Back at Milton an hour before, when the shades of dusk were falling and
a slender moon hung timidly on the edge of the horizon, a horse drawing
a spring wagon ambled deliberately into town and came to a reluctant
halt beside the railroad station, having made a wide détour through the
larger part of the county on the way to that metropolis.
The sun had been hot, the road much of it rough, and the jolts over
stones and bumps had not added to the comfort of the thick-set man,
already bruised and weary from his travels. Joe’s conversation had not
ceased. He had given his guest a wide range of topics, discoursing
learnedly on the buckwheat crop and the blight that might be expected
to assail the cherry trees. He pointed out certain portions of land
infested with rattlesnakes, and told blood-curdling stories of
experiences with stray bears and wild cats in a maple grove through
which they passed till the passenger looked furtively behind him and
urged the driver to hurry a little faster.
Joe, seeing his gullibility, only made his stories of country life the
bigger, for the thick-set man, though bold as a lion in his own city
haunts, was a coward in the unknown world of the country.
When the traveler looking at his watch urged Joe to make haste and
asked how many miles further Milton was, Joe managed it that the horse
should stumble on a particularly stony bit of road. Then getting down
gravely from the wagon he examined the horse’s feet each in turn,
shaking his head sadly over the left fore foot.
“Jes’ ’z I ’sposed,” he meditated dreamily. “Stone bruise! Lame horse!
Don’t believe I ought to go on. Sorry, but it’ll be the ruination of
the horse. You ain’t in a hurry I hope.”
The passenger in great excitement promised to double the fare if the
young man would get another horse and hurry him forward, and after
great professions of doubt Joe gave in and said he would try the horse,
but it wouldn’t do to work him hard. They would have to let him take
his time. He couldn’t on any account leave the horse behind anywhere
and get a fresh one because it belonged to his best friend and he
promised to bring it back safe and sound. They would just take their
time and go slow and see if the horse could stand it. He wouldn’t think
of trying it if it weren’t for the extra money which he needed.
So the impatient traveler was dragged fuming along weary hour after
weary hour through the monotonous glory of a spring afternoon of
which he saw nothing but the dust of the road as he tried to count
the endless miles. Every mile or two Joe would descend from the wagon
seat and fuss around the horse’s leg, the horse nothing loth at such
unprecedented attention dozing cozily by the roadside during the
process. And so was the traveler brought to his destination ten minutes
after the last train that stopped at Milton that night had passed the
station.
The telegraph office was not closed however, and without waiting to
haggle, the passenger paid his thirty dollars for the longest journey
he ever took, and disappeared into the station, while Joe, whipping up
his petted animal, and whistling cheerily:
“Where did you get that girl--?”
went rattling down the short cut from Milton home at a surprising pace
for a lame horse. He was eating his supper at home in a little more
than an hour, and the horse seemed to have miraculously recovered from
his stone bruise. Joe was wondering how his girl would look in a hat
with purple plumes, and thinking of his thirty dollars with a chuckle.
It was surprising how much that thick-set man, weary and desperate
though he was, could accomplish, when once he reached the telegraph
station and sent his messages flying on their way. In less than three
minutes after his arrival he had extracted from the station agent the
fact that two people, man and woman, answering the description he gave,
had bought tickets for Pittsburgh and taken the afternoon train for
that city. The agent had noticed them on account of their looking as
if they came from the city. He especially noticed the purple plumes,
the like of which he had never seen before. He had taken every minute
he could get off from selling tickets and sending telegrams to watch
the lady through his little cobwebby window. They didn’t wear hats like
that in Milton.
In ten minutes one message was on its way to a crony in Pittsburgh with
whom the thick-set man kept in constant touch for just such occasions
as the present, stirring him to strenuous action; another message had
winged its mysterious way to Mr. Holman, giving him the main facts
in the case; while a third message caught another crony thirty miles
north of Pittsburgh and ordered him to board the evening express at his
own station, hunt up the parties described, and shadow them to their
destination, if possible getting in touch with the Pittsburgh crony
when he reached the city.
The pursuer then ate a ham sandwich with liberal washings of liquid
fire while he awaited replies to some of his messages; and as soon
as he was satisfied that he had set justice in motion he hired an
automobile and hied him across country to catch a midnight express to
Pittsburgh. He had given orders that his man and accompanying lady
should be held in Pittsburgh until his arrival, and he had no doubt but
that the orders would be carried out, so sure was he that he was on the
right track, and that his cronies would be able and willing to follow
his orders.
There was some kind of an excursion on at Pittsburgh, and the place was
crowded. The trainmen kept calling off specials, and crowds hurried out
of the waiting room, only to be replaced by other crowds, all eager,
pushing, talking, laughing. They were mostly men, but a good many
women and some children seemed to be of the number; and the noise and
excitement worried her after her own exciting afternoon. Celia longed
to lay her down and sleep, but the seat was narrow, and hard, and
people were pressing on every side. That disagreeable man in the slouch
hat would stand too near. He was most repulsive looking, though he did
not seem to be aware of her presence.
Gordon had a long wait before he finally secured the coveted stateroom
and started back to her, when suddenly a face that he knew loomed up
in the crowd and startled him. It was the face of a private detective
who was well known about Washington, but whose headquarters were in New
York.
Until that instant, it had not occurred to him to fear watchers so
far south and west as Pittsburgh. It was not possible that the other
bridegroom would think to track him here, and, as for the Holman
contingent, they would not be likely to make a public disturbance about
his disappearance, lest they be found to have some connection with
the first theft of government property. They could have watchers only
through private means, and they must have been wily indeed if they had
anticipated his move through Pittsburgh to Washington. Still, it was
the natural move for him to make in order to get home as quickly as
possible and yet escape them. And this man in the crowd was the very
one whom they would have been likely to pick out for their work. He was
as slippery in his dealings as they must be, and no doubt was in league
with them. He knew the man and his ways thoroughly, and had no mind to
fall into his hands.
Whether he had been seen by the detective yet or not, he could not
tell, but he suspected he had, by the way the man stood around and
avoided recognizing him. There was not an instant to be lost. The fine
stateroom must go untenanted. He must make a dash for liberty. Liberty!
Ah, East Liberty! what queer things these brains of ours are! He knew
Pittsburgh just a little. He remembered having caught a train at East
Liberty Station once when he had not time to come down to the station
to take it. Perhaps he might get the same train at East Liberty. It was
nearly two hours before it left.
Swooping down upon the baggage, he murmured in the girl’s ear:
“Can you hurry a little? We must catch a car right away.”
She followed him closely through the crowd, he stooping as if to
look down at his suit-case, so that his height might not attract the
attention of the man whose recognition he feared, and in a moment more
they were out in the lighted blackness of the streets. One glance
backward showed his supposed enemy stretching his neck above the
crowd, as if searching for some one, as he walked hurriedly toward
the very doorway they had just passed. Behind them shadowed the man
in the slouch hat, and with a curious motion of his hand signalled
another like himself, the Pittsburgh crony, who skulked in the darkness
outside. Instantly this man gave another signal and out of the gloom of
the street a carriage drew up at the curb before the door, the cabman
looking eagerly for patronage.
Gordon put both suit-cases in one hand and taking Celia’s arm as gently
as he could in his haste hurried her toward the carriage. It was the
very refuge he sought. He placed her inside and gave the order for
East Liberty Station, drawing a long breath of relief at being safely
out of the station. He did not see the shabby one who mounted the box
beside the driver and gave his directions in guttural whispers, nor the
man with the slouch hat who watched from the doorway and followed them
to a familiar haunt on the nearest car. He only felt how good it was
to be by themselves once more where they could talk together without
interruption.
But conversation was not easy under the circumstances. The noise of
wagons, trains and cars was so great at the station that they could
think of nothing but the din, and when they had threaded their way out
of the tangle and started rattling over the pavement the driver went
at such a furious pace that they could still only converse by shouting
and that not at all satisfactorily. It seemed a strange thing that any
cabman should drive at such a rapid rate within the city limits, but
as Gordon was anxious to get away from the station and the keen-eyed
detective as fast as possible he thought nothing of it at first.
After a shouted word or two they ceased to try to talk, and Gordon,
half shyly, reached out a reassuring hand and laid it on the girl’s
shrinking one that lay in her lap. He had not meant to keep it there
but a second, just to make her understand that all was well, and he
would soon be able to explain things, but as she did not seem to resent
it, nor draw her own away, he yielded to the temptation and kept the
small gloved hand in his.
The carriage rattled on, bumpety-bump, over rough places, around
corners, tilting now and then sideways, and Celia, half-frightened, was
forced to cling to her protector to keep from being thrown on the floor
of the cab.
“Oh, are we running away?” she breathed awesomely into his ear.
“I think not,--dear,” he answered back, the last word inaudible. “The
driver thinks we are in a hurry but he has no need to go at this
furious pace. I will tell him.”
He leaned forward and tapped on the glass, but the driver paid no
attention whatever save perhaps to drive faster. Could it be that he
had lost control of his horse and could not stop, or hadn’t he heard?
Gordon tried again, and accompanied the knocking this time with a
shout, but all to no purpose. The cab rattled steadily on. Gordon
discovered now that there were two men on the box instead of one, and a
sudden premonition sent a thrill of alarm through him. What if after
all the presence of that detective had been a warning, and he unheeding
had walked into a trap? What a fool he had been to get into a carriage
where he was at the mercy of the driver. He ought to have stayed in
open places where kidnapping would be impossible. Now that he had
thought of it he felt convinced that this was just what the enemy would
try to do,--kidnap him. The more fruitless he found his efforts to
make the driver hear him the more he felt convinced that something was
wrong. He tried to open the door next him and found it stuck. He put
all his strength forth to turn the catch but it held fast. Then a cold
sweat stood out upon him and horror filled his mind. His commission
with its large significance to the country was in imminent jeopardy.
His own life was in all probability hanging in the balance, but most
of all he felt the awful peril of the sweet girl by his side. What
terrible experiences might be hers within the next hour if his brain
and right arm could not protect her. Instinctively his hand went to
the pocket where he had kept his revolver ready since ever he had left
Washington. Danger should not find him utterly unprepared.
He realized, too, that it was entirely possible, that his alarms were
unfounded; that the driver was really taking them to the East Liberty
station; that the door merely stuck, and he was needlessly anxious.
He must keep a steady head and not let his companion see that he was
nervous. The first thing was to find out if possible where they really
were, but that was a difficult task. The street over which they rattled
was utterly dark with the gloom of a smoky city added to the night.
There were no street lights except at wide intervals, and the buildings
appeared to be blank walls of darkness, probably great warehouses. The
way was narrow, and entirely unknown. Gordon could not tell if he had
ever been there before. He was sure from his knowledge of the stations
that they had gone much farther than to East Liberty, and the darkness
and loneliness of the region through which they were passing filled
him again with a vague alarm. It occurred to him that he might be able
to get the window sash down and speak to the driver, and he struggled
with the one on his own side for a while, with little result, for it
seemed to have been plugged up with wads of paper all around. This fact
renewed his anxiety. It began to look as if there was intention in
sealing up that carriage. He leaned over and felt around the sash of
the opposite door and found the paper wads there also. There certainly
was intention. Not to alarm Celia he straightened back and went to
work again at his own window sash cautiously pulling out the paper
until at last he could let down the glass.
A rush of dank air rewarded his efforts, and the girl drew a breath of
relief. Gordon never knew how near she had been to fainting at that
moment. She was sitting perfectly quiet in her corner watching him, her
fears kept to herself, though her heart was beating wildly. She was
convinced that the horse was running away.
Gordon leaned his head out of the window, but immediately he caught the
gleam of a revolver in a hand that hung at the side of the driver’s
box, pointed downward straight toward his face as if with intention to
be ready in case of need. The owner of the hand was not looking toward
him, but was talking in muffled tones to the driver. They evidently had
not heard the window let down, but were ready for the first sign of an
attempt on the part of their victims to escape.
Quietly Gordon drew in his head speculating rapidly on the possibility
of wrenching that revolver out of its owner’s hand. He could do it from
where he sat, but would it be wise? They were probably locked in a
trap, and the driver was very likely armed also. What chance would he
have to save Celia if he brought on a desperate fight at this point? If
he were alone he might knock that revolver out of the man’s hand and
spring from the window, taking his chance of getting away, but now he
had Celia to think of and the case was different. Not for a universe of
governments could he leave a woman in such desperate straits. She must
be considered first even ahead of the message. This was life and death.
He wondered at his own coolness as he sat back in the carriage and
quietly lifted the glass frame back into place. Then he laid a steady
hand on Celia’s again and stooping close whispered into her ear:
“I am afraid there’s something wrong with our driver. Can you be a
little brave,--dear?” He did not know he had used the last word this
time, but it thrilled into the girl’s heart with a sudden accession of
trust.
“Oh, yes,” she breathed close to his face. “You don’t think he has been
drinking, do you?”
“Well, perhaps,” said Gordon relieved at the explanation. “But keep
calm. I think we can get out of this all right. Suppose you change
seats with me and let me try if that door will open easily. We might
want to get out in a hurry in case he slows up somewhere pretty soon.”
Celia quietly and swiftly slipped into Gordon’s seat and he applied
himself with all his strength and ingenuity gently manipulating the
latch and pressing his shoulder against the door, until at last to
his joy it gave way reluctantly and he found that it would swing open.
He had worked carefully, else the sudden giving of the latch would
have thrown him out of the carriage and given instant alarm to his
driver. He was so thoroughly convinced by this time that he was being
kidnapped, perhaps to be murdered, that every sense was on the alert.
It was his characteristic to be exceedingly cool during a crisis. It
was the quality that the keen-eyed chief had valued most in him, and
the final reason why he had been selected for this difficult task in
place of an older and more experienced man who at times lost his head.
The door to the outside world being open Gordon cautiously took a
survey of the enemy from that side. There was no gleaming weapon here.
The man set grimly enough, laying on the whip and muttering curses
to his bony horse who galloped recklessly on as if partaking of the
desperate desires of his master. In the distance Gordon could hear the
rumbling of an oncoming train. The street was still dark and scarcely
a vehicle or person to be seen. There seemed no help at hand, and no
opportunity to get out, for they were still rushing at a tremendous
pace. An attempt to jump now would very likely result in broken limbs,
which would only leave them in a worse plight than they were. He
slipped back to his own seat and put Celia next to the free door again.
She must be where she could get out first if the opportunity presented
itself. Also, he must manage to throw out the suit-cases if possible on
account of the letters and valuables they contained.
Instinctively his hand sought Celia’s in the darkness again, and hers
nestled into it in a frightened way as if his strength gave her comfort.
Then, before they could speak or realize, there came the rushing sound
of a train almost upon them and the cab came to a halt with a jerk,
the driver pulling the horse far back on his haunches to stop him.
The shock almost threw Celia to the floor, but Gordon’s arm about her
steadied her, and instantly he was on the alert.