THE THREE GUARDIANS
The anti-climax had struck the Hotel Tirol some hours before it came
upon Brock and Miss Fowler. It seems that Githens had gone first to the
big hostelry in quest of light on the very puzzling dilemma in which he
found himself involved. Inquiries at the office only served to stir up a
grave commotion among the clerks and managers, all of whom vociferously
maintained that the hotel was entirely blameless if any deception had
been practised. The Tirol did not tolerate anything that savoured of the
scandalous; the Tirol was a respectable house; the Tirol was ever
careful, always rigid in the protection of its good name; and so on and
so forth at great length and with great precision. But Mr. Githens had
two officers with him, and he demanded the person of the man calling
himself Roxbury Medcroft. The principal bank in the city was also
represented in the company of investigators. Likewise there was a
laconic gentleman from the British office.
Mr. Medcroft was out. Then, they agreed, it was necessary to see Mrs.
Medcroft, or the lady representing herself to be such. Mr. Githens was
permitted to go to her rooms in company with the manager of the hotel.
What transpired in those rooms during the next fifteen minutes would be
quite impossible to narrate short of an entire volume. Edith promptly
collapsed. Subsequently she became hysterical. She begged for time, and,
getting it, proceeded to threaten every one with prosecution.
"I _am_ Mrs. Medcroft!" she declared piteously. "Where is the American
consul? I demand the American consul!"
"What has the American government to do with it?" gruffly demanded Mr.
Githens.
"Mr.--Mr.--the gentleman whom you accuse is an American citizen!" she
stammered.
"Oho! Then he is not an Englishman?"
"I refuse to answer your questions. You are impertinent. I ask you, sir,
as the manager of this hotel, to eject this man from my rooms." The
manager smiled blandly and did not eject the man.
"But, madam," he said, "we have a right to know who and what you are. If
Mr. Medcroft is in London, this gentleman surely cannot be he, the real
Mr. Medcroft. We must have an explanation."
"I'll--I will explain everything to-morrow. Oh, by the way, is there a
telegram for me in the office? There must be. I've been expecting it all
day. I telegraphed to London for it."
"There is no telegram down there, madam."
At this juncture Mr. Odell-Carney appeared on the scene, uninvited but
welcome.
"Wot's all this?" he demanded sternly. Everybody proceeded at once to
tell him. Somehow he got the drift of the story. "Get out--all of you!"
he said. "I stand sponsor for Mrs. Medcroft. She _is_ Mrs. Medcroft,
hang you, sir. If you come around here bothering her again, I'll have
the law upon you. The Medcrofts are English citizens and--"
"Oh, they are, are they?" sneered Mr. Githens, with a sinister chuckle.
"Who the devil are you, sir?"
"I'm from Scotland Yard."
"I thought so. You've proved it, 'pon my soul. I am Odell-Carney.
Daresay you've heard of me."
"I know you by sight, sir. But that--"
"Clever chap, by Jove! And there's no but about it. Mr.--Mr.--never mind
what it is. I don't want to know your name. Mrs. Medcroft, will you
permit me to send my wife up to you? Mr. Manager, I insist that you take
this c'nfended rabble down to the office and tell them to go to the
devil? Don't do it up here; do it down there."
After some further discussion and protest, the Scotland Yard man and his
party left the room to its distracted mistress. It may be well to
remark, for the sake of local colour, that Tootles was crying lustily,
while Raggles barked in spite of all that O'Brien could do to stop him.
Odell-Carney sent his wife to Edith. A few minutes later, as he was
making his way to the office, he came upon Mrs. Rodney and Katherine,
hurrying, white-faced, to their rooms.
"Oh, isn't it dreadful?" wailed the former, putting her clenched hands
to her temples.
"Isn't wot dreadful?" demanded he brutally.
"About Edith! They're going to arrest her."
"Not if I can help it, madam. Where is Mr. Rodney?"
"He hasn't anything to do with it! We're as innocent as children unborn.
It's all shocking to us. Mr. Rodney shouldn't be arrested. His
rectitude is without a flaw. For heaven's sake, don't implicate him.
He's--"
"Madam, I am not a policeman," said Odell-Carney with scathing dignity.
"I want your husband to aid me in hushing this c'nfended thing."
"He shan't do it! I won't permit him to be mixed up in it," almost
screamed Mrs. Rodney. "I've just heard that he isn't a husband at all.
It's atrocious!"
"Bless me, Mrs. Rodney," roared Odell-Carney, "then you oughtn't to be
living with him if he isn't your husband. You're as bad as-- Hi, look
out, there! Don't do that!" Mrs. Rodney had collapsed into her
daughter's arms, gasping for breath.
"She's all upset, Mr. Odell-Carney," said Katherine, shaking her mother
soundly. "It's just nerves. If you see papa, send him to us. We must
take the _first_ train for--for anywhere. Will you tell Mrs.
Odell-Carney that if she'll get ready at once, papa will see to the
tickets."
"Tickets? But, my dear young lady, we're not going anywhere. We're going
to stay here and see your cousin out of her troubles. My wife is with
her now."
He started away as Mr. Rodney came puffing up the stairs. Odell-Carney
changed his mind and waited.
"Where's Edith?" panted Mr. Rodney.
"Good heavens!" groaned his wife, lowering her voice because three
chambermaids were looking on from a near-by turn. "Don't mention that
creature's name. Just think what she's got us into. He isn't her
husband. Alfred, telephone for tickets on to-night's train. To-morrow
will be too late. I won't stay here another minute. Everybody in the
hotel is talking. We'll all be arrested."
But Mr. Rodney, for once, was the head of the family. He faced her
sternly.
"Go to your rooms, both of you. We'll stay here until this thing is
ended. I don't give a hang what she's done, I'm not going to desert
her."
"But--but he isn't her husband," gasped Mrs. Rodney, struck dumb by this
amazing rebellion.
"But she's your cousin, isn't she, madam?" he retorted with fierce
irony.
"I disown her!" wailed his wife, _sans raison_.
"Go to your rooms!" stormed pudgy Mr. Rodney. Then, as they slunk away,
he turned to the approving Odell-Carney, sticking out his chest a trifle
in his new-found authority. "I say, Carney, what's to be done next?"
The other looked at him for a moment as if in doubt. Then his face
cleared, and he took the little man's arm in his.
"We'll have a drink first and then see," he said.
As they were entering the buffet, a cheery voice accosted them from
behind. Freddie Ulstervelt came up, real distress in his face.
"I say, count me in on this. I'll buy, if I may. I've just heard the
news from the door porter. Bloody shame, isn't it? I had Mademoiselle Le
Brun over to hear the band concert--she is related to that painter
woman, by the way; I told Katherine she was. Say, gentlemen, we'll stand
by Mrs. Medcroft, won't we? Count me in. If it's anything that money can
square, I'm here with a letter of credit six figures long."
"Join us," said Odell-Carney warmly. "You're a good sort, after all."
They sat down at a table. Freddie stood between them, a hand on the
shoulder of each. Very seriously he was saying:
"I say, gentlemen, we can't abandon a woman at a time like this. We must
stand together. All true sports and black sheep _should_ stand together,
don't you know."
It is possible that Odell-Carney appreciated the subtlety of this
compliment. Not so Mr. Rodney.
"Sports? Black sheep? Upon my soul, sir, I don't understand you," he
mumbled. Mr. Rodney, although he hailed from Seattle, had never known
anything but a clean and unrumpled conscience.
Freddie clapped him jovially on the shoulder. "It's all right, Mr.
Rodney. I'll take your word for it. But if we are black sheep we shan't
be blackguards. We'll stand by the ship. What's to be done? Bail 'em
out?"
It is of record that the three gentlemen were closeted with the officers
and managers for an hour or more, but it is not clear that they
transacted anything that could seriously affect the situation.
Mrs. Medcroft, despite Mrs. Odell-Carney's friendly offices, refused
point blank to discuss the situation. She did not dare to do or say
anything as yet. Her husband had not telegraphed the word releasing her
from the sorry compact. She loyally decided to stand by the agreement,
no matter what the cost, until she received word from London that he had
triumphed or failed in his brave fight against the "bloodsuckers."
"I will explain to-morrow, dear Mrs. Odell-Carney," she pleaded. "Don't
press me now. Everything shall be all right. Oh, how I wish Constance
were here! She understands. But she's off listening to silly love talk
and doesn't even care what happens to me. Burton, will you be good
enough to spank Tootles if she doesn't stop that screaming?"
By nine o'clock that night every one was discussing the significant
disappearance of Constance Fowler and the fraudulent husband of Mrs.
Medcroft. Just as Mr. Odell-Carney was preparing to announce to the
unfortunate wife that the couple had eloped in the most cowardly
fashion, Miss Fowler herself appeared on the scene, dishevelled,
mud-spattered, and hot, but with a look of firm determination in her
face. She strode defiantly through the main hall, ignoring the curious
gaze of the loungers, whisking the skirt of her habit with disdainful
abandon as she passed on to the lift. A few moments later she burst in
upon her sister, a very angry young person indeed. The Odell-Carneys
were down the hall discussing her strange defection; it was with no
little relief that they saw her enter the room.
"Are we alone?" demanded Miss Fowler, not giving Edith time to proclaim
her joy at seeing her. "Well, I've arranged a way to get him out," she
went on, her lips set.
"Out?" murmured Mrs. Medcroft.
"Of course. We can't let him stay in there all night, Edith. How much
money have you? Hurry up, please! Don't stare!"
"In where? Who's in where?"
"He's in gaol!" with supreme scorn. "Haven't you heard?"
Mrs. Medcroft began to cry. "Mr. Brock in gaol? Good heavens, what shall
I do? I--I was depending on him so much. He ought to be here at this
very instant. What has he been doing?"
"Edith Medcroft, stop sniffling, and don't think of yourself for a
while. It will do you a great deal of good. Where's your money?"
Ruthlessly she began to rummage Edith's treasure trunk. The other came
to her assistance after a dazed interval. The family purse came to
light.
"I have a little over four thousand crowns," she murmured helplessly.
"Give it me, quick. There's no time to waste. I have about five
thousand. It's all in notes, thank heaven. It isn't quite enough, but
I'll try to make it do. Don't stop me, Edith. I haven't time to answer
questions. He's in gaol, didn't you hear me say? And I love him!"
"But the--the money? Is it to bail him out with?"
"Bail? No, my dear, it's to _buy_ him out with. 'Sh! Is there any one in
that room? Well, then, I'll tell you something." The heads of the two
sisters were quite close together. "He's in a cell at the--the
prison-hof, or whatever you call it in German. It's gaol in English. I
have arranged to bribe one of the gaolers--his guard. He will let him
escape for ten thousand crowns--we must do it, Edith! Then Mr. Brock
will ride over the Brenner Pass and catch a train somewhere, before his
escape is discovered. I expect to meet him in Paris day after to-morrow.
Have you heard from Roxbury?"
"No!" wailed Roxbury's wife.
"He's a brute!" stormed Miss Fowler.
"Constance!" flared Mrs. Medcroft, aghast at this sign of lese-majesty.
"Don't tell anybody," called Constance, as she banged the door behind
her.
Soon after midnight a closely veiled lady drove up to a street corner
adjacent to the city prison, a dolorous-looking building which loomed up
still and menacing just ahead. She alighted and, dismissing the cab,
strode off quickly into the side street. At a distant corner, in front
of a crowded eating-house, two spirited horses, saddled and in charge of
a grumbling stable-boy, champed noisily at their bits. The young woman
exchanged a few rapid sentences with the boy, and then returned in the
direction from which she came. A man stepped out of a doorway as she
neared the corner, accosting her with a stealthy deference that
proclaimed him to be anything but an unwelcome marauder.
The conversation which passed between the slender, nervous young woman
and this burly individual was carried on in very cautious tones,
accompanied by many quick and furtive glances in all directions, as if
both were in fear of observers. At last, after eager pleading on one
side and stolid expostulation on the other, a small package passed from
the hand of the young woman into the huge paw of the man. The latter
gave her a quick, cautious salute and hurried back toward the gaol.
The veiled young woman, very nervous and strangely agitated, made her
way back to the spot where the horses were standing. Making her way
through the cluster of small tables which lined the inner side of the
sidewalk, she found one unoccupied at the extreme end, a position which
commanded a view of the street down which she had just come.
Half an hour passed. Midnight revellers at the surrounding tables began
to take notice of this tall, elegant, nervous young woman with the
veiled face. It was plain to all of them that she was expecting someone;
naturally it would be a man, therefore a lover. Her nervousness grew as
the minutes lengthened into the hour. A clock in a tower near by struck
one. She was now staring with wide, eager eyes down the street, alertly
watching the approach of anyone who came from that direction. Twice she
half arose and started forward with a quick sigh of relief, only to sink
back again dejectedly upon discovering that she had been mistaken in the
identity of a newcomer.
Half-past one, then two o'clock. The merry-makers were thinning out; she
was quite alone at her end of the place. By this time a close observer
might have noticed that she was trembling violently; there was an air of
abject fear and despair in her manner.
Why did he not come? What had happened? Had the plot failed? Was he even
now lying wounded unto death as the result of his effort to escape
captivity? A hundred horrid thoughts raced through her throbbing,
overwrought brain. He should have been with her two hours ago--he should
now be far on his way to freedom. Alas, something appalling had
happened, she was sure of it.
At last there hove in sight, coming from the direction in which lay the
prison, a group of three men. It was a jaunty party, evidently under the
influence of many libations. They came with arms linked, with dignified
but unsteady gait, their hats well back on their heads. In the middle
was a very tall man, flanked on one side by a very short fat one, on the
other by a slender youth who wanted to sing.
She recognised them and would have drawn back to a less exposed spot,
but the slender youth saw her before she could do so. He shouted to his
companions as if they were two blocks away.
"There she is! Hooray!"
They bore down upon her. The next instant they were solemnly shaking
hands with her, much to her dismay.
"Cons'ance, we've been lookin' f-fer you ever'-where in town. W-where on
earth 've you been?" asked Mr. Rodney thickly, with a laudable attempt
at severity.
"Ever sinch 'leven o'clock, Conshance," supplemented Freddie, trying to
frown.
"My dear Miss F-Fowler," began Odell-Carney in, his most suave manner,
"it is after two o'clock. In--in the morning at that. You--you shouldn't
be sittin' here all 'lone thish--this hour in the morning. Please come
home with us. Your mother hash--has ask us to fetch you--I mean your
sister. Beg pardon."
"I--I cannot go, gentlemen," she stammered. "Please don't insist--please
don't ask why. I cannot go--"
"I shay, Conshance, by Jove, the joke's on you," exclaimed Freddie. "I
know who 't ish you're waitin' f-for. Well, he can't come. He's locked
in."
"Freddie, you are drunk!" in deep scorn.
"I know it," he admitted cheerfully. "We've looked ever'where for you.
We're your frien's. He said it was at 'n eatin'-house. We've been ever'
eatin'-house in Inchbrook. Was here first of all. Leave it to Rodney.
Wassen we, Rodney? You bet we was. You wassen here at 'leven o'clock.
Come on home, Conshance. 'S all right. He's safe. He can't come."
"But he will come, unless something terrible has happened to him," she
almost sobbed in her desperation. "Cousin Alfred, _won't_ you go to the
gaol and see what has happened?"
Mr. Rodney took off his hat gallantly and would have gone to do her
bidding had not Mr. Odell-Carney laid a restraining grip upon his
shoulder.
"Let me explain, Miss F-Fowler. You shee--see, he told us you'd be here,
but, hang it all, you wassen here wh-when we came. Never give up, says I
to my frien's. We'll search till doomshday. I knew we'd find you if we
kep' on searching. Thash jus' wot I said to Roddy, didn' I, Roddy? We
mush have overlokked yo' when we were here at 'leven."
"I was not here at eleven," she cried breathlessly.
"Thash jus' what I tol' 'em," insisted Freddie triumphantly. "I saysh:
'What's use lookin' here? She--she isn't on top of any these tables,'
an' I--I knew you wassen unner 'em. You ain't--"
"Permit me," interrupted Odell-Carney with grave dignity. "Your friend,
Miss Fowler, is not in gaol. He is out--"
"Not in gaol!" she almost shrieked. "I knew it! I knew it could not go
wrong. But where is he?"
"He's out on bail. We bailed him out at half-past ten--Wot!" She had
leaped to her feet with a short scream and was clutching his arm
frantically.
"On bail? At half-past ten? Good heavens, then--then--oh, are you sure?"
"Poshtive, abs'lutely."
"Then what has become of my nine thousand crowns?"
"You c'n search me, Conshance," murmured Freddie.
"I don' know what you 're talkin' 'bout, Cons'ance," said Mr. Rodney in
a very hurt tone. "We--we put up security f'r five thous'n dollars,
that's what we did. This is all the thanks we getsh for it. Ungrachful!"
Constance had been thinking very hard, paying no heed to his maudlin
defence. It rapidly was dawning upon her that these men had secured her
lover's release on bail at half-past ten o'clock, an hour and a half
before she had given her bribe of nine thousand crowns to the gaoler.
That being the case, it was becoming clear to her that the wretch
deliberately had taken the money, knowing that Brock was not in the
prison, and with the plain design to rob her of the amount. It was a
transaction in which he could be perfectly secure; bribing of public
officials is a solemn offence in Austria and Germany. She could have no
recourse, could make no complaint. Her money was gone!
"Where is Mr. Br--Mr. Medcroft?" she demanded, her voice full of
anxiety. If he were out of gaol, why had he failed to come to the
meeting-place?
"He's locked in," persisted Freddie.
"That's just it, Miss Fowler," explained Odell-Carney glibly. "You
shee--see, it was this way: we got him out on bail on condition he'd
'pear to-morrow morning 'fore the magistrate. Affer we'd got him out, he
insisted on coming 'round here so's he could run away with you. That
wassen a gennelmanly thing to do, affer we'd put up our money. We
coul'n' afford have him runnin' away with you. So we had him locked in a
room on top floor of the hotel, where he can't get out 'n' leave us to
hold the bag, don't you see. He almos' cried an' said you'd be waitin'
at the church or--or something like that bally song, don't you know, an'
as a lash reshort, to keep him quiet like a good ferrer--feller, we said
we'd come an' get you an' 'splain everything saffis--sasfac--ahem!
sassisfac'rly."
She looked at then with burning eyes. Slow rage was coming to the
flaming point; And for this she had sat and suffered for hours in a
street restaurant! For this! Her eyes fell upon the limp horses and the
dejected stable-boy. Two hours!
"You will release him at once!" she stormed. "Do you hear? It is
outrageous!"
Without another word to the dazed trio, she rushed to the curb and
commanded the boy to assist her into the saddle. He did so, in stupid
amazement. Then she instructed him to mount and follow her to the Tirol
as fast as he could ride. The horses were tearing off in the darkness a
moment later.
The three guardians stood speechless until the clatter died away in the
distance. Then Mr. Rodney pulled himself together with an effort and
groaned in abject horror.
"By thunner, the damn girl is stealin' somebody's horshes!"