“Come out!”

There was a faint rustling and a sound as of some one crying.  Then a figure, rumpled and fearful, came from beneath the table; and Chester cried: 

“A girl!”

CHAPTER XXII.

Attacked.

Chester’s exclamation was wrung from him in English.  At the sound of his words the girl looked at him quickly and clasping her hands imploringly, cried out: 

“Don’t kill me!”

Her words were also in English and she spoke without the slightest accent.  Chester and Colonel Anderson looked at her dumfounded.

“Are you English?” demanded Chester, taking a step toward her.

The girl staggered back.

“Keep away, please,” she said.

“Are you English?” repeated Chester.

The girl recovered herself with an effort and forced herself to answer the lad’s question calmly.

“No,” she said, “I am an American.”

“An American!” exclaimed Chester.  “You are an American?”

“Yes,” cried the girl, “and you will harm me at your peril.  The United States—­”

“Uncle Sam is a long ways off,” said Chester quietly.  “But I guess he can take care of you.  I, too am an American.”

“You!” exclaimed the girl eagerly, taking a step forward.  Then, after a quick glance at his clothes, she shrank back.

Chester smiled.

“Don’t judge me by these garments,” he said.  “I assure you I am an American, and my friend here,” he indicated Colonel Anderson, “is a British officer.  My other friend,” pointing to Ivan, “is a Russian.  So you see, you are among friends.”

“Are you telling me the truth?” asked the girl fearfully, eying Chester searchingly.

“It is a habit I have,” replied Chester quietly.  “Yes, I am an American and if you have a mind to question me about anything American you will find that I am telling you the truth.”

“What is your name?” asked the girl.

“Chester Crawford.”

“Chester Crawford!”

Again the girl looked at him searchingly.

At last she asked:  “And do you know another young American named Hal Paine?”

“Hal!” exclaimed Chester, startled at hearing his friend’s name from this girl whom he had, to his knowledge, never seen before.  “Of course.  He is my chum.  But he has never told me he knew a girl answering your description.”

“Oh, I don’t know him,” replied the girl.  “But I have heard of you both from a friend—­a girl friend; and if you can tell me her name, I will be sure that you are Chester Crawford.”

“How can I tell you?” asked Chester.  “I know several girls.  Was it Mary—­”

“This girl,” was the reply, “you met in Belgium.  If you are truly Chester Crawford you will know who I mean.”

“Do you mean Miss Johnson—­Edna Johnson?” inquired Chester.

A happy smile lighted up the girl’s face.