Against Odds Part 14

'Morally certain, yes. Well, as you may guess, I scurried across the little bridge and jumped into the next launch, for they were not easy to follow by the land route, with always the chance that they might go ash.o.r.e on the wrong side of the lagoon. Well, I kept them in sight until we had made the round of the basin, and they made no offer to land, although the launch filled and emptied before we were back at the bridge from which we started. As we pa.s.sed under the bridge my heart was in my mouth, for the boat was out of sight for some moments, but when we shot out into the sunlight there they were, not so far ahead of us, and about to run underneath the bridge at the end of the south ca.n.a.l. I wondered a little at their going away from the crowd just then, but that was their affair, so I just s.h.i.+fted my position in order to keep a better watch upon their boat as we came abreast of the bridge, and then, as the mischief would have it, a launch coming from the other way pushed through and under the bridge and struck us such a blow that the women screamed, and one of them let her parasol fall into the water. Then, of course, there was an exchange of compliments between the two crews, and a scramble and delay in securing the parasol: and when at last we were out on the other side the boat ahead was so far away from the landing, where she had of course made her stop, that I could just make out that the two men had left her and she was almost empty. To add to my agony, two boats had pa.s.sed us while we floundered after that parasol and exchanged compliments with the other boat, and as we lay there waiting I looked wildly about me, and saw at last, on the bridge almost over my head, my two men, standing close by the railing and talking with a little dark woman, who----'

'Describe her!' I broke in.

'Well, now----'

'Was she something under five feet?'

'Yes.'

'Dark eyes and hair?'

'Exact.'

'A broad black hat with plumes, a red veil, and four-in-hand tie?'

'Upon my word, she had 'em all.'

'I knew it; but go on.'

'I can't, not very far at least. I just kept myself from swearing while I sat and saw those three so sociable up there, and I not in it.

Before I got to the landing I had seen the woman trip away.'

'Toward the Plaza?'

'Precisely. Everybody seemed going that way. It was almost time for the infanta to appear. When I set foot on sh.o.r.e I made for that bridge. I had seen them start slowly on after the woman; but when I got upon the bridge I could just see the hat of your friend Smug in a jam some distance ahead, near the Electricity Building, and Bob, the eel, had vanished once more.'

'At what time was this?'

He named the time, and then I told him how I had encountered the little brunette, lost her, and found her again, and of her agile leap at the bridge.

'Lively girl!' Dave commented. I had told him the story of her agility with some _empress.e.m.e.nt_, but he did not seem to see my drift.

'You're sure it's the same who tried to claim the young woman's bag?'

'Quite sure--from your description.'

'Umph! Mine? And she's the one who met the lady at the gate, and left her when the man appeared?'

'The same.'

'Um-m! She tries to secure the young lady's bag; she meets her as though by appointment; and she meets our quarry, too. She seems to know them all. Query: Does she, by any chance, know--well, say you?

Who is she? What is she?'

'Who she is I don't know, what she is I can tell you,' said I.

'Well?'

'She, as we have called her, is a man.'

I had nothing to add to this, and Dave was not willing to accept my statement, based as it was upon that leap at the bridge. 'No woman ever made that jump; I knew it. It showed practice, and that not of the sort that is taken by women.' This had been my argument, and after some discussion and difference of opinions Dave got back to the Camps.

He had met them wandering about the Peristyle, and gazing across the grand basin at the splendid MacMonnies Fountain.

'Which ort,' Mrs. Camp had declared, 'to sail out, leastwise, the boat with that white woman settin' up there on top, and come across to serlute that big gold G.o.ddiss. For my part,' she added, 'I've seen one thing that was as it ort to be. They took an' set a woman up in the midst of their court, and made her bigger and brighter and handsomer than anything else. But if they was bent on calling her Justice, why,'

she opined, 'that there court ought to be called a court of justice.'

The two old people had evidently grown lonely and sated with grandeur, and when she had aired her views concerning the golden G.o.ddess, Mrs.

Camp began to talk about our adventure with the counterfeiters.

'That friend of yours was right,' she said. 'That Sunday-school chap didn't come to time; and we ain't seen him sence not to speak to.' And then she related how, on coming away from their rooms on Stony Island Avenue that morning, they had seen, just across the street from them, the man Smug in earnest conversation with a tall man whose back was turned toward them, and who after a few words had turned and walked away southward, while Smug had entered a cafe close at hand, doubtless to breakfast.

Dave had questioned them closely, hoping to learn more; but beyond the facts as first stated little was added.

The men had met at a point 'a few squares' from the Camps'

'boarding-house'--possibly four or five. The man in conversation with Smug was tall, and very straight, 'sort of stiff like,' and well dressed. They were quite sure, also, that he was dark, and that he wore a beard. Incidentally they gave Dave the number of their Stony Island residence.

'We shan't have much trouble to find the Camps,' Dave said in concluding his narration. 'The old lady has taken a great fancy for the Liberal Arts Building, and she generally spends her time sitting upon a chair in the centre of Columbia Avenue and admiring at her leisure. She says she "'d ruther see things in the lump, sort of." And I believe they take a walk every morning around the Plaza, the Court, the Peristyle, and then up the lake sh.o.r.e from Victoria House, which she won't enter--because she "hates old England and all the Englishers"--to the point where Fifty-seventh Street drops into Lake Michigan. And every afternoon, I verily believe, they walk arm-in-arm up and down the length of Midway, without stopping or entering anywhere.'

In our summing up we found we had accomplished very little legitimate business. We had established the fact that Greenback Bob was at the Fair, and the presumption was strong, amounting almost to a certainty, that Delbras was also there. We had connected the man Smug with one, if not both, for Dave was sure that the man's companion on Stony Island Avenue was Delbras, and now this brunette, whom I believed to be a man in woman's attire, seemed to be identifying herself, or himself, with the 'gang.'

'If you can prove that the brunette's a man or boy,' said Dave, 'then I'll say don't look farther for the third party who came with Delbras from France; and if that should prove the case, tell me, what designs have this gang upon Miss--what do you call her?'

I started. It was Dave who was growing imaginative now. And yet----

'I had only thought of the brunette as having seen the bag fall, and hoping for a find,' I said doubtfully.

'Then how did you account for her being at the entrance gate two days after?' queried Dave scornfully.

'Supposing it to have been an accidental meeting, I fancied she might have thought of telling Miss Jenrys what she knew of her loss, hoping for a reward, perhaps.'

'Carl, you are growing stupid! You have thought too much of the blonde and not enough of the brunette! Think! In the first instance both are alone; Miss J. drops her bag; why does this particular--well, say woman for the present--why does this woman see it? She must have been some paces behind, or you would have seen her; or if not you, the guard, or even the young lady herself. That brunette was shadowing Miss J.'

I was silent before his arguments. I began to think I had been one-sided in my thoughts of the two; and now how simple it all seemed!

'The girl, you say, was watching the gate through a gla.s.s, and from a protected and safe point of view. She rushes to meet the young lady, perhaps introduces herself, perhaps is known, and she leaves her when the good-looking man appears. Carl, what use do you intend to make of that black bag?'

'Hitherto,' I replied, 'it has been a side issue; now it seems to me that we may serve both its owner and ourselves by restoring the bag, and keeping an eye upon all concerned.'

The next day I was early at the Fifty-seventh Street gate, and I waited long, but no Miss Jenrys came through; and after loitering near until almost noon, I took a light luncheon at the nearest point possible, and at noon went back to my post. But if Miss Jenrys entered the grounds that day, it was through some other entrance.

On the next morning she came at an early hour, her fair face radiant as the June weather, and beside her was a small-faced little woman who might have seen forty years or sixty; except for her snowy hair, time seemed to have forgotten her. Her dress was a near approach to the Quaker garb of the followers of Penn. Everything about her was of softest gray; but the face, framed by the prim Quaker bonnet, was as fair as an infant's, and with a child's soft colouring in the cheeks that had not yet lost the charming curves of young womanhood. She looked like a creature whom Life had loved so well that Time had not been permitted to touch or tarry near her, so gentle, and sweet, and good.

But there was no weakness in the placid, fair face, nor in the smooth, even step, neither swift nor slow, with which she moved on beside the fair young woman at her side.

I had watched for this arrival while I sauntered about, now on one side of the bridge, now on the other, and vibrating between the buildings of Nebraska and South Dakota, on either side the broad promenade beginning at the bridge. The west windows of both these hospitable houses overlooked the little stream, proffering a welcome to the visitor at the very outset; and when the two ladies crossed the arching bridge on the side nearest the Nebraska Building I was not surprised to see them halt, look for a moment upon the shady bit of greensward with the inviting rustic seats beneath the vine-draped trees close to the water's edge, and then enter. I was very near them, meaning this time to make a prompt and bold approach, and as I turned to enter I heard the elder say:

'No, June, my child. Thee must let me go my way.' She halted and laid her hand upon the girl's arm. 'I must take these beauties in slowly, else they will not take lodgment in my memory; besides, this place is too tempting.'