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Updated: June 2, 2025
Recklow laughed his contempt of Recklow and spat upon the dead leaves. "Stupid one, what then is closest to the Yankee heart? I was sent here to buy this terrible devil Yankee, Recklow. That is how one deals with Yankees. With dollars." "Is that why you are here?" "And to watch for McKay and the young woman with him!" "The Erith woman!" "That is her barbarous name, I believe. What is your number?"
"Where the hell," muttered Recklow, "did those three guys go?" A nightingale sang as he sauntered homeward. Possibly, being a French nightingale, she was trying to tell him that there were three people lying very still in the thicket near her.
Recklow looked hard at McKay, then at Evelyn Erith, who was standing quietly beside him. "Can we get through this neck of woods?" asked McKay calmly. "We can hold our own here against a regiment," said Recklow. "No Swiss patrol is likely to cross the summit before daybreak. So if our cowbell jingles again to-night after I have once called halt! let the Boche have it."
"There were thousands and thousands of insane down there under the earth," she said pitifully. "Yes," he nodded. "Did did they all die?" "Are the insane not better dead, Miss Erith?" he asked calmly.... And continued his recital. That evening there was a full moon over the garden. Recklow lingered with them after dinner for a while, discussing the beginning of the end of all things Hunnish.
In an instant he was after her; she saw him, strove desperately to free herself, tore her skirt loose, and jumped. And Recklow jumped after her, landing among the wet ferns on his feet and seizing her as she tried to rise from where she had fallen.
Now, everywhere, masked figures swarmed over the place; cylinders were laid, hose attached, other batteries of cylinders were ranged in line and connections laid ready for instant adjustment. Recklow raised his right arm, then struck it downward violently. The gas from the first cylinder went whistling into the hose.
"From Toul, sir," with the quick smile revealing dazzling teeth. "Matters progress?" "It is quiet there." "So I understand," nodded Recklow. "There's blood on your uniform." "A scratch a spill from my motor-cycle." Recklow eyed the cut on the officer's handsome face. One of the young officer's hands was bandaged, too. "You've been in action, Captain." "No, sir." "You wear German shoes."
Does this guy, Recklow, get them?" "He can't get six men alone." "Well, can't he sic the Swiss onto 'em?" A terrible doubt arose in Skelton's mind: "Recklow wouldn't come here alone. He's got his men in these woods! That damn woman fixed all this. It's a plant! She's framed us! What do I care about the Germans on the mountain! To hell with them. I'm going!" "Where?" "Into Alsace.
So John Recklow went back to his garden and waited, and smoked a short, dirty clay pipe, and played with his family of cats. Once or twice he went down at night to the French wire. All the sentries were friends of his. "Anybody been through?" he inquired. The answer was always the same: Nobody had been through as far as the patrol knew.
There was a silence: Miss Erith's lovely face was turned tranquilly toward the flank of Mount Terrible. Both men looked sideways at her as though thinking the same thing. Finally Recklow said: "In the event of trouble you understand it means merely detention and internment while you are on Swiss territory. But if you leave it and go north " He did not say any more.
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