THE BROWN LIMOUSINE
The second evening of the society Kermess passed without unusual event
and proved very successful in attracting throngs of fashionable people
to participate in its pleasures.
Louise and her cousins were at their stations early, and the second
installment of Uncle John's flowers was even more splendid and profuse
than the first. It was not at all difficult to make sales, and the
little money drawer began to bulge with its generous receipts.
Many a gracious smile or nod or word was bestowed upon Miss Merrick by
the society folk; for these people had had time to consider the
accusation against her implied by Diana Von Taer's manner when the
pearls were discovered in the empty flower vase. Being rather impartial
judges--for Diana was not a popular favorite with her set--they decided
it was absurd to suppose a niece of wealthy old John Merrick would
descend to stealing any one's jewelry. Miss Merrick might have anything
her heart desired with-out pausing to count the cost, and moreover she
was credited with sufficient common sense to realize that the Von Taer
heirlooms might easily be recognized anywhere. So a little gossip
concerning the queer incident had turned the tide of opinion in Louise's
favor, and as she was a recent _debutante_ with a charming personality
all vied to assure her she was held blameless.
A vast coterie of the select hovered about the flower booth all the
evening, and the cousins joyously realized they had scored one of the
distinct successes of the Kermess. Arthur could not get very close to
Louise this evening; but he enjoyed her popularity and from his modest
retirement was able to exchange glances with her at intervals, and these
glances assured him he was seldom absent from her thoughts.
Aside from this, he had the pleasure of glowering ferociously upon
Charlie Mershone, who, failing to obtain recognition from Miss Merrick,
devoted himself to his cousin Diana, or at least lounged nonchalantly in
the neighborhood of the Hindoo Booth. Mershone was very quiet. There
was a speculative look upon his features that denoted an undercurrent
of thought.
Diana's face was as expressionless as ever. She well knew her action of
the previous evening had severed the cordial relations formerly existing
between her and Mr. Merrick's nieces, and determined to avoid the
possibility of a snub by keeping aloof from them. She greeted whoever
approached her station in her usual gracious and cultured manner, and
refrained from even glancing toward Louise.
Hedrik Von Taer appeared for an hour this evening. He quietly expressed
his satisfaction at the complete arrangements of the Kermess, chatted a
moment with his daughter, and then innocently marched over to the flower
booth and made a liberal purchase from each of the three girls.
Evidently the old gentleman had no inkling of the incident of the
previous evening, or that Diana was not still on good terms with the
young ladies she had personally introduced to society. His action amused
many who noted it, and Louise blushing but thoroughly self-possessed,
exchanged her greetings with Diana's father and thanked him heartily
for his purchase. Mr. Von Taer stared stonily at Charlie Mershone, but
did not speak to him.
Going out he met John Merrick, and the two men engaged in conversation
most cordially.
"You did the trick all right, Von Taer," said the little millionaire,
"and I'm much obliged, as you may suppose. You're not ashamed of my
three nieces, I take it?"
"Your nieces, Mr. Merrick, are very charming young women," was the
dignified reply. "They will grace any station in life to which they may
be called."
When the evening's entertainment came to an end Arthur Weldon took
Louise home in his new brown limousine, leaving Patsy and her father,
Uncle John and Beth to comfortably fill the Doyle motor car. Now that
the engagement of the young people had been announced and accepted by
their friends, it seemed very natural for them to prefer their own
society.
"What do you think of it, Uncle John, anyhow?" asked Patsy, as they
rode home. "It's all right, dear," he announced, with a sigh. "I hate
to see my girls take the matrimonial dive, but I guess they've got to
come to it, sooner or later."
"Later, for me," laughed Patsy.
"As for young Weldon," continued Mr. Merrick, reflectively, "he has some
mighty good points, as I found out long ago. Also he has some points
that need filing down. But I guess he'll average up with most young men,
and Louise seems to like him. So let's try to encourage 'em to be happy;
eh, my dears?"
"Louise," said Beth, slowly, "is no more perfect than Arthur. They both
have faults which time may eradicate, and as at present they are not
disposed to be hypercritical they ought to get along nicely together."
"If 't was me," said the Major, oracularly, "I'd never marry Weldon."
"He won't propose to you, Daddy dear," returned Patsy, mischievously;
"he prefers Louise."
"I decided long ago," said Uncle John, "that I'd never be allowed to
pick out the husbands for my three girls. Husbands are a matter of
taste, I guess, and a girl ought to know what sort she wants. If she
don't, and makes a mistake, that's _her_ look-out. So you can all choose
for yourselves, when the time comes, and I'll stand by you, my dears,
through thick and thin. If the husband won't play fair, you can always
bet your Uncle John will." "Oh, we know, that," said Patsy, simply;
and Beth added: "Of course, Uncle, dear."
Thursday evening, the third and last of the series, was after all the
banner night of the great Kermess. All the world of society was present
and such wares as remained unsold in the booths were quickly auctioned
off by several fashionable gentlemen with a talent for such brigandage.
Then, the national dances and songs having been given and received
enthusiastically, a grand ball wound up the occasion in the merriest
possible way.
Charlie Mershone was much in evidence this evening, as he had been
before; but he took no active part in the proceedings and refrained from
dancing, his pet amusement. Diana observed that he made frequent trips
downstairs, perhaps to the hotel offices. No one paid any attention to
his movements, except his cousin, and Miss Von Taer, watching him
intently, decided that underneath his calm exterior lurked a great deal
of suppressed excitement.
At last the crowd began to disperse. Uncle John and the Major took Beth
and Patsy away early, as soon as their booth was closed; but Louise
stayed for a final waltz or two with Arthur. She soon found, however,
that the evening's work and excitement had tired her, and asked to be
taken home.
"I'll go and get the limousine around," said Arthur. "That new chauffeur
is a stupid fellow. By the time you've managed in this jam to get your
wraps I shall be ready. Come down in the elevator and I'll meet you at
the Thirty-second street entrance."
As he reached the street a man--an ordinary servant, to judge from his
appearance--ran into him full tilt, and when they recoiled from the
impact the fellow with a muttered curse raised his fist and struck young
Weldon a powerful blow. Reeling backward, a natural anger seized Arthur,
who was inclined to be hot-headed, and he also struck out with his
fists, never pausing to consider that the more dignified act would be to
call the police.
The little spurt of fistcuffs was brief, but it gave Mershone, who stood
in the shadow of the door-way near by, time to whisper to a police
officer, who promptly seized the disputants and held them both in a
firm grip.
"What's all this?" he demanded, sternly.
"That drunken loafer assaulted me without cause" gasped Arthur, panting.
"It's a lie!" retorted the man, calmly; "he struck me first."
"Well, I arrest you both," said the officer.
"Arrest!" cried Arthur, indignantly; "why, confound it, man, I'm--"
"No talk!" was the stern command. "Come along and keep quiet."
As if the whole affair had been premeditated and prearranged a patrol
wagon at that instant backed to the curb and in spite of Arthur Weldon's
loud protests he was thrust inside with his assailant and at once driven
away at a rapid gait.
At the same moment a brown limousine drew up quietly before the
entrance.
Louise, appearing in the doorway in her opera cloak, stood hesitating on
the steps, peering into the street for Arthur. A man in livery
approached her.
"This way, please, Miss Merrick," he said. "Mr. Weldon begs you to be
seated in the limousine. He will join you in a moment."
With this he led the way to the car and held the door open, while the
girl, having no suspicion, entered and sank back wearily upon the seat.
Then the door abruptly slammed, and the man in livery leaped to the seat
beside the chauffeur and with a jerk the car darted away.
So sudden and astounding was this _denouement_ that Louise did not even
scream. Indeed, for the moment her wits were dazed.
And now Charlie Mershone stepped from his hiding place and with a
satirical smile entered the vestibule and looked at his watch. He found
he had time to show himself again at the Kermess, for a few moments,
before driving to the ferry to catch the train for East Orange.
Some one touched him on the arm.
"Very pretty, sir, and quite cleverly done," remarked a quiet voice.
Mershone started and glared at the speaker, a slender, unassuming man in
dark clothes.
"What do you mean, fellow?"
"I've been watching the comedy, sir, and I saw you were the star actor,
although you took care to keep hidden in the wings. That bruiser who
raised the row took his arrest very easily; I suppose you've arranged to
pay his fine, and he isn't worried. But the gentleman surely was in hard
luck pounded one minute and pinched the next. You arranged it very
cleverly, indeed."
Charlie was relieved that no mention was made of the abduction of
Louise. Had that incident escaped notice? He gave the man another sharp
look and turned away; but the gentle touch again restrained him.
"Not yet, please, Mr. Mershone."
"Who are you?" asked the other, scowling.
"The house detective. It's my business to watch things. So I noticed you
talking to the police officer; I also noticed the patrol wagon standing
on the opposite side of the street for nearly an hour--my report on that
will amuse them at headquarters, won't it? And I noticed you nod to the
bruiser, just as your victim came out."
"Let go of my arm, sir!"
"Do you prefer handcuffs? I arrest you. We'll run over to the station
and explain things."
"Do you know who I am?"
"Perfectly, Mr. Mershone. I believe I ran you in for less than this,
some two years ago. You gave the name of Ryder, then. Better take
another, to-night."
"If you're the house detective, why do you mix up in this affair?"
enquired Mershone, his anxiety showing in his tone.
"Your victim was a guest of the house."
"Not at all. He was merely attending the Kermess."
"That makes him our guest, sir. Are you ready?"
Mershone glanced around and then lowered his voice.
"It's all a little joke, my dear fellow," said he, "and you are liable
to spoil everything with your bungling. Here," drawing; a roll of bills
from his pocket, "don't let us waste any more time. I'm busy."
The man chuckled and waved aside the bribe.
"You certainly are, sir; you're _very_ busy, just now! But I think the
sergeant over at the station will give you some leisure. And listen, Mr.
Mershone: I've got it in for that policeman you fixed; he's a cheeky
individual and a new man. I'm inclined to think this night's work will
cost him his position. And the patrol, which I never can get when I want
it, seems under your direct management. These things have got to be
explained, and I need your help. Ready, sir?"
Mershone looked grave, but he was not wholly checkmated. Thank heaven
the bungling detective had missed the departure of Louise altogether.
Charlie's arrest at this critical juncture was most unfortunate, but
need not prove disastrous to his cleverly-laid plot. He decided it would
be best to go quietly with the "plain-clothes man."
Weldon had become nearly frantic in his demands to be released when
Mershone was ushered into the station. He started at seeing his enemy
and began to fear a thousand terrible, indefinite things, knowing how
unscrupulous Mershone was. But the Waldorf detective, who seemed
friendly with the police sergeant, made a clear, brief statement of the
facts he had observed. Mershone denied the accusation; the bruiser
denied it; the policeman and the driver of the patrol wagon likewise
stolidly denied it. Indeed, they had quite another story to tell.
But the sergeant acted on his own judgment. He locked up Mershone,
refusing bail. He suspended the policeman and the driver, pending
investigation. Then he released Arthur Weldon on his own recognisance,
the young man promising to call and testify when required.
The house detective and Arthur started back to the Waldorf together.
"Did you notice a young lady come to the entrance, soon after I was
driven away?" he asked, anxiously.
"A lady in a rose-colored opera cloak, sir?"
"Yes! yes!"
"Why, she got into a brown limousine and rode away." Arthur gave a
sigh of relief.
"Thank goodness that chauffeur had a grain of sense," said he. "I
wouldn't have given him credit for it. Anyway, I'm glad Miss Merrick is
safe."
"Huh!" grunted the detective, stopping short. "I begin to see this thing
in its true light. How stupid we've been!"
"In what way?" enquired Arthur, uneasily.
"Why did Mershone get you arrested, just at that moment?"
"Because he hated me, I suppose."
"Tell me, could he have any object in spiriting away that young lady--in
abducting her?" asked the detective.
"Could he?" cried Arthur, terrified and trembling. "He had every object
known to villainy. Come to the hotel! Let's hurry, man--let's fly!"