“It’s quite possible,” laughed Holbrook. “Run along, little girl, and set your lover’s mind at rest, and then meet me downstairs in half an hour, and I’ll have the notice ready and tell you what the magazine and newspaper people said.”
So Kerry sent her telegram, took time to telephone to Martha Scott, who was probably worrying her heart out if she had read the paper, went to lunch with the head of the great publishing house, and then came back to her desk and worked overtime to make up for it.
It was growing dark when Kerry finally put on her hat and started to the door. It had started to rain, and the air was chilly and mean. Kerry had on a thin dress and no wrap.
Ted had made it his business to hover around going in and out while she was working, pretending that he was doing overtime too, but really reluctant to leave her alone with only the janitor and the scrub women.
“Good night!” said Ted cheerily, as she came out of the cloak room and started toward the street door.
“Good night, Ted,” called Kerry with a lilt in her voice, as Ted disappeared into the back room where he kept his motorcycle, for he lived far out in the Bronx.
Ted emerged from the little side entrance with his machine, just as Kerry stepped out from the big door.
A shabby old taxi was drawn up in front of the main door of the house, or—was it a taxi? Ted stepped back into the shadow to see who it was.
The driver came toward Kerry and took off his cap.
“Is this Miss Kavanaugh?” he asked in a gruff tone, not at all mannerly, Ted thought, for such a flower of a girl as Miss Kavanaugh.
Kerry answered yes brightly. All her tones were full of gladness tonight.
“Well, I was to say Mrs. Scott sent the taxi because it was raining. She didn’t want you to walk home in the rain.”
Kerry paused, astonished, looked at the shabby cab, then with a laugh and “Oh, that was kind of her!” she stepped toward it.
Ted, watching from his shadowed doorway, thought he saw a hand reach out and pull the girl in, heard a scream! He was sure he heard a scream! Could that have been that Mrs. Scott inside to surprise her? Could it have been her hand that pulled her in, and perhaps frightened Miss Kavanaugh for a minute? That was probably it. A poor joke, he thought. But why did that driver seem so hurried? And was that a frightened white face he saw at the window? A hand waved for an instant, then pulled away? Was that his name he heard called in muffled tones as if the voice were being smothered? “Ted! Help!” Did he hear that or was it his imagination carved out from the screech of the passing trolley just then.
“Ted! Help! Help!”
The words rang in his brain.
The cab was half a block away by now, its wicked little taillight winking like a red berry in the distance. What was the matter with his engine? Oh, why in sixty couldn’t he get it started? There, that cab had turned the corner to the left! Ah! He was off ! Was that it there, just turning another corner? Could he make it before the lights turned and stopped him?
On he flew, trying ever to get near enough to look inside the back, realizing very soon that the cab was not going in the direction in which Miss Kavanaugh lived.
Sometimes the traffic blocked them both, and Ted could almost have got off and stepped up to the cab and looked inside, only he dared not desert his machine, for in a moment they would be off again and he would get farther separated. Sometimes, the light would change just as Ted came up to it, and the cab would ride far out of sight around a corner, but by this time Ted had learned its license number and could always recognize the right car.
Once he came on a mounted policeman riding along to his location.
“Hey, Chief !” yelled Ted, as he slowed by him. “Send a cop after me. Kidnapping ahead! That cab there! Girl yelled for help!”
He dared not stop to be sure the officer understood, but he thought he saw him nod his head, and a little while later he thought he heard the chug, chug of a motorcycle coming on behind. He began to think of some of the things Miss Kavanaugh had said to him now and then, those noon hours when they went to a cheap café together, about his mother who was still sick, and about praying and trusting God. He tried to frame a crude prayer in his heart as he thrashed along through the crowded streets. Farther out where the traffic was less he had all he could do to keep up with the cab, which was rattling away at a great rate now that the road was clear. Did they see the cop coming, and were they trying to get away? They never would connect him with Miss Kavanaugh. He hadn’t brought out his machine until they were well under way.
Thinking his wild boy thoughts, exulting in the adventure, playing the game as he used to play ball on the school yard diamond, Ted rode on.
A little child leading a crippled old lady tried to cross the street, and Ted had to slow up to let them by. Then, looking on ahead, he saw that the cab had gone to the middle of the next block and stopped! A door flung open and light streamed across the pavement. It was a squalid neighborhood. The very atmosphere seemed menacing, and Ted could not hurry because of the old lady and the little child ahead. Would he get there in time? Yes, there she was! And she was struggling. She was calling, wasn’t she? His engine made such a noise he could not tell. He rode up with a boom and a crash, and jumped from his machine to the sidewalk!
Chapter 18
When Kerry stepped into the shabby cab and felt her wrists seized she was so frightened she could not make a sound at first. But as the driver slammed the door and sprang to his seat, she remembered Ted and screamed for help.
She was not sure that her voice had been heard for it was almost immediately smothered in a dusty woolen cloth that was stuffed into her mouth. She tried to struggle free from the hand that held her, and the rag that was choking her, but she accomplished nothing, and finally sat back limp and waited, trying to pray.
“God! God! Father God!” she cried in her heart. “I’m yours! Won’t You please take care of me! You’ve promised! I’m trusting You!”
Finally, as she remained limp, the rag was removed from her mouth and the grip that held her around the waist was relaxed.
“Now,” said the hard, flat voice, which she at once recognized, “if you’ve decided to act like a sane person, I’ll let you free, but I warn you that just as soon as you move or make any loud noise or try to attract attention to us, you’ll be bound and gagged! Do you understand?”
Kerry did not answer. She was trying to steady her nerves and think what to do.
“And now, if you are calm enough to listen, I’ll tell you that there’s nothing in the world for you to be afraid of. Nobody is going to injure you in any way. If you behave yourself everything will be all right.”
Kerry still kept her mouth shut.
“I may as well explain before we get to our destination, so that you will understand what you are to do, that we are now on our way to get married. Did you see the announcement in the paper this morning?”
Kerry did not answer. She did not even look at the man in the dim light that came in from the street.
“We are going to a friend of mine. They understand all about it, and another friend of mine is coming to marry us. It will all be done quite regularly and in an orthodox manner. You needn’t worry about that, and the notices that go in the paper tomorrow morning will be entirely conservative and socially correct. I have looked out for all that. You will find I have taken every precaution to make you happy!”
The flat voice talked on and on. Kerry began to feel herself floating away, as one that dreams and feels a nightmare gripping his throat, yet is unable to cry out!
Mile after mile that cheap old worn-out car bumped over the road, out and out and far away from the city that Kerry knew, no landmarks anywhere that she could recognize.
Would the hard, flat voice never cease? Could any hell be worse than to be married to that man? Hear him talking about his plans, telling what they would do after they were married!
Perhaps she was dying. She was not conscious of breathi
ng! Well, if she was dying they could not do anything to her! They could not marry a dead person! God! God! Father God! In the name of Jesus! Help!
“Get out of here. We’ve got there!” announced that flat, hard voice, and she was jerked into an upright position. Then she wasn’t quite dead, after all. But perhaps if she stayed asleep they would think she was dead.
“Hurry! Quick! Two motorcycles are after us hot! And one of ’em’s a cop!” she heard a strange voice say. Was that the driver?
She was out on the sidewalk now, dazed, being urged toward an open door, a dirty uninviting door, but her feet would not carry her.
“Hurry!” said the hard, flat voice. “You will be sorry if you don’t do as I say now! Afterward everything will be all right!”
But she stood there unable to move. There was noise and din and clatter, and great silence, and suddenly she heard Ted’s clear voice.
“I’ll take care of this baby. You take the driver, cop!” And the hurrying Dawson tripped at neatly as ever a toe felled an adversary and sprawled at her feet. She heard a shrill whistle ring out and saw more shining brass buttons appear from around a corner. Ted’s arm was around her now, and he was leading her into the street where stood his shining motorcycle.
“Stay there a minute, kid,” he said as if she were a little child, “I gotta finish that baby.” And he rushed back to the sidewalk where Dawson was just arising, dazed and looking around him.
Kerry had a vague vision of a taxi driver and a policeman with a gleaming gun between them. She could not see what was going on on the sidewalk, but presently she heard a large, unwieldly body dumped with a thud into the backseat of the taxi, heard the policeman call to Ted. “Here, put these bracelets on him, kid. Better to be on the safe side. Handkerchiefs and greasy rags aren’t always very strong.” Heard the snap of steel. Heard more steel snapped on the wrists of the driver.
The door that had sent out the long streaming light was shut. The light was gone. All the lights in the house were out. The house looked dark and unoccupied. She looked at the forbidding windows and thought stupidly that that was the house that was to have sheltered her wedding. A few minutes more and—if Ted hadn’t come! But she would surely have been dead. That awful choking in her throat! That terrible burden on her heart! She couldn’t have stood it another minute. Ted had come just in time.
Ted was coming to her now. He was putting her on the mud guard behind him, and they were riding away. He was asking her if she could hold on. It was raining but she did not care. She was laughing and saying she was all right, and all the time it seemed like a dream. Taxi, Dawson, that dirty rag in her mouth, a wedding, and Dawson. Oh, God how You saved me! Her thoughts were fear and laughter and a great peace. She did not know what had become of Dawson and the driver in their steel handcuffs, or the cops. It did not matter! God had come in time. He had sent His angel Ted.
Hours afterward, it seemed, after they had shot through the rain in the dark, and her brain had cooled off, and her mind was quiet and full of peace, she sat in Mrs. Scott’s kitchen eating milk, toast, and tea, and Ted was telephoning to his mother all about it, telling her that Mrs. Scott was putting him up for the night, it was so late, and after all that had happened they needed a man in the house that night. As he talked on telling details, Kerry learned that Dawson was spending the night in jail, and she drew a deep breath of relief.
Kerry did not go to the office the next morning. Mrs. Scott and Ted had a conspiracy, and kept her asleep, and Ted went down and told the news, going straight to headquarters and leaving nothing untold except the royal part that he had played in the drama. It remained for Kerry herself to do that when she got back. But about noon there came to Kerry from the office the biggest bunch of roses she had ever seen, and before night a telegram arrived from California in a sweet and mysterious code that only those two who had walked the deck together could understand.
The next day Kerry went to the office with shining eyes thoroughly rested.
For three whole days she walked on air, and beauty radiated from her as she passed. The office watched her and rejoiced, for by this time they all loved her.
Then, one night, Kerry went home and found her mother sitting stiffly in Mrs. Scott’s poor little prim parlor. And her house of dreams fell around her feet.
She was still the same old Isobel, though she was attired in a Paquin model of printed blue chiffon softly patterned with feathers. It floated and curled around her feet and her lovely hands in folds that only an artist in materials could achieve. Her hat was chic and becoming, her fingers were flashing with jewels, and around her throat was a necklace of exquisite star sapphires. Her wristwatch flashed with a circlet of tiny jewels. Kerry thought she had never seen her look so young and so very beautiful, yet there was something about her that was unpleasantly startling. Her lips were too red, too perfectly pointed like a cupid’s bow, her cheeks wore too soft a hue like an apple blossom. There was something artificial in the very arrangement of her hair! Why! Her hair had been bobbed!
“Mother!” said Kerry with a sudden glad hunger in her voice. Then, startled: “Mother?” with a furtive glance around. Was there always to be someone from whom she had to run away? One enemy was safe in jail for the time being. Must she turn her attention now to hiding from the other?
“Where is—?” the question broke from her lips involuntarily.
“Sam? Oh, he isn’t here. You needn’t worry! I’ve left him!” said his wife, getting out her handsome handkerchief and preparing it for dainty use.
“You’ve—what—? Mother!”
“I’ve left him, Kerry! Oh, you needn’t look so startled, it’s what you wanted, isn’t it? Now, when I’ve made this sacrifice mainly on your account don’t go to blaming me for it. I might have known you’d be old-fashioned of course. But anyway, I’ve done it, and I’ve come to you.”
“But Mother, what do you mean? Has he—has he been unkind to you?”
“Oh, no, not unkind. No, I wouldn’t say that. He’s always good natured enough, but he will get drunk, and I just can’t abide his getting drunk. You see he promised me before we were married that he wouldn’t drink anymore, but now he doesn’t seem to remember about it at all, and I think it’s so ungentlemanly. I guess I must be old-fashioned, too, living so long with your father, but it doesn’t seem quite nice. And he has so many friends I can’t stand. They talk loudly, and they joke at me. There’s one who is fat and has a red nose, and not a bit of taste. He’s known her a long time, and she thinks that gives her privileges and I can’t abide her. So I decided to get a divorce. It’s not at all difficult nowadays. Sam insisted on coming back to America to look after his estate, and I couldn’t stand it down there, such an old house and no modern conveniences at all. So I pretended I was coming up to visit you, but I’ve really decided to go to that place out west for a little while, they call it Reno, I think, and stay there till I can get my divorce, and then you an I can live together nicely on my alimony. I mean to insist on a large alimony.”
“Mother!”
“Now, look here, Kerry, you needn’t go to ‘mothering’ me. I knew you would make a fuss at first but I’ve made up my mind, and you know it’s no use to talk to me—”
“Mother! Come upstairs. We don’t want anyone to hear you talking that way!”
“Now, you’re being rude as usual. What am I saying that anyone may not hear, if they have the impertinence to listen?”
“Come, Mother,” pleaded Kerry.
“Oh, well, I suppose we might as well go to a more private place. Haven’t you an elevator? I thought every house in America had elevators in these days. Mercy, what a narrow staircase. Couldn’t you find a pleasanter place? It looks quite ordinary to me.”
“Mother, please!” said Kerry in distress lest Mrs. Scott would hear her. “Such a dear little woman owns this house, and she had been so very good to me.”
“Well, why shouldn’t she, I’d like to know? You come of a very good fa
mily on both sides, though your father of course was eccentric. But I always say—”
“Mother!” said Kerry in desperation, struggling with the key. “Won’t you please wait till we get in my room before you talk any more?”
The lock gave way at last and Kerry ushered her mother in and closed the door.
“You haven’t even kissed me!” declared Isobel. “I don’t believe you’re in the least glad to see me.”
“Oh, Mother!” cried Kerry and took her beautiful, elegant little mother into her arms, burying her face in her neck.
“Oh, look out, child! You’re always so impulsive! You’ll ruin my wave! I saw a place quite near the station and stopped in to have it done before I hunted you up, it was so warm and I was so untidy from traveling.”
“But you haven’t told me how you found me,” said Kerry, drawing back and trying to steady her nerves and keep on a safe topic.
“Oh, that was easy,” laughed the mother. “Sam found a notice of your father’s new book in a magazine, and he called the publishing house on long distance and found out your address. He was expecting to come along, only I came away without him.”
“You don’t mean that he is coming here!” said Kerry with a frightened look, and backing up against the wall like a wild thing at bay.
“Oh, not now,” laughed her mother. “You needn’t put on any hysterics. That was before we had our quarrel. I said he simply should not invite that coarse, fat Russian woman that he met in Cairo to visit us, and he said he had already done it. I cried all night and he only laughed at me and called me baby. I was furious and came away the next morning on the earliest train I could get, leaving a note that I was not coming back.”
Kerry sat down opposite her mother.
“Listen, Mother dear,” she said gently, “it’s very good to see you of course, but I must make you understand that if that man tried to come near me I shall simply get out and go where no one can find me. There is no use talking about it to you. He is your husband now, and it is too late, but I feel that I cannot be near him. I have my own reason, and you perhaps could not understand, but that is how it is.”
Kerry Page 24