Almost immediately there were steps in the hall, and a man stood in the
doorway. He did not look unlike an ogre for he was short and fat and had
a round red face which was topped with a shock of grizzled hair and
bisected by a bristling grizzled mustache. Between the hair and the
mustache were two piercing blue eyes which seemed to bore right into
Granny and Rebecca Mary and Joan. Behind the short fat man were two tall
slim young men, who seemed very much surprised and pleased to find that
guests had arrived so unexpectedly. The short fat man looked angry as
well as surprised, and he showed no pleasure at all.
"My country!" he growled, still playing very realistically the role of
Father Bear. "Where did you come from? How the dickens did you get in?
And what the deuce do you want?"
Granny did not answer him because she never had been spoken to in quite
that tone and manner. Men always approached Mrs. Peter Simmons of Waloo
with courteous deference, and this isolated case of gruff rudeness left
her speechless. Rebecca Mary could not speak because a hot indignation
clutched her by the throat and made it impossible for her to utter a
word. It was Joan who mastered her tongue. She looked fearlessly up at
the frowning ogre and answered his last question to the best of her
knowledge.
"We want a young heart and a big payment on a memory insurance and my
daddy," she announced clearly and somewhat peremptorily, as if she were
accustomed to receive what she wanted.
If Joan had not mentioned her daddy the ogre would have thought they
were all three mad, but he could understand a daddy if he could not
comprehend a young heart or a big memory insurance payment.
"My country!" He breathed heavily and looked first at the young man at
his right shoulder and then at the young man at his left shoulder. But
they never looked at him at all. They were staring at Rebecca Mary in
her crumpled white frock and her pink sweater.
"How did you get in here?" demanded the ogre, and it was plain to each
one of them that he would have an answer, an intelligent answer, at once
or know the reason why.
Granny drew herself up and looked at him with cold disdain. She did not
like his manner, and as he wore big round glasses he must have seen that
she didn't.
"We don't know," she told him in a very frigid voice.
"Don't know?" he repeated, almost sure now that they were mad. Surely an
old woman and a young woman would know how they had entered a house if a
child didn't. He excused Joan on account of her age but he did not
excuse Granny nor Rebecca Mary. "You must know!" he told them with that
unpleasant dictatorial impatient voice, although the man at his right
touched his arm suggestively.
"Don't say 'must' to me!" Granny rather lost her temper. There is no
doubt that bad manners are contagious. "Where is Mr. Cabot? I will make
my explanation to him, although I think he owes me an apology." The ogre
might have been but a speck of dust on the threshold from the way she
looked beyond him.
"Mr. Cabot isn't here." The ogre's high and mighty manner began to slip
from him.
"This is his house," began Granny, as if a man were always to be found
at home.
"Not now----"
"He hasn't sold it?" Granny couldn't wait for him to put a period to his
sentence. "Joshua Cabot never would sell his great-grandfather's house."
She was so sure that he wouldn't that she stopped being indignant or
cold and was just frankly curious.
The ogre looked as if he were not sure that it was any of her business
what Joshua Cabot would do before he made a grudging explanation. "No,
Mr. Cabot hasn't sold Riverside, but he has turned it over to us. We are
making a very important experiment for the government and we cannot be
disturbed."
Granny's manner changed at once. It became quite friendly. "In that case
I shall tell you how we happened to disturb you." And she did tell them
that she and Rebecca Mary and Joan had left Waloo in their automobile
the night before and this morning they had found themselves in a shed at
Riverside. But she never said a word of Rebecca Mary's dream.
"But that's a ridiculous story," objected the ogre. He didn't believe a
word she had said, for he had his own reasons for being suspicious of
strangers at Riverside. "You must know who brought you here. Why should
any one bring you? How did you pass the guard at the gate?"
Granny looked at Rebecca Mary questioningly, but as Rebecca Mary only
seemed bewildered, she shrugged her shoulders. It was not for her to
explain the whys of other people. "I am Mrs. Peter Simmons of Waloo,"
she said with great dignity. "And people believe what I tell them."
"Mrs. Peter Simmons!" The ogre found it hard to believe that was who
Granny was. "My country!" he muttered under his breath. "Mrs. Peter
Simmons--of Waloo?" Granny nodded stiffly. "Mrs. Peter Simmons!" He
didn't seem able to make himself understand that she was Mrs. Peter
Simmons, and his voice grew more like the voice of a human being with
every word. "My country! Mrs. Simmons, of course. I don't doubt the
truth of what you say," he stumbled on, "but this is strange, very
strange. I can't understand why----" He stopped abruptly and no one said
a word. It was so very plain that he could not understand. "I am
surprised to see you, Mrs. Simmons." He made a fresh start, and no one
questioned the truth of that statement, either.
"Have you had your breakfast? Ben will make you some fresh----" His
voice choked again and he had to swallow hard before he could bring it
up from his boots. "I am Major Martingale of the engineer corps of the
United States Army," he announced explosively. That was the only fact he
was sure of just then, and he made the most of it.
Granny was not of the type which bears malice and the strawberries had
not conformed to her old-fashioned idea of what a breakfast should be
nor satisfied her appetite, so she accepted the white flag which he was
holding out so ungraciously.
"Thank you, we should like some toast and coffee and perhaps a fresh
egg. I rather think we ate your strawberries. We should have eaten the
rest of your breakfast if Ben had answered the bell."
"Ben went over to the farmhouse with a message to Erickson," ventured
the young man at the left of Major Martingale, glad to have a chance to
speak. "You didn't find any one to answer the bell, did you?" He seemed
quite grieved that he had not been there to answer it.
"Not a soul. It was most mysterious. I dare say it was all right but I
should never approve of leaving unlocked a house with as many valuable
things in it as this house has." Granny glanced around the room with its
many souvenirs of pioneer days. "The front door stood wide open. I am
sorry if we disturbed you, but if you will give us something more
substantial than strawberries to eat we will go on and leave you to your
experiment."
Major Martingale tugged at his mustache and looked at her in surprise.
"That's the trouble, you know," he rumbled. "You can't go on."
"Can't go!" Rebecca Mary found her tongue, and the men behind Major
Martingale smiled pleasantly. They liked Rebecca Mary's voice as soon as
they heard it. They thought it harmonized with her eyes. "Why can't we
go? Is there anything the matter with the car?" She wouldn't be
surprised if there was. She never had driven a car alone by moonlight
over a country road before. Perhaps she had done something to it.
"I don't know anything about your car," fussed Major Martingale
unhappily. "But you should have known, the guard at the gate could have
told you, that no one is allowed to enter Riverside now without a
permit, and no one who enters is allowed to leave. No one!" He exploded
again.
Granny and Rebecca Mary stared at him and then at each other. They
didn't believe him. It sounded too ridiculous.
[Illustration: "DO YOU MEAN TO TELL US THAT WE CAN'T GO?"]
"Do you mean to tell us that we can't go when it isn't our fault we're
here? We didn't mean to come here. We wanted to go to Seven Pines!"
exclaimed Rebecca Mary when she could speak, which wasn't for a full
second.
"I mean just that." Major Martingale's voice sounded as if it were made
from the best adamant and was warranted to withstand any pressure. It
would be useless to coax or to cry. "I told you we are making a most
important experiment here for the government." Surely they could
understand the government. "A most important experiment," he repeated,
swelling proudly. "One that will mean a great deal to the whole world.
Germany has heard something about it and has been trying, is still
trying, to get hold of the inventor and his idea. If she could it would
go a long way toward giving her back her place in the commercial world,
for it will be a vital necessity for every country. And we don't propose
to let Germany have it. That is why we came down here to work and why we
have a guard at the gate and why we forbid any one who comes here to go
away. German propaganda hasn't stopped. Any one who employs labor will
tell you that, and the socialists, the I. W. W. and the other agitators
are fighting a new war for Germany. We chose a few loyal workmen, men
whom we could absolutely trust, and brought them down here where they
can't be influenced and coaxed away by any agitator or German spy. You
are an American, I suppose, Mrs. Simmons, but your companions, what are
they?"
Granny was about to exclaim indignantly that they were Americans, too,
when she glanced at Joan. Just what was Joan? Joan answered for herself.
"I must be an American," she said slowly, "for I'm honest and brave and
true and free and equal. And that's what Americans are. My daddy said
so."
"And he's dead right," murmured the man behind Major Martingale's right
shoulder.
Major Martingale only snorted. "We shall try and make you comfortable as
long as you are here," he promised with a groan. "But you can see we
aren't going to take any chance of a leak. You'll have to stay until we
are through with our work."
"Fiddlesticks!" exclaimed Granny with more force than elegance. "We'll
finish our breakfast, and then I'll telephone to Joshua Cabot and ask
him if we can't go to Seven Pines."
"You can't use the telephone," Major Martingale told her sharply.
"Evidently you don't understand that Riverside is cut off from the world
at present."
Granny stopped on her way to the dining room. "Does he actually mean
that? Is he telling us the truth?" She appealed to the two young men,
but they only nodded their heads. "Mayn't I even telephone to my maid
for clothes?" Granny asked almost feebly.
"You may not." Major Martingale was glad that she was beginning to
understand. "You may give me any message, and if I consider it safe and
necessary I may send it on. While you are not actually prisoners you
can't leave Riverside, and you can't communicate with any one. It isn't
my fault," he added hurriedly. "I didn't bring you here. I don't want
you here! Mr. Simmons shouldn't have let you come!"
"Mr. Simmons doesn't know anything about it."
"He doesn't!" The major was all suspicion again. "I'll send him word.
I'll----"
Granny caught his sleeve. "No, you shan't send him word!" she exclaimed
quickly. "He'd--he'd laugh at us," she explained stumblingly, and a red
flush crept into her cheeks. "You see we started for our country place.
Mr. Simmons always said women couldn't be trusted and he'd tease us so.
Please don't tell him. We'll be model prisoners if you won't, won't we?"
She appealed to Rebecca Mary. "If you do tell him you may wish you had
never been born," she prophesied with a smile, but there was something
behind the smile which made Major Martingale mop his brow and look
unhappy.
"So long as you obey orders I'll keep still," he promised unwillingly.
"I can't say more than that. Mr. Marshall, will you see that these
ladies have breakfast. I can't waste any more time. I shan't wait for
breakfast. I've lost my appetite." And he waddled away before any one
could say a word.
Granny looked after him all ready to say several words if he would only
stay and listen to them, but as he never looked back, she dropped into
the nearest chair and laughed until the tears stood in her eyes. Rebecca
Mary was frightened and ran to her.
"There, there," she said soothingly. She was sure that Granny had
hysterics, and she did not know what to do for hysterics. She wished she
had taken the First Aid last winter when she had a chance. "It's all
right," she insisted, although she was not at all sure that it was all
right.
Granny pushed her away. "It's--it's----" she began, and stopped to wipe
the tears from her eyes. "Oh, my old heart!" And she put her hand to her
side and looked at them helplessly.
Joan ran to her. "Is your old heart getting younger, Granny?" she asked
anxiously.
Granny patted her cheek. "I expect that is it. My old heart is getting
younger. No wonder I have a queer feeling in it."
"Better have some coffee," suggested Mr. Marshall. He was young enough
to regard food as a panacea for every ill. He introduced them to Mr.
George Barton, an electrical engineer, and explained that he was an
engineer, too, a chemical one, before he persuaded Granny to return to
the dining room, where Ben brought fresh coffee and eggs and toast.
And while they ate their breakfast Mr. Marshall and Mr. Barton told them
that Major Martingale was quite right, most important things were being
done at Riverside.
"We're all here until the experiment is proved a success or a failure,"
went on Mr. Marshall. "It may be for a week and it may be for two
months. No one goes out but the Big Boss. He went away last night."
"What is this great experiment?" asked Rebecca Mary between two bites of
soft boiled egg.
"I'm sorry but we can't breathe a word about it. We scarcely speak of it
among ourselves," regretted Mr. Marshall. He looked as if he would be
glad to tell them if he only could. "The Major is right, old Germany is
moving heaven and earth to get it from us."
Granny sniffed. "H-m," she murmured. "And you think we are going to stay
here indefinitely while this Major Martingale--Major Cross would be a
better name--finds out whether he is a fool or a genius?"
George Barton laughed joyously. "That isn't exactly the way I'd state
it, but it's the way it is, isn't it, Wallie? You see the thing is
frightfully important. We're scared to death for fear the Germans may
get a hint. We all took an iron clad oath, but the Huns are so
devilishly clever you never can tell how or when they will reach your
workmen. It isn't so bad here. We don't have such worse times, good
quarters, fine eats, plenty to read, a victrola and a grand piano and
tennis. Do you play tennis?" he asked Rebecca Mary, who was staring at
him with big round eyes. She couldn't believe yet that it was true, that
she and Granny and Joan were prisoners in Riverside.
"You may call yourself prisoners if you wish," it almost seemed as if
Wallace Marshall had read her thoughts. "But we shall think of you as
honored guests. And, believe me, I'm glad you came," he said fervently.
"You've no idea how you will be appreciated."
Granny pushed back her chair and regarded him with a strange glance.
Evidently she did not care for his appreciation.
"Oh!" Rebecca Mary pushed back her chair, too. She did not know what she
feared Granny might do or say.
"Rebecca Mary," to her great relief Granny chuckled as she turned to
her, "did you ever hear of such a thing? I reckon I've managed to get
away from that question better than I planned. No one can come here to
ask me what I want for a jubilee present." And she laughed before she
turned to Wallie Marshall and George Barton. "We'll stay for a while,"
she went on quite as if she were at the seashore arranging dates with
the manager of a popular hotel instead of in prison talking to an
assistant jailer. "But you will have to finish your experiment by the
twentieth. I have an important engagement on the twenty-second. A very
important engagement. We can't stay a minute after the twentieth. And
Major Martingale will have to explain to Mrs. Swenson why we didn't come
to see Otillie's wedding things."