CHAPTER IV
THE GIRL OF THE CAR
"Oh," she said, with a little gasp of recognition, "are _you_ Mr. Orme?"Her cheeks flushed softly.
He bowed; his heart was beating furiously, and for the moment he darednot try to speak.
"Then we do meet again," she exclaimed--"and as usual I need your help.Isn't it queer?"
"Any service that I"--Orme began haltingly--"of course, anything that Ican do----"
The girl laughed--a merry ripple of sound; then caught herself andchanged her manner to grave earnestness. "It is very important," shesaid. "I am looking for a five-dollar bill that was paid to you to-day."
Orme started. "What? You, too?"
"I, too? Has--has anybody else----?" Her gravity was more intense.
"Why, yes," said Orme--"a little man from South America."
"Oh,--Mr. Poritol?" Her brows were knit in an adorable frown.
"Yes--and two Japanese."
"Oh!" Her exclamation was apprehensive.
"The Japanese got it," added Orme, ruefully. That she had the right tothis information it never occurred to him to question.
The girl stood rigidly. "Whatever shall I do now?" she whispered. "Mypoor father!"
She looked helplessly at Orme. His self-possession had returned, and ashe urged her to a chair, he condemned himself for not guessing howserious the loss of the bill must be to her. "Sit down," he said."Perhaps I can help. But you see, I know so little of what it all means.Tell me everything you can."
With a sigh, she sank into the chair. Orme stood before her, waiting.
"That bill tells, if I am not mistaken," she said, wearily, "wherecertain papers have been hidden. My father is ill at our place in thecountry. He must have those papers before midnight to-morrow, or----"Tears came into her eyes. Orme would have given much for the right tocomfort her. "So much depends upon finding them," she added--"more eventhan I can begin to tell you."
"Let me help," said Orme, eager to follow those papers all over Chicago,if only it would serve her. "Hear my story first." Rapidly he recountedthe adventures of the evening. She listened, eyes intent, nodding inrecognition of his description of Poritol and Alcatrante. When he came tothe account of the fight in the porter's office and spoke of the Japanesewith the scar on his forehead, she interrupted.
"Oh! That was Maku," she exclaimed.
"Maku?"
"Our butler. He must have overheard my father and me."
"Then he knew the value of the papers."
"He must have. I am sorry, Mr. Orme, that you have been so roughly used."
"That doesn't matter," he said. "They didn't hurt me in the least. Andnow, what is your story? How did you get on the trail of the bill?"
"We came back from the East a few days ago," she began. "My father had toundergo a slight operation, and he wished to have it performed by hisfriend, Dr. Allison, who lives here, so we went to our home in--one ofthe northern suburbs.
"Father could not go back East as soon as he had expected to, and he hadthe papers sent to him, by special arrangement with the--with the otherparties to the contract. Mr. Poritol followed us from the East. I--we hadknown him there. He was always amusing company; we never took himseriously. He had business here, he said; but on the first day of hisarrival he came out to call on us. The next night our house was enteredby a burglar. Besides the papers, only a few things were taken."
"Poritol?" exclaimed Orme, incredulously.
"It happened that a Chicago detective had been in our village on businessduring the day," she went on. "He had recognized on the streets awell-known thief, named Walsh. When we reported the burglary thedetective remembered seeing Walsh, and hunted him out and arrested him.In his pockets was some jewelry belonging to me, and in his room theother stolen articles were found--everything except the papers."
"Did you tell the police about the papers?"
"No, it seemed wiser not to. They were in a sealed envelope with--with myfather's name on it, and would surely have been returned, if found withthe other things. There are reasons why they would have--would try toplease my father. We did let them know that an envelope containingsomething of value had not been recovered, and told them to make athorough search.
"The afternoon after the burglary the news of Walsh's arrest wastelephoned out to us from Chicago. I talked with my father, who was notwell enough to leave the house, and it seemed best that someone should goto the county jail and see Walsh and try to get the papers. My father hadreasons for not wishing the loss to become known. Only he and I wereacquainted with the contents of the envelope; so I insisted on going toChicago and interviewing the burglar."
She laughed, intercepting Orme's admiring look. "Oh, it was easy enough.I planned to take our lawyer as an escort."
"Did you?"
"No, and that is where my troubles really began. Just as I was preparingto go, Mr. Poritol called. I had forgotten that we had asked him out foran afternoon of golf. He _is_ such a funny player.
"As soon as I told him I was going to the Chicago jail to interview aburglar about some stolen goods, he insisted on acting as escort. He wasso amusingly persistent that I finally agreed. We set out for the city inmy car, not waiting to take a train.
"When we reached the jail I presented a letter which my father hadwritten, and the officials agreed to let me have a private interview withWalsh."
Orme opened his eyes. This girl's father must have considerableinfluence.
"It is a horrid place, the jail. They took us through a corridor toWalsh's cell, and called him to the grating. I made Mr. Poritol standback at the other side of the corridor so that he couldn't hear us talk.
"I asked the man what he had done with the papers. He insisted that hehad seen none. Then I promised to have him freed, if he would only returnthem. He looked meditatively over my shoulders and after a momentdeclined the offer, again insisting that he didn't understand what I wastalking about. 'I took the other things, miss,' he said, 'and I supposeI'll get time for it. But so help me, I didn't see no papers.'"
The girl paused and looked at Orme. "This seems like wasting minutes whenwe might be searching."
Orme was pleased to hear the "we."
"Well," she went on, "I knew that the man was not telling the truth. Hewas too hesitant to be convincing. So I began to promise him money. Atevery offer he looked past my shoulder and then repeated his denials. Thelast time he raised his eyes I had an intuition that something was goingon behind me. I turned quickly. There stood Mr. Poritol, extending hisfingers in the air and forming his mouth silently into words. He wasraising my bids!
"It flashed upon me that the papers would be of immense value to Mr.Poritol--for certain reasons. If only I had thought of it before! I spoketo him sharply and told him to go outside. It always seemed natural toorder him about, like a little dog."
"However, little dogs have the sharpest teeth," remarked Orme.
"That is true. He replied that he couldn't think of leaving me alone insuch a place. So there was nothing for me to do except to go. I wouldhave to return later without Mr. Poritol. 'Come along,' I said. 'Myerrand is done.'
"Mr. Poritol smiled at me in a way I didn't like. The burglar, meantime,had gone to a little table at the back of his cell. There was anink-bottle there and he seemed to be writing. Looking into the cell, Mr.Poritol said: 'The poor fellow has very unpleasant quarters.' Then hesaid to Walsh: 'Can't we do something to make your enforced stay heremore comfortable, my very dear sir?'"
Orme smiled at the unconscious mimicry of her accent.
"Walsh came back to the grating. He held in his hand a five-dollarbill--the one that has made so much trouble. It had been smuggled in tohim in some way. 'You might get me some "baccy,"' he said, thrusting thebill through the bars and grinning.
"Now I understood what was going on. I reached for the bill, as though itwere intended for me, but Mr. Poritol was quicker. He snatched the billand put it in his pocket.
"I didn't know what to do.
But suddenly Mr. Poritol seemed to befrightened. Perhaps he thought that I would have him arrested, though hemight have known that there were reasons why I couldn't. He gave me apanicky look and rushed out of the corridor. Afterward I learned that hetold the guard I had sent him on an errand.
"Well"--she sighed--"of course, I followed, after a last glance at Walsh,who was peering through the grating with a look of evil amusement. Hemust have been well paid, that burglar. But then," she mused, "they couldafford it--yes, they could well afford it.
"When I got to the street, Poritol was just disappearing in my car! I canonly think that he had lost his head very completely, for he didn't needto take the car. He could have mixed with the street-crowd and gone afootto the hotel where----"
"Alcatrante?"
"Yes, Mr. Alcatrante--where he was stopping, and have waited there. ButMr. Alcatrante was playing golf at Wheaton, and Mr. Poritol seems to havethought that he must go straight to him. He cannot escape from beingspectacular, you see.
"He ran out through the western suburbs, putting on more and more speed.Meantime I set a detective on the track of the car. That is how I learnedwhat I am now telling you. As for the car, Mr. Poritol sent it back to methis morning with a hired chauffeur. He wrote a note of abject apology,saying that he had been beside himself and had not realized what he wasdoing.
"After setting the detective at work, I went out to our place by train. Idreaded confessing my failure to father, but he took it very well. We haddinner together in his study. Maku was in the room while we were talking.Now I can see why Maku disappeared after dinner and did not return."
"But how did Poritol lose the bill?" asked Orme.
The girl laughed. "It was really ridiculous. He over-speeded and wascaught by one of those roadside motor-car traps, ten or twelve miles outin the country. They timed him, and stopped him by a bar across the road.From what the detective says, I judge he was frightened almost tospeechlessness. He may have thought that he was being arrested forstealing the car. When they dragged him before the country justice, whowas sitting under a tree near by, he was white and trembling.
"They fined him ten dollars. He had in his pocket only eleven dollars andsixty-three cents, and the marked bill was nearly half of the sum. Hebegged them to let him go--offered them his watch, his ring, hisscarf-pin--but the justice insisted on cash. Then he told them that thebill had a formula on it that was valuable to him and no one else.
"The justice was obdurate, and Mr. Poritol finally hit on the devicewhich you have seen. It fitted in well with his sense of the theatrical;and the detective says that there was not a scrap of paper at hand. Thepoint was that Mr. Poritol was more afraid of delay than anything else.He knew that I would put someone on his track."
"When did all this happen?" asked Orme.
"Yesterday afternoon. Mr. Poritol came back to Chicago by trolley and gotsome money. He went back to the country justice and discovered that themarked bill had been paid out. He has followed it through several personsto you, just as Maku did, and as I have done. But I heard nothing of theJapanese."
"You shouldn't have attempted this alone," said Orme, solicitously.
She smiled faintly. "I dared not let anyone into the secret. I was afraidthat a detective might learn too much." She sighed wearily. "I have beenon the trail since morning."
"And how did you finally get my address?"
"The man who paid the bill in at the hat-shop lives in Hyde Park. I didnot get to him until this evening, while he was at dinner. He directed meto the hat-shop, which, of course, was closed. I found the address of theowner of the shop in the directory and went to his house. He rememberedthe bill, and gave me the addresses of his two clerks. The second clerk Isaw proved to be the one who had paid the bill to you. Luckily heremembered your address."
Orme stirred himself. "Then the Japanese have the directions for findingthe papers."
"My predicament," said the girl, "is complicated by the question whetherthe bill does actually carry definite directions."
"It carries something--a set of abbreviations," said Orme. "But I couldnot make them out. Let us hope that the Japanese can't. The best coursefor us to take is to go at once to see Walsh, the burglar."
He assumed that she would accept his aid.
"That is good of you," she said. "But it seems a little hopeless, doesn'tit?"
"Why? What else can we do? I suppose you saw to it that no one elseshould have access to Walsh."
"Yes, father arranged that by telephone. The man is in solitaryconfinement. Several persons tried to see him to-day, on the plea ofbeing relatives. None of them was admitted."
What money-king was this girl's father, that he could thus regulate thetreatment of prisoners?
"So there were abbreviations on the bill?" she asked.
"Yes. They weren't very elaborate, and I puzzled over them for some time.The curious fact is that, for all my study of them, I can't remember muchof anything about them. What I have since been through, apparently, hasdriven the letters out of my head."
"Oh, do try to remember," she implored. "Even if you recall only one ortwo bits of it, they may help me."
"There was something about a man named Evans," he began. "S. R. Evans, itwas."
"Evans? That is strange. I can't think how anyone of that name could beinvolved."
"Then S. R. Evans is not your father?" he ventured.
"Oh, no." She laughed a light little laugh. "My father is--but are yousure that the name was Evans?"
"Quite sure. Then there was the abbreviation 'Chi.'--which I took to mean'Chicago.'"
"Yes?" she breathed.
"And there were numerals--a number, then the letter 'N.'; another number,followed by the letter 'E.' So far north, so far east, I read it--thoughI couldn't make out whether the numbers stood for feet or paces ormiles."
"Yes, yes," she whispered. Her eyes were intent on his. They seemed towill him to remember. "What else was there?"
"Odd letters, which meant nothing to me. It's annoying, but I simplycan't recall them. Believe me, I should like to."
"Perhaps you will a little later," she said. "I'm sorry to be such abother to you."
"Bother!"
"But it does mean so much, the tracing of this bill."
"Shall we go to see Walsh?" he asked.
"I suppose so." She sighed. Apparently she was discouraged. "But even ifhe gives the information, it may be too late. The Japanese have thedirections."
"But perhaps they will not be able to make them out," he suggested.
She smiled. "You don't know the Japanese," she said. "They are abominablyclever at such things. I will venture that they are already on their wayto the hiding-place."
"But even if the papers are in the pocket of one of them, it may bepossible to steal them back."
"Hardly." She arose. "I fear that the one chance is the mere possibilitythat Maku couldn't read the directions. Then, if Walsh _will_ speakout----"
"Now, let me say something," he said. "My name is Robert Orme. Apparentlywe have common friends in the Wallinghams. When I first saw you thisafternoon, I felt that I might have a right to your acquaintance--asocial right, if you like; a sympathetic right, I trust."
He held out his hand. She took it frankly, and the friendly pressure ofher fine, firm palm sent the blood tingling through him.
"I am sorry," she said, "that I can't give you my name. It would beunfair just now--unfair to others; for if you knew who I am, it mightgive you a clue to the secret I guard."
"Some day, I hope, I may know," he said gravely. "But your present wishis my law. It is good of you to let me try to help you."
At the same instant they became conscious that their hands were stillclasped. The girl blushed, and gently drew hers away.
"I shall call you Girl," Orme added.
"A name I like," she said. "My father uses it. Oh, if I only knew whatthat burglar wrote on the bill!"
Orme started. What a fool he had been! Here he was, tryin
g to help thegirl, forcing her to the long, tired recital of her story, when all thetime he held her secret in the table in his sitting-room. For there wasstill the paper on which he had copied the abbreviated directions.
"Wait here," he said sharply, and without answering the look of surpriseon her face, hurried from the room and to the elevator. A few momentslater he was back, the sheet of paper in his hand.
"I can't forgive my own stupidity," he said. "While I was puzzling overthe bill this evening I copied the secret on a sheet of paper. WhenPoritol came I put it away in a drawer and forgot all about it. But hereit is." He laid the paper on the little, useless onyx table that stoodbeside her chair.
She snatched it quickly and began to examine it closely.
"Perhaps you can imagine how those letters puzzled me," he volunteered.
"Hush!" she exclaimed; and then: "Oh, this is plain. You wouldn't know,of course, but I see it clearly. There is no time to lose."
"You are going to follow this clue now--to-night?"
"Maku will read it on the bill, and--oh, these Japanese! If you have onein your kitchen, you never know whether he's a jinriksha man, a collegestudent, or a vice-admiral."
"You will let me go with you?" Orme was trembling for the answer. He wasstill in the dark, and did not know how far she would feel that she couldaccept his aid.
"I may need you, Mr. Orme," she said simply.
It pleased him that she brought up no question of possible inconvenienceto him. With her, he realized, only direct relations were possible.
"How much of a journey is it?" he ventured to ask.
"Not very long. I intend to be mysterious about it." She smiled brightly.Her face had lighted up wonderfully since he gave her the paper thatcontained the secret of the bill.
But he knew that she must be tired; so he said: "Can't you send me aloneon this errand? It may be late before it is done, and----"
"And I will not sit and rest while you do all the work. Besides, I cannotforego the excitement of the chase."
He was selfishly glad in her answer. "Do we walk?" he asked.
"We will go in the motor," she said.
"Where is it?"
"I left it around the corner. The thought came to me that Mr. Poritolmight be here, and I didn't wish him to recognize it."
Orme thought of the hard quest the girl had followed that day--battlingfor her father's interests. What kind of a man could that father be tolet his daughter thus go into difficulties alone? But she had said thather father was unable to leave the house. Probably he did not know howserious the adventure might be. Or was the loss of the papers sodesperate that even a daughter must run risks?
Together they went out to the street. Orme caught a dubious glance fromthe clerk, as they passed through the lobby, and he resented it. Surelyanyone could see----
The girl led the way around the corner into a side street. There stoodthe car. He helped her in and without a word saw that she was restfullyand comfortably placed in the seat next to the chauffeur's. She did notresist the implication of his mastery.
He cranked up, leaped to the seat beside her, and took the levers. "Whichway, Girl?" he asked.
"North," she answered.
The big car swung out in the Lake Shore Drive and turned in the directionof Lincoln Park.
The Girl and the Bill Page 4