The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1919-05-20
The Girl Of Bailleul
By a French Staff Officer
(Copyright, 1919, By The Interna-
 tional News Bureau, Inc.)

Copyright. 1919. By The Interna-
 tional News Bureau, Inc.)
 
 We were coming back from an outpost near Bailleul on a bitterly cold night. Hawthorn had been hay ing a look at the Maxim and anti-air- crafts guns placed round the post and I went with him because we liked each others company. flaw thorn was a colonel attached to the staff of a British corps. I was a mere French sub, also attached to thu corps, but rank counted for little be- tween us.
 It was one o'clock in the morning. We trudged along in the deep snow. I was smoking, and the colonel was misunderstanding hard. Presently he pushed his saucy GIengarry-for Hawthorn, perfect gentleman and ideal soldier, was a Scot-further over his left ear. This meant busi- ness, I knew.
 We're all disgusted," he burst uot, with the atrocities the Germans have been committing here during the short time they were in this part of the country. Instructions recently came from G. II. c. to make list of the worst cases, with full accounts, signatures of witnesses and victims when possible, and so on.
 This may be useful when the war has been finally settled and the day of reckoning comes. The trouble is the victims, naturally enough - I'm thinking of the women, of course aren't a bit anxious to tell their pitt full tales. They feel ashamed. Can't blame 'em, but justice must have its way. It's a painful job.'
 Only q Peasant Girl.
 What we are after are facts. proven facts, unimpeachable evil And we want descriptions and names of the Huns responsible. There's one case-most revolting-a young girl, a. mere child, tortured-there's no word for it. Neighbors spoke, and there is a grandfather. He won't say much, and the girl is in bed, ser iously ill, and she won't speak a. all"
 And you want to help me? You think she might tell me-one of her own people? I asked.
 Exactly! The house is a small one in a big garden on the Lille Road, a mile from town.'
 T can't say the task pleases mo
 
 Its pleasant of course, and it has nothing to do with your duties, but l just want you to help in this. If there was never a Hun deserving of the worst conceivable punishment it's the Hun, whoever he is. And and officer, too, That much we've found out. Do spare an hour or so to- morrow-that Is today-and let me know the result ["
 I investigated the case for the col onels sake. Hawthorn was right. Nothing could have been more re- volting. The girl was fifteen, and her Christian name was Suzette. She must have been comedy and pretty. but her unspeakable sufferings had ruined her beauty.
 The Clue of the Bag.
 Her father was at the front, some where in the Vosges. She lived alone with her grandfather. who had been unable to save her from her tortur- CT, though the .ghastly business had been done under his very eyes.
 The tale of Suzette's martyrdom reedn't be told here. The poar child wanted grea. deal of coexins and persuading beforo she wou'd speak a. all. Ths doctor who YVES looking after her ro,uctaLt. The neighbors 
 had little to say. l painfully drew a few clear statements from the aged grandfather His :;.ind was numb W .th age, an1 ha- had not veg recov- cred fl om the s.'rts.
 The German brute was an officer. They couldn't tell me his rank. He had only been billeted there twenty four hours. They agreed he was quite young, and had a batman or groom who he ill-treated and abused cease lessly. And he had a leather bag, very beautiful bag. There was no name on it, only initials. The girl had not paid any attention to them.
 This matter of initials was i'm portant I urged the old man to try to remember. He made a mighty. visible effort.
 Nobility Made in Germany"
 "'N B. or B. N.,'" the cripple murmured. rOr perhaps it was ID. B. The lettering was different from ours. and I was nayar. eaAA sk HA>A-.