Little Lost Sister Part 40

He uttered a cry like a beast of prey as he shook her off; but he felt himself s.h.i.+ver, conscience making him a coward, and he hurried out, reaching by an exit the alley leading to a side street.

A police lieutenant suddenly barred his way.

"Not so fast there," said the functionary.

Boland recognized the man as an officer whom he had once placed under obligation to him.

"Good evening, Murphy."

"Mr. Boland!"

"Yes. I was pa.s.sing and heard the shot. You understand, of course, that I wish to avoid being seen here. Do you know where I can find a taxi?"

The policeman turned and summoned a taxicab with a gesture. Boland got in at the open door. He leaned forward and spoke with peculiar force, although very low:

"If my son, Harry Boland, happens to pa.s.s by here, see that he gets into a taxi whose driver will bring him to my house, to my house, remember, no matter what address he gives."

"I understand, sir." Probably the young man's been misbehaving, was what he thought.

"Pay the driver--in advance--with this, or part of it," continued Mr.

Boland.

"Thank you, sir; thank you. I understand."

Boland's car scuttled away into the darkness.

Harry Boland, pus.h.i.+ng through the crowd to Patience, saw the futile effort of Mrs. Welcome to take Elsie from the place. He heard Mary Randall's brief direction and spoke rea.s.suringly to the anguished mother as he pressed a friendly hand on her slight shoulder.

"I will see that Spencer takes you to that boarding-house, where you will be comfortable until you can get away. I will bring Patience. We may get there before you arrive."

As John Boland foresaw, it was but a few moments after his own departure before Harry Boland reached the street looking for a conveyance. He was a.s.sisting Patience Welcome. Rather, she was clinging to him, sobbing like a frightened child. The shooting that had interrupted her pathetic attempt to sing was only part of the tragedy to her.

"I--I saw my little sister in there," she sobbed. "She called me by name.

And such a pathetic cry. Did you hear it?" Patience was sadly unnerved and ill.

"Hush, dear one," Harry soothed her. "Your mother, Harvey and Miss Randall are there, you know. Whatever can be done, they will do. You are my one and only care, and just now, dearest girl, you're ill. I'll take you to the place where your mother is going. Now, please stop crying; try--try--everything will be all right."

A taxicab appeared, the chauffeur seemingly having antic.i.p.ated that he was wanted. Harry got in, half carrying Patience, and expecting to be stopped by an officer. But no policeman seemed to see or hear him as he gave the driver the address of the old-fas.h.i.+oned boarding-house selected by Mary Randall.

They rode in silence. Patience sat apart from him, breathing deeply of the fresh air at the window of the car as they rushed swiftly through the city streets. Slowly he felt the tension of the situation released. It was as if the dazed girl were freed from the physical mesh which had been thrown about her.

Then she spoke quite calmly, in her natural voice, but very slowly:

"Harry, I once dreamed that I was in terrible trouble and that you came and helped me. Are you sure I am not dreaming now?"

"Is it a happy dream, if you are, my darling?"

"I--I don't know," faltered Patience. "It is wonderful to be here with--you."

"Do you trust me, Patience? Do you trust me when I tell you that I care more for you than I ever knew I could care for anybody?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"I want to make you happy. I want to love you and work for you and have you for my wife, and make a home with you."

"Harry!" She slipped her hand into his.

"Harry, I still feel afraid. It was such a dreadful thing to see. Was that man killed? It was he who asked me to sing. They had been disappointed about getting a singer, he said, and he gave me ten dollars.

All that money for a few songs--it seemed like stealing. But I took it.

Mother helped put on this dress they gave me to sing in. You know I went there to help mother clean the place. And to think we saw a murder!"

"My poor darling!" Something in his voice caused her to put her hand up to his face. He felt her finger tips on his eyelids, then down his wet cheeks.

"My poor darling!" She put her arm around his neck--then their trembling lips met.

Harry was the first to speak. "All that you have gone through brings us closer together than anything else in life possibly could, Patience. I am so proud of you and so down on myself that I ever let you out of my sight--"

"You must not be down on my--"

"Say it, dear! I want to hear my sweetheart say the word."

"I was going to say 'my dearest,' but I'll say,--if you want me to,--my--my husband."

"You dear, sweet wife!" responded Harry.

After a few moments Harry observed that they were being taken farther than he had directed the man to go. The boarding-house was rather close to town. He found that they were well on the north side, nearing the quarter of his father's house. He called to stop the driver, but the man remained deaf to his efforts, except to increase the speed, and presently drew up at the Boland mansion.

"How dare you bring me here?" Harry demanded, stepping out of the car to remonstrate.

"Orders."

"Orders! I ordered you where I wanted you to go. Here, if you need two fares for one job, you swindler! Hold on--"

"Driver! Come here."

Harry heard his father's stern voice from the opened doorway. "Driver!

Take that girl wherever she wants to go. Harry, come in here! It's time for a show-down."

"It certainly is time for a show-down!" Harry a.s.sisted Patience from the car. "You may wait and earn the fare I just paid you or go to jail," he said to the driver, and boldly led Patience into his father's house.

The elder Boland turned into a den at the right of the front hallway and closed the door. He looked at Patience with an appraising glance, then kindly at his son.

"I suppose you must be humored in this affair," he said in an indulgent manner, "while you haven't sense to see that the present is scarcely the time to devote yourself to any such young woman. What do you say to a trip to California? I'll foot all the bills, and later I will settle what you ask for on you." He spoke to Patience.

"Thank you." She spoke without a tremor. "You may do something substantial for my mother, because you--took--my poor father's invention.

Do you know, sir, that my poor father never recovered from that loss?"

"h.e.l.l's fire!" yelled John Boland, "I--"