Eve to the Rescue Part 30

"Marie," she called, "Marie!"

She looked anxiously over the little roof garden, and peered down to the canyon. Twice she went up to the window, and each time drew back again, afraid to enter.

She leaned over the railing on the roof, calling aimlessly and hopelessly.

"Marie, Marie!"

A moment later she heard a light step below, "Oh, Marie," she cried and her voice was a sob.

"It's me, Miss Eveley, what's the matter?"

It was only Angelo running up the steps to her.

"Angelo, what are you doing here?" she demanded sharply, her nerves on edge.

"Oh, I was just fooling around," he said evasively. "I thought I heard you calling."

But Eveley's nerves were too highly strung this night to brook an idle answer. She caught him by the shoulder.

"Tell me where you have been and what you were doing," and there was something like suspicion in her voice.

And then suddenly the little bit of foreign flotsam became a man, to give her courage.

"Come inside and sit down," he said authoritatively. "I'll tell you what I've been doing, but don't stand out here like this and get yourself all worked up for nothing."

He threw up the window, and went in first, turning on the light, and Eveley followed him numbly.

"Now sit down and I'll tell you. I have been sleeping in the garage ever since you got mixed up with that bunch of Bolshevists and--er Greasers. I thought something might happen and I've sort of stuck around. I had a key made to the garage, and I've got a nice bed fixed up in the attic."

Eveley held out her hand with a faint smile. "You are a good friend, Angelo, sure enough. But there was no danger. And oh, where can my Marie have gone?"

"Are her things here?"

Acting instantly upon the suggestion, Eveley ran into the other room followed closely by Angelo. Every slightest sc.r.a.p and shred that had been Marie's had disappeared.

"Maybe she left a note somewhere," said Angelo.

Frantically Eveley flashed through the small rooms, searching eagerly for some final word or token. But there was nothing to be found.

"Some one has kidnapped her," she cried, wringing her hands. "We must phone the police."

"I wouldn't do that--not yet. I'd phone for Mr. Nolan first. Let me do it. And why don't you go down-stairs and ask them if they saw any one around here to-day, or saw her leaving?"

"Oh, Angelo, that is fine," she cried. "I'll go--and you phone Nolan quickly."

By the time she returned, Nolan was on his way to the Cote.

"She--she left herself--just walked away with her bag--alone," said Eveley faintly. "I am afraid she did not--care for me." And there was sorrow in her voice.

"Oh, sure she did," said Angela rea.s.suringly. "That's why she left I guess. She may be in bad in some way, and so she went off not to get you mixed up in it."

"Do you think that, Angelo? Do you really? But she should not have gone for that. I would have stood by Marie through any kind of trouble."

Angelo walked impatiently about the room, fingering endless little objects, puzzling in his mind what to say and what to do.

"He could be here if he had taken a taxi," he said restlessly. "I told him to beat it."

"We might phone Mr. Hiltze," said Eveley suddenly. "He may know where to find her."

Angelo smiled scornfully at that. "Aw gee, Miss Eveley, ain't you on to them yet? Sure they are working in cahoots."

Eveley sat down at once and folded her hands. "Now, Angelo, tell me everything you know, or suspect about them. Begin at the beginning. You may be wrong, but let me hear it."

But before Angelo could begin his little story, Nolan came springing up the steps, and knew in a word all they had to tell.

"Sit down now, Nolan, and listen. Angelo thinks he knows something."

"Well, when Carranza got in, a lot of Mexicans had to get out. Political refugees they call them. Marie is one of them."

"That is no secret," said Eveley. "She told me that herself. And it is nothing to her discredit--rather the opposite I should think."

"Yes, but they are looking ahead to the next election. That guy Obregon has promised to let all the refugees come back free and easy if he is elected, and no questions asked. But they've got such a lot running for president, that maybe they won't elect anybody and then Carranza will stick on himself. And so the refugees on this side are working up a new little revolution of their own, to spring on Carranza the day after the election. And that is against the law, and the Secret Service is on to it, and after them hot and heavy."

"The Secret Service," said Eveley slowly. "The Secret Service."

She crossed the room, and from her bag took out a small bit of steel which she had carried there for weeks.

"The Secret Service," she said again, and held the badge tightly in her hand.

"What have you there, Eveley?" asked Nolan.

"Nothing," she said, gripping it so tightly the sharp edges cut into her hand. "Just a little souvenir--of Marie. That is all."

"Well, is there anything else, Angelo?"

"That guy Hiltze is a crook, too. He's what you call a Red. He's mixed up with all the funny business going on."

"Are you sure, Angelo? You must only tell us what you really know."

"Well, they've got a lot of crazy shacks around town, and they hold meetings. My dad goes to 'em. So a few times I went, too. This guy Hiltze does the talking. He's got enough money. He don't have to sell autos for a living, he does that for a blind, just like he strings Miss Eveley on the Americanization hot-air stuff."

"Did you ever hear him speak?" asked Nolan.

"Sure. He says they are chasing him from cellar to garret, from mountain to desert. He says they are the d.a.m.ned rich, and they got to keep him harried to earth so they can grind the laborers under their heel. He gives 'em all money for doing things, and hauling stuff, and getting things across the border. I was there. He says they must pray G.o.d to strengthen them to fight to the last ditch. He says the army and navy are the slaves of the G.o.d of Money."

"I know he had rather--advanced ideas," said Eveley gravely. "But these are such troublous times. Every one feels the lack, and the need in the social life. He may have gone too far--but these are the days that try one's soul. If it was only talk--"

"Aw gee," interrupted Angelo. "They ain't got no room to talk. I know all about that stuff. I was over there with the rest of 'em, and I know. We slept on straw, and dressed in rags, and lived like dogs. And they come to a decent country, and get soured because they ain't fed up on chicken and wine like a lord. It's a darn' sight more than they ever had before, and the Secret Service needs to watch 'em. For they're the ones that did for Russia--yes, and they're doing it for Germany now, and trying it on Italy."