The Automobile Girls at Palm Beach Part 23

"Yes," replied the countess; "it concerns him very intimately. Will you do this for me, little Mollie? I know now that the paper is not safe either in my house or on me. It would be quite safe with you, however.

Even my enemy would never think of that, and, if anything should happen to me, you may produce the paper at once. Give it to Mr. Stuart. He will know what should be done."

The countess took from her dress a square, flat chamois bag which fastened with a clasp and evidently contained a doc.u.ment of some sort.

"Fasten it into your dress with this pin," she said, "and keep the pin as a memento of our friends.h.i.+p."

And the pin, as Mollie saw later, was no ordinary affair, but a broad gold band on which was a beautifully enameled coat of arms.

"Is this another secret session?" cried Ruth's voice gayly from the window.

The two conspirators started nervously.

"Come into our room," Ruth continued. "Papa has sent up the luncheon hamper. There are still some sandwiches and fruit left; likewise a box of candy. We were too frightened to have appet.i.tes at supper, but I think a little food, now, will cheer us mightily."

"This looks quite like a boarding-school spread," exclaimed Miss Sallie as they gathered around the feast. "But it is really a good idea. I feel that this little midnight luncheon might help me keep up my courage until I get to sleep."

"What a jolly little feast," cried the Countess Sophia. "I am quite beginning to take heart again after that fearful ordeal below. I had a feeling all the time that the chairs were not really empty."

"Goodness me!" cried Grace, "do change the subject, or we shall be afraid to go to bed at all."

"And I move that we take to our couches at once," said Ruth, "while we have the courage to do so. Madame de Villiers, are you not afraid to sleep alone?"

"Not in the least, my dear. I am not afraid of the most courageous ghost that ever walked. I believe I will retire at once. I am very tired."

Taking one of the candles which stood in a row on the mantel, making a cheerful illumination, the stately old woman bade them good night, and the tapping of her stick resounded through the empty hall.

Soon after Grace, Mollie and the countess stepped through the window, and down the balcony to their room.

"You'd better close your shutters," called Grace over her shoulder.

"We're going to."

"And lose all this glorious moonlight?" asked Ruth. "Never. This balcony is too high from the ground for any one to climb up, easily, and besides, old Jim is going to be on guard to-night. Aunt Sallie thinks we had better try to make ourselves comfortable without doing much undressing. Even if we don't sleep very well to-night, we can make up for it when we get back to the hotel." With these words Ruth blew out the candles and five minutes later, their shoes and outer clothing removed, she and Barbara and Miss Sallie were fast asleep.

Grace and Mollie, however, struggled vainly with the heavy wooden shutters, but try as they might they could not succeed in closing them tightly. After some subdued laughter and many exclamations they abandoned their task in disgust, and blowing out their candles prepared themselves for sleep.

At midnight Ruth awoke with a start. She had a distinct sensation that some one had been looking into her face. But the room was still flooded with moonlight, and she could see plainly that, except for her sleeping companions, no one was there. She turned over and closed her eyes again, but the sudden waking had driven sleep away.

Was that a noise?

Ruth held her breath and listened. There was not a sound except the regular breathing of Miss Sallie.

Ruth lay with every nerve strained to catch the lightest footfall. In a moment it came again, very faint but still distinct. Something--some one--moved somewhere.

She sat up in bed and touched Barbara lightly on the cheek.

Barbara opened her eyes slowly then sat up. Ruth pointed to the next room. The two girls listened intently. Again there was the sound, a soft, a very soft footfall on a creaking board.

Cautiously the two girls climbed from the bed and crept over to the door between the two rooms. On a small bed at the far side of the room lay the countess, sleeping soundly. Grace and Mollie also were fast asleep in the other bed. Suddenly Ruth gripped Bab's arm. The eyes of both girls were riveted on the old fas.h.i.+oned dressing table in one corner of the room. Before it stood the same terrible old man that Bab had seen at the villa. He was examining minutely every thing on the dresser. Next he turned his attention to the girls' walking suits which hung over the backs of the chairs. He searched the pockets of the coats, the linings, and even the hems of the skirts.

"He is certainly looking for a paper," Barbara thought, as she watched him make his systematic search, "and he certainly has something to do with the countess's affairs."

Barbara's mind reverted to the group she had seen on the hotel veranda, the night before. What was the explanation of it all? Was the countess really an impostor and why, when she evidently feared Monsieur Duval and ignored Mrs. De Lancey Smythe, did she hold interviews late at night with them? She had distinctly refused the "Automobile Girls'"

invitations to the hotel, yet she had not refused to meet others there.

And what part could this ferocious looking old man possibly have in the drama?

All this pa.s.sed rapidly through Bab's mind as with her hand clasped tightly in Ruth's the two girls watched the intruder with bated breath.

To Bab there was something strangely familiar about him, his movements suggested some one she had seen before, yet she could find no place in her memory for him.

Failing to find what he desired, the old man again turned toward the countess a look of indescribable menace on his face. He took a step toward her then--a sudden burst of weird music floated up from the gloomy drawing room. With a smothered exclamation the intruder whirled and making for the window swung himself over the ledge. Ruth clutched Barbara for support. She was trembling with fear.

"Don't be frightened, dear," soothed Bab bravely. "That isn't ghost music. It's only Miss Thorne playing the harp. It's an unearthly hour for music, but she couldn't have begun to play at a more opportune moment, either. I believe that frightful old man thought it was ghost music. Just listen to it. It's enough to give any one the creeps."

The demented old woman played on in a wailing minor key, and presently footsteps were heard coming down the hall. By this time Mollie, Grace and the countess were wide awake and seeing Bab and Ruth in their room demanded to know what had happened. A moment later Madame de Villiers and Miss Sallie, both fully dressed, entered the room.

"No more sleep for me to-night," announced Miss Stuart firmly. "I feel that the sooner morning comes and we get out of this house the better pleased I shall be."

At that instant a melancholy strain like the wail of a lost soul rose from down stairs. Then all was silent.

"I begin to believe it is the departed spirit of her sister Lucy that executed that last pa.s.sage," shuddered the countess. "Come, my dears let us finish dressing. It will soon be morning and then surely some way will be provided for us to go back to Palm Beach."

"Shall we tell her?" whispered Ruth to Bab.

"We'd better," nodded Bab. "Then she will be constantly on her guard."

"Listen, everyone," commanded Ruth. "We are going to tell you something but you mustn't feel frightened. We think the countess should know it at once. You tell them about it, Bab."

Bab obediently began a recital of what had transpired after she and Ruth had been so suddenly wakened. The others listened in consternation to her story. The countess who turned very pale while Bab was speaking, looked appealingly at Madame de Villiers. The stern old woman was apparently much agitated. "He shall not harm the Countess Sophia," she muttered, forgetful of those about her. "I will protect her even from him."

"Aunt Sallie, shall I call Father?" asked Ruth a few moments later. The seven women were seated about the room in silent dejection.

"No, Ruth," responded her aunt. "We will not waken him. A man that can sleep through a concert such as we were favored with deserves to be left in peace. It is after four o'clock now. I think we'll let him sleep until six, at least. Then after breakfast, perhaps, he will be able to devise some means by which we may return to the hotel."

It was a very tired and sleepy band of picnickers that gathered around the Thorne breakfast table that morning, and breakfast was not over when the honk of an automobile horn was heard and a large touring car rolled up the avenue.

"Hurrah!" shouted Ruth. "It's Mr. Warren. Oh, but I'm glad to see him."

It was indeed Mr. Warren, who, when the party did not return that night, had taken the fastest launch he could find and made for the picnic ground. He had discovered the note, as Mr. Stuart had hoped, had returned to the hotel where the history of Thorne house and its mistress was not unknown and had come for them himself after a few hours sleep.

"I should be happy and honored if you would all come again," said Miss Thorne as she waved adieu to her guests from the front piazza, while Jim and Chloe bobbed and bowed and chuckled over the generous present they had each received from Mr. Stuart.

As the automobile rolled down the avenue they caught a last glimpse of the mistress of Thorne House still waving her handkerchief, and in every heart was a feeling of tender sympathy for the little old woman whose present was so irrevocably linked to the past.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE WATER FeTE