To be a mystery is overpoweringly sweet to any girl and Bessy Bell was
being that. Her sudden desire for solitude had worried her mother, and
her distant superiority had incited the vexation of her friends. When
they exerted themselves to win Bessy back to her old self she looked
dreamily beyond them and became more aloof. Doctor Bronson, in reply to
Mrs. Bell's appeal to him, looked the young woman over, asked her a few
questions, marveled at the imperious artifice with which she evaded
him, and throwing up his hands said Bessy was beyond him.
The dark fever, rising from the school yards and the playgrounds and
the streets, subtly poisoning the blood of Bessy Bell, slowly lost its
heat and power for the time being. Bessy lived in the full secret
expression of her girlish adoration. She was worshipping a hero; she
was glorifying in her sacrifice; she was faithful to a man; she was
being a woman. At first she grew pale, tense, quiet, and seemed to be
going into a decline. Then that stage passed; and the roseleaf flush
returned to her cheeks, the purple fire deepened in her eyes, the
quivering life in all her supple young body.
Night after night loneliness had no fears for her. If she heard a
whistle on the avenue, the honk of a car--the familiar old signals of
the boys and girls, she smiled her disdain, and curling comfortably
in her great chair, bent her lovely head over her books.
In the beginning her dreams were all of Daren Lane, of the strangeness
and glory of this soldier who spent so many secret hours with her. And
when the time came that she did not see him so often her dreams were
just as full. But gradually, as the days went by, other figures than
Lane's were limned upon her fancy--vague figures of heroes, knights,
soldiers. He still dominated her romances, though less personally. She
built around him. Every day brought her new strange desires.
One evening in August when Bessy sat alone the telephone bell rang
sharply. She ran to take down the receiver.
"Hello, hello, that you, Bessy?" came the hurried call in a girl's
voice.
"Rose! Oh, how are you?"
"Fine. But say, Angel, I can't take time to talk. Something doing. Are
you alone?"
"Yes, all alone, old girl."
"Listen, then, and get this.... I'm here, you know, telephone girl at
the Exchange. Just heard your father on the wire. Some one has
betrayed the secret of the club. There's a warrant out for the arrest
of the boys. For gambling. You know there's a political vice drive on.
Some time to-night they'll be raided.... But early. Bess, are you
getting this?"
"Sure. Hurry--hurry," replied Bessy, in excitement.
"I tried to get Dick on the wire, but couldn't. Same with two more of
the boys. But I did get wise to this. Gail and Lorna have a date at
the club to-night.... Never mind how I found out. Dick has thrown me
down for Gail. I'm sore as a pup. But I don't want your father to
pinch those girls.... Now, Bess, I'm tied here. But you get a move on.
Don't waste time. You can save them. You must. Do something. If you
can't find somebody, go straight to the club. You know where the key
for the outside entrance is kept. Hurry and it'll be safe. Good-bye."
Bessy stood statue-like for a moment, her big eyes glowing, changing,
darkening with rapid thought, then she flew upstairs to her room,
snatched a veil and a soft hat, and putting these on as she went, she
flew out of the house without putting out the lights or locking the
door.
It was a dark windy night, slightly cool for August, and a fine misty
rain was blowing. Bessy's footsteps pattered softly as she ran block
after block, and she did not slacken her pace till she reached the
house where Daren Lane had his room. In answer to her ring a woman
appeared, who told her Mr. Lane was out.
This was a severe disappointment to Bessy, and left her an alternative
that required more than courage, but she did not vacillate. She sped
swiftly on in the dark, for the electric lights were few and far
between, until the black of the gloomy building, where the boys had
their club, loomed up. On the corner Bessy saw a man standing with his
back to a telegraph pole. This occasioned her much concern; perhaps he
might be watching the building. But he had not seen her, of that she
was certain. The possibility that he might be a spy made her task all
the harder.
Bessy returned the way she come, crossed at the next corner, hurried
round the block and up to the outside stairway that was her objective
point.
By feeling along the brick wall she brought up, with a sudden bump, at
the back of the stairway. Then she deliberated. If she went around to
the front so as to get access to the steps, she might pass in range of
the loiterer whom she mistrusted. That risk she would not incur.
Examining the wall that enclosed the box-like stairway as best she
could in the dark, she found it rickety, full of holes and cracks, and
she decided she would climb it. A sheer perpendicular board wall, some
twelve or fifteen feet high, shrouded in pitchy darkness and
apparently within earshot of a police spy, did not daunt Bessy Bell.
Slipping her strong fingers in crevices and her slim toes in cracks,
she climbed up and up, till she got hold of the railing post on the
first platform. Here she had great difficulty to keep from falling,
but lifting and squirming her supple body, by a desperate effort she
got her knees on the platform, and then pulled herself to safety. Once
on the stairs she ran up the remaining few steps to the landing, where
she rested panting and triumphant.
As she was about to go on she heard footsteps, which froze her. A man
was crossing the street. He came from the direction of the corner
where she had seen the supposed spy. Presently she saw him stop under
one of the trees to scratch a match, and in the round glow of light
she saw him puff at a cigar. Then he passed on with uncertain steps,
as of one slightly under the influence of drink.
Bessy's heart warmed to life and began to beat again. Then she sought
for the key. She had been told where it was, but did not remember.
Slipping her hand under the railing, close to the wall, she felt a
string, and, pulling at it suddenly, found the key in her hand. She
glided into the dim hall, feeling along the wall for a door, until she
found it. With trembling fingers she inserted the key in the lock, and
the door swung inward silently. Bessy went in, leaving the key on the
outside.
Dark as it had been without, it was light compared to the ebon
blackness within. Bessy felt ice form in the marrow of her bones. The
darkness was tangible; it seemed to envelop her in heavy folds. The
sudden natural impulse to fly out of the thick creeping gloom, down
the stairway to the light, strung her muscles for instant action, but
checked by the swiftly following thought of her purpose, they relaxed,
and she took not a backward step.
"Rose did her part and I'll do mine," she cogitated. "I've got to save
them. But what to do--I may have to wait. I know--in the big room--the
closet behind the curtain! I can find that even in this dark, and once
in there I won't be afraid."
Bessy, fired by this inspiration, groped along the wall through the
room to the large chamber, stumbled over chairs and a couch and at
last got her hands on the drapery. She readily found the knob, turned
it, opened the door and stepped in.
"I hope they won't be long," she thought. "I hope the girls come
first. I don't want to burst into a room full of boys. Won't Daren be
surprised when I tell him--maybe angry! But it's bound to come out all
right, and father will never know."