THE MASK DROPPED
When Janet Hosmer, startled by Felipe Martinez' agitated appeal,
turned from the telephone, her single thought was to carry out on the
instant his fervid injunction. Something aimed at the engineer and the
lawyer was in movement, a plot for the former's arrest and the
destruction of evidence necessary to his defense, according to
Martinez' quick hurried words; and the Mexican now sought her aid, as
she was the only one within reach whom he could trust. That he must
call to her showed the desperate nature of the exigency--and he had
said lives were at stake!
Haste was the imperative need. As her father was absent, she summoned
the Mexican girl from the kitchen, for instinct advised the wisdom of
having a companion on this errand; and the two of them, bare-headed
and walking fast, set out for the house. Dusk was just thickening to
night. No stars were visible. A warm moistness in the air forewarned
of rain from the blanket of clouds that had spread at sunset along the
peaks. Indeed, a few fine globules of water touched their faces as
they came into the main street and hurried along.
Neither girl had observed the automobile, unlighted and moving slowly,
that approached the Hosmer house as they emerged. Apparently the
driver perceiving them against the lamplight of the doorway and noting
their departure thought better of bringing the car to a halt, for he
kept the machine in motion and as quietly as possible trailed the pair
by glimpses of their figures flitting before an occasional illuminated
window. When Janet and her companion turned into the main street where
the stores were lighted his task became easier.
The street was peaceful. Janet saw no evidence of the violence or
danger indicated by the Mexican lawyer's declaration, but she was too
sensible to imagine on that account that peril did not exist. The town
was not aware of what had occurred, that was all,--not yet. The chief
actors in the conspiracy were still moving stealthily against their
intended victims; they had pounced on Martinez and once they had
seized the evidence they sought they would arrest Weir. Afterwards the
people, as she guessed the matter, would be aroused to create a strong
sentiment against the helpless men. It was an atrocious business.
But as yet things were in a lull--and it was during this pause, brief,
critical, that Martinez expected her to act. That much she had grasped
from his hurried words. She reached his office and halted to listen.
No gleam came from the building, nor from the low structure on either
side, and across the way all was dark--dark as it had been that night
when the assassin's shot had been fired at Steele Weir. Repressing a
shudder, she bade the Mexican girl follow her, groped for the door
knob, found it and pushed the door open.
Martinez had spoken of men forcing an entrance, so it must have been
at the rear. Inside all was pitchy black.
"Juanita, you have a match in your pocket, haven't you?" she demanded,
anxiously.
"Yes, Miss Janet."
"Strike it, then."
In the pent stillness of the dark office Janet could hear the Mexican
girl fumbling in the pocket of her gingham dress. There came a
scratching sound and a tiny flame.
"Be careful of it," she warned. "Now give it to me. And close the
door."
Janet lighted the smoky lamp resting on the table, next took it up in
her hand. A few papers had fallen upon the floor. The room was still
strong with fresh cigarette smoke. Martinez could not have been gone
more than five minutes.
And in another five minutes' time too Martinez' captors might be back
again!
Holding the lamp aloft she peered about for an old chair, her heart
beating rapidly, her lips compressed. But all the chairs, the three or
four in the room, were old. Her eyes encountered the Mexican girl
staring open-mouthed and scared.
"Take the lamp and keep by me," Janet ordered. "Don't upset it. What
are you shaking for, you ninny?"
"I can't help it--and you're so white," the other whimpered.
"Never you mind me; do as I say."
Janet swiftly went from one chair to another, turning them about,
upside down, all ways. No paper was hidden in or under any one of
them, or indeed was there space capable of holding a document. At last
she gave up, gazing about in dismay, dread, tears of vexation and
anxiety almost rising to her lids. Only one conclusion was to be
drawn: the men who had seized the lawyer had found the paper in spite
of his precaution.
She examined the chairs a second time feverishly, for time was
flying.
"I can't find it, Juanita, the paper he telephoned me to come and
get," she exclaimed.
"Maybe it's in there where he sleeps." And the Mexican girl pointed at
the inner door standing barely ajar.
"We'll see."
Janet led the way within. There was Martinez' living- and sleeping-room.
The furnishings comprised a bed, an old scratched bureau, a stand
with wash-bowl, a red and black Navajo blanket on the floor, a trunk,
a stool and a dilapidated stuffed chair--just such a chair as a paper
could be hidden in. That into this room the lawyer's assailants had
burst their way was apparent from the splintered door hanging from one
hinge at the rear.
Beckoning Juanita to bring the lamp, Janet ran to the arm-chair.
"Ah, here it is!" she cried, when she had turned the piece of
furniture over and inserted her hand in the rent. "It wasn't found,
after all! Come away now."
Relief and exultation replaced her depression of the moment before.
She had succeeded; she had helped the lawyer outwit his enemies; she
must now return home to await Steele Weir's arrival, or if he failed
in that then go to the dam.
In the outer room she bade the Mexican girl place the lamp on the
table once more and blow it out. This was done. They groped forward to
the door.
"Follow me out quietly, Juanita," Janet said. "Only Mr. Martinez knows
we've been here, and Mr. Weir, the engineer. See, I'm trusting you.
This is a very important paper for Mr. Weir, and other men are trying
to keep it out of his hands. So you must say nothing to any one about
our being here."
Juanita assented in a whisper. Janet thereupon opened the door and
the pair stepped forth. A faint hissing sound directly before them
startled both. But the American girl immediately recognized it for
what it was, the faint murmur of an automobile engine.
She quietly closed the office door, caught her companion's arm to lead
her away.
"Don't talk," she whispered in her ear.
At the same instant the beam of an electric hand torch flashed in
their eyes, blinding them. Then as quickly the light was extinguished
and a heavy blanket was flung over Janet's head. Her cry was choked
off, but not that of the Mexican girl who had been struck by the
corner of the cloth and who heard her mistress struggling in the arms
of the man who had seized her. The sound of the struggle moved towards
the car and then Juanita, paralyzed by fright, was stunned by a sudden
roar of the exhaust, a grind of gears, and a rush in the darkness. The
automobile had gone, carrying off Janet Hosmer a muffled prisoner.
Juanita regaining use of her legs fled for Doctor Hosmer's unmindful
of the mist against her face.
Janet's sensation had been that of strangulation and terror. In the
thick folds of the blanket, held and lifted by strong arms, all she
could offer in the way of resistance was futile kicks. She had been
jammed into the automobile seat and firmly kept there by an embrace
while the car was being started, which did not relax as the machine
gathered speed. For some minutes this lasted, while she strained
painfully for breath, and then she perceived the car was stopping.
Her terror increased. What now would happen? These men after
overpowering Felipe Martinez had abducted her in their determination
to possess themselves of the paper. Finding it in her hand--for she
still clutched it--what then? Would they kill her?
The car was now completely at rest. The arm was withdrawn from about
her; hands gripped her hands and forced them together; a handkerchief
was tightly knotted about her wrists. Afterwards her ankles were bound
by a strap. Then the blanket was lifted from her form and head and she
gasped in again pure night air.
"Here's a gag," said the man at her side. "Keep quiet and I'll not use
it; if you open your mouth to make a sound, I shall. It's up to you."
And with the hoarse threat she caught the heavy sickening odor of
whiskey on the speaker's breath.
"You, Ed Sorenson! You've dared to do this!" she exclaimed, fear
vanishing in anger.
"Yes, sweetheart," came with a mocking accent.
"Untie me this minute and let me out!"
"Oh, no. You've got the wrong line on this little game. We're going
for a ride, just you and me, as lovers should."
Janet began to think fast.
"How did you know I was in Mr. Martinez' office?" she demanded.
"Because I saw you go in, little one. I was just pulling up at your
door to coax you out when I saw you and the Mexican wench appear. So I
followed along. Saved me the bother of telling you your father had
been hurt in an accident. He's chasing off somewhere thirty miles from
town on a 'false alarm' call to attend a dying man. Sorry I had to use
the blanket; sorry I have to keep your naughty little hands and feet
tied up. But it's the only way. After we're married, you'll forget all
about it in loving me."
So this was the face of the matter. Not the paper she gripped, but
she herself was his object. His abduction of her had nothing to do
with Martinez' affair; he knew nothing of the larger plot; and for
that reason she experienced a degree of relief.
"I'll never marry you, be certain of that," said she, recurring to his
statement. "If anything had been needed to settle that point, what you
have done now would be enough. You shall pay for this atrocious
treatment. Untie my hands."
"Oh, no. We're starting on."
"Your father as well as mine shall know of this."
"I think not, dearie. We're going up into the hills where I've a nice
little cabin fixed up. And we'll stay there awhile. And then when we
come back, you'll not do any talking. On the contrary, you'll be
anxious to marry me--you'll be begging me to marry you. Of course!
People know we're engaged, and they'll know you've been away with me
for two or three days. Do you think they'll listen to any story about
my carrying you off against your will? They'll wink when they hear it.
Yes, you'll be ready to marry me all right, all right, when we come
back to San Mateo."
Janet's blood ran cold at this heartless, black plan to ensnare her
into marriage.
"Ed, you would never do a thing like that," she pleaded. "You're just
trying to scare me with a joke. Be a good fellow and untie my hands
and take me home."
"No joke about this; straight business. I told you you should marry
me----"
"You're drunk or mad!" she burst out, terrified.
"Neither; perfectly calm. But I'm not the fellow to be tossed over at
a whim. I'm holding you to your word, that's all. You'll change your
mind back as it was by to-morrow; you'll be crazy to have me as a
husband then. I won't have to tie your hands and feet to keep you at
my side when we come riding home to go to the minister's. Now we've
had our little talk and understand each other; and it's beginning to
drizzle. Time to start for our little cabin. The less fuss you make,
the pleasanter it will be for both of us."
He set the gears and the car started forward once more. A sensation of
being under the paws of a beast, odious and fetid, savage and
pitiless, overwhelmed her. That this was no trick of a moment but a
calculated scheme to abase and possess her she now realized with a
sort of dull horror. And on top of all he was, despite his denial,
partly drunk.
Through the terror of her situation two thoughts now continued to
course like fiery threads--one a hope, one a purpose. The former
rested on Juanita, whom in his inflamed ferocity of intention, the man
seemed to have forgotten--on Juanita and Steele Weir, "Cold Steel"
Weir; and this failing, there remained the latter, a set idea to kill
herself before this brute at her side worked his will. Somehow she
could and would kill herself. Somehow she would find the means to free
her hands and the instrument to pierce her heart.
Sorenson had switched on his lights. He drove the car through the damp
darkness at headlong speed along the trail that leaped from the gloom
to meet them and vanished behind. At the end of a quarter of an hour
he swung into a canyon; and Janet perceived they were ascending Terry
Creek. He stopped the car anew.
"I'll just take no chances with you," he exclaimed. "We have to pass
your friends, the Johnsons, you know. Had to take my stuff up here in
the middle of the night--up one night and back the next--and mighty
still too, so that they wouldn't suspicion I was fixing a little
bower for you."
He bound a cloth over her mouth and again flung the blanket over her
head. Janet struggled fiercely for a moment, but finally sank back
choking and half in a faint. She was barely conscious of the car's
climbing again. Though when passing the ranch house the man drove with
every care for silence, she was not aware of the fact. Her breath,
mind, soul, were stifled. She seemed transfixed in a hideous
nightmare.
At length her lips and head were released. But her hands and feet were
numb. Still feeling as if she were in some dreadful dream she saw the
beam of the headlights picking out the winding trail, flashing on
trees by the wayside, shining on wet rocks, heard the chatter of the
creek over stones and the labor of the engine.
The road was less plain, a mere track now, and steeper. They were
climbing, climbing up the mountain side, up into the heavier timber,
up into one of the "parks" among the peaks. Johnson's ranch was miles
behind and far below. Occasionally billows of fog swathed them in wet
folds that sent a chill to Janet's bones.
Sorenson held his watch down to the driver's light.
"Ten o'clock; we're making good time. Must give the engine a
drink--and take one myself."
He descended to the creek with a bucket, bringing back water to fill
the steaming radiator. Afterwards, standing in the light of the car's
lamps, he tilted a flask to his lips and drank deep.
"Not far now; three or four miles. But it's slow going. Have to make
it on 'low'," said he, swinging himself up into his place.
Janet held her face turned away. She was thinking of Juanita and
Steele Weir. Had the girl gone home again? Or, terrified, had she run
to her own home and said nothing? Had the engineer come and waited and
learning nothing at last returned to the dam? Despair filled her
breast. Even should the Mexican girl have apprised him of the
kidnapping, how should he know where to follow? And in the solitude of
the wet dark mountains all about her hope died.
She began desperately to tug against the handkerchief binding her
wrists.
Suddenly the going became easier and she felt rather than saw that the
trees had thinned. A flash of the car lamps at a curve in the trail
showed a great glistening wall of rock towering overhead, then this
was passed and the way appeared to lead into a grassy open space. A
dark shape beside the road loomed into view--a cabin by a clump of
pine trees. Sorenson brought the car to a stop a few yards from the
house.
"Here at last," he announced, springing down.
He unstrapped her feet, bade her get out.
"I make a last appeal to your decency and manhood--if you have
either," she said, sitting motionless.
"Rot," he answered. Half dragging her, half lifting her, he removed
her from the machine. Slipping a hand within her arm he led her inside
the log house.
"Sit there," he ordered.
Janet dropped upon the seat, a rude plank bench against the wall
farthest from the door. Indeed, fatigue and the numbness of her limbs
rendered her incapable of standing.
"When I've touched off this fire and set out some grub, then I'll
untie your hands," he continued. "A snug little cabin, eh? Just the
place for us, what? See all the stuff I've brought up here to make you
warm and happy and comfortable. Regular nest. Lot of work on my part,
I want to say."
He touched a match to the wood already laid in the fireplace, flung
off his rain coat and stood to warm his hands at the blaze. Lighting a
cigarette, he began placing from a box of supplies plates and food on
the table in the middle of the room, but paused to reproduce his
flask. With a sardonic grin he lifted the bottle, bowed to Janet and
drank the liquor neat. When he had finished, he turned the bottle
upside down to show it was empty, then tossed it into a corner. Again
he fixed his drunken, mocking smile upon her.
"Can't preach to me about booze here, can you, honey?" he said. "Ought
to take a swallow yourself; warm you up. I have plenty. Guess I better
untie your hands now." He advanced towards her, swaying slightly.
"You're going to love me from this time on, ain't you, girlie?" He
untied the handkerchief and dropped it at his feet. "No nonsense now
about trying to get away; I'll rope you for good if you try to start
anything. Hello, what's that?"
"No; give it to me!" she cried, in alarm as he pulled the folded
sheets of paper from her stiffened fingers.
"Something I ought to see, maybe." Then he added harshly, "Sit down,
if you don't care to have me teach you a thing or two. I'm master
here."
He stepped to the table and drawing a box beside him settled upon it,
pulled the candle-stick nearer and began to read the document. Janet
glanced swiftly about the room for a weapon. Escape past him she could
not, for by a single spring he could bar the way; but could she lay
hand on a stick of wood she might fight her way out. None was nearer
than the fire, and again he could interpose.
He read on and on, with a darkening brow and an evil glint showing in
his eyes. Page by page he perused Saurez' deposition until he reached
the end. Then he got to his feet, shaking the paper at her head.
"You were in on this," he snarled. "This is what you were in Martinez'
office to get. You're wise to this cursed scheme to help Weir make my
father and Vorse and Burkhardt and Judge Gordon out a gang of
swindlers. So they trimmed _his_ father of something--at least I fancy
they did, and I hope to God they did, the coward! And you were in with
them! You're not quite the little white angel you'd have people
believe, are you? Not quite so innocent and simple as you've made me
think, anyway. Well, I'll square all that. That slippery snake,
Martinez, I'll twist his neck the minute I get back to town. I'll bet
a thousand it was framed up to use this when Weir was arrested--but
he'll never use it now!"
He glared at the girl with a face distorted by rage.
"We'll just burn it here and now," he continued. "Then we'll be sure
it won't be used."
Janet gripped her hands tightly, while her lips opened to utter a wild
protest at this desecration. What the document contained she did not
yet know, except that it was evidence that fixed upon the men named
guilt for some past deed in which Weir had suffered and which would
bring them to account. But something more than protest was needed, she
saw in a flash, to deflect the man from his purpose and save the
sheets from the flame.
She shut her lips for an instant to choke the cry, then said with an
assumption of unconcern:
"Go ahead. I didn't want your father to see it, in any case."
The paper had almost reached the candle, but the hand that held it
paused. Sorenson stared at it, and from it to her. At last a malignant
curl of his lips uncovered his teeth.
"Oh, you didn't want him to see it," he sneered. "If that's so, I'll
just save it. He'll be interested in reading what your friends have
prepared to destroy his good name and reputation."
He folded the document and slipped it into his inner coat pocket. Then
he walked towards her. At the look on his face Janet sprang to her
feet.
"I've changed my mind about the marriage matter, just as you did," he
said. "I agree with you now; there won't be any marriage. But I'll
have your arms about my neck just the same."
And he seized her wrist.
"Let me go, let----" The words ceased on her lips.
Her eyes were riveted on the cabin door; she scarcely felt the man's
loathsome touch on her arm. How had the door come unlatched? And was
it only the wind that slowly moved it open?