“I told Captain Boucher about that. He declared that you ought to be in the Secret Service and that he was going to have you there if his advice prevailed with those higher up. How would you like that?” “Not at all,” answered Grace smilingly. “Is the captain still disturbed over the activities of spies with the Army of Occupation?” Major Colt flashed a quick glance at her. “So, you do know about it, eh?” “Perhaps I may have surmised some things, sir--and I know the Hun and his ways rather well,” she added. “May I ask you, sir, if you know a Miss Marshall who entered camp the day before we went up?” “No. I have heard of her. Why?” “Just a woman’s curiosity.” “I would suggest that you ask Captain Boucher about that. You will be somewhat amazed at what he will tell you--if he tells you anything,” laughed the officer. “There’s a real mystery for you, eh?” Grace shrugged her shoulders. “There are many others more worth while, sir,” she made reply, turning to hand a doughboy a bar of chocolate. “I--” Grace did not finish the sentence. An explosion that seemed to be splitting the earth wide open crushed in one end of the canteen and blew off part of the roof, bringing a good part of the structure down on the heads of the occupants of the building. CHAPTER XVII THE TREACHERY OF THE HUN Fortunately for those in the canteen the heavy framework of the building stood up under the blast, so though they were buried in the wreckage it was comparatively light wreckage. Major Colt and one soldier suffered the most, the major being hit on the head with a piece of galvanized iron roofing and knocked unconscious. It was Grace Harlowe who raised the piece from his body and dug him out of the mess, though she herself was dazed almost to the point of losing herself. In the midst of the confusion she found herself thinking of Elfreda, who had not yet come on for the evening, though darkness had fallen, and Grace was thankful. After getting the officer out, Grace plunged into the wreckage again, for the canteen had caught fire and there were still others to be rescued. By this time doughboys had rushed to the scene, two grabbing her and fairly throwing her out. They ordered her to stay out, but not before she had dragged out Marie and made her as comfortable as possible. Major Colt had recovered consciousness by the time she got to him. “Wha--at was it?” he asked weakly. “Ammunition dump, I think.” “Hun work!” he growled. “Looks like it. I hope our people will get busy now. Is there anything I can do for you? If not I must look after Marie. She got a hard rap on the head, same as you did.” “If you will have some one help me to my quarters I think I shall be all right. Did you get me out?”