40.
The train hadn't been stopped two minutes when it departed again, before I was even able to store my luggage. While I was standing with my arms above my head, hands full of packages, the jolt caused me to lose my balance. I tumbled onto a fat territorial soldier, and almost knocked him out with my parcels. He was understanding. Instead of shouting, he laughed, and he said, "I'd rather have you fall on me than a 420mm shell."
But I was conscious of disaster. The basket containing Hindenburg had fallen between the soldier and me and broken open. We fixed it as well as we could with bits of string donated by the other passengers.
"This is serious," said Zidore. "This dog is such a tracker. It'll be awkward if he starts running around just when we're embarking. We have to be careful."
The repairs completed, Hindenburg climbed into the basket. He stayed there with his head out and his paws holding the brim. He was in a friendly mood and made doggy smiles. He's like that whenever he sees French soldiers. We recounted his history, which interested our fellow travellers. They petted him and gave him sweets.
It's not a great distance from BLANK to the seaport where we were to embark. Shortly before we arrived, Monsieur Bertrand opened the door of our compartment. Do you think we rushed to cover Hindenburg? We hadn't told our masters that we were bringing him.
Certainly, it was not good of us to hide this from them, but I didn't understand that until later. Monsieur summoned us into the corridor, where he gave us our safe-conducts. He reminded us to stay close to him and Madame once we got off the train, and to watch what we said, because the ports are full of spies.
"Especially you, Bécassine," he said. "Use caution. If a stranger asks you any questions, the best thing is to remain silent." I promised, and went back to gather my luggage.
We entered the station. I stepped lively and followed Monsieur and Madame. That wasn't easy. There was a crowd, I was tangled up in everything I was carrying, and the basket with the dog kept banging against my legs.
41.
I found myself a bit behind when I got towhere I must hand over my ticket and show the safe-conduct to the guard. After that little ceremony was over I had to run, but just at that moment a doubtful individual approached and offered to be my guide. He asked a lot of nosy questions: Was I going to England? Was I accompanying an officer? I didn't say anything, but put on an air, in a word, the kind of air reserved for grand occasions.
Only, I wasn'r able to hold it for long, because Hindenberg gave a growl and began to thrash about. Suddenly he puched with all his might against the basket cover, and it burst open. He leapt out of the basket. I can't remember seeing him so ferocious. He flew at the man and bit the tail of his jacket.
The man was able to tear himself away. He ran for it, and the dog ran after.
Me, I ran after the dog.
I yelled at the top of my voice, "Hindenburg! Hindenburg! Stop, Hindenburg!" You can imagine the emotions that produced in that town where nobody thinks about anything but the war and the spies. The next thing, I saw the man on the ground and my dog leaping for his throat.
That alarmed me so considerably that I half-fainted. When I came back to my senses, there were two customs agents leading me away. One of them sad to his comrade, "That must be a police dog. The guy he brought down is a Boche we've been pursuing for a long time." The other one said, "We have to figure out if this woman is his accomplice." Their suspicion seemed terrible, but then I felt something cold on my fingers. I looked. It was Hindenberg, licking my hand. That restored my courage.
42.
The agents conducted Bécassine to the police station. One of the two, who was smal, thin, jaundiced and ill-tempered, said, "If it turns out that you're in league with that Boche, it'll add up to a firing squad." And Bécassine felt faint again.
But the other one chewed out his partner: "That's a fine way to talk to a lady," he said. "Especially one with such a pleasant face." Reassured, Bécassine gave a look that showed that her heart was overflowing.
They arrived at the station. The accused and her guards followed a corridor and came to a door, on which there was a plaque that said: BUREAU OF SUSPECTS, Monsieur Proey-Minans, Director. "Proey-Minans!" thought Bécassine. "I know somebody with that name. Where have I met a Monsieur Proey-Minans?"
Suddenly the memories crowded back on her. She recalled that at the start of the war she had been taken to Paris in a car by Monsieur Proey-Minans, a man of great intellect who dedicated himself to the study of personality, based on the lumps of the head, very short-sighted, very absent-minded, very kind, and a great friend of Madame de Grand-Air.
Addressing herself to Hindenburg, who was sitting philosophically, she said, "If that's the same man, we won't be going in front of any firing squad."
At the sound of a discrete tap at the door by the fatter agent, a voice so soft that they had trouble hearing it asked them to enter. The man belonging to the voice was at work, half hidden by a stack of books on one side, and a phrenological bust on the other.
He asked, "You brought a suspect?" "A suspect," certified the fat agent. "Is she dangerous?" "As gentle as a newborn lamb." "If she would sit in this chair beside my desk, I will be with her in a moment." Bécassine sat.
Nevertheless our heroine leaned over to examine the man upon whom her fate rested. She had no trouble recognizing him. Confiding in Hindenburg, she said, "It's all right, that's my Monsieur."
43.
No doubt the dog took these words as an order. With a bound he jumped into the basket in which, through thick and thin, he served his mistress. And he stood upright in his favourite pose. He set his paws on the edge of the desk, and his big head was nearly level with Bécassine's.
Monsieur Proey-Minans was writing all the while. From time to time he stood up to consult the phrenological bust, then he returned to his manuscript. Deep in scientific curiosity he extended his left hand in the direction that he expected to find the suspect's head.
It was the skull of Hindenburg that he encountered. He massaged it, little by little, with great concentration. Taking this for a caress, the dog issued a contented snuffle.
Monsieur Proey-Minans intensified his examination. His face bore an expression of immense interest. He arose, as solemnly as if he were addressing a learned audience, and said, "Phrenology, what an admirable science! You bring me a suspect. I neither look at her, nor examine her, yet I know that she is guilty. Her skull speaks for her. She is a Boche!"
He would undoubtedly have continued his seminar, but at that moment Hindenburg, who very much enjoyed having his head rubbed, jumped up on the desk, sat up, and with his very large tongue licked the savant's face.
"What is this?" cried Monsieur Proey-Minans, suffocating with indignation. "Guards, arrest this impertinent dog!" The guards approached, trying hard to maintain a serious expression, and delivered the savant from the effusions of Hindenburg.
Never had Bécassine been so foolishly ammused. With a fierce effort she controlled herself and, between bouts of laughter, exclaimed, "Excuse us, M'sieur! It's only a dog who wants to show you his respect."
"I know that voice," said the intellectual. He affixed his pince-nez, and adding his spectacles, gazed closely at Bécassine. He cried, "I know you. You're the maid of my very good friend Madame de Grand-Air. What are you doing here? What about this dog? Explain to me, I pray you, my child, this strange adventure."