but proceeded alertly along the street. A man and a woman spoke to him; he bowed. Another passer-by bowed to him with the deference shown a gentleman of importance and position. And Ruth slowed her pursuit and followed a little distance behind him. He turned to the Boulevard St. Michel, where others bowed to him, crossed the boulevard and went into the Ecole de Médecine.
Ruth halted a man who had spoken to him and inquired, please, the name of the gentleman who had just passed. The Frenchman informed politely, “Monsieur de Trevenac.”
“The entire name, please?” Ruth pressed.
“Monsieur Louis de Trevenac,” the name was repeated as of one well known. Ruth proceeded to the door of the Ecole de Médecine, where inquiry confirmed the name; M. de Trevenac had just entered.