Warburtons never cry out when they are frightened. Hang it!"--suddenly;
"this street doesn't look familiar. I ought to have reached Scott
Circle by this time. Ah! here's a broader street,"--going lickety-clip
into Vermont.
A glass went jingling to the pavement.
"Oho! Nancy will be jumping out the next thing. This will never do." He
began to draw in.
Hark! His trained trooper's ear heard other hoofs beating on the
iron-like surface of the pavement. Worriedly he turned his head. Five
blocks away there flashed under one of the arc-lights, only to
disappear in the shadow again, two mounted policemen.
"By George! it looks as if the girls were going to have their fun,
too!" He laughed, but there was a nervous catch in his voice. He hadn't
counted on any policeman taking part in the comedy. "Where the devil
_is_ Scott Circle, anyhow?"--fretfully. He tugged at the reins. "Best
draw up at the next corner. I'll be hanged if _I_ know where I am."
He braced himself, sawed with the reins, and presently the frightened
and somewhat wearied horses slowed down into a trot. This he finally
brought to a walk. One more pull, and they came to a stand. It would be
hard to say which breathed the heaviest, the man or the horses.
Warburton leaped from the box, opened the door and waited. He
recognized the necessity of finishing the play before the mounted
police arrived on the scene.
There was a commotion inside the carriage, then a woman in a crimson
cloak stepped (no, jumped!) out. Mr. Robert threw his arms around her
and kissed her cheek.
"You ... vile ... wretch!"
Warburton sprang back, his hands applied to his stinging face.
"You drunken wretch, how dare you!"
"Nan, it's only I--" he stammered.
"Nan!" exclaimed the young woman, as her companion joined her. The
light from the corner disclosed the speaker's wrathful features,
disdainful lips, palpitating nostrils, eyes darting terrible glances.
"Nan! Do you think, ruffian, that you are driving serving-maids?"
"Good Lord!" Warburton stepped back still farther; stepped back
speechless, benumbed, terror-struck. The woman he was gazing at was
anybody in the world but his sister Nancy!
VII
A POLICE AFFAIR
"Officers, arrest this fellow!" commanded the young woman. Her gesture
was Didoesque in its wrath.
"That we will, ma'am!" cried one of the policemen, flinging himself
from his horse. "So it's you, me gay buck? Thirty days fer you, an'
mebbe more. I didn't like yer looks from th' start. You're working some
kind of a trick. What complaint, ma'am?"
"Drunkenness and abduction,"--rubbing the burning spot on her cheek.
"That'll be rather serious. Ye'll have to appear against him in th'
mornin', ma'am."
"I certainly shall do so." She promptly gave her name, address and
telephone number.
"Bill, you drive th' ladies home an' I'll see this bucko to th'
station. Here, you!"--to Warburton, who was still dumb with
astonishment at the extraordinary denouement to his innocent joke. "Git
on that horse, an' lively, too, or I'll rap ye with th' club."
"It's all a mistake, officer--"
"Close yer face an' git on that horse. Y' can tell th' judge all that
in th' mornin'. _I_ ain't got no time t' listen. Bill, report just as
soon as ye see th' ladies home. Now, off with ye. Th' ladies'll be
wantin' somethin' t' quiet their nerves. Git on that horse, me frisky
groom; hustle!" Warburton mechanically climbed into the saddle. It
never occurred to him to parley, to say that he couldn't ride a horse.
The inventive cells of his usually fertile brain lay passive. "Now,"
went on the officer, mounting his own nag, "will ye go quietly? If ye
don't I'll plug ye in th' leg with a chunk o' lead. I won't stan' no
nonsense."
"What are you going to do with me?" asked Warburton, with a desperate
effort to collect his energies.
"Lock ye up; mebbe throw a pail of water on that overheated cocoanut of
yours."
"But if you'll only let me explain to you! It's all a joke; I got the
wrong carriage--"
"Marines, marines! D' ye think I was born yestiddy? Ye wanted th'
ladies' sparklers, or I'm a doughhead." The police are the same all
over the world; the original idea sticks to them, and truth in voice or
presence is but sign of deeper cunning and villainy. "Anyhow, ye can't
run around Washington like ye do in England, me cockney. Ye can't drive
more'n a hundred miles an hour on these pavements."
"But, I tell you--" Warburton, realizing where his escapade was about
to lead him, grew desperate. The ignominy of it! He would be the
laughing-stock of all the town on the morrow. The papers would teem
with it. "You'll find that you are making a great mistake. If you will
only take me to--Scott Circle--"
"Where ye have a pal with a gun, eh? Git ahead!" And the two made off
toward the west.
Once or twice the officer found himself admiring the easy seat of his
prisoner; and if the horse had been anything but a trained animal, he
would have worried some regarding the ultimate arrival at the
third-precinct.
Half a dozen times Warburton was of a mind to make a bolt for it, but
he did not dare trust the horse or his knowledge of the streets. He had
already two counts against him, disorderly conduct and abduction, and
he had no desire to add uselessly a third, that of resisting an
officer, which seems the greatest possible crime a man can commit and
escape hanging. Oh, for a mettlesome nag! There would be no
police-station for him, then. Police-station! Heavens, what should he
do? His brother, his sister; their dismay, their shame; not counting
that he himself would be laughed at from one end of the continent to
the other. What an ass he had made of himself! He wondered how much
money it would take to clear himself, and at the same moment
recollected that he hadn't a cent in his clothes. A sweat of terror
moistened his brow.
"What were ye up to, anyway?" asked the policeman. "What kind of booze
have ye been samplin'?"
"I've nothing to say."
"Ye speak clear enough. So much th' worse, if ye ain't drunk. Was ye
crazy t' ride like that? Ye might have killed th' women an' had a bill
of manslaughter brought against ye."
"I have nothing to say; it is all a mistake. I got the wrong number and
the wrong carriage."
"Th' devil ye did! An' where was ye goin' t' drive th' other carriage
at that thunderin' rate? It won't wash. His honor'll be stone-deaf when
ye tell him that. You're drunk, or have been."
"Not to-night."
"Well, I'd give me night off t' know what ye were up to. Don't ye know
nothin' about ordinances an' laws? An' I wouldn't mind havin' ye tell
me why ye threw yer arms around th' lady an' kissed her,"--shrewdly.
Warburton started in his saddle. He had forgotten all about that part
of the episode. His blood warmed suddenly and his cheeks burned. He had
kissed her, kissed her soundly, too, the most radiantly beautiful woman
in all the world. Why, come to think of it, it was easily worth a night
in jail. Yes, by George, he _had_ kissed her, kissed that blooming
cheek, and but for this policeman, would have forgotten! Whatever
happened to him, she wouldn't forget in a hurry. He laughed. The
policeman gazed at him in pained surprise.
"Well, ye seem t' take it good an' hearty."
"If you could only see the humor in it, my friend, you'd laugh, too."
"Oh, I would, hey? All I got t' say is that yer nerve gits me. An' ye
stand a pretty good show of bein' rounded up for more'n thirty days,
too. Well, ye've had yer joke; mebbe ye have th' price t' pay th'
fiddler. Turn here."
The rest of the ride was in silence, Warburton gazing callously ahead
and the officer watching him with a wary eye to observe any suggestive
movement. He couldn't make out this chap. There was something wrong,
some deep-dyed villainy--of this he hadn't the slightest doubt. It was
them high-toned swells that was the craftiest an' most daring. Handsome
is that handsome does. A quarter of an hour later they arrived at the
third precinct, where our jehu was registered for the night under the
name of James Osborne. He was hustled into a small cell and left to
himself.
He had kissed her! Glory of glories! He had pressed her to his very
heart, besides. After all, they couldn't do anything very serious to
him. They could not prove the charge of abduction. He stretched himself
on the cot, smiled, arranged his legs comfortably, wondered what she
was thinking of at this moment, and fell asleep. It was a sign of a
good constitution and a decently white conscience. And thus they found
him in the morning. They touched his arm, and he awoke with a smile,
the truest indication of a man's amiability. At first he was puzzled as
he looked blinkingly from his jailers to his surroundings and then back
at his jailers. Then it all returned to him, and he laughed. Now the
law, as represented and upheld by its petty officers, possesses a
dignity that is instantly ruffled by the sound of laughter from a
prisoner; and Mr. Robert was roughly told to shut up, and that he'd
soon laugh on the other side of his mouth.
"All right, officers, all right; only make allowances for a man who
sees the funny side of things." Warburton stood up and shook himself,
and picked up his white hat. They eyed him intelligently. In the
morning light the young fellow didn't appear to be such a rascal. It
was plainly evident that he had _not_ been drunk the preceding night;
for his eyes were not shot with red veins nor did his lips lack their
usual healthy moisture. The officer who had taken him in charge, being
a shrewd and trained observer, noted the white hands, soft and
well-kept. He shook his head.
"Look here, me lad, you're no groom, not by several years. Now, what
th' devil was ye up to, anyway?"
"I'm not saying a word, sir," smiled Warburton. "All I want to know is,
am I to have any breakfast? I shouldn't mind some peaches and cream or
grapes to start with, and a small steak and coffee."
"Ye wouldn't mind, hey?" mimicked the officer. "What d'ye think this
place is, th' Metropolitan Club? Ye'll have yer bacon an' coffee, an'
be glad t' git it. They'll feed ye in th' mess-room. Come along."
Warburton took his time over the coffee and bacon. He wanted to think
out a reasonable defense without unmasking himself. He was thinking how
he could get word to me, too. The "duffer" might prove a friend in need.
"Now where?" asked Warburton, wiping his mouth.
"T' th' court. It'll go hard with ye if ye're handed over t' th' grand
jury on th' charge of abduction. Ye'd better make a clean breast of it.
I'll speak a word for yer behavior."
"Aren't you a little curious?"
"It's a part of me business,"--gruffly.
"I'll have my say to the judge," said Warburton.
"That's yer own affair. Come."
Once outside, Warburton lost color and a large part of his nonchalance;
for an open patrol stood at the curb.
"Have I got to ride in that?"--disgustedly.
"As true as life; an' if ye make any disturbance, so much th' worse."
Warburton climbed in, his face red with shame and anger. He tied his
handkerchief around his chin and tilted his hat far down over his eyes.
"'Fraid of meetin' some of yer swell friends, hey? Ten t' one, yer a
swell an' was runnin' away with th' wrong woman. Mind, I have an eye on
ye."
The patrol rumbled over the asphalt on the way down-town. Warburton
buried his face in his hands. Several times they passed a cigar-store,
and his mouth watered for a good cigar, the taste of a clear Havana.
He entered the police-court, not lacking in curiosity. It was his first
experience with this arm of the civil law. He wasn't sure that he liked
it. It wasn't an inviting place with its bare benches and its motley,
tawdry throng. He was plumped into a seat between some ladies of
irregular habits, and the stale odor of intoxicants, mingling with
cheap perfumery, took away the edge of his curiosity.
"Hello, pretty boy; jag?" asked one of these faded beauties, in an
undertone. She nudged him with her elbow.
"No, sweetheart," he replied, smiling in spite of himself.
"Ah gowan! Been pinching some one's wad?"
"Nope!"
"What are you here for, then?"
"Having a good time without anybody's consent. If you will listen, you
will soon hear all about it."
"Silence there, on the bench!" bawled the clerk, whacking the desk.
"Say, Marie," whispered the woman to her nearest neighbor, "here's a
boy been selling his master's harness and got pinched."
"But look at the sweet things coming in, will you! Ain't they swell,
though?" whispered Marie, nodding a skinny feather toward the door.
Warburton glanced indifferently in the direction indicated, and
received a shock. Two women--and both wore very heavy black veils. The
smaller of the two inclined her body, and he was sure that her scrutiny
was for him. He saw her say something into the ear of the companion,
and repeat it to one of the court lawyers. The lawyer approached the
desk, and in his turn whispered a few words into the judge's ear. The
magistrate nodded. Warburton was conscious of a blush of shame. This
was a nice position for any respectable woman to see him in!
"James Osborne!" called the clerk.
An officer beckoned to James, and he made his way to the prisoner's
box. His honor looked him over coldly.
"Name?"
"James Osborne."
"Born here?"
"No."
"Say 'sir'."
"No, sir."
"Where were you born?"
"In New York State."
"How old are you? And don't forget to say 'sir' when you reply to my
questions."
"I am twenty-eight, sir."
"Married?"
"No, sir."
"How long have you been engaged as a groom?"
"Not very long, sir."
"How long?"
"Less than twenty-four hours, sir."
Surprise rippled over the faces of the audience on the benches.
"Humph! You are charged with disorderly conduct, reckless driving, and
attempted abduction. The last charge has been withdrawn, fortunately
for you, sir. Have you ever been up before?"
"Up, sir?"
"A prisoner in a police-court."
"No, sir."
"Twenty-five for reckless driving and ten for disorderly conduct; or
thirty days."
"Your Honor, the horses ran away."
"Yes, urged by your whip."
"I was not disorderly, sir."
"The officer declares that you had been drinking."
"Your Honor, I got the wrong carriage. My number was seventeen and I
answered to number seventy-one." He wondered if _she_ would believe
this statement.
"I suppose that fully explains why you made a race-track of one of our
main thoroughfares?"--sarcastically. "You were on the wrong carriage to
begin with."
"All I can say, sir, is that it was a mistake."
"The mistake came in when you left your carriage to get a drink. You
broke the law right then. Well, if a man makes mistakes, he must pay
for them, here or elsewhere. This mistake will cost you thirty-five."
"I haven't a penny in my clothes, sir."
"Officer, lock him up, and keep him locked up till the fine is paid. I
can not see my way to remit it Not another word,"--as Warburton started
to protest.
"Marie Johnson, Mabel Tynner, Belle Lisle!" cried the clerk.
The two veiled ladies left the court precipitately.
James, having been ushered into a cell, hurriedly called for pen and
ink and paper. At half after ten that morning the following note
reached me:
"Dear Chuck: Am in a devil of a scrape at the police-court. Tried to
play a joke on the girls last night by dressing up in the groom's
clothes. Got the wrong outfit, and was arrested. Bring thirty-five and
a suit of clothes the quickest ever. And, for mercy's sake, say nothing
to any one, least of all the folks. I have given the name of James
Osborne. Now, hustle. Bob."
I hustled.
VIII
ANOTHER SALAD IDEA
When they found him missing, his bed untouched, his hat and coat on the
rack, his inseparable walking-stick in the umbrella-stand, they were
mightily worried. They questioned Jane, but she knew nothing. Jack went
out to the stables; no news there. William, having driven the girls
home himself, dared say nothing. Then Jack wisely telephoned for me,
and I hurried over to the house.
"Maybe he hunted up some friends last night," I suggested.
"But here's his hat!" cried Nancy.
"Oh, he's all right; don't worry. I'll take a tour around the city.
I'll find him. He may be at one of the clubs."
Fortunately for Mr. James Osborne I returned home first, and there
found his note awaiting me. I was at the court by noon, armed with
thirty-five and a suit of clothes of my own. I found the clerk.
"A young man, dressed as a groom, and locked up overnight," I said
cautiously. "I wish to pay his fine."
"James Osborne?"
"Yes, that's the name; James Osborne,"--reaching down into my pocket.
"Fine's just been paid. We were about to release him. Here, officer,
show this gentleman to James Osborne's cell, and tell him to pack up
and get out."
So his fine was paid! Found the money in his clothes, doubtless. On the
way to the cells I wondered what the deuce the rascal had been doing to
get locked up overnight. I was vastly angry, but at the sight of him
all my anger melted into a prolonged shout of laughter.
"That's right; laugh, you old pirate! I wish you had been in my boots a
few hours ago. Lord!"
I laughed again.
"Have you got that thirty-five?" he asked.
"Why, your fine has been paid," I replied, rather surprised.
"And didn't you pay it?"
"Not I! The clerk told me that it had just been paid."
Warburton's jaw sank limply. "Just been paid?--Who the deuce could have
paid it, or known?"
"First, tell me what you've been up to."
He told me snatches of the exploit as he changed his clothes, and it
was a question which of us laughed the more. But he didn't say a word
about the stolen kiss, for which I think none the less of him.
"Who were the women?" I asked.
He looked at me for a space, as if deciding. Finally he made a negative
sign.
"Don't know who they were, eh?"--incredulously.
He shrugged, laughed, and drew on his shoes.
"I always knew that I was the jackass of the family, Chuck, but I never
expected to do it so well. Let's get out of this hole. I wonder who can
have paid that fine?... No, that would not be possible!"
"What would not be?"
"Nothing, nothing,"--laughing.
But I could see that his spirits had gone up several degrees.
"The whole thing is likely to be in the evening papers," I said. He
needed a little worrying. And I knew his horror of publicity.
"The newspapers? In the newspapers? Oh, I say, Chuck, can't you use
your influence to suppress the thing? Think of the girls."
"I'll do the best I can. And there's only one thing for you to do, and
that is to cut out of town till your beard has grown. It would serve
you right, however, if the reporters got the true facts."
"I'm for getting out of town, Chuck; and on the next train but one."
Here our conversation was interrupted by the entrance of a policeman.
"A note for _Mister_ Osborne,"--ironically. He tossed the letter to
Warburton and withdrew.
_Mister_ Osborne eagerly tore open an end of the envelope--a very
aristocratic envelope, as I could readily discern--and extracted the
letter. I closely watched his facial expressions. First, there was
interest, then surprise, to be succeeded by amusement and a certain
exultation. He slapped his thigh.
"By George, Chuck. I'll do it!"
"Do it? Now what?"
"Listen to this." He cleared his throat, sniffed of the faintly scented
paper and cleared his throat again. He looked up at me drolly.
"Well?" said I, impatiently. I was as eager to hear it as he had been
to read it. I believed that the mystery was about to be solved.
"'James Osborne, Sir: I have been thinking the matter over seriously,
and have come to the conclusion that there may have been a mistake.
Undoubtedly my groom was primarily to blame. I have discharged him for
neglecting his post of duty. I distinctly recall the manner in which
you handled the horses last night. It may be possible that they ran
away with you. However that may be, I find myself in need of a groom.
Your horsemanship saved us from a serious accident. If you will promise
to let whisky alone, besides bringing me a recommendation, and are
without engagement, call at the inclosed address this afternoon at
three o'clock. I should be willing to pay as much as forty dollars a
month. You would be expected to accompany me on my morning rides.'"
"She must have paid the fine," said I. "Well, it beats anything I ever
heard of. Had you arrested, and now wants to employ you! What name did
you say?" I asked carelessly.
"I didn't say any name, Chuck,"--smiling. "And I'm not going to give
any, you old duffer."
"And why not?"
"For the one and simple reason that I am going to accept the
position,"--with a coolness that staggered me.
"What?" I bawled.
"Sure as life, as the policeman said last night."
"You silly ass, you! Do you want to make the family a laughing-stock
all over town?" I was really angry.
"Neither the family nor the town will know anything about
it,"--imperturbably.
"But you will be recognized!" I remonstrated. "It's a clear case of
insanity, after what has just happened to you."
"I promise not to drink any whisky,"--soberly.
"Bob, you are fooling me."
"Not the littlest bit, Chuck. I've worn a beard for two years. No one
would recognize me. Besides, being a groom, no one would pay any
particular attention to me. Get the point?"
"But what under the sun is your object?" I demanded. "There's something
back of all this. It's not a simple lark like last night's."
"Perspicacious man!"--railingly. "Possibly you may be right. Chuck, you
know that I've just got to be doing something. I've been inactive too
long. I am ashamed to say that I should tire of the house in a week or
less. Change, change, of air, of place, of occupation; change--I must
have it. It's food and drink."
"You've met this woman before, somewhere."
"I neither acknowledge nor deny. It will be very novel. I shall be busy
from morning till night. Think of the fun of meeting persons whom you
know, but who do not know you. I wouldn't give up this chance for any
amount of money."
"Forty Dollars a month," said I, wrathfully.
"Cigar money,"--tranquilly.
"Look here, Bob; be reasonable. You can't go about as a groom in
Washington. If the newspapers ever get hold of it, you would be
disgraced. They wouldn't take you as a clerk in a third-rate consulate.
Supposing you should run into Jack or his wife or Nancy; do you think
they wouldn't know you at once?"
"I'll take the risk. I'd deny that I knew them; they'd tumble and leave
me alone. Chuck, I've got to do this. Some day you'll understand."
"But the woman's name, Bob; only her name."
"Oh, yes! And have you slide around and show me up within twenty-four
hours. No, I thank you. I am determined on this. You ought to know me
by this time. I never back down; it isn't in the blood. And when all is
said, where's the harm in this escapade? I can see none. It may not
last the day through."
"I trust not,"--savagely.
"I am determined upon answering this letter in person and finding out,
if possible, what induced her to pay my fine. Jackass or not, I'm going
to see the thing through." Then he stretched an appealing hand out
toward me, and said wheedlingly: "Chuck, give me your word to keep
perfectly quiet. I'll drop you a line once in a while, just to let you
know how I stand. I shall be at the house to-night. I'll find an
excuse. I'm to go up North on a hunting expedition; a hurry call. Do
you catch on?"
"I shall never be able to look Nancy in the face," I declared. "Come,
Bob; forget it. It sounds merry enough, but my word for it, you'll
regret it inside of twenty-four hours. You are a graduate of the
proudest military school in the world, and you are going to make a
groom of yourself!"
"I've already done that and been locked up overnight. You are wasting
your breath, Chuck."
"Well, hang you for a jackass, sure enough! I promise; but if you get
into any such scrape as this, you needn't send for me. I refuse to help
you again."
"I can't exactly see that you did. Let's get out. Got a cigar in your
pocket? I am positively dying for a smoke."
Suddenly a brilliant idea came to me.
"Did you know that Miss Annesley, the girl you saw on shipboard, is in
Washington and was at the embassy last night?"
"No! You don't say!" He was too clever for me. "When I get through with
this exploit, Nancy'll have to introduce me. Did you see her?"
"Yes, and talked to her. You see what you missed by not going last
night."
"Yes, I missed a good night's rest and a cold bath in the morning."
"Where shall I say you were last night?" I asked presently.
Mister James scratched his chin disconcertedly. "I hadn't thought of
that. Say that I met some of the boys and got mixed up in a little game
of poker."
"You left your hat on the rack and your cane in the stand. You are
supposed to have left the house without any hat."