Suppose,—just suppose she had been tricked! Suppose the notes had not come from the men who stole Kimball,—ah, they must have done so! She had Kim’s note to prove it! Nothing ever could make her believe that note a forgery. She knew his dear writing too well—she knew every stroke of his pen, every peculiarity of his really unusual handwriting, and she felt in every letter of that note that he himself had penned it. There was no chance that he had not. Therefore, the letters from the kidnappers were in good faith. They proved the fact that Kimball had been abducted,—and held for ransom. Well, now they had the ransom, and Kim would be returned. Of course he would! She would not think otherwise, or she would die! She knew he would come tomorrow,—and in that knowledge she at last fell asleep.
She awoke with a start. Throwing on her night light, she found it was three o’clock in the morning. She felt a strange numbness of mind, a peculiar feeling as if the end of the world had come. Striving to determine what it all meant, she realized that she had lost hope,—that she was now persuaded that she had been tricked. The notes were from the kidnappers but they had no intention of returning her lover!
Something, she could not tell what, brought the conviction to her soul that she had done very wrong in following their bidding blindly in giving them the money on such uncertainty. She remembered clearly the smile of the man in the red car,—the smile that had disclosed those gold-filled teeth, and she knew she had been duped, deceived and swindled!
Though slow to anger, Elsie was a little firebrand when roused. And the more she thought over the matter the more furious she grew at the game that had been played on her. The fact that she brought it all upon herself only made her more angry.
And, yet, she didn’t blame herself utterly, for she had felt so sure that only by following instructions implicitly, could she accomplish her end.
She didn’t for a moment believe that some one had tricked her who knew nothing of Kimball Webb, for she had his own letter to disprove that. She concluded they had tricked him, too, and had forced him to write the note and then had cheated him as they had her.
Still, he might come home yet; the day might bring him or news of him.
But when the slow hours passed and morning melted into afternoon, poor Elsie gave up hope.
By the time Coe came in the evening, Elsie had decided to tell him the whole story, assuming that since the money was paid, it was now no breach of trust.
Coley Coe stared at her as she unfolded the surprising tale.
“You chump! You Easy Mark!” he cried, angrily, quite forgetting in his astonishment to whom he was speaking.
“I beg your pardon,” he said, as he noted her rising colour. “I oughtn’t to say such things,—but, oh, Miss Powell, how could you go off on such a wild-goose chase,—and a dangerous one, too?”
His thatch of hair bobbed wildly about in his excitement, and he clutched at it as if almost frenzied.
Then he calmed down, and looked at the thing squarely. His blue eyes seemed to grow darker as their concentrated gaze fell on Elsie’s troubled face.
“It’s outrageous!” he cried, “it’s a shame, but, Miss Powell, the villains may have overreached themselves. They may have started something that will lead to their own undoing. We’ve learned a heap from this experience of yours. Now, tell me all over again,—every smallest detail.”
So again Elsie went over the whole story, and told of every step of the way.
“Clever! clever!” was Coe’s grudging tribute to the ability of the abductors.
“You see the first taxicab was a real one. They engaged the driver to do just what he did do. The second was a fake one,—their own car and one of their own men. Then when the time came, the car was abandoned,—and so were you. They knew you’d get a lift back to the city,—and they didn’t care whether you did or not! In one way, I can’t blame you, Miss Powell, for I see you didn’t dare tell me. Yet, you might have known they’d not release their prisoner.”
“I don’t agree,” cried Elsie. “How could I know that? And if they had given him to me the money was well spent.”
“That’s so; it wouldn’t have been surprising if they had let him go; they’d doubtless be glad to get rid of him. But I think your quick willingness to give the money make them greedy for more, and I think they’ll try the same game right over again.”
“Oh,” Elsie cried, “I couldn’t do it again!”
“No, indeed! And you’re not going to throw away another fifty thousand dollars, if I can prevent it! Now, let’s consider. What have we learned? What sleeping dogs have we stirred up? Much depends on the positive fact that this note is really from Mr. Webb himself. You’re sure?”
“Absolutely,” declared Elsie. “I know Kimball’s writing, and I know that’s it. Nobody could forge so skilfully,—you can see that yourself. It’s dashed off.”
“Yes, that’s so. A forgery would show a little hesitation or painstaking effort. But I’m going to show it to an expert. He can tell if he has some of Webb’s other letters.”
“Anybody could tell,” insisted Elsie. “Wait, I’ll get some letters.”
She ran away to her own room and returned with a packet of them.
Comparison soon made it evident that the note in question was beyond all doubt the work of Webb himself. A thousand little points proved it. Coe was satisfied, and went on with his conclusions from it.
“You see, it proves a whole lot of things,” he cried, jubilantly. “Perhaps your money, enormous sum though it was, bought worthwhile evidence.”
“Such as what?”
“Well, to begin with, we know now that Webb was really abducted, and is now held against his will. This does away with all thought of his having decamped on purpose,—also, to my mind, precludes the theory of his mother or sister being implicated. Miss Webb is a Tartar,—if you ask me! but she never managed the affair of yesterday!”
“No, she never did! Henrietta is not acquainted with those—”
“Loan Sharks! Right! Kimball Webb was carried off by desperate and clever men,—and, here’s a strong point,—he was unconscious when removed from his room.”
“How do you know?”
“Because in this first letter, it says the means used will never be known by any one,—not even himself. So, as I imagined, he was taken from his room,—from his home, while unconscious,—in a drugged sleep probably, and therefore, we must assume a secret entrance!”
“But there isn’t any!”
“There is! There’s got to be! They couldn’t take him through the door and fasten it behind them! They couldn’t get him out of that six inch opening at the top of a window! Therehasto be a secret way out! And, by George, I’m going to find it, if I have to tear the house down!”
“I’d rather you’d find Kim,” said Elsie, sadly.
“You poor child! Of course you would. Forgive me, I’m afraid I seem to think less of the quarry than the chase! But I don’t really. We’re going to get Kimball Webb back,—and we’re going to do it by means of the information you unconsciously achieved through this adventure of yours!”
“And you don’t think they mean to give him back after I did my part?”
“I do not! They look on you as an inexhaustible gold mine. They’ll wait a while and then make a stab for another big sum. Less maybe than the first, but exorbitant. Apparently they’re not afraid of anything or anybody. Clever chaps, but sure to come a cropper yet!”
“How do you know?”
“Oh, they’retoococksure; they’re bound to overlook or forget some little thing, and now I know there is a scent to be followed, I’m all for following it. Now I know there’s a sleeping dog, I shan’t let him lie! Take that letter! The two letters from them! Look at ’em! No attempt at disguised writing. Plain, bold penmanship,—not printed nor words cut out from a newspaper, nor any of those hackneyed stunts.”
“Well?”
“Well, that proves they were written by some one who never could by the remotest chance be suspected. Somebody so outside suspicion that they’re willing to send his regular handwriting.”
“Proving?”
“Proving a clever, bold master spirit, who stops at nothing and who knows just what he dare do and what not! I believe he fully intended to set Mr. Webb free on the receipt of the money,—then, when you proved such a ninny,—pardon me, it slipped out,—but you were! then, he concluded you were good for one more touch, at least.”
“Well, if what I learned,—or made it possible for you to learn—restores Kimball Webb to me,—I’ll never begrudge the money.”
“That is, if we get him home in time for the wedding.”
“Oh, I don’t care for the fortune—”
“Then, just how are you going to pay your indebtedness to the Hebrew gentleman?”
Elsie’s face fell. “I hadn’t thought of that!”
“It’s a big thing to think of, Miss Powell! You can’t get out of that obligation, you know. And while the receipt of your aunt’s money would make it easy for you to pay it, yet if you are not married by your birthday—”
“And do you think if I had acted differently in any way, I could have held those men to their agreement?”
“I can’t say positively,—but I do think so.”
“What ought I to have done?”
“Demanded the person of Webb before you gave up the money,—or at least, asked for some assurance of his return, and asked when and where you might expect to see him.”
“I was too frightened.”
“I know you were, and they knew it, too.”
“And anyway, even if they had made me promises then, they wouldn’t have kept them.”
“Likely not. Now, Miss Powell, here’s a hard fact,—if Mr. Webb is not here by your birthday, you’ll have to marry somebody,—in order to get that money so you can pay off that loan.”
“What?” Elsie’s face went white, and her eyes were filled with horror at the sudden realization of the truth of Coe’s statement.
“I won’t,—I’ll kill myself first!”
“Oh, come now, don’t talk about killing. And that would be a cowardly thing, for your people would be hounded,—whether legally or not.”
“Mother and Gerty! Oh, no!”
“I don’t say they could be made to pay it, but there’d be some mighty unpleasant experiences coming to them! No, Miss Powell, don’t kill yourself,—surely a marriage with some man other than Mr. Webb would be a better fate than suicide!”
“No, not to my way of thinking. But Imustthink of my mother and sister! Oh, Mr. Coe,dohelp me! I think I shall go distracted!”
“Small wonder! You poor child! I wish, now, we had more time. The birthday is drawing perilously near. Something must be done. Of course, you can’t describe either man well enough for positive identification?”
“No; the taxi driver, the second one was a decent looking man, of medium build, with a grave, rather stern face. He was dark, I think,—with brownish hair. I saw his back mostly, and didn’t notice his face at all. I thought of him merely as a means to an end, and when the red car came along, I thought only of giving up the money. And the man in the red car wore a mask,—just a small one, but it covered his eyes and nose and came down partly over his mouth. But I noticed several gold filled teeth in the lower jaw. Unusually bright they were.”
“That would be a help, if we could get any other hint which way to look. But, as I said, the master mind behind all this scheme is so diabolically clever, that he has discounted all chances of discovery and, I’ve no doubt, feels secure from police and detectives.
“Now, I’m for spending another night in that room of Kimball Webb’s, and I’ll bet there’ll be no Poltergeist this time!”
“Why?”
“Why, don’t you see it! The arch villain,—I feel sure there’s one principal and two or more subordinates,—the chief devil, we’ll say, has a means of access to that room. It was he who was responsible for all the Poltergeist performances, he who pulled bedclothes off Webb, and later, off yours truly,—he who made a ghost appear,—”
“How?”
“Oh, lots of ways for that. I’ll tell you some other time. I must skittle, now. Go to sleep and dream of Webb’s return. But,—and this is very serious, Miss Powell,—if I don’t succeed in getting him back,—if the villains are scared off or any such matter, you must make up your mind to marry somebody else. For I should hate to see you in the clutches of that wretch of a Loan Broker! You’ve no idea what it would mean!”
Coe went away, and Elsie went straight to her room. She denied admittance, when Gerty begged for it, and said she wanted to rest.
But rest, she did not; in fact she was such a victim of unrest, worry and anguish, that morning found her in a high fever and grave danger of nervous collapse.
The doctor came, a nurse was summoned and for a few days brain fever was feared. But Elsie’s strong constitution and brave will power conquered, and she pulled through without the dreaded attack.
The doctor ordered, however, a change of scene, were it ever so small a journey, and after some discussion Elsie agreed to go to Atlantic City for a few days.
Coley Coe was the one who finally persuaded her to adopt the plan. He promised to keep in constant touch with her and tell her any bit of information he could gain. He said he would come down to see her as often as necessary for their mutual conference, and he felt sure that she would be better off in every way from her family for a time.
He had slept in Kimball Webb’s room several nights, since, and as he anticipated, nothing at all had happened.
“You see,” he said, “the rascal thought he could make it appear supernatural, now he knows I’m on his trail, he has given up that idea.”
“How does he know it?” asked Elsie. “Is he omniscient?”
“Nearly so! You may depend he knows every step that is taken toward his discovery! Why, Miss Powell, he’s a man in the know, every way. He may not be one of Mr. Webb’s own particular circle, socially, but he’s enough in his set or in his life somehow, to be in touch with everybody even remotely connected with the case.”
“Have the police done nothing at all?”
“Yes, they’re working at it. But their methods are different from mine, and while they’re all right, I doubt if they get anywhere. Sometimes I doubt if I will, either. Howsumever, you toddle along to Atlantic City with Nursey, and I’ll try to corral a nice young man for you to marry before the fatal thirtieth gets much nearer. You wasted some good time with that illness of yours,—though I don’t wonder at it, I’m sure.”
“Why, what could I have done,—if I hadn’t been ill?”
“Nothing definite, but I feel sure the abductors would have written you another of those good-looking notes, and if you had gone on another taxi ride, I should have been off in the offing somehow.”
The nurse, a Miss Loring, was a pleasant, sympathetic girl, and as she of course knew all about Elsie’s tragedy from the papers, she was deeply interested in her young charge. She was experienced and capable and Elsie found herself really glad to go away with the kind and gentle nurse.
They were pleasantly located in The Turrets, a new hotel, and after twenty-four hours of rest and sea air Elsie felt wonderfully better.
“I’m not really ill, you know,” she said, and the nurse agreed.
“No, Miss Powell, but it was a real nervous breakdown, and another will follow, unless you try to keep it off.”
“I’ll try,” and Elsie voluntarily became a biddable and obedient patient.
It was on a Thursday,—just one week before the thirtieth of June that the two went for a ride in the rolling chairs. Sometimes they rode together, but this day they chanced to take separate chairs.
The man who pushed Elsie’s was a big, husky chap, with an engaging smile. Miss Loring’s man was a slender youth, but of a wiry strength.
For a time they rode close together, chatting casually, and then as Elsie grew silent, the nurse ceased to bother her with talk.
Thus, it chanced, now and then, one chair or the other forged ahead, by reason of the traffic or danger of a collision.
And one time, when Elsie’s chair was pushed ahead of Miss Loring’s it did not fall back beside the nurse’s chair as promptly as usual.
Elsie looked around for the nurse, but failed to see her.
“Where’s my companion?” she said over her shoulder; “don’t let us get separated.”
“No, ma’am,” smiled the big man who pushed her, and she settled back into her seat, thinking deeply.
A moment later, she looked around again, and still not seeing the nurse told the man to wait for her to come up to them.
“Why, the other lady is ahead, ma’am, I’ll catch up to her,” and he moved her chair more quickly.
Elsie looked about with a sudden thrill of alarm, and saw no sign of the nurse anywhere.
“Here we are, ma’am, she just went in here,” the man stopped the chair in front of a tall hotel.
“Went in here? What do you mean?”
“Yes’m, the lady who belongs with you,—the nurse, ma’am, she went in here in great haste and motioned for you to follow her. Better go in, ma’am.”
Bewildered, Elsie allowed herself to be assisted from the chair and ushered inside, not thinking at the moment that it was strange for the chair-pusher to be so officious.
“What in the world did Miss Loring come in here for?” she asked, as they stood a moment in the hall.
“I don’t know, ma’am, but I just saw her go up in this elevator. She beckoned for you to follow.”
Elsie hesitated a moment, but it was a first class hotel, not a large building but a tall one, and handsomely appointed.
She got into the elevator, the man following, indeed, urging her in by a guiding hand on her elbow.
“Tenth,” he said to the elevator girl, and the car shot upward.
It was not until they were walking along the corridor on the tenth floor that Elsie felt a thrill of fear. What did it mean? Surely Miss Loring never came up here,—expecting Elsie to follow!
“Here you are,” and as they reached a closed door, the man swung it open and led Elsie firmly inside. “Sorry, Miss, but I’m only obeying orders. Good-bye.” He jerked off his cap, closed the door behind him and went away, leaving Elsie alone, in a strange room in a strange house.
She flew to the door, but she could not open it. She was trapped,—and she had walked into a trap, unresistingly, in broad daylight!
What would Coley Coe say to her now?
She went to the window and looked out. The familiar sight of the ocean and the boardwalk cheered her. She didn’t know what she was to experience next, but she felt a sense of relief at sight of the throngs of people.
She was alone in the room for what seemed hours but was not more than twenty minutes when the door was flung open and in rushed,—not the man with the gold teeth, whom she had rather expected to see,—but Fenn Whiting.
“Oh, Elsie,” he cried, wildly, “am I in time?”
“Time for what?” she asked bewilderedly.
“Why, I met Miss Loring and she said she had lost you, and I chased madly about asking everybody questions, and I finally traced you here! Who brought you? What does it mean?”
“I know no more than you do, Fenn,” and so relieved at sight of a kind and familiar face was she, that Elsie burst into tears on his shoulder.
“There, there, darling,” he soothed her, “never mind,—it’s all right. Stay there, dearest, that’s your rightful place. I hope it will always be your haven in troublous times. Be quiet, my love, don’t try to talk yet,—and when you can, then tell me what happened.”
“Yes, I can talk! I’m all right,” and Elsie stopped crying; “I’m only mad! Why, Fenn, somebody trapped me into this room!”
“Trapped you! What do you mean?”
“Just that!” and Elsie told how the chair-pusher had led her to the house, and urged her up in the elevator and into the room, and then had locked her in.
“Why, the door isn’t locked,” Whiting exclaimed, “I walked right in!”
“How did you know I was in here?”
“Asked the elevator girl,—she told me.”
“Well, the door was locked on this side,—must be a spring catch.”
“It must be, then,”—and Whiting went to examine it. “Yes, it is. Thank Heaven I could open it from outside. Well, dearest, we’ll go home, shall we?”
“Yes, I suppose so. But I want to know what it all means.”
“Didn’t you know your chair man?”
“No; we pick up different ones every time,—wherever we happen to be. He wasn’t a real one, of course. He must have been placed there, so I’d engage him, by those villains—”
“What villains? What are you talking about?”
Elsie bit her lip. She had promised Coe to reveal no slightest word regarding her experiences with the kidnappers of Webb, and now she had given a hint!
“Nothing,” she said, “nothing, Fenn. Oh, I am ill, please take me home!”
“You’re not ill, Elsie, but you’re terribly frightened. Tell me what about and tell me who are the villains who are troubling you. Let me settle with them! I am your rightful protector. You are engaged to me, and in less than a week is our wedding day! Can’t we announce it, at once, and let me be known as your proper protector? You shall not leave this room until you say yes!”
“Is that a threat?” Elsie turned on Whiting, with sudden rage.
“Not unless you choose to take it so.” But the man’s steely grey eyes were commanding rather than imploring, and his thin lips were set in a straight line that bespoke determination. “Don’t make me threaten you, Elsie,—why should it be necessary? I love you and I want you,—but more than that I want your promise to marry me at once to save yourself from persecution and trouble. You were trapped here, you say,—you just referred to some villains who have, I must infer, already annoyed you. Why haven’t you told me of it?”
“Why should I? Ican’tmarry you, Fenn, after all. I know I said I would,—and you know what I said I’d do right afterward. But I can’t do that. Perhaps I’m too much of a coward, to take my own life,—perhaps it would be a cowardly thing to do, anyway. But, I can’t marry you—”
“You must, Elsie, you promised me—”
“Such promises have been broken before this! A consent to marry is not a marriage contract! Sue me for breach of promise, if you choose,—I refuse to marry you!”
Her voice rose at the last to an almost hysterical shriek. She was both nervous and frightened. The knowledge that she had been abducted,—for that was what it seemed to be,—scared her, and though grateful for Whiting’s rescue and his presence, yet she felt a strange fear of him, too.
“Let me go,” she said, at last, starting toward the door.
“No,” and Fenn strode across the room, locked the door and pocketed the key. “No, you shall not go until I have your promise,—and an unbreakable one this time. In fact, Elsie, I want you to marry me right now and here. I’ll arrange all details,—I have arranged most of them. Just consent, dearest, and then you’ll be mine to love and care for and to protect from those villains you speak of.”
“Fenn, are you crazy?”
“No, I’m not, but you’ll be, if you keep up this nervous tension you’re living under. Be guided by me, Elsie, darling; marry me out of hand, and we’ll go away to some beautiful, quiet spot, and all care shall be lifted from your dear shoulders.”
Elsie looked at him curiously.
“Suppose I agree to marry you the dayaftermy birthday,” she said; “will that do?”
“Do perfectly, as far as the loss of your fortune is concerned. I’ve told you before I’m no fortune hunter. Youmustbelieve it by now. I’d rather marry you at once, for your sake, and for my own. But not for the sake of the inheritance. So, promise me sacredly to marry me the day after your birthday, and I’ll take you home now.”
“Oh, no, Fenn, don’t you see, if I marry you, it must be before the thirtieth, to get the money for Mother and Gerty. They’d never forgive me otherwise. And, too, why should I wait? I’d like the money all right,—if only I didn’t have to marry to get it. What an awful will! And yet, it all seemed so lovely when I had Kimball with me!”
“It will seem just as lovely when I’m with you. Let me try, dear; give me a chance to make good! I’m not over conceited, but I’m sure I can make you happy. If you choose to marry me in time to get the money, we can do wonderful things! Take wonderful trips, see beautiful places,—but beautiful to me, only because you are with me!”
There was a deep thrill in his tones that moved Elsie by its genuine passion and devotion. She looked into his grey eyes,—their steely glint softened now, and read there a great unconquerable love for herself. Should she cast this aside for a chance, an uncertainty? She must get the money for her people,—she had decided on that,—and she felt it her duty to sacrifice herself for them. But, when she tried to say yes to Whiting’s pleas, the word would not come.
“I can’t! Oh, Fenn, I can’t!” she moaned. “I love Kimball,—oh, I love himdesperately! I can never marry any one else,—I can’t—I can’t do it!”
“Hush, Elsie, don’t sob so. Listen, dear; the time for that sort of thing is past. There are only seven days now to your birthday; you can’t wait till the last minute to decide. And if Webb had been coming back he would have been here before this. He will never come back,—I’m sure of it!”
“You can’t be sure of it, Fenn; but will you arrange it this way,—you said you would, once. Let the wedding take place the day before my birthday, and if Kim comes home, let him be the bridegroom, and if not, I’ll marry you.”
“No! I’ll not do that! You’ve played fast and loose with me long enough! I’ve stood for it because I love you so, and I want you so. But I won’t be that sort of a cat’s-paw! You’ll say right now you’ll marry me, or I’ll drop out of it all, and you can marry anybody you choose to get your precious legacy!”
Whiting’s face was distorted by passion and by rage at the idea of being baffled at the last. “I do not think for a minute that Webb would show up, but if he did, I’d not stand having my bride snatched from me at the very altar! No!”
“Then, youmaydrop out!” Elsie’s determination was as great as his own. “I refuse to promise. I’d rather marry Joe Allison, at the last minute, and so keep a chance for Kim, than to promiseyou, and have no chance at all!”
“Allison! You would, would you? We’ll see about that!”
Whiting quite lost control of himself and flew into a veritable frenzy. “You’ll marry me now, and here,—get that?”
Elsie was horror-stricken. Fenn’s teeth were set together and his expression was that of a hungry, wild animal. She wasn’t afraid that he could force her to marry him, but she was afraid of what he might say or do if he were further defied.
“Fenn,” she said, gently, “Fenn, dear—”
“Don’t ‘Fenn, dear’ me unless you mean it! Don’t think you can placate me by soft words that mean nothing! Will you marry me,now?”
“I will not,” Elsie’s hauteur was the last straw.
“Then, you’ll stay here until you will!”
Whiting flung himself into a chair, and looked at her as if he held the whip-hand.
“What do you mean?” Elsie said, icily.
“These are my rooms. You are locked in here with me, alone. How long must you stay here before you decide it’s wiser to be my wife than—”
The look the girl gave him made him quail.
“Elsie,” he said, more gently.
“Hush! Don’t dare to speak to me again. Let me out!”
She flew to the door, but it was locked, the key in Whiting’s pocket, or the spring catch holding it, she didn’t know which. She pounded on the door, with her soft hands, but made little commotion that way.
“Useless, my dear,” Whiting said, calmly. “These rooms are on a wing containing but few guests. Nobody will hear you. Pound away, if you like.”
This wasn’t true; as a matter of fact, Whiting was very much afraid somebody would hear her, but he deemed this the best way to stop her,—and it was.
Elsie believed him and quit pounding. Nor did she scream. An idea had come to her. Whiting had said rooms. Therefore there was more to the suite than the one they were in. Covertly she glanced at the doors, and decided that while one rather narrow one was doubtless a closet, the wide one, the other side of the room, probably opened into an adjoining room, which was likely to give on the hall.
At any rate, it was worth trying.
Cleverly, she seemed not to be noticing these details, but sat, her handkerchief to her eyes, apparently subdued and dismayed. And, in fact she was both, but not to the point of surrender, as she appeared to Whiting’s anxious watchfulness.
Cautiously looking about, with seemingly a vacant stare, she saw many little personal belongings, that convinced her the room was Whiting’s sitting room. Doubtless the next was his bedroom. All the same, she determined to dash through it in an attempt at freedom. If she were quick, and the other hall door not locked, she could get to the hall,—while if she were trapped in the other room, her plight would be no worse than it was at present.
She rose and walked disconsolately about,—looked from the windows, stared, unseeing, at a picture on the wall,—and generally appeared to be aimlessly wandering, while she thought matters over.
Whiting watched her, but so cannily did Elsie mislead his thoughts, that he didn’t notice she drew nearer and nearer the bedroom door.
At last, she was almost against it, her eyes fastened on a small clock which stood on a table at the opposite side of the room.
“What time is it?” she said, dully, as if her decision depended on the flight of the hours.
The ruse succeeded. He followed the direction of her straining eyes, and looked at the little clock instead of taking out his own watch.
Like a flash, Elsie tore open the door, found that it opened into a bedroom, with a hall door, and crossing the room in the fewest possible steps, wrenched open the hall door. It was not locked, and she flew through it and down the corridor toward the elevators, of which there were two side by side.
Elsie pushed the bell so violently, that the car came up immediately and she sprang into it, just as Whiting came racing down the hall after her.
He rang, a long steady ring, and though Elsie’s prayers persuaded the girl in the car with her not to go up again, the other car shot past them flying upward.
And now Elsie achieved a master-stroke. Thinking swiftly, she knew Whiting would make the other car drop without a stop, and would await her on the ground floor.
Determined to outwit him, she ordered the girl to stop between floors and change gowns with her.
Willing enough, when Elsie offered her all the money in her bag, and also told her she would be aiding a crime if she refused, the little elevator girl slipped out of her uniform, Elsie dropped off her own gown and in two minutes they were transformed, even the cap of the girl in place of Elsie’s pretty hat, and the hat on the other’s head.
A little bewildered the girl then ran her car on down, without stop.
At the ground floor, acting at Elsie’s orders, the other girl stepped from the car in a furtive, hunted manner, and ran swiftly down a long cross hall,—Whiting, full tilt after her.
Elsie, meanwhile, stepped briskly out the front door, sprang into a taxicab and was whirled away.
Elsie’s spirits rose. She had outwitted Fenn Whiting, and she had escaped from a situation more dangerous than that of the deserted taxicab of a few days before.
She went straight back to the hotel where she and the nurse had been staying. Here the desk clerk told her that the nurse had packed up everything and had returned to New York.
Elsie was amazed. She trusted the nurse absolutely, but she now began to fear her sincerity. To the poor girl it seemed as if there were nobody in whom she could place confidence. And there was the ever dreadful question of the fortune. Had it not been for her insistent family, she would have given up all thought of the money and would have run away to hide by herself until her birthday had passed.
But, she argued, this was not the way to feel. For she must be at home, in case Kimball should somehow miraculously appear.
Unable to fathom the meaning of the nurse’s departure, though since she had taken all their luggage, Elsie couldn’t think she was honest, she concluded to go right back to New York herself.
She couldn’t hope to escape Fenn Whiting’s presence much longer, for having learned the trick played on him, he would of course come at once to The Turrets.
Moreover, Elsie was attracting curious looks, and even disapproving ones by reason of her standing about in the hall, dressed in the uniform of an elevator girl! She wondered what the poor girl was doing, who now wore her clothes. Perhaps she would lose her position! Elsie determined to look after her as soon as she could secure and count on her own safety.
And now a new dilemma presented itself. She had no money!
All she had carried with her, in her handbag, she had given to the girl in the elevator, thinking she would go back to the hotel where she had her check book.
But that was gone with her trunks. Even the unpaid cabman was already clamouring for his fare!
“Why did Miss Loring say she left?” she asked the clerk.
“She said you had sent her word you had already gone home, and she was to follow at once,” he returned, glancing at her severely. “She packed quickly and caught the first train she could get.”
“She paid the bill?”
“Yes, in full to the time of her leaving.”
“I will ask you then, to pay this cabman, and let me have money enough to get to New York. I will send you a check from there.”
But the desk clerk didn’t seem to care for this plan at all. He paid the cabman, who was becoming a nuisance, but he declined to advance money to such an erratic person as the lady before him seemed to be.
She had made no explanation of her strange garb, and his manner had so roused her indignation that she kept her own counsel.
But she was at her wits’ end. It was after four in the afternoon and a hotel who wouldn’t lend a few dollars, would doubtless object to her re-registering there, with no money, and in most eccentric costume.
As she thought it over a man approached and asked if he might be of assistance.
It was the man of the gold-filled teeth!
Any fear of him she might have felt vanished in a strange sense of seeing an old friend! For so helpless and friendless was the poor child that even this man, presumably one of the “villains,” seemed a godsend!
And he was polite and deferential.
“Well,” she said, her poise returning, “all things considered, I think I am privileged to ask you for the loan of a few dollars.”
“I’ll do better than that,” he said, with a really cordial smile, “I’ll escort you back to New York. I’m going myself, on the four-forty-five. And you need have no fear,” he said, coming nearer. “I’ve no reason to wish you any harm. I’ll deliver you safe and sound at your own home on Park Avenue.”
There was something about him that inspired confidence. And Elsie was tired, faint and exhausted. She thought this plan offered her, however it might turn out, a lesser evil than to stay alone at The Turrets, even if this new friend gave her money, for there she was still in the vicinity of Fenn Whiting. Indeed, he was liable to appear at any minute.
She made up her mind, quickly.
“I’ll go with you,” she said. “Will you lend me enough money to buy some sort of a large cloak or cape, and a hat?”
“Yes,” he said, and he looked at her uniform with the queerest glance.
But it was not to be wondered at, doubtless he was striving to keep from bursting into laughter. The cocky little cap, above Elsie’s lovely troubled face was a picture!
So, the strangely assorted pair took a cab, stopped at a goods emporium and Elsie procured a decent hat and a large full cape, and then they reached the station just in time to take the desired train.
In the car he left her to herself, and went away to the smoker.
He was most deferential, most polite.
“And why shouldn’t he be?” Elsie asked herself. “I’ve paid him,—or his gang fifty thousand dollars,—surely they owe me something! I’ve a mind to ask him something about Kim,—he seems so nice.”
But thoughts of Coley Coe kept her silent on any save the most casual subjects.
She felt, during the ride to New York, as if she ought to plan some way of trailing the gold-toothed man after he left her. But how could she do it? Vague thoughts of telegraphing from the moving train,—of having policemen meet her at the station,—all sorts of plans went through her mind, but none were practicable.
So she determined to talk more with the man and find out anything she might, that way, and then do the best she could to get Coe quickly, as soon as she was safely at home.
For she dreaded any further abduction or trapping,—and she longed only to be at home once more and safe from impending danger.
As they neared the big station the gold-tooth man returned.