MAN OR WOMAN.
Into the cab sprang the woman. Slam! the door closed behind her.
Crack!--the whip of the driver fell on the horses, and away went the
cab.
"Stop!" shouted Hodge.
Cabby did not heed the command.
Frank made a rush for another cab.
"Follow!" he cried, pointing toward the disappearing vehicle. "I will
give you five dollars--ten dollars--if you do not lose sight of that
cab!"
"In!" shouted the driver. "I'll earn that ten!"
In Frank plunged, jerking the door to behind him. The cab whirled from
the platform with a jerk. Away it flew.
"It will be worth twenty dollars to get a peep beneath that veil!"
muttered Frank Merriwell.
The windows were open. He looked out on one side. He could see nothing
of the cab they were pursuing. Back he dodged, and out he popped his
head on the other side.
"There it is!"
He felt that he was not mistaken. The fugitive cab was turning a corner
at that moment. They were after it closely.
Frank wondered where the woman could have been hidden on the train so
that she had escaped observation. He decided that she must have been in
one of the toilet rooms.
But what about the veiled man who was disguised as a woman? That man had
known Frank--had spoken his name.
It was a double mystery.
The pursuit of the cab continued some distance. At last the cab in
advance drew up in front of a hotel, and a man got out!
Merriwell had leaped to the ground, and cabby was down quite as swiftly,
saying:
"There, sir, I followed 'em. Ten plunks, please."
The door of the other cab had been closed, and the man was paying the
driver. He wore no overcoat, and carried no baggage.
"Fooled!" exclaimed Frank, in disappointment. "You have followed the
wrong cab, driver!"
"I followed the one you told me to follow," declared the driver.
"No; you made a mistake."
"Now, don't try that game on me!" growled the man. "It's your way of
attempting to get out of paying the tenner you promised."
"No; I shall pay you, for you did the best you could. It was not your
fault that you made a mistake in the mass of carriages at the depot."
"Didn't make no mistake," asserted the cabby, sullenly.
"Well, it's useless to argue over it," said Merry, as he gave the man
the promised ten dollars. "I am sure you made a mistake."
"Think I couldn't follow Bill Dover and his spotted nigh hawse?"
exploded the driver. "I couldn't have missed that hawse if I'd tried."
Frank saw one of the horses attached to the other cab was spotted. He
had noticed that peculiarity about one of the horses attached to the cab
the mysterious woman had entered.
"It's the same horse!" exclaimed Merry.
"'Course it is," nodded the driver.
The man had paid his fare and was carelessly sauntering into the hotel.
As he disappeared through the door-way, Frank sprang to the door of the
other cab, flung it wide open, and looked in, more than half expecting
to discover the woman still inside.
No woman was there!
Frank caught his breath in astonishment, and stood there, staring into
the empty cab.
"Hi, there! wot cher doin'?" called the man on the box.
Frank did not answer. He reached into the cab and felt on the floor. He
found something, brought it forth, looked at it amazed.
It was a woman's dress!
But where was the woman?
Garment after garment Frank lifted, discovering that all a woman's outer
wearing apparel lay on the floor of that cab.
"Vanished!" he muttered. "Disappeared--gone? What does it mean?"
Then he thought of the man who had left the cab and entered the hotel,
and he almost reeled.
"That was the woman!"
He had seen one woman change into a man on the train, and here was
another and no less startling metamorphosis.
"Driver," he cried, "didn't you take a person on in woman's clothes at
the station and let one off in man's clothes just now?"
"None of yer business!" came the coarse reply. "I knows enough not ter
answer questions when I'm paid ter keep still."
That was quite enough; the driver might as well have answered, for he
had satisfied Merriwell.
Frank was astonished by the remarkable change that the woman had made
while within the cab, but now he believed he understood why she had not
been detected while on the train. She had been able to make a change of
disguises in the toilet room, and had passed herself off as a man. Hodge
had looked for a veiled woman, and he had looked for a veiled woman; it
was not strange that both of them had failed to notice a person in
masculine attire who must have looked like a woman.
Up the hotel steps Frank leaped. He entered the office, he searched and
inquired. At last, he found out that a beardless man had entered by the
front door, but had simply passed through and left by a side door.
"Given me the slip," decided Frank. He realized that he had encountered
a remarkably clever woman.
And the mystery was deeper than ever.
Frank went to the hotel at which the company was to stop, and found all
save Wynne had arrived. Hodge was on the watch for Merry, and eagerly
inquired concerning his success in following the woman. Frank explained
how he had been tricked.
"Well, it's plain this unknown female is mighty slippery," said Bart.
"You have not seen the last of her."
"I am afraid there are some things about this double mystery which will
never be solved," admitted Frank. "For instance, the identity of the man
who fell into the river."
"We'll be dead lucky if we do not have trouble over that affair," said
Hodge.
"How do you mean?"
"Some fool is liable to swear out a warrant charging us with throwing
the unknown overboard."
"I thought of that," nodded Frank, "and that is why I took occasion on
the train to straighten out your story somewhat. It is always best,
Bart, to stick to the straight truth."
Hodge flushed and looked resentful, but plainly sought to repress his
feelings, as he said:
"I am not the only person in the world who believes the truth should not
be spoken at all times."
"If one cannot speak the truth," said Merry, quietly, "he had better
remain silent and say nothing at all, particularly in a case like this.
There is an old saying that 'the truth can afford to travel slowly, but
a lie must be on the jump all the time, or it will get caught.'"
"Well, I don't think this is any time to moralize," came a bit sharply
from Bart. "If we were to go into an argument, I rather think I could
show logically that a white lie is sometimes more commendable than the
truth."
"In shielding another, possibly," admitted Merry; "but never in
shielding the one who tells it. The more a person lies, the more he has
to lie, for it becomes necessary to tell one falsehood to cover up
another, and, after a while, the unfortunate individual finds himself so
ensnared in a network of fabrications that it is impossible for him to
clear himself. Then disaster comes."
"Oh, don't preach!" snapped Bart. "Let's go to your room and talk this
matter of the veiled woman over. There is trouble brewing for you, and
you must be prepared to meet it. Havener has registered for the company,
and all you have to do is call for your key."
So Frank and Bart went to the room of the former.
Puelbo had been well "papered." The work was done thoroughly, and every
board, every dead wall, and every available window flaunted the paper of
"True Blue."
The failure of "For Old Eli" was still fresh in the minds of the people
of the city, but neither had they forgotten Frank Merriwell's plucky
promise to bring the play back to that place and perform it successfully
there.
The newspapers of the place had given him their support, but Frank was
determined that extracts from the notices in the Denver papers should
reach the eyes of those who did not read the Puelbo papers closely. With
this end in view, he had the extracts printed on flyers, as small bills
are called, and the flyers were headed in startling type:
"Five Hundred Dollars Fine!"
To this he added:
"Each and every person who reads the following clippings
from Denver newspapers will be fined Five Hundred Dollars!"
It is needless to say that nearly every one who could read was careful
to read the clippings through to the end.
This manner of attracting attention was effective, even though it may
seem rather boyish in its conception.
His printing was done on the very night that he arrived in Puelbo, and
the flyers were scattered broadcast the following day.
He obtained the names of a large number of prominent citizens, to whom
he sent complimentary tickets, good for the first night's performance.
Frank was determined to have a house, even if it was made up principally
of deadheads.
On the occasion of his former visit to Puelbo he had received some free
advertising through Leslie Lawrence, who had circulated printed
accusations against him. He scarcely expected anything of the sort on
this occasion, and he was rather startled when, on the morning following
his arrival, he discovered that a circular had been scattered broadcast,
which seemed to be even more malicious than the former attempt upon him.
In this circular he was plainly charged with the murder of an unknown
woman shortly after leaving Denver, and it was said he had been aided in
the crime by Bartley Hodge.
Frank was calmly reading this bold accusation when Hodge came bursting
into the room in a manner that reminded Merry of his entrance under
similar circumstances on the former occasion.
Seeing the paper in Merry's hand, Bart hoarsely cried:
"So you've got it! Then you know about it! Well, now, sir, what do you
think of that?"
"Sit down, Hodge," said Frank, calmly. "You seem all out of breath. You
are excited."
"Excited!" shouted the dark-faced youth. "Well, isn't that enough to
excite a man of stone!"
"Do you mean this?"
"Yes, that! What in the name of creation do you suppose I meant?"
"I wasn't certain."
"Wasn't cert---- Oh, say; that's too much! What do you think? What are
you made of, anyway?"
"Now, my dear fellow, you must stop going on like this. You'll bring on
heart disease if you keep it up."
Hodge dropped down on a chair and stared at Merry.
"Well--I'll--be--blowed!" he gasped.
"You are nearly blowed now," said Frank. "You seem quite out of breath."
"Is it possible you have read that paper you hold in your hand?" asked
Bart, with forced calmness.
"Yes, I have read it."
"Well, I do not understand you yet! I thought I did, but I'm willing to
confess that I don't."
Then he jumped up, almost shouting:
"Why, man alive, don't you understand that we are charged with
murder--with murder?"
"Yes," said Frank, still unruffled, "it seems so by this."
"And you take it like that!"
"What is the use to take it differently?"
"Use? Use? Sometimes I think you haven't a drop of good, hot blood in
your body."
"If a person has plenty of good, hot blood, it is a good thing for him
to cool it off with good, cool brains. Hot blood is all right, but it
should be controlled; it should not control the man."
"I don't see how you can talk that way, under such circumstances. Why,
we may be arrested for murder any moment!"
"We shall not."
"Shall not?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because our unknown enemy does not dare come out into the open and make
the charge against us."
"What makes you think so?"
"This."
Frank held up the accusing paper.
"That?"
"Yes."
"Why should that make you think so?"
"If our enemy had intended to come out and make the charge against us
openly, this would not have appeared. It is simply an attempt to hurt us
from under cover, or to arouse others against us--against me, in
particular."
Bart could see there was logic in Merry's reasoning, but still he was
fearful of what might happen.
"Well, even you must acknowledge that the unknown enemy may succeed in
his purpose," said Hodge. "There were a number of persons who saw
something of the struggle on the train. This may arouse some of them, or
one of them, at least, to do something."
"It may."
"You confess that?"
"Yes."
"Didn't think you would."
"I don't believe it will. Hodge, I have a fancy that, in this case, same
as in the other, my enemy will overshoot the mark."
"How?"
"Something tells me that this warning, intended to turn suspicion
against me, will serve as an advertisement. Of course, it will be a most
unpleasant notoriety to have, but it may serve to bring people out to
see me."
Bart looked thoughtful.
"I never thought of that," he confessed, hesitatingly.
"I had far rather not had the notoriety," admitted Frank; "but that
can't be helped now. Let the people turn out to see 'True Blue.' Perhaps
I'll get a chance at my enemy later."
"The veiled woman----"
"Is in it, I fancy. I believe there was some connection between the
veiled woman and the veiled man--the one who plunged from the train into
the river."
"I have thought of that, but I've been unable to figure out what the
connection could be. Why was the man veiled and disguised thus?"
"So that I would not recognize him."
"Then, it must be that you would know him if you saw him face to face."
"As he knew me. He called me by name as he sprang upon me."
"Well, he's done for, but I believe the woman will prove the most
dangerous. Something tells me she was the real mover in this business."
"I fancy you are right, Hodge. At first, in Denver, I thought she had
been piqued by the manner in which I replied to her, but since all these
strange things have happened, I know it was more than a case of pique."
"When you make a woman your enemy, she is far more dangerous than a man,
for women are more reckless--less fearful of consequences."
"That's right," nodded Frank. "Women know they will not be punished to
the full extent of the law, no matter what they do. Juries are easily
hypnotized by pretty women. Where a woman and a man are connected in
committing a crime, and the woman is shown to be the prime mover, a jury
will let the woman off as easily as possible. A jury always hesitates
about condemning a woman to death, no matter if she has committed a most
fiendish murder. In the East, women adventuresses ply their nefarious
arts and work upon the sympathies of the juries so that, when called to
the bar, they are almost always acquitted. It is remarkable that men
should be so soft. It is not gallantry; it is softness. The very man who
would cry the loudest if he had been hit by an adventuress is the most
eager to acquit the woman in case he happens to be on the jury to
pronounce the verdict in her case."
"Well," said Hodge, "you are sound and level in that statement, Frank.
It's plain you do not think true chivalry consists of acquitting female
blackmailers and assassins."
"Don't let this little attempt to injure us frighten you, Hodge,"
advised Frank, rising. "I think it will miscarry entirely. We've got
plenty of work for to-day, and to-night I believe I shall be able to
tell beyond a doubt whether 'True Blue' is a success or a failure. I
think the test will come right here in Puelbo, where we met disaster
before."