THE MYSTERY OF THE IRON GATES
INSTEAD of running into the Presby home, as she had laughingly
threatened to do, Ruth Stuart had dashed at almost full speed into the
closed heavy iron gates at the entrance to the Treasureholme grounds.
These gates were supposed to be open. As Olive had said, they had not
been closed in some months. Why should they be closed now when the
"Automobile Girls" car was looked for to arrive at any moment?
None of the girls was thinking of this at the moment. None was in
condition to think at all. Ruth had discovered the obstruction in time
to throw on the emergency brake, but not quickly enough to stop the
headway of the automobile.
The car crashed against the gates with great force. The heavy iron bars
of the gates buckled under the impact, then with a great creaking and
rattling the hinges gave way, the old brick columns to which the hinges
had been attached crumbled and fell in a cloud of dust and mortar.
Accompanying the crash was the sound of breaking glass. But not a cry
had been raised from the interior of the car, save Ruth's warning.
That cry of warning had set Barbara instantly on the defensive. She
threw both arms about Mollie and Olive. Grace was on the front seat with
Ruth. Bab braced her feet with a mighty effort. Then the crash came.
It seemed to Barbara Thurston as though her arms were being torn from
their sockets. Then the three girls on the rear seat were jerked to
their feet. They toppled over the back of the seat ahead of them,
plunging head first into the forward part of the car, where the
operating mechanism was located.
Ruth and Grace had been hurled against the storm curtain, securely
fastened down between themselves and the glass wind shield. Fortunately
for them, the curtain held for a few seconds until the shower of glass
from the shield had fallen into the roadway, then the curtain gave way
and the two girls tumbled out in the wake of the glass.
The automobile, after the first impact, had recoiled several feet. It
essayed to plunge forward again, but the emergency brake held it
motionless while the motors began to race, making a noise that was heard
in the house, which stood at some distance from the fallen gates.
The "Automobile Girls" lay where they had fallen, Ruth and Grace in the
roadway, Bab, Mollie and Olive in the forward end of the car.
"There they come," cried Mrs. Presby. "Why, what a frightful noise," she
exclaimed, starting for the door, followed by Mr. Presby, with a painful
limp.
Tommy's face turned white when he heard the crash. With a bound he
passed his father and mother, tore down the steps and off down the
drive.
"Something has happened, Richard," cried Mrs. Presby.
"Something will happen to my gout, too, if I have to remain out in this
chill atmosphere," declared Mr. Presby irritably.
"Hurry, hurry!" wailed the distant voice of Tommy.
"Oh, what is it?" cried Mrs. Presby, picking up her skirts and running
down the drive.
"They're killed! They're killed!" howled Tommy. "They've smashed into
the gates. Everything's done. Finished!"
"Run, Richard! Quick! Get help! An accident has occurred," begged
Olive's mother.
The woman was almost beside herself with terror. Tommy's face was
ghastly.
"Here's Ruth," he said, almost brusquely, lifting the girl by main
strength and staggering toward the house. He bore the burden only a few
feet, however, then hastily deposited it on the ground. Ruth was
senseless.
A neighbor had witnessed the accident and with rare forethought
telephoned for a doctor. By this time a general alarm had been sounded.
The old fire bell on Treasureholme had been rung by Mr. Presby as the
quickest method of summoning assistance. Neighbors came on the run. They
were appalled when they first looked upon the wreck of the old gates.
The wreck at first sight appeared to be much worse than it really was.
The automobile motors were still racing, the exhaust emitting frequent
explosions that sounded like the discharge of a Gatling gun. It was
almost as though Mr. A. Bubble were summoning assistance on his own
responsibility.
No time was lost, however, in attending to the five girls. Ruth and
Grace being nearest at hand, were quickly lifted by strong arms and
borne to the house. The three girls still in the automobile were
tenderly lifted out and also carried in. Each girl was placed in the
room that had been set aside for her. The doctor was on hand almost by
the time the girls had been placed on their beds. He made a hasty
diagnosis of each case, announced that no bones had been broken and,
assisted by Mrs. Presby, administered restoratives to the victims of the
accident, who soon recovered consciousness.
No one had thought to send word to Mr. Stuart. The household was too
much upset to think of anything save the accident that had occurred.
Grace and Ruth really had the front storm curtain to thank for saving
their lives. Had they been hurled through the heavy glass wind shield
they undoubtedly would have been killed instantly. Mollie and Olive no
doubt were saved by Barbara Thurston's presence of mind. But Barbara by
devoting her whole effort to saving her companions had been badly
bruised and shaken.
Someone in the meantime had shut off the motors and pushed the car out
of the way. The wreckage of the gates was also cleared away at the
direction of Mr. Presby, so that no one else should collide with it.
The doctor remained at Treasureholme until nine o'clock in the evening.
Before taking his departure, however, he gave strict orders that none of
his patients were to be allowed to leave their beds until he called the
next morning, and pronounced them able to rise and dress.
Mrs. Presby broke down and cried after she learned that the girls were
not seriously injured. Tom went out in the woodshed and wailed so loudly
that he was heard in the rooms upstairs. Mr. Presby hobbled about
irritably. He did not care to have those in the house know how much
affected he really was.
Early the next morning he sent for one of his men. The old gentleman was
now in a fine temper. Owing to the excitement caused by the accident,
and a particularly painful attack of the gout, he had passed a sleepless
night and was therefore in a most unamiable frame of mind.
"Who closed those gates?" roared Mr. Presby the instant the man appeared
in the doorway of the dining room, where the master was hobbling back
and forth.
"I--I don't know, sir."
"You closed them!" thundered Richard Presby.
"I did not. They were open when I last saw them."
"When was that?"
"About an hour before the accident occurred, I think, sir."
"If you didn't close them, who did? Answer me that."
Of course the man could not answer that question. He made no answer at
all, thinking thereby not to further irritate his employer.
"I suppose the gates were closed by some of those rascally treasure
hunters that are continually tearing over my premises, digging holes for
the unwary to fall into and making general nuisances of themselves in
every other way. Drive them off. Pepper them with shot if you can't get
rid of them in any other way. I may not be here for long, but while I am
here, I'm the master of Treasureholme. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir," answered the man humbly, his face reflecting no expression
at all.
Mr. Presby thumped back and forth with his cane for nearly an hour after
that, despite the fact that every step he took sent excruciating pains
through his gouty foot. Finally retiring to the library, he went to
sleep in his Morris chair, with the troublesome foot propped up on a
stool.
Early in the forenoon Mrs. Presby communicated with Miss Sallie and Mr.
Stuart, telling them as much of the details of the accident as was
known. Ten minutes later Robert Stuart and Miss Sallie were on their way
to Treasureholme as fast as an automobile could carry them. The girls
were asleep when they arrived. The doctor, who had arrived in the
meantime, would not permit his patients to be disturbed. He assured Mr.
Stuart, however, that the girls had providentially escaped with a few
slight scratches and bruises and that they would all be up before the
end of the day.
But the mystery of the closed gates was disturbing the entire household.
It was inexplicable. Mr. Presby declared that it was the work either of
his enemies or of some treasure-seeker who thought he was doing the
owner a service by closing his gates for him.
Late that afternoon the five girls appeared in the dining room little
the worse for their shaking up, although Barbara was far more lame and
sore than she would admit. A general season of rejoicing ensued, and
several neighbors dropped in to congratulate the girls on their
miraculous escape from serious injury.
On seeing her father, Ruth's first question was, "What happened to A.
Bubble?"
Mr. Stuart did not know. He promised to find out, which he did an hour
or so later. Mr. A. Bubble, he told her, would be sent to a shop for
repairs the next day, as he intended going back to Chicago that night
and would attend to it. The radiator had been badly bent, the forward
axle had buckled, guards were smashed, the hood was damaged, in short,
Mr. Bubble presented a most disreputable appearance.
Mr. Stuart told Ruth she was in a certain degree responsible for the
accident, still she had no thought that the gates would be closed.
"I'll know enough after this to keep my car under control. I won't try
to knock over any more houses and things," Ruth retorted.
By the afternoon of their second day at Treasureholme the "Automobile
Girls" had practically gotten over the effects of their accident and
were cosily established in Olive's room consuming hot chocolate and
cakes while Olive, at their urgent request, again recounted the story of
the buried treasure. Now that they were face to face with the great
mystery, they were alive with curiosity. They were burning to see with
their own eyes the place that held so much of mystery and perhaps a
fortune that was probably being trodden over by human feet every hour of
the day.