muddy bit of garden, the picture he made was
typical of the country and the people who inhabited it.

Suddenly she realized that she recognized the ragged blue smock and the
old droop-brimmed hat he wore. It was Nicko, the chocolate vender.
This must be his place of abode.

Ruth hesitated. She had felt some shrinking from the man before; now
she realized she was afraid of him. He had not seen her and she stood
back and watched him.

Of a sudden another man appeared from around the corner of the cottage.
Ruth was more than glad, then, that she had not shown herself. She
turned to retrace her steps.

Then she looked again at this new figure in the picture. She almost
spoke aloud in her amazement. The newcomer was dressed exactly as
Nicko was dressed--the same blue and ragged smock, shapeless trousers,
wooden shoes, and with a hat the twin of the one the first Nicko wore.
Indeed, it was a second Nicko who stood there in the bit of garden
before the laborer's cot.

But amazement and suspicion did not hold her to the spot for long. She
did not wish to be discovered by the pair. She was confident now that
there was something altogether wrong with Nicko the chocolate
peddler--and his double!

Out of view of the cottage she hurried her steps. Through the gloaming
she sped up the path in the valley toward the high-road on which faced
the hospital stockade.

Her thoughts were in a tangle of doubt. Yet one clear thread of
determination she held. She must give her confidence to somebody--she
must relate her suspicions to some person who was in authority.

Not the medical chief of staff at this field hospital. Nor did she
wish to go to the commanding officer of this sector, whoever he might
be. Indeed, she almost feared to talk with any American officer, for
Tom Cameron seemed to be entangled in this web of deceit and treachery
into which she believed she had gained a look.

There was a man whom she could trust, however; one who would know
exactly what to do, she felt sure. And it would be his business to
examine into the mystery. The moment she returned to Clair Ruth would
get into communication with this individual.

Thus thinking, she hurried on and had almost reached the highway when
something made her look back. Not a sound; for even the sleepy birds
had stopped twittering and there was no rustle of night wind in the
bare shrubbery about her.

But mysteriously she was forced to turn her head. She