THE MAN IN GRAY
"I know of an odd old custom which might prove interesting," said Laurie
as the three of them walked arm in arm along the boulevard. "I've
forgotten to what little out of the way corner of the world it belongs,
but anyway, in the villages of that land, sometime near to midnight, on
Christmas Eve, friends gather about small tables in their taverns and
over the festive board talk of the year that is gone. The strange part is
this: Just to make it a clearing up time of unsolved problems, each
member of the group may select one other member of that group and may ask
him three questions. Each member is pledged to answer all three questions
frankly and truthfully."
"Oh!" exclaimed Cordie. "I'd not like to get caught in a crowd like
that."
"Too bad," sighed Laurie. "I was about to propose that a half hour before
midnight we get together to celebrate in just that way. I think I can
pick up a person or two whose secrets would be of interest to some people
I know."
"That would be wonderful," exclaimed Lucile. "But must we select one
person, only one?"
"One, that's all."
"And ask him just three questions; no more?"
"Not another one."
"Eenie-meenie-minie-mo," exclaimed Lucile, pointing her finger first at
Cordie, then at Laurie,
"Catch a monkey by the toe,
If he hollers, let him go,
Eenie-meenie-minie-mo.
"Laurie, you're my choice," she laughed. "I'll ask three questions of
you, though goodness knows I'd like to ask them of Cordie."
"Wait," said Laurie holding up a warning finger. "There may be someone
there who is more interesting to you than we are."
"There's only one such person in the world," exclaimed Lucile, "and--and
I hope I may meet her before that hour comes."
She was a little surprised at the glances Laurie and Cordie exchanged and
greatly puzzled by the fact that they did not ask her who that person
was.
Laurie and Cordie gave themselves over to the gaiety of the night. The
blazing light, the splendid cars that went gliding down the Boulevard,
the magnificent furs worn by those who chose to promenade the broad
sidewalk, were sights to catch any eye.
They did not hold Lucile's attention. She had eyes for but one sight, the
glimpse of a single face. What that glimpse would mean to her! Room rent
paid, term bills paid, a warm coat, other needed clothing, a last minute
present which she had been too poor to purchase, and a snug little sum in
the bank. All these it would mean, and more; two hundred in gold.
But the face did not appear. For an hour they walked the Boulevard, yet
no sight of the Mystery Lady, she of the Christmas Spirit, came to them.
One matter troubled Lucile more and more. Often in her search she looked
behind her. More than once, four times in fact, she had caught sight of a
man who walked always at exactly the same distance behind them. A tall
man, it was, with a long gray coat, a high collar turned up and cap
pulled low.
"It isn't just because he happens to be walking in our direction," she
told herself with a little shiver. "Twice we have turned and walked back
and once we crossed the street. But all the time he has been directly
behind us. I wonder what it could mean?"
At that moment there came the clatter of hoofs and four mounted
policemen, clad in bright uniform, came riding down the Boulevard.
"It's a big night," exclaimed Laurie. "There's a special squad of them
out."
"Oh there--there he is!" exclaimed Cordie. "There's Dick! That's Patrick
O'Hara riding him! Aren't they splendid? And right beside him is Tim,
good old Tim. See! They recognized me. They touched their hats!"
"Who's Tim?" asked Lucile.
"Don't you wish you knew?" taunted Cordie. "If only you were going to ask
your questions of me you'd be sure to find out."
"Don't worry," smiled Laurie. "I've just decided that you shall be the
person to answer my three questions."
"You horrid thing! I shan't go! I'm off your old party!" In mock anger,
she sprang away from her companions and went racing on ahead of them.
Then strange and startling things began to happen. A long, low-built blue
roadster, which had been creeping along the curb as if looking for
someone, came to a grinding stop. A man leaped out. A second later a
piercing scream reached the ears of Laurie and Lucile.
"It's Cordie!" exclaimed Lucile. "Some--something terrible! C'mon!"
As she said this a gray streak shot past her. Even in this wild moment of
excitement, she recognized the man who had been dogging their footsteps
and she wondered why she had not recognized him sooner.
The next second they were in the midst of things. With wildly beating
heart Lucile stared at the panorama that was enacted before her.
Powerless to aid, she saw Cordie, the innocent country girl, the center
of a battle, snatched from hand to hand until it seemed the very life
must be torn from her.
First she caught a glimpse of her fighting frantically but vainly in the
grasp of a man. Lucile recognized him instantly.
"The hawk-eyed man!" she whispered. "The one who claimed to be her
brother! Quick!" she exclaimed, gripping Laurie's arm until her fingers
cut into the very flesh. "Quick! They're taking her to the auto. They'll
carry her away!"
Active as he was, Laurie was not the first to leap at the hawk-eyed one.
A man in gray, the man who had been following them, sprang squarely at
the captor's throat.
With a howl of rage and fear the villain loosed one hand to strike out at
his mysterious assailant. All in vain; the rescuer came straight on.
Striking the captor squarely in the middle, he bowled him over like a
ten-pin. So sudden was this attack that Cordie was also thrown to the
pavement.
Finding herself free and unharmed, she sprang to her feet. She felt a
hand at her elbow and turned to look into the face of Laurie Seymour.
"Ah!" she breathed, "I am safe!"
But even as she said this she saw Laurie collapse like an empty sack, and
the next instant grasped from behind by two clutching hands, she was
again whirled toward the kidnapper's car.
Half blinded by terror, she caught a vision of police blue that hovered
above her.
"Pat! Patrick O'Hara!" she called.
There came the angry crack of an automatic. Then the figure in blue came
hurtling off the horse to fall at her feet. At the same instant there was
a second catapult-like blow of the man in gray. Again she was snatched
free.
"Jiggers! Beat it! Beat it!" she heard in a hoarse whisper. The next
instant the door to the blue car slammed shut and its wheels began to
move.
For three seconds she wavered there, watching the car move away. Then
catching a glimpse of Patrick O'Hara lying at her feet, wounded, perhaps
dead, a great courage came to her.
"They must not escape!" she screamed. "They shall not!"
The next instant she leaped into the saddle of the police horse, Dick.
Just as the noble animal dashed away she felt the solid impact of someone
mounting behind her.
One glance she cast behind her. "Oh!" she breathed. It was the man in
gray. To Dick she whispered: "All right, Dick, old dear, Go! Go fast! For
the love of Patrick O'Hara and Laurie Seymour; for the love of all that's
good and true, go; go as you never went before!"
There was no need to talk to Dick. He was away like the wind.
It was a moment of high suspense and swift action; one of those moments
when success or failure hinges on the right move at the right second.