Air Service Boys Over The Rhine; Or, Fighting Above The Clouds Read online

  CHAPTER IV

  SUSPICIONS

  Tom Raymond started across the field toward headquarters. Jack followed,but there was a strange look on the latter's face.

  "I don't see how you're going to Paris," remarked Jack, at length. "Doyou mean we're to go in separate machines, or together?"

  "Oh, nothing like that!" exclaimed Tom. "We won't go in machines at all.We'll go by train, if we can get one, or by motor."

  "But you're heading for the Escadrille Headquarters office, and--"

  "We've got to get official permission to go," explained Tom. "We can'trush off, whenever we like, as we used to go fishing together."

  To his captain Tom explained matters more fully than he had done before.In effect he related the fact of having received the letter, statingthat Mr. Raymond had started for Paris, presumably to engage in somework for the French government, or at least for the Allies. Whether hehad arrived or not, and, in the former case, to ascertain why he hadnot sent some word to his son, was the object of Tom's quest.

  "I've tried and tried, from this end, to get in touch with him,"explained Tom; "but something seems to happen to my messages. I knowthey leave here all right, but after that they are lost. Now I have anidea that there is so much going on in Paris--so much necessary warwork--that the ordinary lines of communication are choked. But if Icould go to the capital in person I could soon find out whether myfather was at the address he gave."

  "And you want, do you, to go together?" asked the kindly French captain,smiling at Tom and Jack.

  "We'd like to go," said Tom.

  "And go you shall. I will write the necessary order. You have done well,and I understand you have some days of leave coming. To them I shall addmore. But come back to me," he added, as he filled out the pass form."Come back. We need you Americans now more than ever!"

  "We'll come back," promised Tom. "All I want to go to Paris for is tofind out about my father."

  "Ah, I envy you," said the captain softly. "Both in the possession of afather, who must be proud to have such a son as you, and also becauseyou are going to Paris. It is the most beautiful--the mostwonderful--city in the world. And to think--to think that thosebarbarians would sack her! Ah, it is terrible!" and with a sad noddingof his head, following the shaking of an avenging fist toward the Germanlines, he waved Tom and Jack an adieu.

  The two Air Service boys lost little time in making their preparationsto leave for the French capital. They had to get certain passes andpapers, and they wished to say good-bye to some of their comrades inarms. For, more than any other branch of the service, is aviationuncertain as to life or death. Tom and Jack well knew that some, perhapsmany, of those who wished them "_au revoir_," and "_bonne chance_,"would not be alive when they returned. And Tom and Jack might not returnthemselves. True, their chances were comparatively good, but thefortunes of war are uncertain.

  And so, after certain preliminaries, Tom and Jack, their pet machines inthe hangars, left behind their beloved comrades and were taken by motorto the nearest railway station. There they secured their tickets andtook their places to wait, with what patience they could, their arrivalin Paris.

  The train was well filled with "_permissionnaires_," or soldiers onleave for a few days of happiness in the capital, and at certainstations, where more got on, the rush was not unlike that at a crowdedhour in some big city.

  "I see something good," remarked Jack, as they sat looking out at thescenery, glad, even for a brief moment, to be beyond the horrors of war.

  "What?" asked his companion.

  "There's a dining-car on this train. We sha'n't starve."

  "Good enough, I almost forgot about eating," said Tom. "Now that youspeak of it, I find I have an appetite."

  They ate and felt better; and it was as they were about to leave thedining-car to go back to their places, that Jack nudged Tom andwhispered to him:

  "Did you hear what he said?"

  "Hear what who said?"

  "That man just back of you. Did you have a good look at him?"

  "I didn't, but I will have," said Tom, and, waiting a moment so as notto cause any suspicion that his act was directed by his chum, Tom turnedand looked at the person Jack indicated. He beheld a quietly dressedman, who seemed to be alone and paying attention to no one, eating hislunch.

  "Well, what about him?" asked Tom. "I don't see anything remarkableabout him, except that he's a slow eater. I admit I bolt my food toomuch."

  "No, it isn't that," said Jack in a low voice. "But don't you think helooks like a German?"

  Tom took another casual glance.

  "Well, you might find a resemblance if you tried hard," he answered."But I should be more inclined to call him a Dutchman. And when I sayDutchman I mean a Hollander."

  "I understand," remarked Jack. "But I don't agree with you in thinkingthat he may be from Holland. Of course men of that nationality have aright to go and come as they choose, where they can, but I don't believethis chap is one."

  "Why not?"

  "Because I heard him mutter something in German."

  "Well, lots of Hollanders can speak German, I have no doubt. I cansplutter a few words myself, but not enough to hurt me. I began to pickup some from the prisoners, after we had that experience with Potzfeldt,when we realized that even a little knowledge of the Hun's talk, much aswe hate him, would be of service. And so you think you heard this fellowspeak German?" asked Tom, as he pretended to tie his shoe lace, to makean excuse for pausing.

  "I'm sure I did," said Jack.

  "What did he say?"

  "Something about wishing he had a plate of _metzel suppe_. Of course Idon't guarantee that pronunciation, but--"

  "Oh, it'll do," said Tom, graciously. "Well, there's nothing verysuspicious in that, though. I might wish for some _wienerwurst_, butthat wouldn't make me a German spy."

  "No. But take one other thing and you'll have to admit that there issome ground for my belief."

  "What's the other thing, old top?" asked Tom, in imitation of someEnglishmen.

  "He was making drawings of the railroad line," asserted Jack.

  "How do you know?"

  "I saw him. He pretended to be looking at the _carte de jour_, and Icaught a glimpse of a sheet of paper on which he was making certainmarks. I'm sure he was sketching out something about the railroad, foruse, maybe, in a future air raid."

  "Nonsense!" exclaimed Tom. "As a matter of fact, I don't doubt that theGerman secret agents know every foot of ground in and about Paris. Theymust have maps of this railroad the same as the French have of some ofGermany's, only you've got to hand it to the Huns! They certainly wentinto this thing well prepared the more discredit to us, in a way. Butare you sure of what you say, Jack?" he added, after a moment's thought.

  "Positive! I'm sure that man is a German spy, masking as a Hollander orpossibly a Swiss. He's sighing for some of his country's goodcooking--though that's one of the few good things about it--and he'smaking some sort of a map."

  Tom thought over the matter a moment. The man did not appear to noticethe two chums.

  "I'll tell you what we can do," Tom said. "We'll soon be in at the Garede l'Est, and we can tip off some of the officers around there. They canfollow this fellow, if they think it's worth while."

  "Well, I think it's worth while," said Jack. "If that fellow isn't a spyI'm a Dutchman!"

  As Jack spoke the man looked up and full at the two lads, almost as ifhe had heard the words.