An Unusual Ride
"We shall have to go back to the nearest farmhouse for help," said the
chauffeur who had driven Gertrude Van Deusen. "We cannot get the
machines apart without help. Can you stay here with him--alone?"
"Yes, yes, go on," she replied. "But first open his coat and get me his
handkerchief." She was sitting on the ground with Allingham's head in
her lap, staunching with her mouchoir the blood which flowed fast from a
cut on his forehead. "And hurry, for we must get him to a doctor as
quickly as possible."
A moment later she was alone in the beauty of the night, except for the
man who lay unconscious beside her. She folded her own handkerchief and
laid it on the wound and then arranged the larger one as a bandage. In
tying it around his forehead, her fingers came in contact with his
face--a white upturned face which appealed to her pity so deeply that
she stopped to smooth his wide brow, as if he were a suffering child.
Allingham awoke suddenly as if an electric current flowed suddenly
through his veins. His eyes opened, and gazing upward, he looked
straight into the clear face above him, which was, also, changed and
white in the moonlight. For a moment he did not recognize her. It was as
if their kindred spirits had met in clear space, away from all earthly
conditions. But in a moment, returning consciousness drew the veil
between them and he sat up, still clinging to her hand.
"You!" he cried, "and here? What has happened? Why are you here?"
"We are having our joint debate," she replied whimsically, her voice
betraying nothing of the tumult within. "But we are having it in an
unlooked for place and fashion. And you have the worst of it. Be
careful, please. Don't try to get up. The men have gone back for help.
Our affairs seem to be decidedly mixed; but never mind; we shall soon be
out of the woods--literally, I trust."
"How can you keep so calm?" said Allingham. "Most women would have gone
to pieces. Why aren't you in tears?"
"Perhaps to demonstrate my fitness for the mayoralty of Roma," she
replied with a touch of sarcasm. "There, the men are coming, with two
others."
It was the work of but a few moments to get one automobile righted
again, when it was found to be not seriously impaired; but the other
one was wrecked beyond possibility of help that night.
"You'll both have to go back to Roma in this one," said Gertrude's
chauffeur to Allingham.
"If you'll permit me?" queried Allingham to the young woman standing
erect in the shade of the whispering pines. "But if you would prefer, I
will stay at the farmhouse."
"No, no," answered Gertrude. "You must get back to the city and your
physician at once. That is, if you can endure the ride."
"O, I'm all right. I was stunned a little, that's all, and my forehead
seems to have been scratched quite a bit," said Allingham. "But come, if
we are to ride together, we must get in."
He helped her to her seat and got in himself, while the two men tucked
them in warmly and then climbed into the front seat. It was but a few
moments before they were on the road again, spinning towards the city
more than twenty miles away.
"Now, tell me," Allingham began, after making sure they were on the
return road, "how did you happen to be here? I am devoured with
curiosity."
"Don't you know--surely?" she returned.
"Know?--I? How should I?" was the answer in a tone that convinced the
young woman, for the time being, anyway.
"Why," she hesitated. "It looked suspicious--or at least--well, somebody
was behind it."
"You don't mean to say you were kidnaped, too," cried Allingham. "I seem
to see light ahead."
"I had just ordered my carriage to go to the hall and was all ready to
start," explained Gertrude, "when the automobile appeared, the
chauffeur saying he had been sent for me. I supposed the committee had
sent him--"
"Just as I supposed my committee had sent for me," interposed Allingham.
"Once in, and off, we came so fast I hardly realized anything until we
were out of town; and when I tried to open the door I couldn't, it was
fastened some way, on the outside; while as for making that automaton
hear--well!--"
"The same in my case," said Allingham. "I was locked in. I've been
attributing my ride to Bailey Armstrong's minions--and I presume you've
been giving mine the credit for yours; but we probably owe it to the
City Hall crowd. For Burke, I hear, is getting a good deal worried over
tomorrow's election. But here we are, alive and with reason to be
thankful."
"O, no, no," cried Gertrude, "think of that hall full of disappointed
people--of the friends who believe in our good faith--of how we have
failed to keep our promises. O, no, we cannot be thankful!"
"But think of the accident and of what might have happened in the
crash--and didn't," he answered. "And let us forget for the rest of the
ride, the political situation and that we are opposing candidates." To
tell the truth, John Allingham was still tingling from that electric
touch, although faint from loss of blood, and judging by the pale face
of his companion, he felt that neither could endure much more. Gertrude,
looking out of the cab-window at the river gleaming under the bright
moonlight, was suddenly reminded of a night she had once passed by the
Danube, and fell to talking of it.
Allingham, who had traveled much abroad, and had a keen memory, welcomed
the reminiscent mood, and the desultory conversation for the rest of
the way was such as might have been expected between two intelligent,
sympathetic acquaintances, thrown together during an idle hour.
It was long after twelve when they glided into Roma again. The hall had
been closed an hour before and the disappointed audience, after
listening impatiently to the extempore speakers who had tried to fill
the time until the principals in the joint debate should appear, had
gone home doubtful of the morrow.
The auto stopped outside the gate in front of Van Deusen Hall and one of
the chauffeurs, still muffled to the eyes, helped Gertrude to the
ground. John Allingham had stepped out first. But before he could
remonstrate with them for leaving a lady on the street alone and past
midnight, in fact, just as he was beginning to ask angrily, why they did
not drive in, the man slammed the door, jumped to his seat, and the cab
glided away.
"And we haven't the faintest idea who they are?" said Miss Van Deusen.
"They didn't have any number--"
"If it wasn't left with the wreck," answered Allingham, "and they were,
doubtless, too sharp for that. They have taken it off and hidden it. But
I shall have this thing looked into. A kidnaping affair like this can't
fail of discovery."
"But neither of us could describe the men," returned the young woman. "I
couldn't--could you? They were thoroughly disguised in their big coats
and caps; and mine did not speak, only that once."
"Nor mine, except at the wreck," said Allingham. "Nor do I know of an
electric cab in Roma. But nevertheless, you must go in."
He walked up to the door with her. The house was all alight, her cousin
waiting in the greatest alarm. For there had been much telephoning
around the city when the speakers failed to appear at the meeting, and
the utmost consternation had been felt at their disappearance.
Jessica Craig met her cousin with a sob, and a demand for explanations
in the same breath. But Gertrude was insisting that Allingham should
step in and rest, late as it was.
"He is hurt," she explained to her cousin. "He must have something done.
Telephone to Dr. Dean immediately, James."
It did not take much urging to induce her opponent to enter the
hospitable mansion, for he was now weak and faint. Once inside, the warm
atmosphere proved too much and he had to be helped to a sofa. Stimulants
were brought and administered, and Gertrude herself assisted in getting
him to the library to await the doctor.
When that functionary appeared he found a severe scalp wound and a pulse
which bounded so high that he ordered him to his own carriage, bearing
him off to the Allingham home as soon as he could apply the requisite
number of plasters and bandages to his head. An anxious mother and aunt
were already preparing to receive him as an invalid, the news of the
accident and of his return to Roma having been telephoned. But before he
went, he found a chance to murmur to Gertrude Van Deusen his thanks for
her flying of the flag of truce, and his appreciation of her kindness.
Feverish as he was, he half hoped she might win next day, whenever in
that long night, he recalled the look on her face, as she bent over him
in the moonlight.
As for Gertrude, she tossed through sleepless hours, after the
excitement had passed and everybody had gone home, thinking, thinking,
thinking.
"What a pity for him to feel as he does about women," she said to
herself. "A man full of all tenderness and chivalry at heart, he is
behind his age. I wonder how we would have met if I had never gone into
politics. I wonder if he would have liked me then, really?"