stopped speaking to pat the black-haired child caressingly. That was really one of the finest things marking the conduct of the American soldiers in France—their respect for women and their love for children. Those boys in khaki captured myriads of French mothers' hearts by the way they romped with the youngsters and bought them all sorts of dainties at the Y. M. C. A. huts.

"I came on her suddenly, and of course stopped to say a few words, because it is hard for me to pass a child by," Jack continued. "And after I'd asked her a few questions I found that I was getting mightily interested in Jeanne.

"Then she began tugging at something that was fastened by a ribbon about her neck. I soon discovered it was a locket, somewhat battered to be sure, but still pretty. She proceeded to try to open this, but her chubby little fingers didn't seem equal to the task, so I did it for her.

"It held a bit of very thin paper, and on taking this out I found it was covered with writing, in French of course, and done with a lead pencil at that. Slowly I managed to make out what the letter said, for it was a letter, Tom, meant especially for me, simply because I had been, by chance, the one to stop and speak to the child.

"Listen now, Tom, and I'll read you what is written here on the paper, just as I managed to translate it. And be ready to hold your breath, too, because there's something of a real thrill connected with it."

"Shoot!" was all Tom said in reply.

CHAPTER IV

THE STORY OF THE LORRAINE WAIF

Jack had taken the locket in question out of his coat-pocket and opened it, extracting the folded paper it contained. This latter he smoothed out, for it was a mass of creases, from having been crushed into so small a receptacle.

"Is that all?" asked Tom, as his chum stopped.

"Yes, and there are some of the words blurred. I think it must have been through the tears of this poor woman. She seems to have been wealthy before the Huns drove her out of Lorraine because she had French blood in her veins, and was probably married to an Englishman. What do you think of it, Tom?"

"It's certainly a dreadful thing for so small a child as Jeanne to be left alone in the world," replied the other. "What can we do about her, Jack, have you any idea?"

Jack remained for a moment in deep thought. Then he gave his comrade a sidewise look as he spoke again.

"Do you know," he ventured to say, "it has struck me that if we could get an hour or two off duty this evening you and I might take the little thing to Nellie and ask her if she couldn't have her looked after, as long as the Gleasons are out of reach in the south of France."

"Nellie Leroy!" exclaimed Tom, astonished, "Why, how could we manage it? The last I heard she was in a hospital on the French front, over in the mountain section of Alsace."

"Oh, I've had later news than that," replied Jack. "Met Harry yesterday, and among other things he mentioned the fact that his sister had been transferred to the American front; in fact was right then only a few miles away from where we stood and talked."

"You never said a word to me about it, Jack! Nor has Nellie written—unless her letter was lost."

"Meant to tell you, Tom, several times, but something always butted in; and finally it slipped my mind. And, really, I supposed you knew. But what do you think of my scheme?"

"Perfectly lovely. It's about the only way I see that we can get Jeanne into proper hands. Nellie has a heart of gold, and will manage somehow to see that the little thing is properly cared for."

"Especially when she learns that you've constituted yourself Jeanne's guardian and protector," chuckled Jack.

"Let up on that, I tell you!"

"Well, this child seems to be thrown in my way for a purpose, and, Tom, I'm going to try my level best to save her twin sister from that scoundrel of an uncle," announced Jack, with returning seriousness.

"Hear! hear!" chuckled Tom. "All the knights haven't cashed in yet, it seems. You ought to have a Sancho Panza around, Jack, because you're out to rescue beauty in distress; even if in this case the little lady is only about six years old. But tell me again what the name of the arch villain is. At the time you mentioned it before, I thought it seemed sort of familiar to me."

Jack referred again to the crumpled slip of paper to make certain, after which he announced:

"A regular German name, it seems, though he may of course be a Lorrainer, as Jeanne's mother was. Anton von Berthold."

"H'm! Thought so!" Tom burst out. "Don't you remember there's a General von Berthold on the other side, a particularly smart military man, too, who they say originated this machine-gun-nest business as a means for delaying the pursuit of a retreating army?"

"Tom, you're right!" exclaimed Jack, evidently annoyed, thinking that that circumstance might make his self-assumed task the more difficult. "Wouldn't it be queer if he should prove to be the very one? It doesn't seem reasonable to me."

"Why not?" demanded his companion quickly. "Couldn't a German general conspire to lay hands on the property of a relative just as easily as any ordinary person? Haven't they been accused of stealing most of the valuables in Belgium and Northern France as spoils of war, from priceless paintings and works of art to family plate and jewelry?"

"I reckon you're about right, Tom, so far as that goes," agreed Jack, finally impressed by what his chum said. "General Anton von Berthold—if we find out that is his first name it would settle it for me. And then we could perhaps learn from one of the prisoners we find in the barbed wire stockade something about his goings-on, where he's putting up at present, and all that, you know."

"And in the meantime don't you think Jeanne would like something to eat?" asked Tom. "How could she ever have managed to make her way through the Boche lines, and get to where you ran across her?"

"I've tried to find out," Jack told him. "She mentions something about being taken by a neighbor after that man carried her sister away on his horse. They told her that her mother had died, and been buried. Then one day she was taken, hidden under a load of forage,