A COUNCIL OF WAR
They stared at each other a moment in bewilderment. It was Chester who
spoke first.
"Are you sure it was the little mam'selle?" he questioned. "Did it sound
like her voice?"
"Oh, it was Virginie! I'm absolutely certain of it. I'd know her voice a
thousand miles away. But what does it all mean? She says there is
danger—that both she and I are in danger, and she was trying to warn me
about it. But she spoke so low, and she hesitated so, and then, just as
she was going to tell me where she was, there was the click of the
receiver being hung up and not another word. What _does_ it mean?"
"It means," affirmed the boy, after some thought, "that the little un
was speakin' to you over the 'phone on the q.t., an' she was probably
scared stiff for fear she'd be caught, an' she had to leave off before
she'd finished because some one was comin' along or somethin'. That's
the way I figure it."
"I believe you're right!" declared Patricia. "That's just the way her
voice sounded—'scared stiff,' as you say. But what on earth are we going
to do? She's in danger and we don't even know where she is; and I'm in
danger and I'm here all alone, except for Mrs. Quale's Delia, who is
with me for to-night. It's dreadful. Just dreadful! I don't know which
way to turn. I'd call up the police and put the thing in their hands if
I dared. But I don't dare. It would spoil everything for Father if
anything about this secret became generally known, and I don't even
think I ought to speak to the hotel authorities for the same reason.
What _am_ I going to do?"
"Looka here, Miss," began Chet, quietly, "I believe we can fix things
pretty near to all right. If you'd just be willin' to trust the matter
to me. I know I'm only a bell-hop, but I know a whole heap more'n most
folks think I do; an' bein' only a bell-hop is the very reason I can go
and see an' do a lot that others couldn't, just cause nobody's
suspectin' I'm up to anything. Do you get me?"
"Y-yes," faltered Patricia. "I think I see what you're driving at and I
really trust you absolutely. But what is your idea? What do you think
had better be done?"
The boy seemed to grow an inch taller with pride at Patricia's assertion
of her faith and trust in him. His snub-nosed countenance fairly beamed.
"Well, here's my idea. I gotta go off duty pretty soon an' go home. I
oughtn't to be hangin' around here now. I'll get what-for down in the
office for bein' away so long, anyhow. But I don't care. All in the
day's work! Now, I figure it this way. There ain't anything dangerous
goin' to happen to you to-night in this here hotel. You're as safe as a
church here as long as you keep your door locked. If you feel nervous,
better sit up as long as you can, an' read or something. Then if you
should see or hear anything queer, call right down to the office on the
'phone. You'd have the house detective up here so quick it'd make you
blink.
"But I'll tell you what I'll do besides. I'll beat it home as fast as I
can (I don't live so very far off) an' let my mother know where I am.
Then I'll take my motor-cycle (the one I bought for thirty dollars an'
put in order an' it runs like a bird!) an' I'll cruise around all night.
An' every once in a while I'll turn up in the park right below your
windows an' hang around a while an' whistle, 'It's a long, long trail.'
You'll hear me plain enough, for you're only on the third floor. An' if
everything ain't goin' all right, pull the shade clean up to the top,
an' I'll know somethin's wrong an' butt in here an' make it hot for
every one generally."
"Oh, Chester, that's awfully good of you!" sighed Patricia, in mingled
admiration and relief. "It will make me feel lots easier. I know I can't
sleep a wink, so I might just as well sit up and try to read or sew.
I'll keep the lights full on, and I'll follow your advice about calling
up the office if I think everything's not all right. But it will be such
a comfort to know that you will be nearby once in a while. Only it
doesn't seem as if you ought to be up all night when you've got to work
to-morrow."
"Don't you mind about me!" he assured her. "To-morrow's my day off, an'
I don't have to show up here at all till ten-thirty P. M., when I go on
night duty. You know I have one day a week."
"But, Chester," cried Patricia, in fresh alarm, "then I shall be all
alone here to-morrow, for Mrs. Quale may not be back till night, and I'm
sure Father won't. I suppose I'm silly, but this thing is so dreadfully
mysterious and—and uncertain that I'm just as much afraid of it in the
daytime as I am at night."
"You just quit worryin' about to-morrow," admonished Chet. "I got a
scheme up my sleeve for to-morrow, but you'll hear more about that from
me later. All I say about to-morrow is this: go down to breakfast as
usual and as early as possible and ask for your mail at the desk before
you eat. Then we'll see what to do next."
"But," objected Patricia, once more, "what about poor little Virginie?
She is in danger too—and we don't even know where she is or what the
danger is. Yet I feel as if we ought to do something about it. It isn't
right to leave her, is it, without trying to do a thing—"
"You just leave the little mam'selle's affairs to me too, for to-night,
an' don't worry about 'em no further," interrupted the boy. "I ain't got
time to tell you all I plan to do, but you can bet your boots I ain't
goin' to be idle. Good night, an' don't forget to go to breakfast an'
get your mail _early_!"
And Chester Jackson retired, closing the door behind him.