THE FIRST OBSTACLE
A drizzling rain began to fall and an overcast sky, cold and bleak,
dropped lower and lower until it covered the dripping park like a sombre
mantle. The glass in the hood of the hansom kept out the biting rain,
but the drear approach of a wet evening was not to be denied. For nearly
three hours Hugh and Grace had been driven through the park and up the
Riverside, killing time with a nervous energy that was beginning to
tell. The electric lights were coming on; pavements glistened with the
glare from the globes; tiny volcanoes leaped up by thousands as the
patting, swishing raindrops flounced to the sidewalks.
"Isn't it dismal?" murmured Grace, huddling closer to his side. "I
thought the weather man said it was to be nice? It's horrid!"
"I think it's lovely!" said he beamingly. "Just the sort of weather for
a mystery like this. It begins like a novel."
"I hope it ends as most of them do, commonplace as they are. Anyhow, it
will be fun to dine at Sherry's. If any one that we know should see us,
we can say--"
"No, dear; we'll not attempt to explain. In the face of what is to
follow, I don't believe an accounting is necessary. This is to be our
last dinner in good old America for many a day, dear. We'll have a good
one, just for history's sake. What kind of a bird will you have?"
"A lark, I think," she said with a bright smile.
"Oh, one doesn't eat the lark for dinner. He's a breakfast bird, you
know. One rises with him. Bedsides, we should try to keep our lark in
fine feather instead of subjecting it to the discomforts of a gridiron
in some--"
His observations came to an abrupt close as both he and his companion
pitched forward violently, barely saving themselves from projection
through the glass. The hansom had come to a sudden stop, and outside
there was a confused sound of shouting with the crunching of wood and
the scraping of wheels. The horse plunged, the cab rocked sharply and
then came to a standstill.
"What is it?" gasped Grace, trying to straighten her hat and find her
bag at the same time. Hugh managed to raise the glass and peer dazedly
forth into the gathering night. A sweep of fine rain blew into their
faces. He saw a jumble of high vehicles, a small knot of men on the
sidewalk, gesticulating hands on every side, and then came the oaths and
sharp commands.
"We've smashed into something!" he said to her.
"Some one is hurt! Confound these reckless drivers! Why can't they
watch where--"
"Come down off that!" shouted a voice at the wheel, and he saw a huge
policeman brandishing his club at the driver above. "Come down, I say!"
"Aw, the d---- fool backed into me," retorted the driver of Hugh's
hansom. His fare noticed that they were at the Sherry corner, and the
usual crowd of seven-o'clock cabs was in full evidence.
"That'll do--that'll do," roared the officer. "I saw the whole thing.
Ye've cracked his head, you dirty cur."
Two men were holding the horse's head and other policemen were making
their way to the side of their fellow-officer. Evidently something
serious had happened.
"What's the trouble?" Hugh called out to the officer.
"You'll find out soon enough," answered the policeman. "Don't butt
in--don't butt in!"
"Here, here, now!" exclaimed Mr. Ridgeway. "You've no right to talk like
that to--"
"Oh, I ain't, eh? Well, we'll see if somebody else has a right. You
dudes can't kill people and then get off with talk like that. Not much,
my Johnny. You go along, too, an' explain yer hurry to the captain."
"But I've got a lady here--"
"Tush! tush! Don't chew the rag. Stay in there!"
Other officers had dragged the driver from the cab, jostling him
roughly to the outer circle of wheels. The man was protesting loudly.
Rain had no power to keep a curious crowd from collecting. Hugh,
indignant beyond expression, would have leaped to the ground had not a
second and superior officer stepped up and raised his hand.
"Don't get down, sir," he said with gentle firmness. "I'm afraid you'll
have to go to the station for a few minutes."
"But, confound it, officer--I have nothing to do with this row."
"That may be true, sir. You can explain all that at the desk. We have to
get at the bottom of this. This is no place to argue."
A moment later the hansom, with a bent axle, was hobbling its way down
the street engineered by bluecoats. Hugh, seeing that it was useless to
remonstrate, sank back in the seat and swore audibly.
"Don't worry about it, Hugh," said a soft voice in his ear. "We can
explain, can't we?"
"You can't explain anything to asses, Grace," he lamented, "especially
if they wear buttons." They lapsed into a mournful, regretful silence.
For five full minutes the hansom wobbled painfully along and then pulled
up in front of a building which Hugh lugubriously recognized as a police
station. "We've got to make the best of it, dear. Did you ever hear of
such beastly luck? I'll see if they won't let me go in alone and square
things. You won't be afraid to sit out here alone for a few minutes,
will you? There's really nothing to be alarmed about. This driver of
ours is in trouble, that's all. We're not to blame. A word or two will
fix everything. I'll be out in a jiffy."
But the bluecoats would not see it that way. Miss Vernon was compelled
to climb down from the seat and march indignantly into the desk
sergeant's presence. Hugh at once began to explain and to expostulate
against what he called an outrage.
"What had we to do with it? The truth is, I don't know what has
happened," he was saying.
"Neither do I," said the bewhiskered sergeant shortly. "Who are you,
sir?"
"These people saw the whole thing, sir. They were in the hansom when
Bernhardt smashed him, an' this felly had ordered him to get to Sherry's
in five minutes if he had to kill some one," explained the officer who
had first addressed Hugh in the crowd.
"That's a lie," cried Hugh. "I said if he had to kill the old plug. Who
is Bernhardt? What the deuce is it all about?"
"I don't believe the gentleman saw the row," said the polite roundsman.
"It happened in the crush there."
"Somebody shall pay for this outrage," exclaimed Ridgeway. "It's beastly
to drag a lady and gentleman into a police station like common criminals
when they--"
"That will do, sir," commanded the sergeant sharply. "You'll talk when
you are asked to, sir."
Turning to the patrolman, he asked, "Has that fellow been taken to the
hospital?"
"The ambulance came up just as we left, sir."
"Bernhardt says he didn't hit him. He says the guy fell off his own
cab."
"Don't cry, dear," Hugh managed to whisper to Grace as they took the
seats designated by a brusque man in blue.
"Never!" she whispered bravely. "It's a lark!"
"Bravo! We'll have that bird yet--at Sherry's." Then he approached the
desk with determination in his eye. "Look here, officer, I demand
respectful attention. Whatever it was that happened between those
cabmen, I had nothing to do with it, and I am absolutely ignorant of the
trouble. We have a dinner engagement, and I want you to take our
statements, or whatever it is you want, and let us go our way."
"What is your name?" shortly.
"Why--er--that isn't necessary, is it?" floundered Hugh.
"Of course it is. Name, please."
"Will it get into the papers?"
"That's nothin' to me. Will you answer now, or do you want to stay here
till mornin'?"
"My name is Smith."
"Place of residence?"
"Brooklyn."
"Who's the lady?"
"My sister."
"Step up here, lady, if you please!"
Hugh felt the floor giving away beneath him. That Grace could not have
heard a word of the foregoing examination, he was perfectly aware.
Vainly, and with a movement of his lips, he essayed to convey the name
she should answer.
"Don't butt in, you!" was the instant warning given by the observant
officer, and then--
"Lady, what is _your_ name?"
For a moment the question bewildered the girl. With considerable
misgiving she discerned that another occasion for prevarication was
unavoidable, and something like a sigh escaped her lips; but as suddenly
fear gave way to a feeling of elation. How clever Hugh would consider
her remembrance of his instructions! What felicity to extricate him from
this predicament! Alone, she would save the situation!
Unblushingly, and with a glance at him for instant approval, she stepped
forward and pronounced jubilantly the alias agreed upon:
"Ridge--Miss Ridge is my name."
A smothered exclamation of dismay burst from Hugh's lips.
"Eh, what? Miss Ridge, and your brother's name--Smith?" ejaculated the
man of authority.
For a brief moment there was a pause of embarrassment; and then with a
dazzling, bewitching smile directed at her questioner, she electrified
them both:
"Most assuredly. Mr. Smith is my half-brother."
Hugh could have shouted for joy, as he watched the somewhat amused
discomfiture of the officer.
"Where do you live?"
"St. Louis," gasped she, with blind confidence in luck.
"Oh, humph! Well, wait a minute," he said, and both were gratified to
see a good-natured grin on his face. "Buckley, see if there is a family
named Smith in Brooklyn with connection in St. Louis. Sit down, Miss
Ridge, please, and don't be worried. This is what we have to do. Your
driver slugged another of his kind and he's likely to die of the fall he
got. We'll have to use you as witnesses, that's all, an' we must have
you where we can put our hands on you in the mornin'. The captain will
be here in an hour or two and you can probably manage to give some kind
of bond for your appearance. People like you don't like to appear in
court, you see, so we've got to make sure of you."
"But we must go to our--our dinner," she wailed so prettily that he
coughed to cover his official severity.
"Can't be helped, ma'am. Duty, you know. The captain will soon be here.
Would you like to telephone, sir?"
Hugh stared and looked embarrassed. Who was there for him to talk to
over the 'phone? And that brought another ghastly thought to mind. Who
could he ask to give security for his or her appearance in the morning?
He found words to say he would telephone to his friends, a bright idea
suddenly coming to the rescue. Grace looked her amazement and alarm as
he marched into the telephone booth. Bravely he called up Sherry's and,
with the sergeant listening, he sent word to the head waiter to inform
Mr. ---- (mentioning the name of a very prominent society leader) that
Mr. Smith and Miss Ridge were unavoidably detained and could not join
the party until quite late, if at all. He came from the booth very much
pleased with himself, and sat down beside Grace to await developments.
"What are we to do?" she whispered.
"Give me time to think, dear. I fooled him that time. Perhaps I can do
it again. Great bluff, wasn't it? What do you suppose Mr. ----
will think?"
"But if they should insist upon holding us till morning," she cried, on
the verge of tears, trouble looming up like a mountain.
"They won't dare do that. They'll probably send us to a hotel with a
plain-clothes man unless we give bond, but that's all. I'll try another
bluff and see how it works. There's no use kicking about it. We're not
in a position to stir up much of a row, you see, dear."
He tried it when the captain came in unexpectedly a few minutes later,
and with the most gratifying results. He obtained consent to go with a
plain-clothes man to a nearby restaurant for a "bite to eat." In the
meantime he was to send a messenger boy with a note to an influential
friend in Brooklyn, requesting him to hurry over and give security for
their appearance. If this failed, they were to go to a hotel
under guard.
"The only thing that sounds fishy about your story, Mr. Smith, is that
you say you are brother and sister," said the captain. "Driving all
afternoon in the park with your own sister? Queer."
"She's from Missouri, you know," said Hugh with a fine inspiration. The
captain laughed, even though he was not convinced.
"Now, Grace, dear," said Hugh as they waited for the cab to be called,
"our adventure is on in dead earnest. We have to give this plain-clothes
man the slip and get aboard the _Saint Cloud_ before they have time to
think. They won't look for us there and we're safe."
"Hugh, I'm frightened half to death," she whispered. "Can we do it?
Would it not be wiser to give up the whole plan, Hugh, and--"
"Oh, Grace!" he cried, deep regret in his voice. "What a cad I am to be
dragging you into all this sort of thing! Yes, dear. We'll give it up.
We'll go back to Chicago. It's too much to ask of you. I'll--"
"No, no, Hugh! Forgive me. I'll be strong and firm. I wouldn't give it
up for all the world. I--I was just a bit weak for a second, you know.
It does look pretty big and wild, dear,--all that is ahead of us. But,
after all, it's like any sea voyage, isn't it? Only we're going to be
married when it's over. We Wouldn't think anything of taking a trip to
Manila under ordinary circumstances, would we? It's all right, isn't
it?" He squeezed her hand cautiously but fervently.
To their disgust the plain-clothes man took the seat opposite them in
the brougham, remarking as he did so that he had sense enough to get in
out of the rain. They had no opportunity to concoct a plan for escape,
and it was necessary for them to go on to the restaurant in Longacre
Square. It occurred to Hugh that it would be timely to explain why they
were not dressed for dinner. They were on their way to the hotel to
dress when the fracas took place. The plain-clothes man was not
interested. Evidently the authorities did not apprehend much trouble
from the two young people; their guardian performed his duties
perfunctorily and considerately. He even disappeared from view after
they entered the restaurant.
"We'll have that bird," said Hugh, "before we do anything else. I'm
hungry. Haven't eaten since last night, dear. I've been too excited to
think of eating--or sleeping."
In a quiet corner of the big café they had their bird and just enough
champagne to give them the courage that counts. With their heads close
together they planned and plotted until they forgot the rain that
pattered against the window panes, and dreariness turned to rosy
assurance.
"Just a little nerve, dear," said he as they arose. "Do as I have told
you and trust to luck. It can't fail."
The plain-clothes man was just outside the door. Scores of people were
hurrying past, umbrellas raised in the face of the drizzle. Down
Broadway the glare of lights was broken and left hazy in the fog like
rain. The sidewalks in the distance looked like a bobbing field of black
mushrooms, shiny and sleek. The air was chill with the wet shadows of a
night that hated to surrender to the light of man.
"Where's the cab?" demanded Hugh. "Get it up here quick. I don't want to
keep my friend waiting at the station. Come in and have a drink,
officer. It's no fun standing around this kind of weather. No job for a
decent human being, I'd say. Especially when one's set to watch
respectable people and not criminals. This is a rattling good joke on
me--and my sister. I need about three good, stiff drinks? We'll go in
next door here. Get into the cab, Marian, We won't be inside
two minutes."
If the plain-clothes man was willing to take the drink, all well and
good, but if he refused--but he did not refuse. He looked carefully
about, shivered appropriately, and said he "didn't care if he did."
Grace urged them to hurry as she entered the cab and Hugh gave his
promise. Scarcely had the two men passed beyond the light screen doors
when Grace Vernon coolly stepped from the cab and hurriedly made her way
off through the crowd of umbrellas, first telling the driver to wait for
her in front of the drug store.
A moment later she boarded a Broadway car, and excited, but intent only
on reaching a place where she could safely engage a cab to take her to
the dock. And all the time she was hoping and praying, not for herself,
but for the important young gentleman who was clicking his righteous
glass in a den of iniquity.