HER DOUBLE
"Two more shopping days before Christmas," Lucile read these words in the
paper on the following morning as she stepped into the elevator which was
to take her to a day of strenuous labor. She read them and sighed. Then,
of a sudden, she started and stared. The cause of this sudden change was
the elevator girl.
"Why, Florence!" she exclaimed half incredulous. "You here?"
"Sure. Why not?" smiled the big, athletic looking girl who handled the
elevator with skill.
"Well, I didn't know--"
"Didn't know I needed the money badly enough," laughed Florence. "Well, I
do. Seems that one is always running out of cash, especially when it
comes near to Christmas. I was getting short, so I came down here and
they gave me this job. Thought I could stand the rush I guess," she
smiled as she put one arm about her former chum in a bear-like embrace.
If you have read our other books, "The Cruise of the O'Moo" and "The
Secret Mark," you will remember that these two girls had been the best of
chums. But a great University is a place of many changes. Their paths had
crossed and then they had gone in diverging ways. Now they were more than
pleased to find that, for a time, they were employed in the same store.
"Speaking of Christmas," said Florence, "since I haven't any grand
Christmas surprises coming from other people, I've decided to buy myself
a surprise."
"How can you do that?" asked Lucile, a look of incredulity on her face.
"Why, you see----"
"Here's my floor. See you later." Lucile sprang from the elevator and was
away.
"It's nice to meet old friends," the elevator girl thought to herself as
she went speeding up the shaft, "especially when the holiday season is
near. I must try to see more of Lucile."
Running an elevator in a department store is a dull task. Little enough
adventure in that, you might say, except when your cable begins to slip
with a full load on board. But Florence was destined to come under the
spell of mystery and to experience thrilling adventure before her short
service as an elevator girl came to an end.
Mystery came leaping at her right out of the morning. She left her car in
the basement and went for a drink. She was gone but a second. When she
came back the elevator door was closed and the cage cables in motion.
"Gone!" she whispered. "I never heard of such a thing. Who could have
taken it?
"Might have been the engineer taking it for a testing trip," she thought
after a few seconds of deliberation. "But no, that doesn't seem probable.
He'd not be down this early. But who could it be? And why did they do
it?"
If the disappearance of her car had been startling, the thing she
witnessed three minutes later was many times more so.
With fast beating heart she saw the shadow of the car move down from
fifth floor to fourth, from fourth to third, then saw the car itself
cover the remaining distance to the basement.
Her knees trembled with excitement and fear as she watched the cage in
its final drop. The excitement was born of curiosity; the fear was that
this should mean the last of her position. She had never been discharged
and this gave her an unwonted dread of it.
The car came to a stop at the bottom. Three passengers got off and one
got on, and the car shot upward again. And Florence did nothing but stand
there and stare in astonishment!
Had she seen a ghost, a ghost of herself? What had happened? Her head was
in a whirl. The girl at the lever was herself. Broad shoulders, large
hands, round cheeks, blue eyes, brown hair, even to freckles that yielded
not to winters indoors. It was her own self, to the life.
"And yet," she reasoned, "here I am down here. What shall I do?"
As she faced the situation more calmly, she realized that the girl
driving her car must be her double, her perfect double. She remembered
reading somewhere that everyone in the world had a double. And here was
hers. But why had her double made up her hair in her exact fashion,
donned an elevator girl's uniform and taken her elevator from her?
"That is what I must find out," she told herself.
"There's no use making a scene by jumping in and demanding my cage," she
reasoned, after a moment's reflection. "I'll just get on as a passenger
and ride up with her."
There was something of a thrill in this affair. She was beginning to
enjoy it.
"It's--why, it's fairly mysterious," she breathed.
In spite of all, she found herself anticipating the next move in the
little drama. Driving an elevator was frightfully dull business. Going up
and down, up and down; answering innumerable questions all day long about
the location of silks, shoes, baby rattle, nutmeg graters, boxing gloves,
garters and fly-swatters--this was a dull task that tended to put one to
sleep. And often enough, after her noon luncheon, she actually had to
fight off sleep. But here, at last, was a touch of mystery, romance and
adventure.
"My double," she breathed. "I'll find out who she is and why she did
this, or die in the attempt."
Again the cage moved downward.
This time, as the last customer moved out of the door, she stepped in.
Moving to the back of the car, she stood breathlessly waiting for the
next move of her mysterious double.
The move did not come at once; in fact she had to wait there in the back
of the car a surprisingly long time. The girl at the lever--her
double--had poise, this was easy enough seen, and she had operated an
elevator before, too. She brought the cage to its position at each floor
with an exactness and precision that could but be admired.
The cage filled at the first floor. It began to empty at the third. By
the time they had reached the eleventh, only two passengers, beside
Florence, remained in the back of the car. Only employees went beyond the
eleventh; the floors above were stock rooms.
The girl at the lever threw back a fleeting glance. Florence thought she
was about to speak, but she did not.
The car went to the thirteenth landing. There two people got off and
three got on. Florence remained. The car dropped from floor to floor
until they were again in the basement. Once more the mysterious double
gave Florence a fleeting glance. She did not speak. Florence did not move
from her place in the corner. The car rose again. To Florence the
situation was growing tense, unbearable.
Again the car emptied. At the eleventh floor Florence found herself in
the car alone with her double. This gave her a strange, frightened
feeling, but she resolutely held her place.
"Say!" exclaimed the girl, turning about as the car moved slowly upward.
"Let me run your car, will you? Take my place, won't you? You won't have
a thing to do. It--it'll be a lark." As she said all this in a whisper
there was a tense eagerness on her face that Florence could not miss.
"But--but your car?" she managed to whisper back.
"Haven't any. Don't go on until to-morrow. Here's my locker key. Get--get
my coat and furs and hat out and wear them. Stay in the store--Book
Section and Rest Room. All you have to do.
"Only," she added as an afterthought, "if someone speaks to you, tells
you something, you say, 'Oh! All right.' Just like that. And if they ask
you what you said, you repeat. That's all you'll have to do."
"Oh, but I can't--"
"It isn't anything bad," the other girl put in hastily. There was a sort
of desperate eagerness about the tense lines of her face. They were
nearing the thirteenth floor. "Not a thing that's bad--nor--nor anything
you wouldn't gladly do yourself. I--I'll explain some time. On--only do
it, will you?"
They had reached the thirteenth floor. She pressed the key in Florence's
reluctant hand.
A tall man, with an arm load of socks in bundles, got on the car. He
looked at Florence. He looked at her double. Then he stared at both of
them. After that his large mouth spread apart in a broad grin as he
chuckled:
"Pretty good. Eh?"
Three minutes later Florence found herself in a kind of daze, standing at
the tenth floor landing, staring down at her steadily dropping car.
"Oh, well," she whispered, shaking herself out of her daze, "sort of a
lark, I suppose. No harm in it. Might as well have a half day off." With
that she turned and walked toward the locker room.
The coat and hat she took from the mysterious one's locker were very
plain and somewhat worn, not as good as her own. But the fur throw was a
thing to marvel at; a crossed fox, the real thing, no dyed imitation, and
so richly marked with gray that it might easily be taken for a silver
gray.
"Some strange little combination," she breathed as she threw the fur
about her neck and started once more for the elevator.
As a proof of the fact that she was carrying out her share of the
compact, she waited for her own elevator. The strange girl shot her a
quick smile as she entered and another as she got off on the third floor
where was the rest room and book section.
"Seems terribly queer to be walking around in another girl's clothes,"
she whispered to herself as she drifted aimlessly past rows of people
resting in leather cushioned chairs. "Especially when that other girl is
someone you've spoken to but once in your life. I wonder--I do wonder why
I did it?"
She meditated on this question until she had reached the book section.
"It was the look in her eyes; an eager, haunted look. She's all right,
I'd swear to that, and she's in some sort of trouble that's not all her
own fault. Trouble," she mused. "Part of our reason for being here in the
world is that we may help others out of trouble. I--I guess I'm glad I
did it."
Of this last she could not be sure. She had sometimes been mistaken, had
bestowed confidence and assistance on persons who were unworthy. Should
this girl prove to be such a person, then she might be helping her to get
away with some unlawful act. And she might lose her position, too.
"Oh well," she sighed at last, "it's done. I'll lose my memory of it here
among the books." To one who is possessed of a real love for books, it is
a simple task to forget all else in a room where there are thousands of
them. So completely did Florence forget that she soon lost all
consciousness of the role she was playing, and when a rough looking man
with a seafaring roll to his walk came marching toward her she could do
nothing but stare at him. And when he said, "Howdy Meg," she only stared
the harder.
"The train leaves at eleven thirty," he said, twisting his well worn cap
in his nervous fingers.
"The--the--" she hesitated. Then of a sudden the words of the girl came
back to her.
"Oh! All right," she said in as steady a tone as she could command.
"What say?" asked the man.
"I said 'Oh, all right.'"
"Right it is, then," he said and, turning about, disappeared behind a
pile of books.
With her head in a whirl, the girl stood and stared after him.
"The train leaves at eleven thirty," she whispered. It was a few minutes
past ten now. Should she go and tell the girl? She had not been
instructed in this regard. What sort of an affair was this she was
getting into, anyway? Was this girl hiding from her people, attempting to
run away? The man had looked rough enough, but he had looked honest, too.
She had wandered about the place in uncertainty for another half hour.
Then a kindly faced women, in a sort of uniform and a strange hat with
gold lettered "Seaman's Rest" on its band, accosted her.
"Why, Meg!" she exclaimed. "You still here? The train leaves at
eleven-thirty."
There it was again. This time she did not forget.
"Oh! All right!" she exclaimed and turning hurried away as if to make a
train.
An hour later, still very much puzzled and not a little worried, she
returned to the locker room, took off the borrowed clothes, gave the
wonderful fox fur a loving pat, deposited it with the coat and hat, then
locked the door.
After that she went to her own locker, put on her wraps preparatory to
going to lunch, then walked over to the elevator.
A moment's wait brought her car to her. The other girl was still
operating skillfully. Florence pressed the locker key into the girl's
hand and stepped to the back of the car. Five minutes later she found
herself in the crisp air of a midwinter day.
"And to think," she whispered to herself, "that I'd do that for a total
stranger."
As she ate her lunch a resolve, one of the strongest she had ever made,
formed itself in her mind. She would become acquainted with her
mysterious double and would learn her secret.
"The train leaves at eleven-thirty," she mused. "Well, wherever it might
have been going, it's gone." She glanced at the clock which read
twelve-fifteen.
And then, of a sudden, all thought of the other girl and her affairs was
blotted out by a resolve she had made that very morning. This was Friday.
Day after to-morrow was Christmas. She wanted a surprise on Christmas.
She had started to tell Lucile about it that morning, but while just in
the middle of the story the elevator had reached the Book Department and
Lucile had hurried away. Soon after came the strange experience of
meeting her double and Florence had quite forgotten all about it until
this very minute.
"Have to provide my own surprise," she said to herself, while thinking it
through. "But how am I to surprise myself?"
This had taken a great deal of thinking, but in the end she hit upon the
very thing. Her old travelling bag had gone completely to pieces on her
last trip. Her father had sent her fifteen dollars for the purchase of a
new one. She had the money still. She would buy a travelling bag with a
surprise in it.
Only a few days before, a friend had told her how this might be done.
Every great hotel has in its store room a great deal of baggage which no
one claims; such as hat boxes, trunks, bags and bundles. Someone leaves
his baggage as security for a bill. He does not return. Someone leaves
his trunk in storage. He too disappears. Someone dies. In time all this
baggage is sold at an auctioneer's place to the highest bidders. They
have all been sealed when placed in the store room, and here they are,
trunks, bundles and bags, all to be sold with "contents if any."
"With contents if any." Florence had read that sentence over many times
as she finished scanning the notice of an auction that was to be held
that very afternoon and night.
"With contents if any," that was where her surprise was to come in. She
would pick out a good bag that had a woman's name on it, or one that at
least looked as if a woman had owned it, and she would bid it in. Then
the bag would be hers, and the "contents if any." She thrilled at the
thought. Her friend had told of diamond rings, of gold watches, of a
string of pearls, of silks and satins and silver jewel boxes that had
come from these mysterious sealed bags and trunks.
"Of course," Florence assured herself, "there won't be anything like that
in my bag, but anyway there'll be a surprise. What fun it will be, on my
birthday, to turn the key to the bag and to peep inside.
"I know the afternoon is going to drag terribly. I do wish I could go
now," she sighed, "but I can't. I do hope they don't sell all the nice
bags before I get there."
With this she rose from the table, paid her check and went back to her
elevator, still wondering about her mysterious double and still dreaming
of her birthday surprise.