They had been gone more than an hour and the other members of the party
stared at them as though they were intruders. Two of the men, not too
befuddled by their potations to remember that they were leaving town
by a midnight train, were trying to convince Kemp that it was time to
go. Tommy was explaining elaborately that there were plenty of trains;
that if there was anything the city was proud of it was the frequency
with which trains departed for all points of the compass.
Irene in her disgust with Kemp for exceeding the limits she had fixed
for his indulgence in the prized champagne had retired to the kitchen
to talk to Jerry. Hearing Trenton’s voice expostulating with Tommy she
appeared, and announced that she was going home. One of the girls,
overcome by champagne had retired and Irene went upstairs to see what
could be done to restore her.
“Ask Jerry for some black coffee, Grace, that will fix her,” said Irene.
She confided to Grace her indignation at the young woman for not
behaving herself; she was disappointed in her. A girl, she declared,
shouldn’t go on a party if she hadn’t any more sense than to get drunk.
However, she ministered to the young woman effectively and kindly.
Trenton got the three visiting gentlemen and the young women who had
accompanied them into a machine and dispatched them to town and resumed
his efforts to persuade Kemp to go home. Kemp wished to discuss with
Trenton his business plans for the future. He wanted Trenton to promise
to move to Indianapolis immediately to assist him in the management of
his plant. Finding Trenton unwilling to commit himself Kemp fixed his
attention upon Irene. He became tearful as he talked of Irene. She was
the most beautiful girl in the world, and she had brightened his life;
he would always be grateful to her. And now that she had grown tired of
what he called their little arrangement, he wanted her to be happy. He
wished Trenton and Grace to bear witness that he bore no hard feeling
but wished her well. If at any time Irene needed help of any kind it
would break his heart if she didn’t appeal to him.
Finding that the others were impatient at the delay these deliverances
were causing he assumed an injured air and bade them take him home.
They didn’t love him; nobody loved him. When finally they got him out
to the big touring car he insisted that he would do the driving and
this called for a long argument before he was dissuaded. He refused
to enter the car at all until the others were settled in the back
seat. He guessed he knew the demands of hospitality! Craig roused his
ire by attempting to help him in and he waited till the chauffeur was
seated and ready to start before he would move. Then he adjusted one
of the disappearing seats, got in and began an ironical lecture on
the instability of friendship. Some of his remarks were amusing and
they encouraged him to go on feeling that so long as they manifested
interest he would not revive the question of driving to the various
points he had proposed as attractive places to run for breakfast. He
announced suddenly that he had always wanted to visit the Tippecanoe
Battle Ground and demanded an opinion from Craig as to how long it
would take to drive there. He was irritated because the chauffeur
professed not to know the route; he declared that he would get even
with Craig for lying to him.
He became quiet presently and Trenton tried to interest him in a
description of a mechanical stoker that had lately been put on the
market.
“I mus’ look into it,” said Kemp. “Awfu’ nice of you to tell me ’bout
it, Ward.”
Then before they knew what he was about he clutched the back of the
front seat and threw one leg over. He swayed toward the driver and to
steady himself grabbed the wheel.
Craig, believing Kemp wholly interested in Trenton’s talk, was caught
off guard. The car, which had been running swiftly over the smooth
road, swerved sharply and plunged into the deep drainage ditch that
paralleled the road. As the radiator struck the further side of
the ditch Kemp was thrown forward and his head crashed against the
windshield with terrific force.
The three passengers on the back seat were pitched violently to the
floor. Craig had shut off the motor instantly and jumped out, and when
Trenton joined him in the road he was tearing off the curtains.
“Get your flash, Craig,” Trenton said. But without waiting for the
light he thrust in his arms and lifted Kemp out. Irene and Grace
had crawled out and stood in the road clinging to each other and
hysterically demanding to know what had happened to Tommy.
Craig jerked out the seat cushions and Trenton laid Kemp upon them. The
flashlight showed Kemp’s face deathly white and smeared with blood.
Trenton was on his knees, his head against the stricken man’s heart. He
looked up with a startled awed look and shook his head.
“God!” he said under his breath.
“Oh, Ward! Not _that_!” faltered Irene, “Not----”
“No--No! We must keep our heads! Craig! What’s the quickest way of
getting help?”
“Ward--Oh, Tommy, Tommy!” cried Irene, dropping on her knees and taking
Kemp’s head in her arms.
“Don’t Irene--don’t!” moaned Grace helplessly.
“There’s a house a quarter of a mile ahead where I can telephone,”
Craig said. “I know the farmer; you can rely on him.”
“Just a minute,” said Trenton, looking at his watch. “There are things
to consider. We’ve got to think of Tommy first of all. Craig, I can
count on you----?”
“Yes, certainly, sir. I’m afraid it was my fault; I ought to have been
watching. But I thought----”
“You were no more to blame than I was. We can’t discuss that now. We’ve
got to take care of this in a way that will protect Tommy, and you
girls mustn’t figure in it at all.”
“We understand all that; we’ll do anything you say, Ward,” sobbed Irene.
“I’m trying to think of some one we can trust to help,” said Trenton.
“There will be many things to do immediately.”
“I wonder,” said Irene turning to Grace, “whether we could reach John
Moore.”
“There’s no one better!” Grace eagerly assented. “We could telephone
him at his boarding house.”
Trenton asked a few questions about Moore and began instructing Craig
as to the persons he was to call by telephone; first a physician, who
was also an intimate friend of the Kemps and two of Kemp’s neighbors,
well known to Trenton.
“Kemp and I had been to The Shack for dinner--alone--Jerry and the
cateress must be taken care of as to that. Tommy was driving home.
Something went wrong with the car and it ran off into the ditch. How
about that, Craig?”
“I wouldn’t say, Mr. Trenton, that Mr. Kemp was driving. The driver in
such accidents is seldom hurt. We’d better say the car simply struck a
stone and swerved.”
Craig hurriedly suggested possible explanations of a deflection that
would ditch a car at this point.
“Yes; that’s better,” Trenton agreed.
“If the young ladies could go into town on an interurban car that would
help,” said Craig. “It’s only a little way to a stop on the crossroad
back yonder. There’ll be a car passing at half-past twelve.”
These matters hastily determined, Craig hurried away, the quick patter
of his feet on the macadam suggesting the flight of a malevolent fate
that had struck its blow and was flying from the scene.
Tommy Kemp was dead. There was no question but that he had died
instantly, either from the violent blow on the head or from a failure
of the heart due to the shock of his precipitation against the
windshield.
No cars had passed since the accident, but as they were on a highway
Trenton urged Irene and Grace to go at once.
“You mustn’t be seen here. It’s horrible enough without having you
mixed up in it.”
Irene bent down and touched the quiet face, murmuring:
“It’s cruel to leave him like this! Poor boy! Poor dear Tommy!”