A Daring Escape
"Gertrude!" he cried, springing forward; and neither of them realized
that he was holding both her hands in his strong, eager clasp.
"Yes," she answered. "It is I."
"But what--where--where have you been?" stammered Allingham. "How did
you get here?"
"Through your back window," said Gertrude, "to answer the last question
first. The other needs a longer answer; but if you'll come with me I can
show you the place and get poor Mary out--for she is 'ill and in
prison.' But you'd better get help, for the place where we've been
confined is watched, I should say."
"I'll get Bailey. Please sit down and wait quietly." And Allingham led
her to his most comfortable chair. "I'll be back in two minutes." And he
went out, clicking the latch together after him.
"A prisoner again," said Gertrude to herself. "But this time a safe one,
thank God."
It was hardly sixty seconds before Allingham was around the corner and
entering the drug-store where Bailey had promised to be. He was there,
waiting.
"O, Bailey, she is safe. She is found. She is in my office," said
Allingham, in a low, rapid tone.
"Mary? Thank God!--where?" said Bailey.
"Mary?--no, Gertrude--Miss Van Deusen, I mean," he stammered,
wonderingly. "Mary Snow is still incarcerated somewhere about here. Come
quick. I'll telephone for the chief again. He cannot have got to bed
yet."
By this time they were upstairs and at Allingham's door, for they had
not done their talking standing still. Allingham produced his key. "We
must get them both home tonight," he said, and opened the door.
"O, Bailey!" cried Gertrude, coming forward impulsively. "I'm so glad
you've come."
And then Bailey answered, "O, Gertie," and throwing his arms around her,
kissed her affectionately on the brow. "O, Gertie, where have you been?
And where is Mary?"
"And how did you get here?" Allingham wanted to ask this question, but
the sight of that kiss had seemed to paralyze him. It was Bailey, then,
who had won her love--Bailey, on whom life showered every blessing, whom
all women loved, whom everybody admired. And he--what a fool he was!
So he only went to the telephone and called up the private residence of
the chief of police.
"Got in? I was afraid you'd gone to bed," he said. "Well, Miss Van
Deusen is in this office--what? Yes--I say, Miss Van Deusen is here.
Yes, in my office. How? I don't know myself yet. But we must get Miss
Snow at once. Come up quick. Can you get your men? Yes, all right. We'll
wait for you. Good-by."
"Hurry up, Jack," said Bailey. "Gertie's story's waiting for you. Now,
old girl, go ahead."
"Nice, respectful way to address your mayor," laughed Gertrude, to whom
the world had suddenly become a broader and brighter place than ever.
"Well, then here goes."
She began at the beginning of her story and told how she and Mary Snow
had set out for Newton Fitzgerald's sick bed; how they had been trapped,
and how the days had dragged in the flat.
"We wrote a score of notes on leaves torn from Mary's diary," she went
on, "and tucked them out of the top of the window and under the bottom
of the door. But nothing ever came of them."
Allingham handed her the slip of washed-out paper that still lay on his
desk.
"That floated in here this afternoon," he said. "It's the first clue
we've had."
"We've been searching this neighborhood tonight," added Bailey. "We'd
have got you tomorrow, sure."
"Then I wish I'd waited," said Gertrude. "Look at my hands." She held
them, palms out. They were all red and swollen. Allingham had an insane
desire to snatch and kiss them, but Bailey regarded them coolly enough.
"Rough on you, Gert. How did that happen?" he asked.
"Well, after trying every means we could think of to get some word to
the outside world, we decided to make our escape somehow. We tore up the
sheets and blankets and twisted them into a strong cable. This we
fastened securely to the kitchen pipes, and with our nail-files we
managed to saw away the copper netting that had been nailed across the
window frames, and then to pry up the lower sash. We had planned to come
down, both of us, on this, last night; but Mary was taken ill yesterday,
and I wouldn't come without her. Today she seemed worse instead of
better, and I came down for help."
"You came down that rope--yourself?" said Allingham.
"Yes--like any convict, escaping from state's prison," answered
Gertrude. "Of course I had no idea where I should land, nor into what
hands I might fall. I was sure we were watched, but believed only from
the front door--"
"Go on," said Bailey, impatiently. "Did you leave Mary alone in that
flat?"
"Of course," answered Gertrude. "What else was there to do? But instead
of landing in the enemy's camp, I found myself in the hands of a good
Samaritan." She smiled at Allingham, and his heart sang foolishly. "When
my feet struck bottom I found myself where I expected to be--at the
bottom of the light-well. I looked around me for some way of escape, and
saw an open window. I came through it--and here I am."
"Why don't that man come along?" said Bailey, impatiently--"with Mary
sick up there and alone--Oh, here he is;" and the chief of police
entered, eager to seize Miss Van Deusen's hand and hear her story of
the kidnaping and escape.
"Half a dozen men are waiting outside," he said, when she had told him
the main facts. "There is no need of wasting further time. Come."
They all filed out, Gertrude leading the way with Bailey, who assumed
the care of her with such an air of possession that Allingham's heart
sank again. It was but a few moments before they were ascending the
stairs of the apartment house--the elevator ceasing to run after one
o'clock. Gertrude led the way to the further end of the corridor. As
they approached it, the dark figure of a man skulked out of the shadow
and leapt through the open window.
"Quick! After him!" cried Bailey. "A man just went through that window."
Two of the policemen ran to the window and onto the fire-escape which
led down and out. But before they had reached it, the fleeing figure
had gone in at an open window on the fifth floor, and escaped, and
before the pursuers had discovered this, the pursued was downstairs, out
and on a trolley car, safely out of harm's way.
Upstairs Bailey was impatiently trying to ring the bell, and they were
shaking the door, trying to rouse Mary Snow. But she was lying in a dead
faint inside, having heard their approach and overtaxed her strength in
trying to reach the door.
"Break it," ordered the chief. It was but a moment before the half dozen
men had the door down, and they all walked in.
"O, Mary!" cried Gertrude. "She has fainted. Carry her in there," and
she pointed to the bedroom. Bailey was beside the prostrate girl in a
moment, and already had her in his arms. He followed Gertrude into the
adjoining room and laid her on the bed.
"Now, go out," commanded Gertrude, seeing that he still hung over her
secretary. "I must be alone with her a few minutes. I'll call you as
soon as she is able to see you."
He went reluctantly and joined the others in their examination of the
place. In the meantime, Gertrude administered simple restoratives to
Mary, and she was able to open her eyes.
"It's all right," cried Gertrude smilingly. "I reached safety and we're
going out the moment you're able. So hurry up, please."
"Where's Bailey?" was Mary's only reply.
"Just outside; I'll call him," answered Gertrude, wondering at this
reception of her news. But she stepped to the door and motioned to
Armstrong, who was hovering outside. He came in and closed the door.
"Mary!" he cried in a voice that Gertrude had never heard.
"Bailey!" Mary answered, reaching out both hands.
Then a great light dawned in Gertrude's mind. She went out softly--but
they did not even look to see what had become of her.