Early the next afternoon the picnickers sallied forth in two automobiles, going first to the villa for the Countess Sophia and Madame de Villiers, then the two cars sped along the country road in the direction of the ostrich farm. Marian, Mollie, Mrs. De Lancey Smythe, Miss Stuart, Barbara, Maud and the Count de Sonde were in the foremost car, while the remainder of the party occupied the car first rented by Mr. Stuart, with Ruth as chauffeur.

“Why don’t you start a song?” called Ruth over her shoulder. “Grace, sing something. Sing ‘My Old Kentucky Home.’”

Grace sang the plaintive old melody in her sweet, high soprano voice.

The Countess Sophia was enchanted. “What a charming song!” she declared. “What an exquisite melody. I have not heard it before. Is it not one of your old southern songs?”

“Won’t you sing, Countess?” begged Mr. Stuart.

The countess shook her head and smiled. “I do not care to sing alone,” she avowed. “But I am sure Monsieur Duval has the throat of a singer. Will you not sing a song of your country, Monsieur?”

“If you will sing a song of your land in return,” answered the Frenchman quickly. Could it be that he, too, was curious to discover to a certainty the Countess Sophia von Stolberg’s nationality?

The countess dropped her eyes under Mr. Duval’s steady gaze.

“I do not sing without an accompaniment, Monsieur,” she said briefly.

Madame de Villiers looked annoyed. Grace and Ruth wondered why the countess should be so secretive. She spoke French, German and English almost equally well. On her library table Ruth had discovered a number of Italian books.

Monsieur Duval did not press his request. The Frenchman had very polished manners. Instead in a full baritone voice he sang the “Marseillaise.” His audience was profoundly stirred. “You are a patriot, Mr. Duval,” Mr. Stuart remarked.

Monsieur Duval’s expression changed. But he said nothing. It was impossible to translate his peculiar look.

“Do sing for us, Countess,” begged Grace later. “I know you have a wonderful voice.”

“Remember, you are to give us a song of your country,” Mr. Duval persisted.

The countess made no reply to him. But in a voice clear as a bell she sang:

“Thou art like unto a flower.”

“But that is an English song,” expostulated Mr. Duval when the countess had finished.

“Yes, but it was written first by a German poet: Du bist wie eine blume,” sang the countess, this time in German. “Shall I try it in French and Italian for you? The little song has been translated into every tongue.”

It was evident to her listeners that the Countess Sophia von Stolberg was proficient in half a dozen languages.

Grace thought she caught a glimpse of concealed amusement on Madame de Villiers’s face. But the stately old woman said nothing.

The motor party had now arrived at the ostrich farm. Mollie, the countess and Bab ran on ahead. Ruth slipped her arm through Maud Warren’s. The count joined them, but Ruth did not withdraw her arm. Maud did not seem to mind Ruth’s “playing gooseberry.” Maud was really becoming fond of the “Automobile Girls.” It was plain, however, that the Count de Sonde had eyes only for Maud.

The Count de Sonde, who wore high heeled shoes to make him look taller, walked with the two girls. He talked constantly, using his hands and shoulders to emphasize his remarks.

“You see, Mademoiselle Maud,” he explained. “My parents died when I was a mere infant. Most of my life I have spent in Paris. I do not often go to the Chateau de Sonde. But I love dearly the home of my ancestors.”

“How much land have you around your castle, Count?” asked Ruth.

The count looked annoyed at the question. “It is a very large estate,” he answered vaguely.

But Ruth was determined to secure definite information. “Is your chateau on a hill or in a valley?” she next inquired.

The count shrugged his shoulders. “It is on the side of a mountain, overlooking a valley,” he declared.

The picnic party had now arrived in front of the cages containing the ostriches. The great birds were strolling about in fine disdain.

But Ruth’s mind dwelt on the Chateau de Sonde. She was frankly curious about it. “Have you ever visited the Count de Sonde at his chateau, Mr. Duval?” inquired Ruth, who happened to be standing next the Frenchman.

“A number of times, Miss Stuart,” answered Monsieur Duval. “The count and I are old friends.”

“Is it built on a mountain or in a valley?” queried Ruth. She did not know herself exactly why she repeated her question.

“The Chateau de Sonde nestles in the heart of a valley,” was Monsieur Duval’s prompt answer.

He caught Ruth’s eyes fixed on him with an expression of wonder. But it was Ruth, not Monsieur Duval, who blushed furiously. The man’s eyes were gray and inscrutable. “Why do you ask, Mademoiselle?” he inquired.

“I don’t know,” Ruth answered lamely. The man frightened her. He seemed so brilliant, so traveled, so strong, so dangerous. And yet, he had just told Ruth a lie. Why should he pretend he had visited at the Chateau de Sonde?

“Come, everybody; it is time for luncheon,” called Mr. Stuart an hour later, when his guests had finished their survey of the ostrich cages.

The “Automobile Girls” opened their immense lunch basket, which the chauffeur had set under the trees. The Countess Sophia insisted on helping the girls. She was all radiant smiles and gayety. She hummed a song to herself full of delicious, bird-like trills, in a voice that had been wonderfully trained. In every way the countess showed what pleasure she felt in the picnic. So much so that she was easily the central figure of the party.

Finally the entire company seated themselves in a circle on the ground, Maud Warren and her father with flushed faces. They had evidently been having a private altercation about the Count de Sonde. The count however looked serenely unconscious of the fact.

A sense of tranquility and cheerfulness soon stole over every one. The day was enchanting. The chicken and nut sandwiches and other eatables tasted unusually good, and the party did full justice to the tempting luncheon the Stuarts had provided.

All the guests laughed and talked at the same time. Suddenly the countess began to sing again in a low voice: “Knowest thou the land?” from “Mignon.”

The others listened with delight.

Down the avenue a vehicle was heard approaching. There was a cloud of dust enveloping it. It was impossible for the picnic party to distinguish the occupants of the carriage. The countess’s back was turned toward the equipage. She did not look around. Mollie and Ruth were glad that she did not turn, for they recognized the two foreigners who had frightened the young Countess Sophia in the tea garden the afternoon before.

The men drove up to a palm tree near the spot where Mr. Stuart’s guests were eating. They hitched their horse. Then they walked deliberately over to the picnickers. Without a word one of the men reached down. He touched the Countess Sophia von Stolberg on the arm.

Undoubtedly he was German. His face looked threatening and his manner was insulting. His companion waited near him. The Countess Sophia shuddered as the stranger touched her. She trembled and turned pale like a frightened child.

“Madame,” said the German, “you are wanted by the police. We have been sent to arrest you.”

Mrs. De Lancey Smythe gave a hysterical laugh of triumph.

But the young countess quickly recovered her self-control.

“You have made a mistake,” she returned quietly, to the man, whose hand still rested on her arm. “What have I done to be arrested? You have no right to annoy me.”

“You are the notorious swindler wanted by the police of two continents,” accused the German. “I am here to take you back to France where you are wanted.”

Madame de Villiers now arose. She lifted her great mahogany cane, her face dark with anger.

“You will regret this day’s work,” she announced. “Be gone!”

But she had hardly finished her speech, before Mr. Stuart was on his feet. He seized the intruder by the collar, and before the man could more than raise his hand from the Countess Sophia’s arm, he was hurled several feet away, landing in a heap on the ground.

“You foreign idiot,” cried Mr. Stuart, forgetting his women guests in his anger. “How dare you come here and create a disturbance among my friends. You are without a warrant or a policeman. The Countess Sophia von Stolberg is our friend. You shall pay dearly for your insolence. Leave this place without a second’s delay or I shall lay violent hands on you.”

The two strangers did not dare defy Mr. Stuart. Mr. Warren had also risen and hurried to his friend’s aid and the two Americans looked thoroughly capable of enforcing their commands.

The foreigners went back to their carriage. After a slight delay they drove off, still muttering veiled threats.

When they had disappeared down the avenue, Countess Sophia gave Mr. Stuart her hand.

“I thank you, Monsieur,” she said. “Madame de Villiers and I are alone. It is good to have a protector. I do not know why those men attempted to arrest me without a warrant. I assure you they had not just cause. I believe they were sent by an enemy.”

“Perhaps, Countess,” replied Mr. Stuart, “those two men think you are some one else. I know there is a notorious swindler at large at Palm Beach. It is probably a case of mistaken identity.”

The Countess Sophia made no answer. Barbara, who was watching her closely, saw a look of unmistakable fear leap into her dark eyes at the mention of the word “swindler.” Bab glanced quickly about her and encountered the eyes of Monsieur Duval. In them was an expression of cruel triumph that made Bab feel certain that he was in some way responsible for the late unpleasant scene.

CHAPTER X

THE SECRET SIGNALS

Ruth was stretched out on a steamer rug on the warm sands, lazily looking out over the blue waters.

Barbara was disporting herself in the waves like a water sprite who had dared to show herself among mortals. Many of the bathers stopped to watch with admiration the figure of the young girl plunging gracefully through the waves.

But Ruth was not watching Barbara. She was thinking deeply.

Why had the Countess Sophia von Stolberg refused to prosecute the two foreigners who had deliberately insulted her?

Immediately after their return from the picnic Mr. Stuart had written the young countess a note. He suggested that he have the two strangers put out of their hotel, even driven away from Palm Beach. But the countess’s reply had been polite, but firm. No; she did not wish to prosecute her annoyers. The men had simply made a mistake. There would be less notoriety if she let the matter drop.

Mr. Stuart was not satisfied. He assured the countess that he and Mr. Warren had sufficient influence to have the two men sent away without the least publicity attending their dismissal. Still the decision of the countess remained unchanged. She graciously thanked Mr. Stuart for his kindness, but she really preferred to let the whole matter drop.

There was nothing more to be said.

Ruth now observed these same two men. They were seated not far from her, watching Barbara with stolid admiration. So far as Ruth knew they had not repeated their attempt to arrest the countess. But they had not confessed their error, nor offered to apologize either to Mr. Stuart or to the countess.

The story that there was a notorious woman swindler at large at Palm Beach was now common gossip.

“It is absurd to suspect the countess,” Ruth thought as she reviewed the recent disagreeable incident. “If the scandal goes any further I shall side with her, no matter what may be the consequences.” Ruth ended her reverie by making this last statement aloud. But she was sorry a second later.

A voice spoke at her elbow. “Do you think, Mademoiselle Ruth,” it inquired, “that suspicion of a certain person will reach a point where you will be required to take sides?”

Ruth started. She had been in a brown study, and was embarrassed and annoyed at having been caught speaking aloud.

The voice belonged to Monsieur Duval. He had come dripping from his swim in the ocean, and had laid himself in the sand directly behind Ruth without her noticing him.

“To what suspicion do you refer, Mr. Duval?” Ruth asked haughtily. She knew this clever Frenchman could read her mind like an open book. But she did not intend to confess that her remark had referred to the young countess.

Monsieur Duval smiled. “I am afraid I listened at the door of your thoughts,” he said. “I think I can guess with whom you intend to take sides. But I promise not to betray your secret. I am sorry I overheard your last remark. Yet I do not see why you think the Countess Sophia may be accused of being this notorious woman criminal. It is true she allows herself to be persecuted without reason. She will not appear at this, or any other hotel, and keeps herself as much in seclusion as possible. Also she will not tell us the country of her birth, nor does she refer to any friends, but – ” Monsieur Duval stopped.

Ruth was indignant at the array of evidence that this Monsieur Duval was able to present against the young countess. She flushed guiltily, but wisely refrained from answering the Frenchman.

Mr. Duval was obliged to continue the conversation.

“Do you wish to help your friend?” he asked Ruth quietly.

“Of course,” Ruth replied warmly.

The Frenchman leaned over. “Then watch everything, but say nothing. And, above all things, do not have a too accurate memory.”

Ruth was about to make an angry retort, when Mr. Duval skilfully changed the subject of their conversation. He praised Bab’s wonderful diving. It reminded him of Neapolitan boys he had seen diving for pennies. Mr. Duval next told Ruth of a walking trip he had once made through southern Italy. She listened very much against her will to the entertaining Frenchman and it was with distinct relief that she saw Miss Sallie approaching them, dressed in an imported lavender linen and carrying a parasol and a book.

Maud and her count appeared from the opposite direction. They also came forward to join Ruth and Monsieur Duval. Bab ran up the beach, shaking the drops of water from her blue bathing suit, her wet curls sparkling in the sun.

Mr. Duval did not wish to remain with so large a party. His words had been for Ruth’s ears alone. As Miss Stuart approached he bowed ironically to Ruth and strolled away.

“How glad I am that we are not in the cold, sleet and blizzards of Chicago, child,” Miss Stuart remarked, bringing Ruth back to earth again. “The Countess Sophia was right in saying our American climate in the north is unbearable in the winter time. I never felt so well in my life as I do in this delightful place.”

“Aunt Sallie,” asked Ruth thoughtfully, ignoring the weather, and going back to the idea that was uppermost in her mind. “Do you think the Countess Sophia could be in need of money?”

“How can I tell, child?” replied Miss Sallie. “The countess dresses plainly, but her gowns are in excellent taste. They are made by a modiste in Vienna, who, I happen to know, is one of the most expensive in Europe. On the other hand Madame de Villiers and the countess live very quietly. They keep only two servants. But the countess has the air of a woman of wealth and culture.”

“Are we going to dine with the countess to-morrow night?” asked Ruth impetuously.

“Certainly, child,” Miss Sallie replied, her serenity undisturbed. “It is true your father may not have returned from his fishing trip, but there is no reason why we should not go without him.”

Ruth closed her eyes. Could it be possible that they might be invited to eat food paid for by money gained dishonestly? Surely Monsieur Duval could not have spoken the truth!

“Here comes that Mrs. De Lancey Smythe,” remarked Miss Sallie with sudden energy. “I do wish that woman would keep away from us.”

“Aunt Sallie,” said Ruth, “what do you dislike most about Mrs. De Lancey Smythe?”

“Don’t ask me, my dear,” returned Miss Stuart rather impatiently. “Everything I should say. I must confess that the very sight of her irritates me.”

“There is something peculiar about her, at any rate,” said Ruth, “I have seen her face grow hard as rock and look positively wicked when she thought no one was noticing her. Marian is afraid of her, too.”

“Nonsense, Ruth,” replied Miss Sallie severely. “You and Barbara let your imaginations have too free rein. I don’t approve of the woman and dislike her intensely, but I am not going to make her out an ogre.”

“She is, though,” persisted Ruth. “That’s why you don’t like her, only you don’t know it yourself. Some day you’ll see I am right. Oh, here come Mollie and Grace. What’s new, chilluns?” and springing to her feet Ruth called to Bab then hurried toward the approaching girls.

Mollie and Grace had been out in a boat all morning with some new friends they had made at the hotel. As Ruth walked toward them she noticed that Mollie’s cheeks were very red, and that she wore a look of suppressed excitement. Grace seemed almost equally agitated. Before she could reach them, however, she was hailed by a crowd of young people who were strolling on the beach, and she and Bab were obliged to stop and hold conversation.

Mollie felt that it was imperative to summon Bab and Ruth. How could she manage without being observed? A sudden thought came to her. Putting her hand back to her curls she hastily untied the ribbon that bound them. The ribbon was blue. In an instant Mollie twisted it into a bow knot and pinned it on her left shoulder. Would Barbara and Ruth remember what the secret signal meant?

Mollie need not have wondered. Hastily separating themselves from the crowd of talkers Bab and Ruth sped up the beach to join Mollie and Grace.

“What is it, Mollie?” cried Bab out of breath. “I remember the blue ribbon. It was to signify: ‘I have important news to communicate!’ What has happened?”

“As we passed the countess’s villa on the launch, this morning,” Mollie whispered mysteriously, “we saw a red flag tied to one of the posts of her pavilion. The countess wishes to see us on important business!”

CHAPTER XI

WHEELS WITHIN WHEELS

“Shall we go to the countess at once, Ruth?” asked Barbara.

Ruth hesitated. “The chauffeur has gone away for the day,” she replied. “And we have no one to take us by boat to the villa.”

Mollie’s blue eyes filled with tears. She had feared that Ruth suspected their lovely countess. Now she was sure of it. How absurd for Ruth to suggest they could not use the automobile because her chauffeur was away. The “Automobile Girls” had traveled for days at a time, with Ruth as her own chauffeur, while the trip to the countess’s villa represented only a few miles.

“How can you be so cruel, Ruth?” Mollie cried. “You just don’t want to go to the countess’s aid because you have listened to tales about her from that horrid Mrs. Smythe.”

“I haven’t listened to Mrs. Smythe, Mollie,” Ruth answered soothingly. “But I have been thinking. You can’t deny that there is a good deal of mystery surrounding the Countess Sophia. There are many things that it seems to me she might explain. I don’t wish to be hateful, and of course I can drive our car over to the countess’s, though I have never taken out such a big car alone before. Come; let’s get ready.”

Barbara hesitated. “Mollie,” she protested, “I don’t think it is right for us to make Ruth take us to see the countess, if she would rather not go.”

Mollie bit her lips. “Ruth Stuart,” she said, “you talk about the countess explaining things. What have you ever asked her to explain? If there is anything you want to know about her, ask her to tell you. It is not fair to keep silent, and still not to trust her.”

Ruth had a sudden conviction that she would as soon approach the Queen of England to inquire into her private affairs as to ask questions of the Countess Sophia von Stolberg.

“Well, Mollie, I will say this much,” Ruth conceded. “I never doubt our countess when I am with her. She is so beautiful and sweet that I forget to be suspicious. But, when I am away from her, I have just wondered a little, that’s all! Now, don’t be cross, Barbara, but come with me. I am going to get out the automobile. Grace, will you and Mollie explain to Aunt Sallie where we are going?”

“I’ll tell you what, Ruth,” Bab suggested. “Let us make up our minds not to suspect the countess because of any gossip we hear. There seems to be a great deal of talking going on, but nobody makes any definite charges. The countess has been delightful to us. I am afraid I am on her side as much as Mollie. The countess, right or wrong, but still the countess!”

“Loyal Bab!” cried Ruth, patting Barbara’s hand. “See, I cast all my suspicions away!” Ruth waved her other hand. “The cause of the countess is my cause also. I shall fight for her, through thick and thin.” Ruth looked as though she meant what she said.

The “Automobile Girls” were soon on their way to the countess’s pretty villa. Mollie still held herself apart from the other three girls. She felt that no one of them had risen to the defence of her adored countess with the ardor she expected.

Ruth was running the car slowly. It was only a few miles to the villa. Ruth was a cautious chauffeur, and was not in the habit of managing so large an automobile.

As her car moved quietly and steadily toward its destination, another small automobile dashed past it. Ruth glanced about quickly. The man who drove the small car was exceeding the speed limit. He was alone. He wore a long dust coat with the collar turned up to his ears; he had a cap pulled low over his face, and he wore an immense pair of green goggles. But Ruth’s quick eyes recognized him. Her three companions paid little attention to the man.

“Bab,” said Ruth, at almost the same instant that the small car swept by them, “it is Monsieur Duval who is driving that car!”

“Well,” replied Bab, “what of it? I did not know Mr. Duval was a motorist. But I am not surprised, for he seems to know almost everything.”

“Bab, I think he is on his way to see the Countess Sophia von Stolberg,” Ruth announced with conviction.

“He does not know the countess, does he?” Grace inquired. “I think he was introduced to her only through us.”

“I don’t know what Monsieur Duval knows and what he doesn’t know,” explained Ruth. “But I should like to find out. Anyhow, I am going to beat him to the countess’s house. If she has something important to tell us, Monsieur Duval shall not keep us from hearing it.”

Ruth put on full speed and started her car in pursuit of the flying automobile in front of her. In a few seconds she drew near the automobile. The little car was on the right side of the road and making its best speed. Ruth sounded her horn. She swerved her great car to the left in order to pass the smaller one.

Bab uttered a cry of terror. Mollie and Grace both screamed. Ruth’s face turned white, but she had no time to scream.

The small motor car just in front of her immense automobile turned like a flash. It swept across the road immediately in the path of Ruth’s on-coming car, and not more than a few paces ahead of her.

It was either a mad piece of foolishness on the part of the chauffeur, or a magnificent dare. At the moment Ruth did not stop to wonder whether the man ahead of her had deliberately risked his life and theirs in order to accomplish some purpose. All her ability as a driver was needed to meet the situation.

Ruth’s hands never left the steering wheel of her car. In less than a half second, she put on the full stop brake. With a terrific wrench her great automobile settled back. It stopped just one foot this side of the car that had crossed their path.

Ruth was white with anger. She saw, a moment later, that the driver ahead of her had accomplished his design. For no sooner had Ruth’s car stopped, than the other motorist forged ahead. Ruth resumed the chase, but she was obliged to be careful. She dared not risk the lives of her friends by driving too close to the other car. The man ahead might repeat his trick. Ruth could not be sure that she could always stop her motor in so brief a space of time and distance.

So the smaller of the two automobiles arrived first at the countess’s villa.

The Countess Sophia von Stolberg evidently expecting a visit from the “Automobile Girls,” sat at her piano in her drawing-room, playing one of Chopin’s nocturnes. At the sound of the automobile outside on the avenue the countess left her music and ran out on her veranda to meet her young visitors. But instead of the four girls a heavy, well-built man in a long dust coat and goggles approached the countess. The countess did not recognize him at once. A suave voice soon enlightened her. “Madame,” it said. “I have come to see you on an important matter of business. I must see you alone.”

“What business can you have with me, Monsieur Duval?” asked the young countess coldly. But her voice trembled slightly.

“I bring you news of a friend,” declared Mr. Duval quietly.

“I have no friends whom you could know, Monsieur,” answered the Countess Sophia.

“No?” her visitor replied, shrugging his shoulders and speaking in a light bantering tone. “Shall I inform you, then, and your young friends, whom I now see approaching?”

Ruth’s motor car was now in plain sight. The four girls rushed forward to join the countess.

At the same moment the tap-tap of a stick was heard inside the house. Madame de Villiers appeared, followed by Johann with a tray of lemonade.

The countess spoke quickly. “No, no, you must say nothing to me, now. I cannot listen to you. Please go away.”

Bab noticed that the countess was trembling when she took her hand.

Monsieur Duval bowed courteously to Ruth. “Mademoiselle,” he declared, “I owe you an apology. I fear I am but a poor chauffeur. My car swerved in front of yours on the road. It was unpardonable. I offer you many thanks for your skill. You saved us from a bad smash-up.”

Ruth colored. Hot words rose to her lips. But she feared to say too much. She looked at Mr. Duval gravely. “I think, Mr. Duval,” she remarked, as suavely as the Frenchman could have spoken, “it will be wise for you not to run a motor car unless you learn how to handle it better. You are right. We were exposed to great danger from your carelessness.”

Madame de Villiers now gazed sternly at Monsieur Duval. “Have I the pleasure of your acquaintance?” she inquired coldly, turning her lorgnette on the Frenchman.

Monsieur