"Yes. The road to the west is shorter. It is not more than seven miles that way."
Halkett casually counted the sea gulls. Seven gulls were flying around one of the ships; thirteen around another.
"And the river road, Sister?" he inquired.
"By the quarry bridge? Oh, that is longer perhaps twelve or thirteen kilometers."
"I see Rosières-sous-Bois is not a garrison town?"
"No. There are only a few gendarmes there."
Halkett examined the picture attentively. The sun appeared to be about three hours high above the horizon.
"The nearest military post must be about three hours' journey from here," he ventured.
Sister Eila thought a moment, then nodded:
"Yes, about three hours. You mean the fort above the Pass of the Falcons? That is the nearest."
He counted the rays of the sun. There were three long ones and two short ones.
"I suppose there are three or four battalions garrisoned there," he remarked.
"Three, I think. And a company of engineers and one company of Alpine chasseurs."
All the time, with a detached air, the young Englishman was examining the colored poster, searching it minutely for variations from other posters of the same sort which he had recently investigated.
There remained in his mind little or no doubt that the number and position of the groups of pointed wavelets signified something important; that the number of sails set on the ships, which varied in every poster, contained further information; that the sky, cloudless in some posters, dotted with clouds in others, was destined to convey topographical particulars to somebody.
These colored advertisements of a soap made in Cologne by Bauermann and Company, and plastered over the landscape of Northern and Eastern Belgium and France, concealed a wealth of secret information for anybody who possessed the key to the messages so clearly and craftily expressed in pictograph and cipher code.
The sinister significance of the sheet in his hand was becoming more apparent every minute. He had made a study of these posters was just beginning to find them interesting, when he had been ordered to America. Now, all his interest in them returned.
Sister Eila had seated herself at her desk, and, while he was still examining the poster, she continued serenely to correct the pile of inky copybooks.
He watched her for a while, where she bent above the scrawled pages, her pen poised, her lovely face framed in the snowy wimple under the pale shadow of her wide-winged coiffe.
"Sister Eila?"
She turned her head tranquilly.
"You are English, you tell me?"
"Irish." She smiled.
"It's the same. Tell me, have you had enough experience in your world of duty and of unhappiness to know an honest man when you encounter him?"
Sister Eila laid aside her pen and turned toward him.
"I don't think I understand," she said.
"I mean, could you make up your mind about well about such a man as I am merely by inspecting me and hearing me speak?"
Sister Eila laughed:
"I think I could very easily."
"Have you already done so?"
"Why, yes, I suppose so."
"Do you think I am honest enough to be trusted?"
Sister Eila laughed again, deliciously.
"Yes, I think so," she said.
He remained silent and his face, already grave, grew more serious. Sister Eila's smile faded as she watched him. It was becoming very plain to her that here was a man in trouble.
Silent there together in the cool stillness of the schoolroom, they heard the distant clatter of little feet, the vigorous voice of command from Sister Félicité; and a moment later a double file of chattering children passed in the sunshine outside the window, led toward their noonday playground by Sister Félicité accompanied by Warner.
"What is on your mind, Mr. Halkett?" asked Sister Eila, still watching him.
"If I tell you," he said, "will you ask me no more than I offer to tell you?"
She flushed:
"Naturally, Monsieur "
"You don't quite understand, Sister. What I have to say I wish you to write down for me in the form of a letter of information to the French Government."
"You wish me to write it?"
"Please. And that is what I mean. Naturally, you might ask me why I do not write it myself Don't ask me, Sister If you really do trust me."
He turned, met her gaze, saw two clear, sweet eyes unspoiled and unsaddened by the wisdom she had learned in dark and wretched places; saw in them only a little wonder, a faintly questioning surprise.
"What is your answer, Sister?" he asked.
"My answer is I I do trust you What am I to write?"
She took a few loose leaves of paper from the desk, and sat looking at him, pen lifted.
He said:
"Write to the chief of the general staff at the Ministry of War in Paris."
And when she had properly addressed the personage in question, he dictated his letter very slowly in English; and Sister Eila, her expressionless young face bent above the letter paper, translated into French as he dictated, and wrote down the exact meaning of every word he uttered:
"Information has come to me that the advertisements of Bauermann and Company, of Cologne, Prussia, which are posted everywhere throughout Belgium and Northern and Eastern France, conceal military and topographical details concerning the vicinity where these advertisements are displayed.
"Such information could be of use only to a prowling spy or an invading enemy.
"Therefore, acting upon the incomplete information offered me, I deem it my duty to bring this matter to the notice of the Government.
"It would appear that:
"1st. Secret information is contained in the details of the picture which embellishes this advertisement, a sample of which I inclose herewith.
"2nd. These details vary in every poster. Presumably their number, color, groupings, and general distribution constitute a secret code which is calculated to convey information to the enemies of France.
"3rd. In the sample which is inclosed with this letter, the number of ships probably represents the number of highways leading from Saïs to Rosières-sous-Bois; the sea gulls flying above two of the ships give the distance in kilometers; the ten white flowers give the distance by the military road.
"The sun, in the picture, appears to be about three hours high above the horizon; and it is three hours' journey from here to the nearest French fortified post, the Pass of the Falcons in the Vosges.
"The rays of the sun are five in number, three long ones and two short ones; and there are three battalions of the line guarding the fort at the pass, and two companies, one of engineers, one of Alpine infantry.
"My informant, who desires to remain anonymous, further declares it to be his belief that an exhaustive study of this and similar posters would reveal perfectly clear messages in every detail of color, drawing, and letter-press; and that it is his firm conviction that these posters, representing a German firm which manufactures soap, have been placed throughout Belgium and France for the convenience of an invading army.
"Immediate removal of these advertisements seems advisable in the opinion of my informant.
"(Signed), SISTER EILA,
"Of the Daughters of St. Vincent de Paul at Saïs."
When she had finished the letter and had unhesitatingly signed it, she lifted her clear eyes to him in silence. Her breath came a trifle unevenly; the tint of excitement grew and waned in her cheeks.
"At least," he said, "you will understand that I am a friend to France."
"Yes, that is evident."
"Yes, that is evident."
"Will you direct and seal the packet and give it to the postman?"
"Yes."
"And, Sister Eila, if they send gendarmes or other officials to question you?"
She looked straight into his eyes, deeply, so that her gaze seemed to plunge into the depths of his very soul.
Then, lifting the cross from the rosary at her girdle, she slipped out of her chair and knelt down beside her desk, her young head bent low over the crucifix which she held between the palms of her joined hands.
Halkett, head also lowered, stood motionless.
After a few moments she rose lightly from her knees.
"It is a vow, now," she said. "I have bound myself to silence concerning the source of my information " her untroubled eyes rested again on his "because I believe in you, Monsieur."
He started to speak, but seemed to find no word to utter. A bright color mounted to his brow; he turned abruptly from the desk and stepped toward the open door.
And the instant he appeared there, framed by the doorway, a shot rang out, knocking a cloud of stucco and plaster from the wall beside him.
CHAPTER IX
He shrank back flat against the wall, edged along it, and slipped swiftly inside the house. A thick veil of lime dust hung across the open doorway, gilded by the sunlight. Crumbs of plaster and mortar still fell to the schoolroom floor.
Through the heated silence of early afternoon he could hear the distant cries of the children from their playground; there was no other sound; nothing stirred; nobody came.
If Warner had noticed the shot at all, no doubt he supposed it to be the premature report of some piece. To the gaunt, furtive Vosges poacher no close season exists. If it did exist, he would cease to.
Halkett slowly turned his head and saw Sister Eila behind him. She had risen from her chair at the desk; now she came slowly forward, her deep, grey eyes fixed on him. But before she could take another step he laid his hand firmly on her wide, blue sleeve and forced her back into the room.
"Keep away from that door," he said quietly.
"Did somebody try to kill you?" she asked. Her voice was curious, but perfectly calm.
"I think so Don't show yourself near that door. They might not be able to distinguish their target at such a range."
"They? Who are 'they'?"
"Whoever fired I must ask you again to please keep out of range of that doorway "
"The shot came from the river willows across the fields, did it not?" she interrupted.
"I'm very sure of it. You need not feel any anxiety for the children, Sister; I am going. There'll be no more shots."
"There is a door at the back by the kitchen yard, Mr. Halkett. They will not see you if you leave that way."
He stood thinking for a while; then:
"On your account, and on the children's, I'll have to show myself again when I leave the house, so that there'll be no mistake about my identity. Don't move until after I have gone some distance along the road. And please say to Mr. Warner that I've returned to the inn for luncheon "
"There is a door in the rear! You must not show yourself "
"Indeed, I must. Otherwise, they might mistake you or Sister Félicité or one of the children for me "
"Mr. Halkett!" He had already started.
"Yes?" he replied, halting and glancing back; and found her already at his elbow.
"Why were you shot at?" she asked. "I desire to know."
He looked her straight in the eyes:
"I can't tell you why, Sister."
"You say you are English, and that you are a friend to France. If that is true, then tell me who shot at you! Do you know?"
"In a general way, I suppose I do know."
"Do you not trust a French Sister of Charity sufficiently to tell her?"
"What man would not trust a daughter of St. Vincent de Paul?" he said pleasantly.
"Then tell me. Perhaps I already guess. Has it to do with your knowledge of German advertisements?"
He was silent.
"You are evidently a British agent." Her deep, grey eyes grew more earnest. "You are more!" she said, clasping her hands with sudden conviction. "I suspected it the first time I saw you "
"Please do not say to anybody what it is that you suspect "
"You are a British officer!" she exclaimed.
"Sister Eila; you could do me much harm by mentioning to others this belief of yours, or anything concerning this affair. And do you remember that you once said you trusted me?"
"I said it yes."
"Do you still have confidence in me?"
Their eyes met steadily.
"Yes," she said. "I believe you to be a friend to France, and to me." A slight flush edged the snowy wimple which framed the lovely oval of her face.
"I am your friend; and I am a friend to France I say as much as that to you. I say it because of what you are, and because you are you. But ask me no more, Sister. For men of my profession there are confessionals as secret and as absolute in authority as those which shrive the soul."
He hesitated, his eyes shifted from her to the fresh flowers on the desk, which they had both gathered; he reached over and drew a white blossom from the glass.
"May I take it with me?"
She bent her head in silence.
Then he turned to go through the deadly doorway, carrying his flower in his hand; but, as he walked out into the sunshine, Sister Eila stepped swiftly in front of him, turned on the doorstep, screening him with extended arms.
"This is the best way," she said. "They ought to see quite clearly that I am a Sister of Charity, and they won't fire at me "
But he tried to push her aside and spring past her:
"Stand clear of me, for God's sake!" he said.
"Wait "
"Sister! Are you insane?"
"You must be, Mr. Halkett "
"Keep away, I tell you "
"Please don't be rough with me "
He tried to avoid her, but her strong, young hands had caught both his wrists.
"They won't shoot at a Sister of Charity!" she repeated. " And I shall not permit them to murder you! Be reasonable! I am not afraid."
She held on to his wrists, keeping always between him and the distant glimmer of the river:
"I shall walk to the road with you this way; don't try to shake me off; I am strong, I warn you!" She was even laughing now. "Please do not wriggle! Only schoolboys wriggle. Do you suppose I am afraid? Since when, Monsieur, have Sisters of Charity taken cover from the enemies of France?"
"This is shameful for me "
"You behave, as I have said, like a very bad schoolboy, Mr. Halkett "
He tried vainly to place himself between her and the river, but could not disengage her grasp without hurting her. Then, over his shoulder, he saw three men come out of the river willows.
"You shall not take this risk " he insisted.
"Please listen "
"I take no risk worth mentioning. It was you who would have walked out to face their fire with that smile on your lips and a flower in your hand! Did you think that a Grey Sister would permit that? Soyez convenable, Monsieur. They will not fire while I am walking beside you." She looked over her shoulder. One of the men by the willows was raising a rifle.
They reached the highway at the same moment, and the roadside bank sheltered them. Here she released his arm.
"I beg you to be a little reasonable," she said. "You must leave Saïs at once. Promise me, Mr. Halkett "
"I cannot."
"Why?"
"Sister, if I am really a soldier, as you suppose me to be, perhaps I have orders to remain at Saïs."