CHAPTER XVIII
THE GOAL
The chauffeur was opening the door of the waiting car. It was a blackcar--a car with strangely familiar lines. Orme started. "Where did thatcome from?" he demanded.
Bessie smiled at him. "That is my surprise for you. My very dear friend,whom you so much desire to see, telephoned me here this evening and askedme to spend the night with her instead of returning to Chicago. Shepromised to send her car for me. It was long enough coming, goodnessknows, but if it had appeared sooner, I should, have gone before youarrived."
Orme understood. The girl had telephoned to Bessie while he waited thereon La Salle Street. She had planned a meeting that would satisfy him withfull knowledge of her name and place. And the lateness of the car inreaching Arradale was unquestionably owing to the fact that it had notset out on its errand until after the girl reached home and gave herchauffeur the order. Orme welcomed this evidence that she had got homesafely.
Bessie jumped lightly into the tonneau, and Orme followed. The car glidedfrom the grounds. Eastward it went, through the pleasant, rolling farmingcountry, that was wrapped in the beauty of the starry night. They crosseda bridge over a narrow creek.
"You would hardly think," said Bessie, "that this is so-called NorthBranch of the Chicago River."
"I would believe anything about that river," he replied.
She laughed nervously. He knew that she was suppressing her naturalinterest in the scene she had witnessed on the veranda; yet, of course,she was expecting some explanation.
"Bessie," he said, "I am sorry to have got into such a muss there at theclub. The Japanese minister was the last man I wanted to see."
She did not answer.
"Perhaps your friend--whom we are now going to visit--will explain thingsa little," he went on. "I can tell you only that I had in my pocketcertain papers which the Jap would have given much to get hold of. Hetried it by accusing me of stealing them from him. It was very awkward."
"I understand better than you think," she said, suddenly. "Don't you see,you big stupid, that I know where we are going? That tells me something.I can put two and two together."
"Then I needn't try to do any more explaining of things I can't explain."
"Of course not. You are forgiven all. Just think, Bob, it's nearly a yearsince you stood up with Tom and me."
"That's so!"
"How time does go! See"--as the car turned at a crossing--"we are goingnorthward. We are bound for the village of Winnetka. Does that tell youanything?"
"Nothing at all," said Orme, striving vainly to give the Indian name aplace in his mind.
On they sped. Orme looked at his watch. It was half-past ten.
"We must be nearly there," he said.
"Yes, it's only a little way, now."
They were going eastward again, following a narrow dirt road. Suddenlythe chauffeur threw the brakes on hard. Orme and Bessie, thrown forwardby the sudden stopping, clutched the sides of the car. There was a crash,and they found themselves in the bottom of the tonneau.
Orme was unharmed. "Are you all right, Bessie? he asked.
"All right." Her voice was cheery.
He leaped to the road. The chauffeur had descended and was hurrying tothe front of the car.
"What was it?" asked Orme.
"Someone pushed a wheelbarrow into the road just as we were coming."
"A wheelbarrow!"
"Yes, sir. There it is."
Orme looked at the wheelbarrow. It was wedged under the front of the car.He peered off into the field at the left. Dimly he could see a runningfigure, and he hastily climbed the rail fence and started in pursuit.
It was a hard sprint. The running man was fast on his feet, but his speeddid not long serve him, for he stumbled and fell. He did not rise, andOrme, coming up, for the moment supposed him to be stunned.
Bending over, he discovered that the prostrate man was panting hard, anddigging his hands into the turf.
"Get up," commanded Orme.
The man got to his knees and, turning, raised supplicating hands.
"Poritol!" exclaimed Orme.
"Oh, Mr. Orme, spare me. It was an accident." His face workedconvulsively. "I--I----" Something like a sob escaped him, and Orme againfound himself divided between contempt and pity.
"What were you doing with that wheelbarrow?"
Poritol kept his frightened eyes on Orme's face, but he said nothing.
"Well, I will explain it. You followed the car when it started forArradale. You waited here, found a wheelbarrow, and tried to wreck us. Itis further evidence of your comic equipment that you should use awheelbarrow."
Poritol got to his feet. "You are mistaken, dear Mr. Orme. I--I----"
Orme smiled grimly. "Stop," he said. "Don't explain. Now I want you tostay right here in this field for a half hour. Don't budge. If I catchyou outside, I'll take you to the nearest jail."
Poritol drew himself up. "As an _attache_ I am exempt," he said, with apitiful attempt at dignity.
"You are not exempt from the consequences of a crime like this. Now, geton your knees."
Whimpering, Poritol kneeled.
"Stay in that position."
"Oh, sir--oh, my very dear sir. I----"
"Stay there!" thundered Orme.
Poritol was still, but his lips moved, and his interlaced fingers workedconvulsively.
As Orme walked away, he stopped now and then to look back. Poritol didnot move, and Orme long carried the picture of that kneeling figure.
"Who was it?" asked Bessie Wallingham, as he climbed back over the fence.
"A puppy with sharp teeth," he replied, thinking of what the girl hadsaid. "We might as well forget him."
She studied him in silence, then pointed to the chauffeur, who was downat the side of the car.
"Anything damaged?" Orme queried.
"Yes, sir."
"Much?"
"Two hours' work, sir."
"Pshaw!" Orme shut his teeth down hard; Poritol, had he known it, mighthave felt thankful that he was not near at hand. He turned to Bessie."How much farther is it?"
The chauffeur answered. "About three miles, sir."
Three miles over dark country roads--and it was nearly eleven o'clock. Heglanced ahead. In the distance a light twinkled.
"Bessie," he said, "come with me to that farmhouse. We must go on. Or, ifyou prefer to wait here----"
"I'll go with you, of course."
They walked along the road to the farm gate. A cur yelped at their feetas they approached the house, and an old man, coatless and slippered,opened the door, holding an oil lamp high above his head. "Down, Rover!What do you want?" he shouted.
"We've got to have a rig to take us to Winnetka," said Orme. "Our carbroke down."
The old man reflected. "Can't do it," he said, at last. "All shet up ferthe night. Can't leave the missus alone."
A head protruded from a dark upper window. "Yes, you can, Simeon,"growled a woman's guttural voice.
"Wall--I don't know----"
"Yes, you can." She turned to Orme. "He'll take ye fer five dollars cash.Ye can pay me."
Orme turned to Bessie. "Have you any money?" he whispered.
"Heavens! I left my hand-bag in my locker at the clubhouse. How stupid!"
"Never mind." Orme saw that he must lose the marked bill after all.Regretfully he took it from his pocket. The woman had disappeared fromthe window, and now she came to the door and stood behind her husband.Wrapped in an old blanket, she made a gaunt figure, not unlike a squaw.As Orme walked up the two or three steps, she stretched her hand over herhusband's shoulder and snatched the bill, examining it closely by thelamplight.
"What's this writin' on it?" she demanded, fiercely.
"Oh, that's just somebody's joke. It doesn't hurt anything."
"Well, I don't know." She looked at it doubtfully, then crumpled it tightin her fist. "I guess it'll pass. Git a move on you, Simeon."
The old man departed, g
rumbling, to the barn, and the woman drew backinto the house, shutting the door carefully. Orme and Bessie heard thebolts click as she shot them home.
"Hospitable!" exclaimed Bessie, seating herself on the doorstep.
After a wait that seemed interminable, the old man came driving aroundthe house. To a ramshackle buggy he had hitched a decrepit horse. Theywedged in as best they could, the old man between them, and at ashuffling amble the nag proceeded through the gate and turned eastward.
In the course of twenty minutes they crossed railroad tracks and enteredthe shady streets of the village, Bessie directing the old man where todrive. Presently they came to the entrance of what appeared to be anextensive estate. Back among the trees glimmered the lights of a house."Turn in," said Bessie.
A thought struck Orme. If Poritol, why not the Japanese? Maku and hisfriends might easily have got back to this place. And if the minister hadbeen able to telephone to his allies from Arradale, they would beexpecting him.
"Stop!" he whispered. "Let me out. You drive on to the door and waitthere for me."
Bessie nodded. She did not comprehend, but she accepted the situationunhesitatingly.
Orme noted, by the light of the lamp at the gate, the shimmer of the veilthat was wound around her hat.
"Give me your veil," he said.
She withdrew the pins and unwound the piece of gossamer. He took it andstepped to the ground, concealing himself among the trees that lined thedrive.
The buggy proceeded slowly. Orme followed afoot, on a parallel course,keeping well back among the trees. At a certain point, after the buggypassed, a figure stepped out into the drive, and stood looking after it.From his build and the peculiar agility of his motions, he wasrecognizable as Maku. Orme hunted about till he found a bush from whichhe could quietly break a wand about six feet long. Stripping it ofleaves, he fastened the veil to one end of it and tip-toed toward thedrive.
The Japanese was still looking after the buggy, which had drawn up beforethe house.
Suddenly, out of the darkness a sinuous gray form came floating towardhim. It wavered, advanced, halted, then seemed to rush. The seance theafternoon was fresh in the mind of the Japanese. With screams of terror,he turned and fled down the drive, while Orme, removing the veil from thestick, moved on toward the house. Madame Alia's game certainly waseffective in dealing with Orientals.
A moment later Orme and Bessie had crossed the roomy veranda and were atthe door, while the old man, still grumbling, swung around the circle ofthe drive and rattled away. Orme's heart was pounding. When the servantanswered the bell, he drew back and he did not hear the words which Bessiespoke in a low voice. They were ushered into a wide reception-hall, andthe servant went to announce them.
"You wish to see her alone," said Bessie. "Go in there and I will arrangeit."
He went as she directed, into a little reception-room, and there hewaited while subdued feminine greetings were exchanged in the hallwithout. Then, at last, through the doorway came the gracious, lovelyfigure of the girl.
"Oh," she whispered, "I knew you would come, dear--I knew."
He took her hands and drew her to him. But with a glance at the doorwayshe held herself away from him.
In his delight at seeing her he had almost forgotten his mission. But nowhe remembered.
"I have the papers," he said, taking them from his pocket.
"I was sure you had them. I was sure that you would come."
He laid them in her hands. "Forgive me, Girl, for fooling you with thatblank contract."
She laughed happily. "I didn't look at it until I got home. Then I was sodisappointed that I almost cried. But when I thought it over, Iunderstood. Oh, my dear, I believed in you so strongly that even then Iwent to my father and told him that the papers were on the way--that theywould be here in time. I just simply _knew_ you would come."
Regardless of the open doorway he clasped her closely, and she buried herface in his coat with a little laugh that was almost a sob. Then,suddenly, she left him standing there and, holding the papers tight, wentfrom the room.
The Girl and the Bill Page 18