CHAPTER XIX--MARGIT AND MISS CARRINGTON MEET
It was several seconds before Purt realized just what manner of personhad seized him by the arm in the vestibule at the girls' entrance ofCentral High. It was so dark that Purt only knew it was a girl.
"Who--who are you?" he stammered.
"Oh! It's only a boy," said the girl, in a tone of disgust. "What do youwant here?"
"I--I was trying to get in," murmured Purt.
"What for? Isn't this the girls' entrance? They told me it was."
Then Purt knew that she did not belong at Central High. Indeed, she wasa different kind of girl from any the youth had ever met.
"Who are you, and what do _you_ want?" asked Purt, plucking up courage."I guess you don't go to Central High."
"I never went to any school--not like this, anyway."
"But what do you want here? I--I left something in the building andwanted to get back and find it," stammered Purt.
"I was waiting to see those girls," said the stranger.
"What girls?" demanded the boy, in a panic again.
"Some that I know. I waited and watched down by that place where theyplay----"
"The athletic field?" suggested Purt.
"Perhaps. And I asked another girl. She said they had not come down fromthe school yet. They were kept in. So I came up here----"
"Who were the girls you want to see?"
"One is named Evangeline, and she-comes from Switzerland. I am Austrianmyself. And there is another girl--a little girl who always laughs. Hername is like a boy's name."
"Bobby Hargrew," said Purt, with a stifled groan. "And neither of thosegirls have come out of the building yet?"
"No," said the girl. "I have watched and waited for more than an hour."
Purt rattled the knob of the inner door desperately; but it was lockedand evidently there was nobody within to hear him.
"They must be away upstairs and cannot hear you," said the strange girl.
And _that_ scared Purt, too. It seemed to him that this girl must knowjust what he had done to those girls whom she was waiting for. Hestarted to leave the vestibule.
"Hold on! Isn't there any other door we can get in by?" asked thestranger.
"I'm--I'm going to try the main entrance. Perhaps that is unlocked,"Purt replied.
"I'll go with you," volunteered the other, and followed him down thesteps.
Purt wanted to get rid of her, whoever she was. He wished now that hehadn't come back to the schoolhouse. He had read somewhere thatcriminals are driven by some mysterious power to haunt the scenes oftheir crimes. And it must be a fact, Purt told himself, for he hadcertainly been foolish to come back here to Central High--and go withouthis supper.
He decided to slip out of the girls' yard and run away. But when hereached the street there was the strange girl right at his elbow. And heremembered that she had a grip as firm as Chet Belding's own.
So nothing would do but try the front entrance. Of course, he knew itwas ridiculous to go to that door. Even by day it was kept locked andvisitors had to ring; only the teachers had pass-keys.
But they went in at the main gate and mounted the steps of the portico.It was indeed black under here, for the street lights were too far awayto cast any of their radiance into the place. Purt fumbled around, foundthe doorknob, and tried it. To his amazement it turned in his hand andthe door swung open into the dark corridor.
"They're here, then," whispered the girl. "Where do you suppose theyare?" she continued.
Now Purt had very good reason for believing that he knew just where thegirls were whom this stranger wished to see; but he only said, gruffly:
"I'm sure I don't know. I don't believe they're in the building now."
"Oh, yes, they are. They have not come out. There are several besidethose I named. So I was told at the athletic field."
"Well, I don't know anything about them!" denied Purt, hurriedly. "I--Ijust want to go up for my book----"
He shook himself free and ran for the front stairway. He knew his way inthe dark and hoped to leave the girl behind. Once let him reach the footof the tower stairs, he would unlock the door, fling it open so that theprisoners would hear him above, and then dart down the boys' stairwayand so out of the school building again.
But before he reached the top of the first flight he heard the patter ofthe strange girl's footsteps beside him. Through the long windows enoughlight filtered to show him her figure. And she ran better than he did,and without panting.
Purt was scared now worse than he had been before.
"She'll tell them who unlocked the door," he thought, "and so they'llknow right away who imprisoned them in the first place. Then Laura willtell her brother and Chet will thrash me--I know he will!"
The lad was almost ready to cry now. It seemed to him as though everystep he took got him deeper and deeper into trouble.
He dashed up the other flight two steps at a time; but the girl kept onequal terms with him. What good wind she had! She could beat many of thegirls of Central High in running, that was sure.
"I don't know what has become of Eve Sitz and that other girl you wantto see," exclaimed Purt, stopping suddenly. "And I don't see why you aresticking so close to me."
"You know your way around this building; I don't," declared the girl,shortly.
"I can't help you find them----"
"You seem afraid of something," remarked the girl, shrewdly. "What's thematter with you?"
"Well, I go to school here," complained Purt. "You don't. You'll getinto trouble, coming into the building at night."
"I guess you're afraid of getting into trouble yourself," returned theother, quite unshaken.
"Well, if one of the teachers is here and finds us----"
"I'll tell them just what I came for. Will you?" demanded the girl,quickly, and thrusting her face into Purt's so as to see him better.
She had him there! Purt knew it--and he knew _she_ knew it. This strangegirl was laughing softly to herself in the darkness.
"Go on--if you're going anywhere," said she, after a minute. "I believeyou know where those girls are. I want to see that Evangeline and thatHargrew girl. You show me."
"I--I don't know!" wailed Purt, under his breath.
Then he was sure he heard somebody's step. It was in one of theclassrooms opening into this corridor.
At the sound, spurred by sudden terror, the boy leaped away. He washalf-way down the corridor. Around the corner was the door of the tower.
And then, just as he dashed past a door on his right, it opened. A broadband of light streamed out, and to Purt's ears came the quick demand:
"What's this? Who are you?"
"It's Gee Gee!" thought the boy, but he never stopped. In a moment herealized that Miss Carrington had not addressed her question to him, butto the girl.
He ran on, as softly as possible, and rounded the corner, knowing thatthe strange girl had been caught by the teacher, who repeated her demandin a louder and more emphatic tone.
"Who are you? What are you doing here in the schoolhouse?" Then MissCarrington saw that the girl was not one of her scholars--indeed, nogirl of Central High was ever dressed so gaily, unless it was at amasquerade.
"For goodness sake, child!" exclaimed the teacher, still more sharply."Come in here and explain yourself."
She drew her inside the classroom and closed the door. In the full lightthe strange girl was revealed in a purple velvet skirt, a green bodice,a yellow silk scarf, or handkerchief, around her neck, and with a net,on which steel beads were sewed, over her hair. With her dark complexionand high color she was indeed a striking figure as she stood there,hands on her hips, and panting slightly as she gazed back bravely intoMiss Carrington's spectacled eyes.
"For goodness sake, child!" repeated the teacher. "Who and what areyou?"
"My name is Margit Salgo," said the Gypsy girl, watching MissCarrington, with her sharp black eyes.
"Salgo?" whispered the teacher, and for a m
oment the girl thought thatMiss Carrington would sink into the nearest chair. Then she drew herselfup and, although her pallor remained, her eyes sparkled behind the thicklenses of her spectacles.
"I suppose you are here to tell me your father was Belas Salgo?"demanded the lady, harshly.
"I don't know who you are, Madam," said the Gypsy girl. "Are you thelady whom the Vareys say knows all about me?"
"Who are the Vareys?" returned Miss Carrington, quickly.
"They are English Gypsies. I was placed in their care when my father'sfriends brought me to this country. They have held me prisoner but Ihave got away from them----"
"I do not understand you--I do not understand you," insisted MissCarrington, weakly. And now she did grope her way to a seat.
"Are you the teacher here whose name has in it eighteen letters?" askedthe girl, anxiously. "I do not read your English, although I speak it. Ilearn to speak languages easily--it is a gift. My father had it."
"True," murmured Miss Carrington. "Belas Salgo was a wonderfullinguist."
"Does your name have the eighteen letters?" pursued Margit, eagerly. Sherepeated her story about the card on which was printed, or written, thename of the lady whom the Vareys had come to Centerport to see. MissCarrington listened more quietly, and finally bowed.
"Yes. I am the lady. I am Miss Carrington," she admitted.
"That is what those girls called you," muttered Margit, but the teacherdid not hear.
"You claim to be Belas Salgo's daughter?" repeated Miss Carrington, atlast.
"I am his daughter. I cannot remember my mother--much. But my father Iremember very well. Why, I traveled everywhere with him! All oversouthern Europe we went. And to Algiers, and the other north coastcities. He played everywhere about the Mediterranean until he died. Andthen," said the girl, simply, "I lost all happiness--and I was broughtto this great, cold country."
Miss Carrington had listened with her head resting on her hand and hereyes watching the girl from behind her glasses. Now she said:
"Well, I do not believe you are Belas Salgo's child--not the Belas SalgoI have good reason to remember. No. But I will take you home with me andwe will talk this matter over.
"I was correcting some examination papers," she added, going to the deskand turning out the student lamp. "But they may go until another time,"and with a sigh she put on her hat and cloak, and taking the Gypsygirl's hand led her out of the school building, the darkened corridorsof which she knew so well.
The Girls of Central High on Track and Field Page 19