Whispers at Dawn; Or, The Eye
Page 22
CHAPTER XXII THE WARNING
In the meantime tremendous things were doing in the little house whereCaptain Burns had spent his childhood.
For a time, it is true, the silence in that little gray home out wherethe snow lay white and glistening on field and road continued.
Madame LeClare sat by the narrow drop-leaf table knitting. Joyce Mills,with a big black cat on her lap, seemed more than half asleep.Dark-haired Alice had curled herself up on two cushions beside the fire.The others sat in dreamy silence. It did not seem a time for small talk,this Christmas Eve. Were their thoughts busy with other Christmas Eves?Who can say? Were they thinking of the future, of the approaching NewYear and what it would bring to them? Did they think at times of the fivepublic enemies still at large and free to follow their evil ways?Perhaps, at times, all these. At any rate, they were silent.
Into that silence there crept a whisper. The effect was electric! Madamedropped her knitting. Joyce started so violently that the cat bouncedfrom her lap. With an involuntary motion Drew Lane reached for his gun."Lanan--" the whisper began, "Lanan Road, attention! Those in CaptainBurns' old home, attention!" The whisper was like a call "To Arms!"
"You are in grave danger. Grave danger! The report is just that. I cantell you no more. Be on your guard!"
The whisper ceased. The clock ticked on. From without came the hoarsescream of the rusty windmill. The black cat, walking across the floor,settled himself beside Alice among the cushions.
As if directed by a common impulse, Drew and Tom removed theirautomatics, examined them with care, then dropped them with a little chugback into their places.
"Peace on earth, good will toward men!" Drew quoted dryly. "In such aworld as ours there can be no peace."
"Grave danger," Johnny thought to himself. He was looking through thewindow to the white silence outside. "Danger? It does not seems possible!Captain Burns has kept this place a secret. We came here in a veryround-about way. Surely no one followed us.
"And yet--" A thought struck him squarely between the eyes. "And yet, theWhisperer, alone in his tower among the stars--he knows!
"The Whisperer--who can he be?" He said the words aloud.
Alice, who sat almost at his feet, shook her head. She did not know. Noone did, at least almost no one.
Was he a friend of the law, or its enemy? A friend, Johnny would havesaid. And yet, as he recalled how Spider had barely escaped death when heattempted to take a picture of that mysterious man of the tower, he couldnot be sure. Spider had not repeated his hair-raising experiment.
Curiously enough, it did not occur to one of them that they might slipout quietly, pile into their cars and go speeding back to the city. Theyhad come here with a plan. They were to hang up their stockings, each ofthem, as if he were once more a small child. They were to stay all night,the ladies sleeping upstairs, the men and boys in two tiny downstairsbedrooms. There was to be joy in the morning and feasting at noonday; atwenty-five pound turkey awaited Madame's skill at stuffing and baking.Who should interfere with these glorious plans? No one, surely!
* * * * * * * *
In the meantime, Grace Krowl in her parlor in the distant city hadreceived a strange visitor.
Hardly had she returned from her little journey dispensing Christmascheer, when there came a knock at her door.
"Who can that be?"
Springing up, she threw open the door, and there before her, smiling likesome fairy, was a tiny little lady all dressed in furs.
"I received your letter." She stepped inside. "I came to see about thelittle trunk."
"But you--you're not Emily Anne!" Grace stared with all her eyes.
"Oh, dear, no!" The little lady's laugh was like the jingle of a silverbell. "I am her niece, Miss Baxter. Aunt Emily is dead, I am sorry tosay--has been for two years."
"Oh!" There was a note of genuine sadness in Grace's voice. "Ex--excuseme!" she apologized. "But I came almost to know her by the lovely thingsin her trunk."
"I am sure you did." The little lady beamed. "She was a choice soul, AuntEmily Anne!
"But tell me--" She dropped into a chair. "Your letter interested me _so_much. Won't you tell me how you came into possession of this trunk, andhow you came to write that wonderful letter?"
"Wonderful letter?" the girl thought. "At last one has returned to givethanks. How gorgeous!"
She did tell Miss Baxter all she wished to know about the trunk and theletters.
"But this Bible?" The little lady's eyes gleamed. "You say it is worthseveral thousands of dollars?"
"I am sure of it." Grace nodded her head. "I've had the signatureverified. It is genuine."
"Then," said Miss Baxter, "let us form a society, you and I--a 'Societyfor the Return of Lost and Strayed Trunks.' How does that sound? There isa 'Society for the Return of Lost and Strayed Cats.' Trunks are moreimportant than cats, much more!"
"But you are the only one who returned to thank me. Besides," said Grace,"I don't quite understand."
"Oh! The plans," the little lady smiled, "we must work them out little bylittle. We shall sell the Bible. I will add to that fund. This will giveus working capital. You shall be the secretary, and do a great deal ofthe work."
"Nothing could be more wonderful," Grace murmured, too overcome forspeech.
"And now!" Miss Baxter sprang to her feet. "This is Christmas Eve, and Imust be on my way. I'll see you again soon!"
With a wave of her hand, as if she might be a feminine Santa Claus, shewas gone, leaving the astonished Grace to stare after her.
"Life," she thought, "is strange, so very strange, so much mystery!" Sheclosed the door, but did not stir from her place. She was thinking, andthey were long, long thoughts.
These thoughts were broken in upon by a second knock on the door. Nolight tap of a sparrow's wing, this knock, but one like the thump of apoliceman demanding admittance in the name of the law. Her hand trembledas she gripped the knob.