The Boy Scouts in Front of Warsaw

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But Warren, weakened from, his hurts, laid his head down on his arms
with a groan.

Ivan looked at him pityingly. The loss of his little sister had almost
crushed Warren. He who was always the leading spirit, quick and
resourceful, was for the moment crushed.

Ivan did not speak. He respected the grief of his friend. He knew
that soon he would be himself again, planning for success.

Late that same afternoon three Boy Scouts sauntered down the dark and
twisted alley leading to the river. The section of the city was
strange to them, and it was now so wrecked by the recent bombardment
that the enemy themselves shunned it. The poor creatures that had once
found lodging in those dark holes of want and famine had all fled at
the first gunshot; and the boys idled here and there, looking at the
marks of the shots, and picking up many a queer memento of the battle.

Warsaw had fallen; but the spirit of boys is the same all the world
over. In their imaginations, even while the smoke of battle still hung
over the city, they had planned other and victorious battles. They had
already saved Warsaw for a wonderful golden future.

As they climbed around, one of them pointed to the broken plaster on
the ground.

"See!" he said. "A Scout! Two of them have been here. There are the
marks of the nails in their Scout shoes."

The other boys looked. Sure enough they saw distinctly the marks of
the well known Scout shoes, sold even in distant Warsaw.

"Let's follow them up," said another boy, leading the way.

It was something to do and they bent to the chase like young hounds on
a fresh fox trail. Rather to their disappointment, the tracks did not
double or disappear here and there. They led directly down the street.
As they followed, a faint cry sounded. The boys stopped, startled.

"What's that?" whispered one.

The cry was repeated. "Someone in trouble," cried the first boy,
hurrying forward.

The boy behind took a quick step, and caught him by the arm.

"Stop!" he whispered. "Don't go on! That's not a human voice."

Frozen in attitudes of astonishment, the boys stood listening with all
their might.

"Pshaw!" said the tall boy, Thaddeus, in his rapid Polish. "What think
you would cry like that -- spirits?" He laughed.

"It might be," said the second lad doggedly. "There are spirits, of
course; and when souls are set free in the violence of war they say
they ever return to haunt the scene of their passing."

"Well, nobody has passed here," said Thaddous, "alive or dead. Let's
go on!"

"Wait just a minute," said the second boy. "I tell you there is evil
somewhere about here!"

"The street is dark and crooked enough to hold almost anything," said
Thaddeus. "I am not surprised now that my father always ordered me to
keep away from these streets leading to the river. They say many and
many a poor wretch has been bundled down there and pushed off into the
Vistula. She tells no tales, that river."

The cry was repeated. It was faint, and there was a note of pain or
terror in it that chilled the listeners. Very faint and far away it
was too.

"I'm going back," said the second boy.

"Go!" said Thaddeus scornfully, "Go and give up your Scout badge, and
tell the chapter that while the sons of Warsaw were not afraid to meet
a bloody death, you are not one of them because you think the spirits
are abroad in the town.

The boy blushed.

"Come!" said Thaddeus. "I know you don't mean it. There is someone in
trouble. Let us find them quickly."

Following the tracks and listening every few steps for the voices, the
boys reached the place where Warren and Ivan were imprisoned. They
were nearly exhausted from the cramped positions and the long fast.
They had called until their throats were parched, and their voices
croaked and wheezed. But as they heard the boys familiar and welcome
voices sound faintly through the heavy door, new energy thrilled then
and they lifted their voices together in a shout that echoed in the
vaulted room. It was answered.

So thick and close fitting was the door that they could not make the
listeners outside understand anything but the word "Help!" which,
spoken in any language, is certain to bring response. The boys outside
shouted assurances which were, also not understood, but the sound of
friendly voices put now life into Warren and Ivan every moment. The
great locked door was baffling; but there was plenty of heavy timbers
around, and finding a sort of battering ram was a moment's work. The
three went to work with a will. Blow after blow fell on the heavy
door. It did not yield an inch. The lock also held firm, but the new
casing was built in old and rotted wood. It gave, and with a dusty
splintering the door toppled in, and the boys, springing over without a
moment's hesitation, entered.

They hurried to the exhausted prisoners and cut the ropes and freed
them. Both boys were so numb that it was some time before the Scouts
could rub feeling into the cramped legs and feet.

Warren pointed to the floor where the pieces of food were scattered.
Three dead rats lay near.

"You were right, Ivan," he said with a great shudder.

"What is it?" said the Scout who was rubbing him.

"Poison," said Warren. "Meant for us." A little at a time he told the
newcomers the adventures of the past long hours.

After the blow on the bead Warren had lain unconscious for so long, and
when he finally roused the darkness and dungeon-like appearance of the
room so perplexed him, that he thought himself delirious. He was very
dizzy, and tried to sleep, feeling that if he could lose himself, he
would wake and find the whole thing a bad dream. Even when his sister
came and caressed him, he did not change his mind.

But finally full consciousness came, with all the suffering of his
hurts, as well as the dreadful anxiety about Elinor and Rika and the
seeming hopelessness of escape.

The boys all shook their heads when Ivan broke in to tell bow he had
given up the great ruby, only to be thought a thief. They listened
breathlessly when he told of the strange whisper that came so clearly
to his ears, and when they reached the account of the poison they
scarcely breathed.

"Yon couldn't see the rats, could you?" Warren asked Ivan.

"No!" said Ivan.

"Well," said Warren, "it queered me so I thought I wouldn't say
anything about it. After you threw the food off the table, I looked
down and presently something slipped out of the shadow. It was the
biggest rat you ever saw. Much bigger than any of those. He walked
around bold as anything, and I began to think what a big fellow like
that could do if a fellow got down and out. Well, it made me cold.
Then he went off, and I think he told a lot of the others that there
was a lot of good eats on the floor, and half a dozen of them came
along, and went after that meat and stuff. And when they ate it, one
by one they just went staggering around for a little as though they
didn't know what ailed them, and then they fell down, and I never hope
to see such agony. It was back of you, Ivan, and I thought there was
no use telling you. But it is all over now, for the rats and for us
too; and we can be glad you fellows found us. As soon as we can walk,"
he ended, "we must take this thing to headquarters. We know where to
look for the girls, and they must help."

The largest Scout laughed.

"You don't know what you are talking about," he said. "You can't get
help from anyone. Our people, the people of Warsaw, are so scattered,
that it is the same as though they did not exist. As for the others,
the enemy, they laugh. I know of one lady who lost a child -- But
there is no use to talk. Whatever is done -- we will have to do
ourselves."

"We will go down ourselves, now we know where to look, and we will take
the children. We are strong, if it comes to a fight; we can still get
them away.

We ourselves will rescue the children." He laughed and helped Warren
to his feet. "We are Scouts," he said.

"It is a good thing we are," said another boy, busy rubbing Ivan who
lay with set teeth, stifling the pain of returning circulation in his
tortured ankles.

"You did a wonderful thing, Warren," he continued, addressing the boy
he named, "when you started the Boy Scout movement over here. Well I
remember the day I told my people about it. They were amused. They
called it one of the crazy plans of the Americans. They were afraid to
have me join. They were afraid that I would get into trouble with the
government. Everything is so strictly watched. But they were so glad
to have me have a good chance to learn the American language, that they
would not quite forbid me. I thought I never would learn. Sometimes I
thought I knew it well; and there would appear in your speech some
strange words that you could not seem to translate to us, and you
called it all with one word, 'Slang!' You said you could not get along
without it. And it was and is the most difficult part of all the noble
language. Yet now that I can read your native language, I never seem
able to find this slang you talk in the books or magazines. I have
kept a careful list of all I have heard you say, and I am teaching it
to my mother and to my sister who was to have been presented at Court,
had not this war come up. It would be fine for them to be able to talk
this slang to your ambassador." He stopped speaking Polish, and broke
into lame and halting English. "Do you get me, Lissee!" he asked.

Warren groaned.

"For the love of Mike!" he said. "No, I don't mean that! For Pete's
sake --" He groaned again. "I don't know what I mean," he said, "but I
do get you. Mikelovo and you don't want to teach your precious family
any more gems." He hastily sought an excuse. "You see only men and
boys talk it as a general thing. Better teach the women stuff out of
the books."

"All right," said the earnest student of the American language, "but in
all other things the Boy Scouts are all right for my family."

"When the books and other things came from your country, I showed them
to my father with trembling; but he approved. And now we will do all
the great things, we ourselves, that our poor country cannot do. We
will help your good father, and rescue the little children."

"One thing I have noticed," said the first boy. "There are no boys
around the streets giving any help to the hurt or lost or troubled
except the Boy Scouts. When Warsaw rises again, there will be a great
order here, and all the boys in the city shall have a chance to prepare
for it."

"Gee whiz, yes," said the student of slang, solemnly, "we will get 'em
all in line."

CHAPTER VII

THE CARVED PANEL

We will leave the Boy Scouts puzzling over the tremendous problem of
getting in touch with headquarters and releasing Professor Morris and
the others, while we visit a magnificent home far up in the residential
part of the city, where the beautiful parks, wide streets and fine
buildings all told of great wealth.

Many of the places lay in ruins, but here and there arose a dazzling
white marble building that bad happily escaped the destruction of the
iron rain that had poured over the ill-fated city. Many of these were
occupied by the officers and men of the invading army. Destruction of
the worst sort went with them, and the unhappy owners had, whenever
possible, secreted the most valuable of their belongings. Pictures,
jewels, silver, furs and even rugs were hidden in secret vaults or
buried in gardens and cellars. For the people of Warsaw, as well as
their fair city, were ruined, although sooner or later the scraps saved
could be converted into money. Rich and poor fared alike; for the
present, at least, everyone needed food and, safe shelter.

In the dining-room of one of the finest places saved from the
destroying shells sat a group of officers. They were big, blonde men,
and they talked roughly and rapidly in their native German. It was
plain to see that they were quarreling. One of them, rising from the
great carved chair in which he had been lounging, kicked it from his
path and walked nervously up and down the room. He was scowling
ferociously while with his saber point he jabbed little holes in the
Russian leather covering the back of the chair opposite him.

He shook his head as the man who was walking up and down neared his
chair.

"I tell you, Otto, you can't do it," he said. "You can't burry things
so. Those people are Americans. You can't execute that old man on a
bare suspicion. What if his notes are a code? We have them, at all
events; and we have him; and we must wait until the General returns."

"That's not my idea at all!" scowled the other man. "This is war. I
am in command, my friend, and if I think I have a spy, and see that it
is my duty to stand this man up against a wall, then what? Bang!
Bang! It is all over. What can be said?"

"What is your idea exactly?" asked the man at the table. "What is the
use of hurrying things so? It sounds like murder to me. I think the
old man is perfectly harmless . He is probably just what he claims, a
professor in one
.of
the American Universities. I've heard of this Princeton. It is a
place of some size and standing."

"That is just it, Gustav!" cried the other.

"That is one reason for suspecting him. He is too glib with his
Princeton. Himmel! Did you ever hear a man talk so fast and so much
and use such words? I can speak as good English as any man my age,
but there were words, dozens of them, that I had never dreamed of."

"Is that the real reason why you are going to shoot him as a spy?"
asked Gustav, coming back to the main point once more.

"I don't suppose I shall shoot him at all," answered Otto grimly. "I
want to, that's all, but I can't do it unless I have sufficient cause,
no matter how would like to remove him. He is in the way."

Gustav stared, and laid down his saber. "I See!" he said, nodding his
head slowly. "The girl?"

"Yes! The girl!" said Otto. He frowned and continued to walk up and
down, while the other laughed.

"What would you?" he demanded. "You would get yourself into all sorts
of trouble. There is no kidnapping of young women in this campaign,
remember!"

"I would like to marry her," said Otto coolly. "She is so pretty and
sweet."

"So are the German girls," declared Gustav, loyally.

"What a romantic episode!" sighed Otto, rolling his eyes in a
sentimental manner. "I discover this beautiful American here in
Warsaw, in the heart of the war; I love her; I marry her. It is
wonderful!"

"It certainly is," said Gustav. "Wonderful indeed! And in order to
bring her to a proper idea of your goodness and charm, you shoot her
father and brother - do you shoot her brother, by the way?"

Otto scowled. "You are coarse, my friend," he said. "I do not shoot
anyone.

Germany merely destroys a spy. As for the brother, he is small, I
think he disappears."

"Does the German army cause that too?" asked Gustav.

"Don't jest," said Otto. "I am in earnest."

"In truth, so am I!" answered Gustav. "You are crazy, just plain
crazy. The man is no more a spy than I am, I'll be bound!"

Otto shrugged his broad shoulders. "You don't know whereof you speak,"
he said. "You have not heard him talk, have you?"

"No, I'll grant that," Gustav acknowledged. "Have him brought in and
let me hear him."

"Very well," said Otto, "but speak English to him. His German is so
bad that he ought to he shot for that if for nothing else."

He turned and summoned an orderly. The two men sat in silence. At a
nearby table two lieutenants were busy writing. They did not speak but
looked eagerly as the door opened, and the prisoners entered. The
Lieutenants shifted in their chairs and smiled at each other in
anticipation. Gustav caught their fleeting grins and dismissed them
from the room with a curt command, then turned his attention to the
group standing just within the door.

Professor Morris stood with a protecting arm around each of his
children. He looked broken and old, and wore the air of a man who has
been rudely wakened from a secure and comfortable sleep to view some
unimagined horror. The War, the bombardment and the fall of Warsaw,
had at last become something more than a spectacle to be transferred to
the pages of his book. It was a frightful fact, a living reality in
which men died by thousands, and little children perished, where
women's hearts broke with their anguish and despair.

He found that War recognizes but few laws, and even fewer obligations.
It seemed that his standing as a man of learning, his claim as a
citizen of the United States, availed him nothing. Standing there, a
prisoner, with a helpless child on either side, the ivy-covered walls
of his beloved Princeton seemed far away indeed. As lie closed his
tired eyes for an instant he could see a clear and lovely picture of
the velvet green campus and the great iron gates opening on the smooth
and level streets shaded by lofty trees. He heard the chimes, the
laughter of happy young fellows passing to and fro. There were rows
and rows of peaceful homes, stately mansions and simple cottages. On
level, perfectly kept tennis courts, here and there, men and girls all
in white played tennis. He saw his friends --

But opening his weary eyes, he saw a gorgeous, tumbled room whose
princely draperies were torn and full of saber cuts, a sideboard where
priceless glass had been a target for the rough play by rougher men.
Before him were the two hard, blonde German faces, and there he stood,
a prisoner, with his two children clinging to him. Warren and Elinor
were gone, he knew not where.

Captain Handel stood motionless, but Captain Schmitt rose civilly and
bowed when he saw Evelyn. He could not help it. The girl was so
noble, so lovely, and hid her fright so gallantly, that he was
compelled to pay her the slight courtesy that he did.

"Captain Handel tells me that this notebook is yours, Professor
Morris," Gustav commenced in almost perfect English.

"It is," said the Professor. He eyed it hungrily, and reached a hand
out without thinking what he did.

Gustav drew the book back.

"It has a suspicious look," he said. "So many plans and measurements
and specifications. Will you not explain?"

The Professor reddened. He shut his mouth stubbornly.

"Those are private notes," be said. "I was sent over here to make what
discoveries I could along certain lines."

"What, did I tell you, Gustav?" broke in Otto, turning to his brother
officer and speaking in a low tone. "There is the whole thing! He was
a spy sent to make discoveries along 'certain lines.' He confesses
that. He has succeeded in doing so. The book tells us that."

"Wait, wait!" begged Gustav. "Professor Morris, do you understand that
you are here facing a most serious charge?"

"It is a silly, trumped up charge," declared the Professor, irritably.
"Silly trumped up charge! I absolutely will not answer your
questions. Wait until you hear from the American Consul."

"We won't hear from him," said Gustav gently. "You are in our hands,
bearing suspicious documents, and you refuse to answer our questions.
Do you realize the seriousness of this affair?"

"Certainly not!" declared the Professor, "and let me tell you, my young
friend, I shall write this thing up in the papers when I return to
America. I shall make public your personal attitude in the matter. At
the present all I demand is release and that manuscript on the table
beside you. Also my notebook." He bowed slightly and stood waiting as
though he fully expected the officers to do his bidding, as indeed he
did.

"Will you explain your notes?" asked Gustav quietly.

Otto was nervously biting his small moustache, his eyes fixed on
Evelyn's lovely face.

"No! No!" cried the Professor loudly, "a thousand times no! I refuse
to share with you the results of my researches. What, and have you get
the credit of all my labor? Never!" He clenched his hands.

"Father --" began Evelyn pleadingly.

"Be silent, Evelyn!" commanded her father sternly. "I know what I am
about! I refuse to say anything, whatever happens."

"You had better think this over, Professor," said Gustav. "We will
leave you here alone for half an hour. Talk it over with your children
and decide if you wish to give up your life for the sake of these
notes. Explain them to us, and we will promise you safe conduct out of
the country. The girl and boy will have to remain as guarantee of your
good faith. They will not he harmed. In case you will not do as we
suggest --" He tapped his saber, and started to the door.

Otto spoke abruptly.

"The windows are barred," he said. "Two men guard the door. You
cannot escape. Decide!"

He looked longingly at Evelyn and followed Gustav from the room. The
heavy door shut silently behind them but not before they had a glimpse
of the two soldiers standing at attention in the hallway.

While they stood looking at it, it opened and Otto entered, closing it
after him.

"I may as well tell you," he said. "You will shoot as a spy if you do
not explain your charts and figures and leave the country."

Then as though he could not conceal his triumph, he added, "In any
case, you know your daughter remains here."

"Remains here?" cried the Professor. "How is that? What do you mean?"

Otto shrugged his shoulders.

"I like her," he said coolly. "I might marry her. You are very
lovely," he added, turning his bold, cold eyes on Evelyn.

She hid her face against her father's shoulder.

Otto laughed.

Jack sprang at him with a shrill cry. The big man caught the boy, and
flung him contemptuously to the floor.

"Be careful, little sparrow!" he said. "A second time and I will crush
you! I'm going now," he said, turning to the Professor. "In half an
hour we will come and you will tell us which you prefer -- death or
safe conduct." He bowed. "Good-bye for a little, Mees Evelyn, he said
and closed the door behind him.

Evelyn threw herself on her father's shoulder and burst into sobs.
"Oh, father, father, what shall we do?" she cried.

The Professor was silent, then he said, "Well, my dear, I actually
believe that young man meant what he said."

"Of course he did!" sobbed Evelyn.

"In that ease," said the Professor firmly, "I would as lief be dead as
to have the work of a lifetime destroyed by those rascals."

He hastened to the table and took up the portfolio enclosing his book.
"It's all here," he said after a glance.

"But father, whatever they do to you, they are going to keep me here.
What will I do? What will I do?"

She ran to the windows and looked out. It was just as they had been
told. The casements were heavily barred and there was but one door,
the one through which the officers had passed. The walls were paneled
half way up with old oak. The room was solid as a dungeon. There was
not a chance for escape. In a few minutes the soldiers would return
and tear her father from her.

Her father was speaking. She listened.

"All here," he said, "every page! That is fortunate indeed."

He looked searchingly at Evelyn. "I have a plan, my," he said. "This
is a very dreadful affair, but on second thought a scheme occurs to me.
I will explain somewhat of my notes, but not enough so they could
amplify them. Then, with my safe conduct, I will go over to Germany,
explain the whole affair, and demand your release. You will doubtless
be absolutely safe here, absolutely safe. This young Handel seems
rather a rattle-brained youth, but Captain Schmitt looked conservative
and sane. I will place you in his Charge. John is with you, and you
will be perfectly safe, I am positive."

Evelyn grew deathly pale. She kissed her father's cheek, then
listlessly approached the table. A revolver was lying there.

"Yes, I know that I will be safe," she said firmly. She took the
weapon in her hand and looked up.

As she raised her eyes, she looked straight into the face of a girl
about her own age, who stood motionless against the wall, one hand
outstretched its though to call her. Evelyn stared in unbelief. An
instant before they had been alone in the room! Were her senses
leaving her? She looked at her father and brother. They, too, were
staring, speechless and wild-eyed. So she did not imagine the graceful
figure and lovely face with its dark troubled eyes.

The stranger pressed a finger on her lips in a gesture of silence, then
she beckoned, and as they approached, tiptoeing over the thick rug, she
turned and pressed a finger on a carved rosette in the oak panel.
Without a sound it slid open, and they found themselves in a narrow,
stone passage. Once more the strange girl motioned for silence. Then
she slid an iron grating across the secret door through which they had
come, and turning ran lightly down the passage. Without a moment's
hesitation, Evelyn started after, her hand still clasping the revolver
which she had taken from the table. The Professor, clutching his
recovered manuscript, followed, while Jack brought up the rear.

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