A BEWILDERING EXPERIENCE
When Louise Merrick entered the brown limousine, which she naturally
supposed to belong to Arthur Weldon, she had not the faintest suspicion
of any evil in her mind. Indeed, the girl was very happy this especial
evening, although tired with her duties at the Kermess. A climax in her
young life had arrived, and she greeted it joyously, believing she loved
Arthur well enough to become his wife.
Now that the engagement had been announced to their immediate circle of
friends she felt as proud and elated as any young girl has a right to be
under the circumstances.
Added to this pleasant event was the social triumph she and her cousins
had enjoyed at the Kermess, where Louise especially had met with rare
favor. The fashionable world had united in being most kind and
considerate to the dainty, attractive young _debutante_, and only Diana
had seemed to slight her. This was not surprising in view of the fact
that Diana evidently wanted Arthur for herself, and there was some
satisfaction in winning a lover who was elsewhere in prime demand. In
addition to all this the little dance that concluded the evening's
entertainment had been quite delightful, and all things conspired to put
Louise in a very contented frame of mind. Still fluttering with the
innocent excitements of the hour the girl went to join Arthur without a
fear of impending misfortune. She did not think of Charlie Mershone at
all. He had been annoying and impertinent, and she had rebuked him and
sent him away, cutting him out of her life altogether. Perhaps she ought
to have remembered that she had mildly flirted with Diana's cousin and
given him opportunity for the impassioned speeches she resented; but
Louise had a girlish idea that there was no harm in flirting,
considering it a feminine license. She saw young Mershone at the Kermess
that evening paying indifferent attentions to other women and ignoring
her, and was sincerely glad to have done with him for good and all.
She obeyed readily the man who asked her to be seated in the limousine.
Arthur would be with her in a minute, he said. When the door closed and
the car started she had an impulse to cry out but next moment controlled
it and imagined they were to pick up Mr. Weldon on some corner.
On and on they rolled, and still no evidence of the owner of the
limousine. What could it mean, Louise began to wonder. Had something
happened to Arthur, so that he had been forced to send her home alone?
As the disquieting thought came she tried to speak with the chauffeur,
but could not find the tube. The car was whirling along rapidly; the
night seemed very dark, only a few lights twinkled here and there
outside.
Suddenly the speed slackened. There was a momentary pause, and then the
machine slowly rolled upon a wooden platform. A bell clanged, there was
a whistle and the sound of revolving water-wheels. Louise decided they
must be upon a ferry-boat, and became alarmed for the first time.
The man in livery now opened the door, as if to reassure her.
"Where are we? Where is Mr. Weldon?" enquired the girl, almost
hysterically.
"He is on the boat, miss, and will be with you shortly now," replied the
man, very respectfully. "Mr. Weldon is very sorry to have annoyed you,
Miss Merrick, but says he will soon explain everything, so that you will
understand why he left you."
With this he quietly closed the door again, although Louise was eager to
ask a dozen more questions. Prominent was the query why they should be
on a ferry-boat instead of going directly home. She knew the hour must
be late.
But while these questions were revolving in her mind she still suspected
no plot against her liberty. She must perforce wait for Arthur to
explain his queer conduct; so she sat quietly enough in her place
awaiting his coming, while the ferry puffed steadily across the river to
the Jersey shore.
The stopping of the boat aroused Louise from her reflections. Arthur not
here yet? Voices were calling outside; vehicles were noisily leaving
their positions on the boat to clatter across the platforms. But there
was no sign of Arthur.
Again Louise tried to find the speaking tube. Then she made an endeavor
to open the door, although just then the car started with a jerk that
flung her back against the cushions.
The knowledge that she had been grossly deceived by her conductor at
last had the effect of arousing the girl to a sense of her danger.
Something must be wrong. Something _was_ decidedly wrong, and fear crept
into her heart. She pounded on the glass windows with all her strength,
and shouted as loudly as she could, but all to no avail.
Swiftly the limousine whirled over the dusky road and either her voice
could not be heard through the glass cage in which she was confined or
there was no one near who was willing to hear or to rescue her.
She now realized how wrong she had been to sit idly during the trip
across the ferry, where a score of passengers would gladly have assisted
her. How cunning her captors had been to lull her fears during that
critical period! Now, alas, it was too late to cry out, and she had no
idea where she was being taken or the reason of her going.
Presently it occurred to her that this was not Arthur's limousine at
all. There was no speaking tube for one thing. She leaned forward and
felt for the leathern pocket in which she kept a veil and her street
gloves. No pocket of any sort was to be found.
An unreasoning terror now possessed her. She knew not what to fear, yet
feared everything. She made another attempt to cry aloud for help and
then fell back unconscious on the cushions.
How long she lay in the faint she did not know. When she recovered the
limousine was still rattling forward at a brisk gait but bumping over
ruts in a manner that indicated a country road.
Through the curtains she could see little but the black night, although
there was a glow ahead cast by the searchlights of the car. Louise was
weak and unnerved. She had no energy to find a way to combat her fate,
if such a way were possible. A dim thought of smashing a window and
hurling herself through it gave her only a shudder of repulsion. She
lacked strength for such a desperate attempt.
On, on, on. Would the dreary journey never end? How long must she sit
and suffer before she could know her fate, or at least find some
explanation of the dreadful mystery of this wild midnight ride?
At last, when she had settled down to dull despair, the car came to a
paved road and began to move more slowly. It even stopped once or twice,
as if the driver was not sure of his way. But they kept moving,
nevertheless, and before long entered a driveway. There was another stop
now, and a long wait.
Louise lay dismally back upon the cushions, sobbing hysterically into
her dripping handkerchief. The door of her prison at last opened and a
light shone in upon her.
"Here we are, miss," said the man in uniform, still in quiet, respectful
tones. "Shall I assist you to alight?"
She started up eagerly, her courage returning with a bound. Stepping
unassisted to the ground she looked around her in bewilderment.
The car stood before the entrance to a modest country house. There was a
light in the hall and another upon the broad porch. Around the house a
mass of trees and shrubbery loomed dark and forbidding.
"Where am I?" demanded Louise, drawing back haughtily as the man
extended a hand toward her.
"At your destination, miss," was the answer. "Will you please enter?"
"No! Not until I have an explanation of this--this--singular,
high-handed proceeding," she replied, firmly.
Then she glanced at the house. The hall door had opened and a woman
stood peering anxiously at the scene outside.
With sudden resolve Louise sprang up the steps and approached her. Any
woman, she felt, in this emergency, was a welcome refuge.
"Who are you?" she asked eagerly, "and why have I been brought here?"
"_Mademoiselle_ will come inside, please," said the woman, with a
foreign accent. "It is cold in the night air, _N'est-ce-pas_?"
She turned to lead the way inside. While Louise hesitated to follow the
limousine started with a roar from its cylinders and disappeared down
the driveway, the two men going with it. The absence of the lamps
rendered the darkness around the solitary house rather uncanny. An
intense stillness prevailed except for the diminishing rattle of the
receding motor car. In the hall was a light and a woman.
Louise went in.