CHAPTER XIIA TANGLED WEB
Earlierthat same afternoon Janet had started for Madame Yvonett’s residence intending to join Marjorie there, but as she crossed Dupont Circle into Massachusetts Avenue, an automobile drew up alongside the curb, and a cheery voice hailed her.
“This is luck,” exclaimed Tom Nichols, springing out of his roadster, and clasping her hand warmly. “Where are you going Miss Janet?”
“Down to see Madame Yvonett,” Janet’s piquant face dimpled into a smiling welcome.
“Fine! I was just on the way to her house myself; jump in and I’ll take you there.”
“All right, thanks.” Janet climbed into the motor car, and after arranging the rug over her lap, Tom took his seat behind the steering wheel, and in a second more they were off. At the corner of Scott Circle Tom slackened speed.
“Suppose we go for a spin first,” he coaxed. “It’s a glorious day for a run in the country.”
“But I promised to meet Marjorie——”
“Well, so you can,” cutting her objection short. “If we get there by half-past five it will be timeenough; Cousin Yvonett always has a late dinner. Besides, it’s always better to be late at a party, it insures a warm welcome.”
“Sometimes too warm a one,” laughed Janet “What will mother say to my going motoring with you and leaving Marjorie behind?”
“Oh, your mother won’t mind, I’m only Marjorie’s cousin,” carelessly. “I’m sure your physician will prescribe plenty of ozone after last night’s dance, and the air’s glorious today, do come?”
Janet wavered. She was pretty certain her mother would not approve, but—it was a perfect winter’s day, clear and bracing; she was tired of a stuffy house, and then—and then she admired and liked Tom Nichols. Her warm blood pulsed a trifle faster, then ebbed more slowly. Was it disloyal to Chichester Barnard to crave the presence of another man? She put the thought from her with frowning impatience.
“I can go a little distance,” she conceded.
“Bully for you!” and the glance he turned on her held more than admiration. “Will you be warm enough?”
“Oh, plenty,” Janet pulled the collar of her fur coat up about her ears, and snuggled back in her seat, the heavy laprobe drawn tightly in place.
“These side doors keep out the drafts,” as he spoke Tom swung his car around the circle and continued down the avenue. “How would you like to go out to Bladensburg and see the battlefield?”
“Isn’t that too far?”
“No; it’s only about five miles from here, we’ll do it in no time,” and not waiting for an answer, Tom accelerated the motor, and they shot past several carriages and automobiles. In a short time he swung the car into H Street. That thoroughfare being comparatively free of traffic, he turned to his silent companion. “Why did Marjorie leave the dance so early last night?”
“She had a bad sick headache, poor dear,” with careless compassion. “I don’t think Marjorie’s very strong.”
“She isn’t exactly robust, but I wouldn’t call her delicate,” replied Tom. “How is she today?”
“Apparently all right again,” Janet filled her lungs with delicious cold air. “Mother says Marjorie has too much on her mind; perhaps that is the reason she is so distrait lately.”
“It must be that, usually she is the cheeriest soul imaginable,” Tom sounded his siren as he cut across an intersecting street. “I’m afraid Marjorie sees too much of——” he stopped, and his face clouded. His code of honor prevented him from running down a possible rival behind his back; and rumor had it that Janet was captivated by Barnard’s handsome face and charm of manner, nor could he hurt her by speaking of Barnard’s past infatuation for Marjorie. It would not be playing fair to Marjorie; he could not make trouble between the two girls. In his heart he vowed Barnard should not win Janet. “Marjorie has seen too much of hard times,” he amended. “Financial difficulties playhob with a person’s physical and mental condition.”
“Mental condition,” repeated Janet thoughtfully. “I wonder if that accounts for——take care——oh, why will children play in the streets?” as Tom swerved the car just in time to avoid running over a little pickaninny.
“Sorry I frightened you,” he said contritely, turning the car into the Bladensburg Pike. “Have you ever been out this way?”
“No. Where did you say we are going?”
“Bladensburg; it’s a quaint old-fashioned little town and of historic interest because the Battle of Bladensburg was fought there in 1814....”
“When the British defeated our troops and captured Washington?”
“Correct. I’m glad to see, Miss Janet, you know American history. Not long ago I was asked to meet somenouveaux richesat dinner, and an American girl, who is now an English countess, broke into a discussion about Gettysburg to ask in a soft drawl: ‘Gettysburg? WhatisGettysburg?’”
They had left the city’s unattractive outskirts behind, and were passing through more open country, and Janet, delighted and light-hearted, sat silently watching the landscape with ever-increasing interest.
“There’s Bladensburg,” Tom pointed to the church spires and roofs of houses showing plainly among the leafless trees. “These houses,” motioning to his right, “are some of them very old, the estates having been owned by prominent colonials.”
“Where’s the battlefield?”
“Right here,” indicating the road they were on. “The fighting began beyond the further bridge spanning the eastern branch of the Potomac, and our troops fell back through the village and down this turnpike, the British in hot pursuit.”
Janet’s active imagination instantly conjured up a vision of the fighting, flying men, and the quiet sleepy Maryland village became transformed to her; she could almost hear the rattle of muskets, hoarse commands, and the roar of cannon, so vivid was the illusion.
Tom brought his car to a standstill at the side of the road near a short bridge, and pointed to a dip in the rolling meadow through which a creek meandered in long and graceful curves.
“The famous dueling ground of Bladensburg,” he explained. “It was there that Commodore Stephen Decatur, the ‘Bayard of the Seas,’ met his brother officer, James Barron, and fell mortally wounded by him. I believe in those days trees masked the gully from sight; anyway our fiery statesmen of the past came out to this ‘field of honor’ to get satisfaction from their enemies and traducers.”
“What excitement would ensue if they did it now!” Janet thrilled at the thought.
“Congressmen of today belong to the ancient and honorable order of ink-slingers,” answered Tom. “This dueling ground never saw an opera bouffe affair. Men here fought to kill, and generally succeeded in their object.”
“Isn’t the Calvert Mansion somewhere in this neighborhood?”
“Yes, at Riverdale. It’s the Lord Baltimore Club now. We’ll run up there and you can see it,” starting the motor as he spoke.
“I think we ought to be getting back,” said Janet regretfully.
“There’s plenty of time,” eagerly. “Riverdale’s only a little over a mile away; we’ll be there before you know it.”
Tom kept the car down to reasonable speed while passing through Bladensburg, then opened the throttle, and they sped down the State road like an arrow shot from a bow. Suddenly above the whistling of the wind past his ears and the low hum of his straining engine, Tom heard an authoritative hail and discovered a rope stretched across the road some distance ahead, and two constables on guard. Looking backward he dimly made out, through the dust, a motor cyclist following them, and realizing he was in a trap, he brought his car to second speed.
“Stop your engine,” commanded the constable, catching up with him.
Tom thought quickly. Had he been alone, he would have tried to get away, but Janet’s presence prevented any attempt at evading the law.
“What’s the trouble, constable?” he demanded.
The man laughed. “Speeding and joy-riding are the charges.”
“Oh, come. I wasn’t breaking the regulations....”
“Tell that to the J. P.” At that moment the second constable reached them, and sprang on the running-board on Janet’s side of the car. “Start her up again, and come into Hyattsville,” directed the motor cyclist, and making the best of a bad job, Tom sulkily obeyed the order. Janet, her eyes wide with excitement, sat quietly by his side. Pretending to tuck the laprobe more securely about her, he whispered in her ear:
“If they ask who you are, don’t give your real name.”
“I understand,” she muttered, and remained passive until the car, passing the lowered rope, reached its destination, escorted by the two constables. They bade Tom and Janet accompany them into the presence of the Justice of the Peace. Mr. Lenox, the gray-haired justice, heard the evidence against them in ominous silence.
“What is your name, miss?” he inquired sternly.
“Marjorie Langdon,” answered Janet readily, and Tom gave her an approving glance.
“Your residence?” Janet told him, and the Justice turned to Tom.
“Name?” he snapped.
“Thomas Langdon Nichols, Captain —th Field Artillery, stationed at Fort Myer, Va.”
“Any relation of Miss Langdon?”
“Her cousin,” steadily.
The Justice laid down his pen. “Fifty dollars,” he announced, holding out his hand.
“Fifty dollars fine!” fumed Tom. “That’s perfectly ridiculous.”
“Nothing of the sort,” retorted the Justice. “I recognize you, young man; this is the third time you’ve been arrested speeding on the State Road....”
“I haven’t; you’re mixing me up with someone else....”
“That game won’t work,” the Justice shrugged his shoulders contemptuously. “Your name’s entered on the records; you’ve been warned and fined for small sums, already. This joy-riding has got to stop.”
“I don’t joy-ride,” thundered Tom, catching Janet’s amused smile. “I admit I’ve made good time on several business trips to Baltimore....”
“Very thoughtful of you,” commented the Justice ironically. “Fifty dollars, please.”
“Dash it all! I haven’t that amount with me,” pulling out his wallet he counted the bank notes in it. “Here’s eighteen dollars,” he laid the money on the desk, and searched his pockets carefully, finally producing some small change. “This makes twenty-one fifty,” stacking the silver in a neat pile on top of the bank notes. “You’ll have to take that, and let me bring back the rest tomorrow.”
“Fifty dollars or jail!” and the Justice sat back and regarded the raging officer with provoking calmness.
“Will you take a check for the balance?” demanded Tom, as soon as he could control his speech.
“Depends on your bank.”
Without replying, Tom went slowly through his pockets, but he had left his check-book on his desk at his quarters, and his search was a waste of time. “Let me have a blank check on the American Security and Trust Company?” he pleaded.
“Haven’t one,” answered the Justice curtly, and forestalled further requests by adding, “Haven’t a check on any bank but a Baltimore trust company; guess you can’t draw on that, young man.”
Tom bit his lip savagely. “Can I use that telephone?” he asked, nodding toward the instrument.
“Sure, if you’ll pay the tolls.”
Tom seized the desk instrument and put in a call for Fort Myer, but it was some minutes before he got his connection, only to learn that the officers he wished to speak to were absent from their quarters. With a smothered oath he hung up the receiver and scowled at the Justice.
“Will you permit this young lady,” placing his hand on Janet’s arm, “to return to Washington?”
“No.”
“Don’t be so damned pig-headed!” stormed Tom. “I’ll stay here until I can get hold of the necessary money. Miss Langdon’s presence is not required.”
“I’m the best judge of that; and see here, mind how you address me; I won’t stand being sworn at.”
Tom moved closer to Janet, and lowered his voice. “I’m afraid it will be some time before I can get money here from Fort Myer,” he whispered. “Hadn’t I better call up your brother?”
“Mercy, no; please don’t think of it!” protested Janet, her eyes opening in fright. “Duncan is so stern, he would never approve or understand my motoring alone with you. We must get back without letting him know anything about all this”—waving her hand toward the Justice who, “clothed in a little brief authority,” was thoroughly enjoying the situation. His predecessor had been severely criticized for his lax handling of the speeders who frequented the state road between Baltimore and Washington, and he was determined to establish a record for distributing impartial justice on one and all. The fact that one of the breakers of the speed law before him was an officer of the United States Army and the other a very pretty young girl did not in the least influence him to be lenient.
One of the constables had remained in the room, and had been an interested listener to all that transpired. Janet’s distressed expression finally won him over to her side.
“Say, Captain,” he began, “Ain’t you got a watch you can put up, and redeem later?”
Tom shook his head despondently as his fingers sought his watch pocket “It’s at Galt’s getting repaired,” he replied.
Janet’s hopes, which had risen at the friendly constable’s suggestion, sank like lead; then an idea occurred to her, and she stepped up to the desk.
“Won’t you accept this as collateral?” she asked, slipping a gold bracelet over her wrist and handing it to the Justice. “Captain Nichols will bring you thetwenty-eight dollars and fifty cents tomorrow, and get it back.”
Without answering, the Justice stooped and attentively examined the handsome bauble in his hand. The bracelet, of curious design, was studded with diamonds and emeralds, and the Justice, who had some knowledge of precious stones, was impressed by its value. He turned the matter carefully over in his mind before announcing his decision, and the minutes seemed endless to Janet and Tom, who were burning to get away.
“I’ll keep it,” the Justice stated finally, laying the bracelet carefully on the table and sweeping Tom’s money into his cash box; then he laid the bracelet in the box, and snapped the lid shut. He paused to make an entry in his ledger, then turned back to Tom. “Let this be a lesson to you,” he said severely. “You’re an officer of Uncle Sam’s, and you of all people ought to help preserve the Government’s laws. This state road is not a race course. Good evening.”
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” called Tom from the doorway, and he and Janet lost little time in getting under way once again. The short afternoon had come to a close, and Janet’s alarm grew as they motored slowly out into the darkness.
“What shall I say to the family?” she murmured.
“Let me tell them the truth,” advised Tom. “It was all my fault, I’ll take the blame.”
“Father will probably forbid my seeing you any more,” answered Janet, dolefully.
“Good Lord!” ejaculated Tom blankly; he felt as if the earth had dropped from him. “But I must see you, I—I—can’t get on without seeing you——”
“Can’t you?” a little hope crept into her voice. “I—I—should miss you awfully....”
“Would you?” Tom’s strong voice was husky. “I feel like a brute to have gotten you into this scrape; I must get you out of it——”
“Please do,” she pleaded, and stirred Tom’s brain to quicker action.
“Suppose we go straight to Madame Yvonett’s, spend a few minutes there; then if Marjorie hasn’t waited for you, we’ll go right to your house, and explain that we went down the streets Marjorie didn’t return on—and so missed her.”
“That sounds a trifle involved,” Janet knitted her brows in anxious thought. “However, I think it will do, and no one need ever know.”
“I’ll never tell,” promised Tom soothingly. “By Jove! it was clever of you to give Marjorie’s name to the J. P.; I’ll get back your bracelet tomorrow and no one will be the wiser.”
“You are such a comfort,” sighed Janet; impulsively Tom laid his right hand tenderly on hers. “I—I—always enjoy myself when with you.”
An hour after Tom and Janet’s departure another “speeder” was brought before Mr. Lenox, Justice of the Peace for Hyattsville. But the tall, well-groomed, middle-aged man who faced him, unlike Tom wasted no time in disputing the fine imposed.
“Can you change a twenty dollar bill?” he inquired, drawing out a well-filled wallet. “This is the first time I’ve motored down from Baltimore, and I’m sorry my chauffeur broke the speed laws. Hope of a Christmas dinner at home is my excuse.”
“Can’t blame you much,” acknowledged the Justice, his sternness thawed by the other’s geniality. “Let’s see if I have change,” opening his cash box, and dumping its contents on the desk. The stranger picked up Janet’s bracelet as it rolled toward him, and glanced idly at it; then his attention was arrested by the unusual design, and he examined it minutely, even to the tiny initials and date engraved on the inside. “Here’s your change, sir,” added the Justice.
“Thanks,” the stranger pocketed the money without counting it. “Pretty bracelet you have here,” handing it back to Lenox as he spoke. “Very unusual in appearance; would you mind telling me where you got it?”
“No, why should I? A girl, riding with her beau, left it here in lieu of a fine for speeding. She, or rather her escort, Captain Nichols, will redeem it tomorrow.”
“I see,” the stranger stared in deep astonishment at the Justice. “If it isn’t breaking a confidence, can you give me the young woman’s name?”
“Sure,” the Justice rapidly ran his finger down the open ledger. “Miss Marjorie Langdon, 910 Thirteenth Street, Washington.”
“Miss Marjorie Langdon,” repeated the stranger; then roused himself. “Much obliged, sir, goodevening.” And he hastily left the room and entered his limousine. “Home, François,” he directed; then as the lights of Hyattsville disappeared in the distance, he confided his reflections to the flower-filled glass vase. “What in the devil’s name was Miss Marjorie Langdon doing with my daughter’s bracelet in her possession?”