CHAPTER XVII
A CHANCE OF THE GAME
The first impression that came to Orme with returning consciousness wasone of impending disaster. His mind was renewing its last thought beforeit had ceased to work.
Then he realized that the disaster had already occurred, and he moved hisarms and legs, to see if they had been injured. They gave him no pain,and he raised himself to a sitting position.
The soft night hovered about him. He heard confusedly the droning ofinsects, and the distant mournful call of a whip-poor-will. The roar ofthe car was strangely missing. What had become of it? And where wasArima? These were the first questions he asked himself as he became ableto think without confusion.
He now became aware that his head hurt, and raising his hand, he found alarge bump under the hair above his right temple. Turning, he discoveredthat he had been thrown over the fence into a field of thick-standinggrain, which had broken his fall. His head must have struck the fence inpassing.
He got to his feet. At first he was bothered by dizziness, but that soondisappeared.
Climbing the fence, he saw that the car had turned over on one side. At aglance there were no evidences of superficial damage, but it would take ateam of horses and some time to right it and get it back into the road.The lamps had been extinguished.
In the ditch near the car lay Arima. One of his legs was bent under himhorribly. Orme hurried over to him.
The Japanese was conscious. His beady eyes glittered wetly in thestarlight, but he said no word, gave no groan, made no show of pain.Whatever he may have suffered, he endured with the stoicism that istraditional in his race.
"Much hurt?" asked Orme, bending over him.
"My leg broke." Arima spoke unemotionally.
Orme considered. "I'll send you help," he said, at last. "Lie quiet for alittle while, and you will be looked after."
He rose, smoothed out his clothing, and pulled himself together. It wasnot part of his program to let whomever he might meet know that hehimself had been concerned in the wreck.
In a moment he returned to Arima. "I'll have to have those papers," hesaid.
Silently the Japanese reached within his coat and drew out the papers. Heheld them up for Orme to take.
"You have me beat," he said. "Spirit told me I must fail."
A picture of the scene in Madame Alia's rooms came to Orme; the darknessbroken only by a pinpoint of gaslight; the floating, ghostly forms; thecircle of awed believers, with the two Japanese, intent as children.
The medium's work for him had not ended when she helped him to escape.Mentally he redoubled his thanks to her, for she had so impressed thefatalistic mind of Arima that he gave the papers over without makingnecessary a final struggle.
By the size and shape of the papers Orme recognized them. Nevertheless,to make sure that he was not being deceived; he slid his hands overArima's coat, and felt in the pockets. He found nothing that resembledthe papers he had, so he thrust them into his own pocket.
He now took out his watch. There was not enough light to see what time itwas, and he ran his fingers over the dial, as he had done during thattime of imprisonment, earlier in the evening. As nearly as he could tellit was ten minutes past nine. He could hardly believe that it was soearly.
With a final, "Take it easy," to Arima, Orme now started down the roadtoward the lights of a house, a quarter of a mile ahead.
He had it in mind to examine the papers, to find a clue to the name ofthe girl's father. The sentiment which had led him to refuse her offer totell him everything must now be neglected. There might still be time todeliver the papers before midnight, but he did not dare delay.
For one thing, he had only the haziest notion as to his whereabouts.Obviously he was somewhere west of Evanston, but that meant little in anunfamiliar country. He would have to find some conveyance.
Not altogether without sympathy for his fallen enemy, he neverthelessfelt that Arima had received no more than he deserved. There had been nohesitation about the different attacks made upon himself. He had provokedno assault unless by the fact that he had the marked bill in hispossession. But the calmness with which Arima had endured his finaldefeat aroused admiration. After all, the Japanese had merely acted underorders. And now Orme's first thought was to get help for him.
He came to the lights he had seen. They shone through the windows of asmall farmhouse a few rods back from the road. A short avenue of poplarsled to the door.
In response to Orme's knock, the man of the house appeared--a German withsleepy eyes and tousled yellow hair.
"There is an injured man down the road a way," said Orme. "Motor-carsmash."
"So?"
"His leg is broken, I think. I made him as comfortable as I could. Canyou get a doctor? The man will rest quiet till a doctor comes. He can'tbe moved very well."
"_Ein_ doctor? _Ja. Es ist_ one _bei_ Niles Center. _Mein_ son vill gofor him. Too bad! Too bad! Come in."
"No, thank you," said Orme carelessly.
"Vas you in _der_ accident?"
"Do I look it?" Orme laughed.
"_Nein_, you do not look it. _Ach!_ Dese autymobles! Dey makes muchharm."
"It _is_ too bad," admitted Orme.
"He vas a millionaire, maybe. Dey comes by here so fast, going toArradale. Hans! _Komm Hier! Ein_ man is gesmashed. _Du_ must for _der_doctor go." He turned back to Orme. "_Mein_ son, he will go."
But Orme had no ears for what the sympathetic German said. One word hadmade his heart leap.
"Arradale!"
There he was to have dined with Tom and Bessie Wallingham! He hadforgotten them utterly. Were they still at the golf club? Possibly, and,in any event, if he could reach the club, he would be near a railroad.
"How far is Arradale?" he asked.
"_Halb_-miles. _Und_ vere did you say _der_ hurt man vas?"
"A few hundred feet back there." Orme indicated the direction. "Can Ireach Arradale by this road?"
"Next turn--_rechts_. I will take de man some _schnapps_."
"That will be good. His friends will make it right with you."
"_Ach!_ Do not say so!"
The German shook his head in deprecation of the idea that he wished anyreturn for his services. Meantime his long-legged, towheaded son had comefrom within and stood gaping behind his father.
"Vill you go back to _der_ man _mit_ me?" asked the German.
"No," said Orme.
"So? Vell, all right."
"I'm sorry I can't wait," said Orme. "I've done what I could, and I havea long way to go."
"Sure! Dat's all right!"
"Then thank you very much. Good-night."
Orme walked briskly to the road and turned west. He felt assured thatArima would be looked after.
Following the road to the first crossing, he turned to the right. In afew minutes he saw the lights of the clubhouse, and a little later hestepped upon the veranda.
Many people were seated in the comfortable porch chairs. The charms ofthe summer evening had held them after their afternoon of play. And fromone of the groups came the sound of a voice--a man's voice--which Ormefound vaguely familiar. He could not place it, however, and he quicklyforgot it in his general impression of the scene.
In this atmosphere of gayety he felt strangely out of place. Here all waschatter and froth--the activity of the surface-joy of living; but he hadstepped into it fresh from a series of events that had uncovered theinner verities.
Here the ice tinkled in cool glasses, and women laughed happily, andevery one was under the spell of the velvety summer evening; but he hadlooked into the face of Love and the face of Death--and both were stillnear to his heart.
He found a servant and asked for the Wallinghams.
"Mr. Wallingham has left, sir," said the man, "but Mrs. Wallingham ishere."
"Ask her if Mr. Orme may speak to her."
He smiled rather grimly as the servant departed, for he anticipatedBessie's laughing accusations.
And p
resently she came, an admonishing finger upheld.
"Robert--Orme," she exclaimed, "how dare you show your face now?"
"I couldn't help it, Bessie. Honest, I couldn't. I must ask you toforgive and forget."
"That's a hard request, Bob. You have broken two engagements in oneday--and one of them for dinner. But never mind. I have a weakness that Iacquired from Tom--I mean the weakness of believing in you. Go ahead andexplain yourself."
"It would take too long, Bessie. Please let me put it off."
"Until you can manage a good excuse? You want all the trumps."
"My explanation is all tangled up with other people's affairs. Where'sTom?"
"He went back to the city early--awfully sorry that he couldn't stay tohave dinner with you. There is a committee or something this evening."
"Bessie, you know what I asked you over the telephone. Can you--can youhelp me?"
"What--_Now?_"
"Yes."
"Why, Bob, what's the matter with you? This is no time of day to make acall."
"It's very important, Bessie. It doesn't concern the young lady alone. Isimply must be at her house within the next two hours."
She eyed him earnestly. "If you say that, Bob, I must believe you. And,of course, I'll help all I can."
Orme sighed his relief. "Thanks," he said.
She flashed a speculative glance at him.
"I'm sorry," he said, "that I can't tell you what it's all about. You'lljust have to take my word for it."
"Have I asked you to tell me?"
"No, you marvel of womanhood. You are dying of curiosity, I don't doubt,but your restraint is superhuman."
Again she looked at him keenly. "Bob, you are dying of curiosityyourself. Don't you suppose I can see?"
"It's something harder than curiosity," said Orme simply.
"How eager are you!" She laughed. "Now, there is plenty of time. The tripwon't take us more than half an hour; so come along and meet some friendsof mine."
"Bessie--if you _could_ hurry----"
"We can't start until the car comes. I'm expecting it at any moment. Sobe good, and come along. There's such an interesting man--and verydistinguished. We don't try to pronounce his name. Just think, he wasengaged for dinner here, also, and came too late. And ever since hearrived he's been called to the telephone at five-minute intervals. Soexciting! Nobody can guess what he's so busy about."
She threaded her way through the lively groups on the veranda, andreluctantly he followed. The voice which he had so nearly recognizedsounded closer, then stopped with a curious little laugh that was loudlyechoed by others.
Bessie broke in upon the lull that followed. "Excellency, may I presentanother man who missed his dinner?" she said saucily. "Mr. Orme."
The man addressed was sitting comfortably in a wicker chair that wasseveral sizes too large for him. At the mention of Orme's name he got tohis feet with startling alacrity.
"Mr.--_Orme_?" His surprise was unmistakable.
"Mr. Robert Orme," said Bessie.
Someone struck a match to light a cigar, and in the sudden light Ormefound himself looking into the face of the Japanese minister.
"I think I have never met you before," said the minister slowly.
"I think not," replied Orme.
He was much disquieted by the encounter. Now he understood that Arima hadbeen bound for this very place.
If only he had refused to let Bessie drag him into her circle! Theminister would not have known his face, but the mention of his name gavefull enlightenment.
The minister resumed his seat, and a chair was brought for Orme. Therewere other introductions.
A woman's voice renewed the conversation. "Excellency, won't you tell usanother of your very interesting stories?"
The minister turned to her. "I will tell you one," he said, "that youwill not find in the literature of my country. It is a story of thesecret service, and it came to me through my personal acquaintance withsome of the participants."
"Oh, that will be splendid!" exclaimed the woman.
The minister waited for a moment. He turned his face toward Orme, andasked politely: "You will not mind listening to what I have to say, Mr.Orme?"
"Why, to be sure not," replied Orme, wondering.
"My stories are not always short," continued the minister, "as the othersalready know. But they sometime hold meanings which, in my country, atleast, would be perfectly plain."
After this odd bit of by-play, he began his narrative:
"There was a man who lived in the city of Takamatsu, on the island ofShikoku. His name was Kimaga, and he was much respected by all who knewhim, for he was painstakingly devoted to his aged and mos' honorableparents. By trade he was a maker of vases--a--what you call him--apotter.
"One day while Kimaga was walking upon the road, he saw before him on theground a letter. He picked it up. It was sealed, but he discovered uponthe outside a curious writing which he could not make out. In fact,Kimaga could not read at all. He was very poorly educate.
"But Kimaga was charm by the grace and beauty of the writing. Though hecould not read it, it fascinated his eyes. He decided to keep it, makingno attempt to find the rightful owner. You must know that in Nipponbeauty is worship by the humblest workman.
"It happened that the letter had been written by a Chinese spy, and itcontained a report concerning our fortifications. Now there is in Nippona very secret service. It is not responsible to the government. It iscompose of nobles who for many and many a generation have boundthemselves by a strong oath to do patriotic service which the governmentitself might be too embarrassed to undertake. If they are oblige to useextreme measures, and are arrested because of what they have done, theycalmly accept the punishment of the law without explaining their actions.Sons of noble houses have been executed for assassinating secret enemiesof Nippon, and they have met this fate as their oath demanded.
"Members of this secret service knew about this letter of the Chinesespy. They knew, also, that it had been lost, and before long they learnedthat Kimaga had picked it up. How they learned all this does not matter.But they also knew that the relations between Nippon and China at thetime were of such a strain that their government, not wishing to givecause of war, would hesitate to punish the Chinese spy.
"In the meantime Kimaga had become so enamor of the letter that he couldnot bear to let it go out of his possession. When he was alone he wouldfeast his eyes upon the beautiful writing. But it was not long before hediscovered that men were watching him, and he became filled with fear.Why should he be watched? Had he done a guilty thing?
"So greatly did the fear swell in him that he decided to take the letterback to the place where he had found it, and drop it again in the road.But when he got to the place and looked for a last time at the writing,it give him such longing to keep it that he thrust it into his breastagain and hurried back to his shop.
"That night a man came to see Kimaga.
"'Are you Kimaga, the maker of vases?' he said.
"Kimaga, all trembling, replied that he was.
"'Then,' said the man, 'I have come to you with high purpose. You have aletter which does not belong to you. Give it to me.'
"'Does it belong to you?' asked Kimaga, his desire putting armor on hisfear.
"'That is not to be asked,' replied the man. 'I am _samurai_. For theglory of Nippon you mus' give me the letter.'
"But Kimaga did not wish to let the letter go. 'How do you know that Ihave it?' he said. 'You have not seen it.'
"'It is enough that I know,' said the man. 'Three days I allow you. If bythen the letter has not been placed on the altar of the war-god, in theshrine of Samiya, then you will be assassinated.'
"With that the man went away.
"Kimaga was now almos' dead with fright. For the first day he did nothingbut weep. The second day he put on mourning and set his affairs in order.The third day he held the letter in his hand for many hours and filledhis mind with the beauty of the writing. He
could not give it up. Ratherwould he die. And at last he placed it in a lacquer box and buried itdeep at the foot of the largest cherry-tree in his garden.
"He arose to go back into his house, an' his head was bowed over withterror. You see, he felt that many eyes were watching him from thenear-by walls, an' he thought he heard breathings and the whispers ofstrangers. What should he do now? He dare not advance; he dare not staywhere he was. So exceeding affrighted was he that he groaned aloud. Fromall about him came groans that answered his. Once more he groaned, andonce more his ears were filled with the answers.
"Then he took one step toward his house. Nothing happened. He tookanother step, an' his knees they shook like the palsy. The breathings an'whisperings seem, oh, so much nearer now. But he muster all his strengthan' put out his foot for the third step. It did not reach the groundagain before the vengeance struck him.
"The next morning his wife found him dead. His head had been severed fromhis body."
The minister stopped and sat back in his chair.
"How awful!" exclaimed the woman who had asked for a story.
"Not so," said the minister affably. "In serving my country, such thingsmus' be done. Kimaga should have given the letter. Don't you think so,Mr. Orme?"
The parable was quite clear to Orme. He understood the threat.
"In America," he said, drily, "we do not worship penmanship."
"But an American might for other reasons keep a letter that did notbelong to him."
"Not if he was honorable. His natural course would be to see that it wasdelivered to the person for whom it was intended. Certainly he would notgive it to any man who could not prove his right to it."
"Would he not? But if he were told that he mus' die----?"
"In that case he would inform his friends of the threats against him, andthey would see that his murderers were hanged. Assassination is notpopular in America, Excellency."
Orme did not attempt to conceal the contempt in his words, and several ofthe listeners moved in their chairs, betraying their embarrassment.
"Perhaps, then, Mr. Orme," said the minister, "you could favor us with astory which would show the attitude of an American in such an affair."
Orme laughed. "Oddly enough," he replied, "I can give you just such astory--if you all care to hear it."
"Go on," murmured one of the men.
"It happened to a friend of mine," said Orme. "He had in his possession anumber of proxies, the use of which would determine the control of acertain corporation. While he was carrying these proxies to thecountry-house of the man to whom he was to deliver them, he was attackedby a man who was acting for another faction. This man secured theadvantage over my friend and, robbing him of the proxies, jumped into awaiting motor-car to make his escape."
"And did he escape?" the minister interrupted.
"He thought himself safe," continued Orme, "but my friend had caught theback of the motor-car just as it started. He climbed silently into thetonneau, and throwing his arm around the neck of the thief, pulled himbackward from his seat.
"The car was ditched, and my friend and the thief were both thrown out.My friend was not hurt. The thief, however, had his leg broken."
"What happened then?" inquired the minister; for Orme had paused.
"Oh, my friend took the proxies from the thief's pocket and walked away.He stopped at the nearest farmhouse and sent help back."
"Even in America," commented the minister, "the frien's of the injuredman might see that his hurt was avenge. The man who caused the accidentshould be made to suffer."
"Oh, no," said Orme. "If the matter were pressed at all, the correctthing to do would be to arrest the man with the broken leg. He had stolenthe papers in the first place. Harm came to him, when he tried to escapewith the papers after stealing them. But as a matter of fact, the averageAmerican would consider the affair at an end."
"Your story and mine are dissimilar," remarked the minister.
"Perhaps. But they involve a similar question: whether a man should yieldpassively to a power that appears to be stronger than his own. In Americawe do not yield passively unless we understand all the bearings of thecase, and see that it is right to yield."
At this moment a motor-car came up the drive. "There's our car, Bob,"said Bessie. "Wait a moment, while I get my wraps. I know that you areimpatient to go."
"I know that you are a good friend," he whispered, as she arose.
He did not care to remain with the group in Bessie's absence. With a bow,he turned to stroll by himself down the veranda. But the minister jumpedto his feet and called:
"Mr. Orme!"
Orme looked back. "Please be so good as to return," continued theminister.
With mere politeness, Orme halted, and took a step back toward his chair.
An air of startled expectancy was manifest in the positions taken by thedifferent members of the group. The minister's voice had sounded sharpand authoritative, and he now stepped forward a pace or two, stopping ata point where the light from one of the clubhouse windows fell full onhis face. Clearly he was laboring under great excitement.
"You have something to say to me?" inquired Orme. He foresaw an effort todetain him.
"I am compelled to ask the ladies to leave us for a few minutes," saidthe minister, seriously. "There is a matter of utmos' importance."
He bowed. The women, hesitating in their embarrassment, rose and walkedaway, leaving the half-dozen men standing in a circle.
"I find myself in an awkward position," began the minister, slowly. "I ama guest of your club, and I should never dream of saying what I mus' say,were my own personal affairs alone involved. Let me urge that no oneleave until I have done."
For a tense moment he was silent. Then he went on:
"Gentlemen, while we were talking together here, I had in my pocketcertain papers of great importance to my country. In the last few minutesthey have disappeared. I regret to say it--but, gentlemen, someone hastaken them."
There was a gasp of astonishment.
"I mus' even open myself to the charge of abusing your hospitality,rather than let the matter pass. If I could only make you understand howgrave it is"--he was brilliantly impressive. Just the right shade ofreluctance colored his earnestness.
"I have every reason to think," he continued, "that the possession ofthose papers would be of immense personal advantage to the man who hasbeen sitting at my right--Mr. Orme."
"This is a serious charge, Excellency," exclaimed one of the men.
"I am aware of that. But I am obliged to ask you not to dismiss ithastily. My position and standing are known to you. When I tell you thatthese papers are of importance to my country, you can only in partrealize how great that importance is. Gentlemen, I mus' ask Mr. Ormewhether he has the papers."
Orme saw that the minister's bold stroke was having its effect. Hedecided quickly to meet it with frankness. "The papers to which HisExcellency refers," he said quietly, "are in my pocket."
Several of the men exclaimed.
"But," Orme went on, "I did not take them from His Excellency. On thecontrary, his agents have for some time been using every device to stealthem from me. They have failed, and now he is making a last attempt bytrying to persuade you that they belong to him."
"I submit that this smart answer does not satisfy my charge," cried theminister.
"Do you really wish to go further?" demanded Orme. "Would you like me toexplain to these men what those papers really mean?"
"If you do that, you betray my country's secrets."
Orme turned to the others. "His Excellency and I are both guests here,"he said. "Leaving his official position out of the question, my word mustgo as far as his. I assure you that he has no claim at all upon thepapers in my pocket."
"That is not true!"
The minister's words exploded in a sharp staccato.
"In this country," said Orme, calmly, "we knock men down for words likethat. In Japan, perhaps, the lie can be passed with i
mpunity."
"Gentlemen, I ask that Mr. Orme be detained," exclaimed the ministerfuriously.
"I will not be detained," said Orme.
The other men were whispering among themselves, and at last one of themstepped forward as spokesman. "This is a serious matter for the club," hesaid. "I suggest, Mr. Orme, that we go to the library"--he glancedsignificantly at the other groups on the veranda--"where no one canoverhear us, and talk the matter over quietly."
"But that will exactly fit in with his scheme," exclaimed Orme, heatedly."He knows that, in the interests of our own country"--he hazardedthis--"I must be at a certain place before midnight. He will use everymeans to delay me--even to charging me with theft."
"What is that?" Bessie Wallingham's voice broke in upon them. "Is anyonedaring to accuse Bob Orme?"
In her long, gray silk motor-cloak, with the filmy chiffon veil boundabout her hat, she startled them, like an apparition.
The spokesman explained. "His Excellency says that Mr. Orme has stolensome papers from him."
"Then His Excellency is at fault," said Bessie, promptly. "I vouch forMr. Orme. He is Tom's best friend, and Tom is one of the governors of theclub. Come, Bob."
She turned away decisively, and Orme recognized the advantage she hadgiven him, and strode after her. From noises behind him, he gathered thatthe men were holding the minister back by main force.
The Girl and the Bill Page 17