“I have come to the conclusion,” said Evan Pell, “that every man, no
matter what his vocation, should be a man of action. That is to say, he
should devote some attention and practice to those muscular and mental
activities which will serve him should some unexpected emergency arise.”
“Yes,” said Carmel.... “Yes.”
“I find myself with little or no equipment for strenuous adventure.
This, we must admit, proves itself to be a serious oversight.”
“Do you know how long we have been shut in this room?” Carmel demanded.
“I do. You were--er--propelled into this place at approximately
ten-thirty last night. It is now five o’clock to-day. Eighteen hours
and a half.”
“Nothing has happened--nothing!... We’ve been fed like animals in a
zoo.... I dozed fitfully during the night. We’ve talked and talked, and
waited--waited.... This waiting! Evan, I--it’s the waiting which is so
terrible.”
“There are,” said Evan, with self-accusation in his voice, “men who
would escape from this place. They would do it with seeming ease.
Undoubtedly there is a certain technique, but I do not possess it.
I--er--on an occasion I attended a showing of motion pictures.
There was an individual who--without the least apparent difficulty,
accomplished things to which escape from this room would be mere
child’s play.”
“To-night,” said Carmel, “the sheriff will come to this hotel, and find
us here.”
“What must you think of me?” Evan said, desperately. He turned in his
chair and stared through the window toward the woods which surrounded
the hotel upon three sides, his shoulders drooping with humiliation.
Carmel was at his side in an instant, her hands upon his shoulders.
“Evan!... Evan! You must not accuse yourself. No man could do anything.
You have done all--more than all--any man could do.... We--whatever
comes, we shall face it together.... I--I shall always be proud of you.”
“I--I want you to be proud of me. I--the man will be here with our food
in half an hour.... Would you mind standing at some distance?”
She withdrew, puzzled. Evan drew from his pocket the stocking with the
doorknob in its toe and studied it severely. “This,” said he, “is our
sole reliance. It has a most unpromising look. I have never seen an
implement less calculated to arouse hope.”
He edged his chair closer to the bed, grasped the top of the sock, and
scowled at a spot on the coverlid. He shook his head, reached for his
handkerchief, and, folding it neatly, laid it upon the spot at which he
had scowled.
“A--er--target,” he explained.
Then, drawing back his arm, he brought down the improvised slung-shot
with a thud upon the bed.
“Did I hit it?” he asked.
“I--I don’t think so.”
“I knew it.... It is an art requiring practice.”
Again and again he belabored the bed with his weapon, asking after each
blow if he had struck the mark. “I fancy,” he said, “I am becoming more
accomplished. I--er--am pretending it is a human head. I am endeavoring
to visualize it as the head of an individual obnoxious to me.”
“But why? What are you about?”
“I have heard it said that desperate situations demand desperate
remedies. I am about to become desperate. Do I look desperate?” He
turned to her hopefully.
“I--you look very determined.”
“It is, perhaps, the same thing. I _am_ very determined. I am
inexorable.... Please listen at the door. If he comes upon us before I
have time to make essential preparations, my desperation will be of no
avail.”
Carmel went to the door and listened while Evan continued to belabor
the bed. “Decidedly,” he panted, “I am becoming proficient. I hit it
ten times hand-running.”
“But----”
“Please, listen.... You see how impossible it is for me to escape. I am
unable to walk, much less to make satisfactory speed.... You, however,
are intact. Also, if one of us is found to be absent, this unspeakable
plan must fail. I am working upon a plan--a desperate plan--to make
possible the absence of one of us--namely, yourself.”
“Silly!... Do you think I would leave you here--for them to--to do what
they wanted to?”
“If you escape they will dare do nothing to me. That is clear.
Undoubtedly they will be chagrined, and at least one of their number
will be--in a position to require medical attention. I trust this will
be so. I should like to feel I have injured somebody. A latent savagery
is coming to the surface in me.”
“But what are you going to do?”
“I think I had best assume the position necessary to my plan,” he said.
“Would you mind helping me to the door?”
He hitched his chair along until it stood close to the wall at the side
of the door opposite from its hinges. Evan flattened himself against
the wall where it would be impossible for one entering the door to see
him until well within the room.
“There,” he said. “You, also, have your part.”
“What--what must I do?”
“He will be carrying a tray of dishes. If--events should so shape
themselves that he should drop this, a tremendous and alarming crash
would result. It would spell disaster. You, therefore, will be at the
door when the man opens it, and will reach for the tray. Be sure you
have it grasped firmly--and on no account--it matters not how startled
you may be at what follows--are you to drop it. Everything depends
upon that.”
“And then----”
“A great deal depends upon yourself. The unexpectedness of our attempt
will militate in our favor. Should matters eventuate as I expect,
you will be able to leave this room. From that instant I cannot help
you.... But, an attempt on our part not being expected, I rather
imagine you will be able to make your way downstairs and out of
doors.... It is only a chance, of course. It may fail, in which event
we will be no worse off than we are at present.... You will then hasten
to Gibeon and take such measures as you conceive to be adequate.”
“I shan’t leave you.... I shan’t, I shan’t, I shan’t.”
His lips compressed and an expression appeared upon his face which
she had never seen there before. It was masterful, an expression of
conscious force. It was the real man peering through its disguise. His
hand clenched into a fist.
“By Heavens!” he said, “you’ll do as you’re told.”
“Evan!”
“Precisely,” he said. “Now make ready.”
They waited, wordless. It was five minutes perhaps before heavy feet
ascended the stairs, and they heard the rattle of dishes as the man
set down his tray to unlock the door. He thrust it open with his foot,
picked up the tray and stepped through the opening. Carmel stood before
him. She stretched out her hands for the tray and grasped it.... As
she did so, Evan Pell, standing poised over his chair, swung forward
his homely weapon.... His practice had made for efficiency. The
doorknob thudded sickeningly upon the man’s bald head; he stood swaying
an instant, then his knees declined further to sustain his weight, and
he folded up into a limp heap on the floor.
“Pull him inside and shut the door,” Evan snapped. “I--er--find in
myself a certain adaptability.... Put on your wrap and hat. Hurry....
The front way. Keep out of sight. Can you drive a car?”
“Yes.”
“If one is standing in front--steal it.”
“Yes.”
“Now--go.”
“I--Oh, Evan.”
She was in his arms, and her lips to his. “I--If they kill you I shall
die, too.”
He opened the door and stared into the dimly lighted hall. “It is
clear. Go.”
“Good-by.”
“Go. You’re wasting time.” He pushed her through the door. “Our
best hope is that they--to my surprise--have underestimated me....
Good-by.... I--er--seem to have underestimated myself.... I seem to
have been--exceptionally inefficient in a field quite foreign to my
previous activities. Hasten.”
He shut the door and Carmel stood alone, dependent upon herself,
without other hope or reliance than in her own expedients. She moved
softly down the hall, reached the top of the stairs which led downward
to another hall and the front door. She listened. There was no alarming
sound.... She descended halfway and stopped again. The lower hall,
apparently, was in the middle of the house. To the left was the room
which had been the bar in the days when liquor might be sold openly; at
the right was the dining room. The door to the dining room was closed;
that into the bar stood open--and there was her danger. She must pass
that door without being seen. Once outside, the danger decreased almost
to a minimum. Could she reach the shelter of the woods, she felt she
would be safe.
She crept downward; reached the ground floor and flattened herself
against the wall. What if the front door should open and somebody
should enter?... She hesitated, then peered cautiously through the door
and into the bar.... As she did so she heard an automobile drive up in
front and stop.... In the bar she saw Peewee Bangs sitting, his feet on
a table, reading a newspaper.
Feet ascended the steps outside, and she cowered. A hand rattled the
knob, and she heard Bangs drop his feet to the floor, with the scrape
of his chair as he turned.... The door opened. Something, not conscious
volition, moved Carmel. As the door opened and a man stepped in, she
sprang forward, brushed past him, and ran down the steps. Behind her
she heard a shout--the squeaky voice of Peewee Bangs.... Before her
stood a Ford, its engine agitating the whole car, and she ran toward
it and threw herself into the seat. In an instant she had grasped the
wheel and adjusted her foot to the clutch.... Then she was conscious
of a jar, and out of the corner of her eye saw Bangs’s face, distorted
with rage, saw his hand reaching for her arm.... She screamed. Then her
hand, chance led, fell upon the seat, encountered a heavy wrench....
She lifted it, dashed it with all her strength into that inhuman
face.... It vanished.... The next thing of which she became clearly
conscious was of speed, of a rocking, bounding car.... She was free,
had escaped her pursuer, and was rushing with every ounce of power the
little car possessed toward Gibeon....
Was there a car to follow her? A larger, more powerful, faster
car?... She did not know. She glanced behind. There was nothing yet,
no pursuing headlight. Carmel gripped the wheel and threw down the
gas lever to its final notch.... Around corners, through puddles,
over patches rutted by heavy wheels, she forced the little car. It
rocked, skidded, threatened, but always righted itself and kept on
its way.... She looked behind again.... Headlights!... By this time
she must be half a mile or more from the hotel. It would be a good
car which could make up that lead in the short distance to Gibeon....
Yet, as she looked back from time to time, the headlights drew closer
and closer.... She could see straggling lights now--the fringe of
the village.... Would they dare follow her into the town itself?
She fancied not.... The bridge lay before her--and the pursuing car
roared not a hundred yards behind. She swept across the river and
sped down Main Street at a rate never witnessed before by that drowsy
thoroughfare.... She was safe.... Before her was the Town Hall--lighted
brightly.... She looked back. The pursuing car was not to be seen.
The town meeting! The citizens of Gibeon were there upon the town’s
business. She brought the car to a stop before the door, leaped
out, and ran up the stairs. The hall was crowded. On the platform
stood the chairman of the town board.... Carmel was conscious of
no embarrassment, only of the need for haste, of the necessity for
finding help. She entered the room and made her way up the aisle to
the platform. Without hesitating she mounted the steps, unconscious of
the craning of necks, the whisperings, the curiosity her arrival was
causing.
The chairman halted in his remarks. Carmel, in her excitement, ignored
him, almost shouldered him aside.
“Men--men of Gibeon,” she said, “crime is being committed, perhaps
murder is being done, at this minute.... What are you going to do?”