“I’d been told they were expecting me, but they weren’t. I stayed in a convent I know of.”
“Well, at least you were safe. For all I knew…” He shook his head helplessly.
“What are we to do now? I’m supposed to report to an aid station south of Ypres, but if what’s happened here in Rouen is any indication, they have no reason to expect me there. And I don’t have the proper authorization to return to Dr. Hicks. Or to leave France.”
He was still nursing his grievance. “I couldn’t believe you’d gone away without waiting for me. It could have been a hoax. In fact it was. A trick to lure you away from the protective Dr. Hicks. To Rouen, for instance, where if anything happened to you, you wouldn’t be missed straightaway.”
“Yes, but there was the message.”
“Anyone who knew how to use a field telephone could have sent that,” he scoffed.
“Dr. Hicks assured me the request was genuine. I asked him. He’d spoken to an officer, he said. And so I didn’t have much choice, except to leave with the convoy. When there was no room waiting at the Base Hospital, I couldn’t turn back. It was too late.” I shook my head and felt my hair tumbling down. Quickly putting it up again, I said, “I shall have to get word to my father.”
“It’s more urgent to get you back to England. Bess, you can’t stay in France. Don’t you see? One attack can be put down to luck on his part. Two? A damned close call. Let’s not wait for three.”
I was reminded of Simon telling me that he was superstitious enough not to want to see me come close to dying a third time.
Captain Barclay was saying, “I thought I could protect you. I even told your father that I could. But I was wrong. Falling into that trench was the last straw.”
“I don’t want to go home to England. If I do, whoever this is will slip away and we’ll never find out why he killed Major Carson.”
“I don’t know that it’s important to find out,” Captain Barclay said wearily. “Not if it puts you in danger like this.”
“If I could find a way to return to Dr. Hicks and tell him that the message he received was only a ruse, he’d be happy to keep me there. And I’d be safer there than anywhere else. The only alternative is to go on to Ypres and let them decide what should be done about me.”
“England, Bess. For your own sake. Or if not for your sake, then for your father’s.”
I sat there, trying to think. If I went to Ypres, whoever was out there would know where to look for me. If I returned to the forward aid station that I’d just left, he’d still know.
Perhaps it would be wiser to go to England, after all. Out of reach. But it went against the grain to see a murderer go free. To leave the patients I believed I could help. I had the sinking feeling that I’d be letting down not only Major Carson but Private Wilson and his wife as well.
What was that old saying?
He who turns and runs away lives to fight another day.
All very well and good. But if I ran away, who would I find to fight on that other day?
If the man with those pale eyes couldn’t find me, then I couldn’t find him. Could I?
CHAPTER NINE
ONCE AGAIN, THE decision was taken out of my hands in a very unexpected way.
We left the church finally, for there was no place here to rest. I couldn’t take the American to the convent to stay for what was left of the night. It would have required too many explanations as to why I was bringing him with me, and the elderly nuns there would have felt uncomfortable if I simply told them that he too needed somewhere to stay. A British nurse didn’t arrive with an attractive young man in tow, orderly or officer.
We found a small hotel on one of the streets not far from the cathedral, and Captain Barclay went in to bespeak a room. When I was certain he was being given one, I removed my telltale cap and apron, then hurried through the dark, empty streets alone, back to the convent. I reached for the knocker to summon someone inside.
It was several minutes before anyone appeared.
Surely even at this hour someone was awake, acting as porteress.
I knocked again, glancing anxiously over my shoulder. And I was just in time to see a figure sliding quickly into the deeper shadows of another doorway some four houses away.
More frightened than I cared to admit-for myself and for the nuns inside-I tried to think what to do. Screaming wouldn’t help, and if I left the convent, I would be vulnerable with nowhere to turn.
I was on the point of leaving when the convent door opened at last and the elderly nun standing there said, “My dear,” in French. “We were at our devotions. Is anything wrong?”
I glanced again at the spot where I’d seen the figure disappear. And at that same instant, he stepped out of the shadows and lifted a hand in salute before turning back the way I had come.
Captain Barclay had followed me-and while I was in a way glad of his protection, I was also angry with him for not staying safely in the hotel where I’d thought I’d left him.
“Who is that man?” the nun asked, peering after him.
“He’s an orderly. He wished to be sure I was safe, late as it is. As it turned out, my transport was delayed.”
“How very kind of him,” she said, nodding. “But do come in, my dear, out of the damp air. It will do you no good.”
I smiled and thanked her, and followed her into the kitchen, where a light still burned. There she saw me clearly for the first time and said, shocked, “But what has happened to you!”
I had forgot how disheveled I must appear. “A motorcar came along,” I answered, trying to stay as close to the truth as I could, “and in my effort to avoid him in the narrow street, I slipped and fell into a shrubbery.”
“You must wash your face and hands. And brush your hair. I will see to your garments. You can’t leave us in the morning, looking like this. It would not be proper.”
I thanked her again, and very shortly afterward, she saw me to the room I’d used earlier, offered me a warmed nightdress again, and gently closed the door.
Feeling a little better, I thought I might sleep. Instead, I tossed and turned, my mind unsettled over what to do.
I refused to eat breakfast in the morning, knowing how little the nuns had to spare, and hurried back to the hotel where I had left Captain Barclay. In the early light I could read the sign-L’HOTEL DE LILLE-and I stepped inside to find the clerk, a heavy man in his late fifties, just coming back on duty.
I said briskly, “Would you please tell my orderly, Private Barclay, that Sister Crawford is waiting for him in Reception?”
The clerk smiled, offered me a chair, and went up the stairs. After a few minutes, he came down again.
“The Private is not in his room.”
“Not-has he come down for breakfast already?”
“I regret to say, it appears he has not slept in his room. I opened the door when there was no response.” He shrugged. “He was not dressed properly. I thought perhaps he was… not what he appeared to be.”
Taking that in, I said, “May I see for myself?”
“But of course, Mademoiselle.” He escorted me up the stairs to the second floor and a room that overlooked the street. It was simple-a bed, an elderly wardrobe, a chair, and a table that could be used for meals or as a desk. The bed hadn’t been turned down, and even the counterpane was smooth. No one had even sat down upon it. I could see that for myself.
“When did you last see my orderly?” I asked.
“He took a room, went up the stairs, and in a moment had come back down again, going out at once.”
To follow me through the streets.
“And then?”
“I went to bed, Mademoiselle.”
“Yes, of course.”