“Thank you. I am sure that I shall be after I have had opportunity to compose myself.” A sudden aversion to this suave German fairly overwhelmed Grace Harlowe. He jarred on her, aroused a feeling of antagonism that would not down. He was altogether too smooth, too polite and courteous for a Hun, was the reason that Grace felt that way. “Mrs. Smythe--you will pardon me, sir--acting upon the orders of an officer, I had the supplies, such of them as we were able to salvage, removed to Number Two Canteen, where they are to be held awaiting your orders.” “What! You gave orders over my head?” demanded the woman sternly. “I acted under the orders of an officer, Madame.” “You will return at once, take the things back where they were, pile them up and have a guard placed over them.” “I think you are mistaken, Mrs. Smythe,” answered Grace sweetly, though there was little sweetness in her heart at that moment. She had been humiliated before Doctor Klein, and even though he were an enemy, the cut was felt keenly. “What is that you say?” “That, so far as I am concerned, the supplies will remain where they are for the rest of the night. It undoubtedly will rain before morning and the supplies will be ruined if left out. Furthermore, I acted under the orders of an American officer. It is true that you are my superior, but he is the superior of both of us.” “You dare to disobey my orders?” shouted the supervisor. “If you choose to so construe it, yes, but with no intention of being impertinent or disobedient. I beg to remind you that you have your remedy, should you feel that I am guilty of insubordination. It is your privilege to report me. I bid you good-night.” Grace bowed to the doctor, and turning on her heel walked from the room. “Whatever is the matter with you?” demanded Elfreda when Grace walked into their quarters. “You are as pale as the proverbial ghost.” “Matter? J. Elfreda, I never was so humiliated in my life. Madame is furious because I had the supplies removed under the orders of the lieutenant.” “Take it easy now, Loyalheart,” soothed Miss Briggs. “Let her do her worst, which can be no more than reporting you.” “That is just the trouble. After a time our superiors will begin to believe that where there is such a smudge there must be at least a few coals if not a real fire. Who and what is this man?” “What man do you refer to?” “Doctor Klein.” “Beyond the fact that he is our landlord, I have no information about him. Why?” “I do not trust him. There is something queer about the man.” “Perhaps it is you who are queer, Loyalheart. I call the doctor a most courteous gentleman for a Hun.”