The Girl and The Bill Part 48

She studied him in silence, then pointed to the chauffeur, who was down at the side of the car.

"Anything damaged?" Orme queried.

"Yes, sir."

"Much?"

"Two hours' work, sir."

"Pshaw!" Orme shut his teeth down hard; Poritol, had he known it, might have felt thankful that he was not near at hand. He turned to Bessie.

"How much farther is it?"

The chauffeur answered. "About three miles, sir."

Three miles over dark country roads--and it was nearly eleven o'clock. He glanced ahead. In the distance a light twinkled.

"Bessie," he said, "come with me to that farmhouse. We must go on. Or, if you prefer to wait here----"

"I'll go with you, of course."

They walked along the road to the farm gate. A cur yelped at their feet as they approached the house, and an old man, coatless and slippered, opened the door, holding an oil lamp high above his head. "Down, Rover!

What do you want?" he shouted.

"We've got to have a rig to take us to Winnetka," said Orme. "Our car broke down."

The old man reflected. "Can't do it," he said, at last. "All shet up fer the night. Can't leave the missus alone."

A head protruded from a dark upper window. "Yes, you can, Simeon,"

growled a woman's guttural voice.

"Wall--I don't know----"

"Yes, you can." She turned to Orme. "He'll take ye fer five dollars cash.

Ye can pay me."

Orme turned to Bessie. "Have you any money?" he whispered.

"Heavens! I left my hand-bag in my locker at the clubhouse. How stupid!"

"Never mind." Orme saw that he must lose the marked bill after all.

Regretfully he took it from his pocket. The woman had disappeared from the window, and now she came to the door and stood behind her husband.

Wrapped in an old blanket, she made a gaunt figure, not unlike a squaw.

As Orme walked up the two or three steps, she stretched her hand over her husband's shoulder and s.n.a.t.c.hed the bill, examining it closely by the lamplight.

"What's this writin' on it?" she demanded, fiercely.

"Oh, that's just somebody's joke. It doesn't hurt anything."

"Well, I don't know." She looked at it doubtfully, then crumpled it tight in her fist. "I guess it'll pa.s.s. Git a move on you, Simeon."

The old man departed, grumbling, to the barn, and the woman drew back into the house, shutting the door carefully. Orme and Bessie heard the bolts click as she shot them home.

"Hospitable!" exclaimed Bessie, seating herself on the doorstep.

After a wait that seemed interminable, the old man came driving around the house. To a ramshackle buggy he had hitched a decrepit horse. They wedged in as best they could, the old man between them, and at a shuffling amble the nag proceeded through the gate and turned eastward.

In the course of twenty minutes they crossed railroad tracks and entered the shady streets of the village, Bessie directing the old man where to drive. Presently they came to the entrance of what appeared to be an extensive estate. Back among the trees glimmered the lights of a house.

"Turn in," said Bessie.

A thought struck Orme. If Poritol, why not the j.a.panese? Maku and his friends might easily have got back to this place. And if the minister had been able to telephone to his allies from Arradale, they would be expecting him.

"Stop!" he whispered. "Let me out. You drive on to the door and wait there for me."

Bessie nodded. She did not comprehend, but she accepted the situation unhesitatingly.

Orme noted, by the light of the lamp at the gate, the s.h.i.+mmer of the veil that was wound around her hat.

"Give me your veil," he said.

She withdrew the pins and unwound the piece of gossamer. He took it and stepped to the ground, concealing himself among the trees that lined the drive.

The buggy proceeded slowly. Orme followed afoot, on a parallel course, keeping well back among the trees. At a certain point, after the buggy pa.s.sed, a figure stepped out into the drive, and stood looking after it.

From his build and the peculiar agility of his motions, he was recognizable as Maku. Orme hunted about till he found a bush from which he could quietly break a wand about six feet long. Stripping it of leaves, he fastened the veil to one end of it and tip-toed toward the drive.

The j.a.panese was still looking after the buggy, which had drawn up before the house.

Suddenly, out of the darkness a sinuous gray form came floating toward him. It wavered, advanced, halted, then seemed to rush. The seance the afternoon was fresh in the mind of the j.a.panese. With screams of terror, he turned and fled down the drive, while Orme, removing the veil from the stick, moved on toward the house. Madame Alia's game certainly was effective in dealing with Orientals.

A moment later Orme and Bessie had crossed the roomy veranda and were at the door, while the old man, still grumbling, swung around the circle of the drive and rattled away. Orme's heart was pounding. When the servant answered the bell, he drew back and he did not hear the words which Bessie spoke in a low voice. They were ushered into a wide reception-hall, and the servant went to announce them.

"You wish to see her alone," said Bessie. "Go in there and I will arrange it."

He went as she directed, into a little reception-room, and there he waited while subdued feminine greetings were exchanged in the hall without. Then, at last, through the doorway came the gracious, lovely figure of the girl.

"Oh," she whispered, "I knew you would come, dear--I knew."

He took her hands and drew her to him. But with a glance at the doorway she held herself away from him.

In his delight at seeing her he had almost forgotten his mission. But now he remembered.

"I have the papers," he said, taking them from his pocket.

"I was sure you had them. I was sure that you would come."

He laid them in her hands. "Forgive me, Girl, for fooling you with that blank contract."

She laughed happily. "I didn't look at it until I got home. Then I was so disappointed that I almost cried. But when I thought it over, I understood. Oh, my dear, I believed in you so strongly that even then I went to my father and told him that the papers were on the way--that they would be here in time. I just simply _knew_ you would come."

Regardless of the open doorway he clasped her closely, and she buried her face in his coat with a little laugh that was almost a sob. Then, suddenly, she left him standing there and, holding the papers tight, went from the room.