to solve a
criminal problem and arrest several of the criminals engaged in a
conspiracy against the Red Cross.

She had not been sure that he would so quickly respond to her telegram
to the elderly prefect of police at Lyse, who was likewise her friend
and respectful admirer.

This secret agent was a lean man of dark complexion. His manner was
cordial when he rose to greet her. She knew that he was a very busy
man and that he had responded personally to her appeal because he took
a deeper interest in her than in most people aside from those whose
acts it was his duty to investigate.

They were alone in the small office of the hospital. He said crisply
and in excellent English:

"Mademoiselle has need of me?"

"I have something to tell you, Monsieur--something that I think may be
of importance. Yet, as we Americans say, I may be merely stirring up a
mare's nest."

"Ah, I understand the reference," he said, smiling. "Let me be the
judge of the value of what you tell me, Mademoiselle. Proceed."

Swiftly she told him of her visit to the field hospital so much nearer
the battle line than this quiet institution at Clair, and, in addition,
told him of Nicko, the chocolate peddler, and his dual appearance.

"There are two of the men. They dress exactly alike. I was suspicious
of the peddler the very first time I saw him. No Frenchman--not even a
French soldier--bows as I saw him bow."

"Ha!" ejaculated the secret agent.

"He bows from the hips--the bow of a German military man. I--I have
seen them bow before," Ruth hesitated, remembering Major Henri
Marchand. "You understand?"

"But, yes, Mademoiselle," said the Frenchman, his eyes flashing.

"Then," she went on, "I saw the man--or supposedly the same man--a
second time. He bowed very differently--just as an ordinary humble
French peasant might bow."

"Could it not be that he forgot the second time you saw him?" queried
M. Lafrane.

"I doubt it. There is something quite distinct in the air of the two
men. But I understand that whichever comes to the hospital with the
basket of sweets always has a word with the German officer in Hut H,
Cot Twenty-four. You can easily find out about him."

"True," murmured the secret agent eagerly.

Then she told him of her walk in the gloaming and what she had seen in
the garden of the peasant's cot--the two men dressed exactly alike.
One must be the half-foolish Nicko; the other must be the spy.

M. Lafran