“Well, it was, Tom,” she told him.

“It isn’t safe either,” continued Tom, “for you to be abroad.  The Huns are likely to begin long range shelling any minute, and the road’s a favorite target for their gunners; they’ve got it’s range down fine.”

“It isn’t about Bessie, I hope?” ventured Jack, still more or less apprehensive.

Nellie looked at him and slightly smiled, for she knew Jack was exceedingly fond of the young girl.

“Bessie is perfectly well,” she assured him; “and when I passed the Y hut she and her mother were helping some of the Salvation Army girls make a fresh heap of doughnuts.  But my coming does concern you, Jack.”

“Please explain what you mean by that?” he begged her, while his face lighted up with interest, showing that for the moment his troubles, lately bearing so heavily upon him, were forgotten.

“I will, and in as few words as possible,” she answered, “for my time is limited.  I left several cases to be cared for by a nurse who has not had as thorough a training as she might have had, and the responsibility lies with me.  But I can give you five minutes before I start back again.”

Needless to say Nellie by this time had both boys fairly agog with curiosity, for neither of them could give the slightest guess as to the nature of the news she was bringing.

“You see, they were bringing in a lot of fresh cases,” she explained, “for there has been some furious fighting going on this morning, as our boys drove in to chase the Huns out of the village.  Among the number of wounded, one man among others fell into my care.  His name is Bertrand Hale, and I think both of you know him.”

Tom and Jack exchanged looks.

“We have met him many times,” said the former; “but I can’t say that he has ever been a friend of ours.  He’s rather a wild harum-scarum sort of chap—­I imagine his own worst enemy, for he drinks heavily when he can get it, and spends much of the time in the guard-house.  Still, they say he’s a fighter, every inch of him, and has done some things worth mentioning.”

“I imagine you describe him exactly, Tom,” Nellie told him.  “Very well, this time he’s in a pretty bad way, for he has a number of serious injuries, and, besides has lost his left arm, though it’s possible he may pull through if his constitution hasn’t been weakened too much through dissipation.”

“But what about Bertrand Hale, Nellie?  Did he tell you anything that would be of interest to us?” asked Tom.

“I can see that you’re beginning to suspect already, Tom,” she continued.  “For that is exactly what happened.  He kept following me with his eyes as I moved around doing my work, after taking care of him.  Then he beckoned to me, and asked whether I wasn’t a particular friend of Jack Parmly and Tom Raymond.

“Of course I assured him it was so, and with that he looked so very eager that I knew he had a secret to tell me.  This is the gist of what he said, boys.  Just four days ago he was approached by a man he didn’t know, who managed to get some strong drink into his hands, and after Hale had indulged more than he ought made a brazen proposition to him.