In the morning, Betty wakened with the feeling that she was too stiff to
move. She had taken cold from the exposure and ached all over. Her head
seemed “two sizes too large,” as she thought, and she lifted it
cautiously from the pillow to look around. Not having her watch, she did
not have any idea what time it might be. Everything was still about the
house, but from the outside she heard bird songs, the chickens, and the
farm animals. “It’s White Wings all right,” said Betty, as she decided
to dress. She turned on the light again, though there was sunlight, if
dim, and she could see at one end of the room a window covered with a
dark curtain. She did not care to traverse the dusty floor till she was
dressed, but when that was at last accomplished, she peered around in
such parts of the place as she could go without fear of bumping a head
already too sore, and found the open, round window behind an old highboy
and a tall bookcase. As she peeped out of the window, she could see the
little ice house and the shed which had been built for the hydroplane.
“Probably they kept the ‘night hawk’ there too,” she thought.
Retracing her steps, she noticed a familiar object, among a pile of
things on a large box near her cot. Could it be? Yes, there was the Red
Cross seal which one of the girls had stuck in one corner. She reached
over, threw aside a pile of old clothing and drew out her camera. It was
covered with dust, but seemed to be unharmed. She looked at once to see
if the film were there, the film with the pictures of the birds, the
scenes and the people of White Wings,—but it had been taken out.
“H’m,” said Betty to herself, “that was why my camera disappeared. That
man was into this work and did not want any pictures of himself thrown
around.” Betty shivered, looked around the attic, and was seized with a
desire to get out of it as soon as possible. Gathering up the few
articles which she had not yet put on, she hurried to the door, key in
hand. The light was dim, and as she fumbled with the key in the lock,
she saw something on the floor, an edge of something white. When she
opened the door, this proved to be folded paper, which she picked up.
She listened a moment. Not a sound inside the house as yet. Betty ran
down the stairs, opened another door, and found herself on the second
floor, in a hall from which bedroom doors opened, bedrooms all upset
from hurried packing. She stopped and listened again, then ran down to
the first floor and unlocked and opened the front door. Ah, freedom felt
so good! But she went into the house again and went through the first
floor, determined to find out if she really were alone. There was no one
in the house. Dishes unwashed and food left standing were on the kitchen
table.
Betty thought of the telephone, then, and took down the receiver before
it occurred to her that the wires would be cut. They would not risk her
waking and trying to communicate with Greycliff. There was, of course,
no response. “Very well,” thought Betty, “if no one comes, I could walk
it and swim the river, or walk around to the bridge. Or, of course,
there are other farm-houses between here and Greycliff. I believe I’d
better get something to eat.” But the chances were that some one would
come, for if these people had been obliged to leave so hurriedly, they
must have been quite sure that they were or would be under suspicion.
Something had happened.
On the pantry shelf stood a bread box containing the best of home-made
bread. There was a refrigerator, also, in which she found butter, milk
and cream, with other things which she did not want. Jam, jelly, pickles
and canned fruit on the shelves might have looked good to her under
other circumstances. But she cut herself one slice of bread, and found a
clean glass into which she poured some milk. Spreading the bread thinly
with butter, she ate it slowly, sipping the milk, preparing herself to
get back to Greycliff if she had to walk! Then she thought of the horses
which she might saddle and ride. And what about the stock, anyhow? Had
they used the horses to carry them away? Very likely. Who had fed the
other stock? She had heard the cows lowing. All that was to be
discovered. She had forgotten about the note. What had she done with it.
Oh, yes, she had put it in her pocket.
Having finished her breakfast, Betty pulled the note from her pocket and
read:
Little Bettina:
A word of goodbye. Our cause is discovered. I
wish that I could take you with me, but my strange
duties forbid. Do not marry that stupid American
boy,—but no danger. Our armies will see to that.
After the war we shall see. I can make you a
countess.
In haste—
Rudolph Von Holle.
Betty dropped the note into her lap in perfect surprise. “He came up and
left that note, and has gone, run away from Grant and everything!
‘Stupid American boy,’ indeed! I wonder if he really did care about me.
It’s funny way of caring, and still he has kept anything from hurting
me. Oh, dear! I wish somebody’d come! If it were Juliet or Pauline, the
stock would get fed and the milking would be done, but I don’t feel like
poking about the barns. There might be somebody left around.” Betty
stood a moment, thinking what she ought to do, then decided that her
father and mother would want her to be cautious. Slowly she walked again
to the front door and looked out. She saw nothing, but heard a motor and
quickly withdrew, locking the door. The other outside doors were locked
she knew, for she had carefully tried them before settling down to her
little breakfast. What she feared was the return of the “night hawk” or
the hydroplane, in spite of the note in her hand. Perhaps not all were
suspected and after helping the others off were coming back. There was
the White Wings motor boat, too. These things flashed through her mind
while she stood looking out of the front window in one of the rooms.
It was not the “night hawk.” The sound was different. It was a boat. She
could not see through the trees what sort of a boat it was that was
landing, and waited, all ready to whisk upstairs to the attic and lock
herself in, or to slip out the back way and hide in the woods, if she
could reach them without being seen. The sheltering vines of the little
vineyard on the hillside were not so far away. Like a little Indian maid
she might perhaps slip from covert to covert.
But all this planning was unnecessary. To Betty’s great relief, she saw
marines running rapidly across the way from the picnic grounds and up
the ascent toward the house. But their guns were ready for action, and
Betty drew back from the window, undecided just how to let them know she
was there. In a moment the house was surrounded and a loud voice called,
“Open the door and surrender!” Another voice which she recognized
immediately called, “Betty! Betty! Are you there?”
“Oh, Donald,” she answered. “Yes, I’m here all alone. Tell them not to
shoot!”
Betty hastened to unbolt and unlock the front door and greeted with
smiles of joy the tall captain, who stood there, and Donald, close
behind.
“This is Captain Stone, Betty,” said Donald as the captain stood aside
waving Donald toward the pale little lady who leaned against the
doorway, for Betty was not altogether steady on her feet as yet.
“I surrender, Captain Stone,” said she, with a smile.
“I thought that there might be some of the miscreants left,” said the
captain, returning her smile. “But I prefer to find you this time.”
“No, there does not seem to be a soul here, though I was a little afraid
to go down to the barn. The poor stock is in need of being fed, I
think.”
“I’ll set some of my lads to work,” replied Captain Stone, and turning,
he gave a few orders and disappeared around the corner of the house.
“Are you all right, Betty?” asked Donald anxiously. “You must not stand
here,—come in and sit down and tell me what happened to you.”
“Yes, I will. You look pretty tired yourself, and I imagine that you
have some things to tell, too. My, but I’m glad you came. I was just
wondering what I should do!”
“I suppose the horse threw you.”
“Yes. Did it get home all right?”
“Not until it was found. The bridle got caught in some branches, a sort
of Absalom affair, you know. We did not know what had happened to you,
of course, though the men thought that they could tell by the hoof marks
that the horse got frightened and bolted. You see we were after the men
in this affair and ran into the men that were hunting you.”
“I see. What made you think that I was here?”
“I found one of your gloves in the bushes by those steps that lead down
from the hut.”
“O, Donald! To think that you should find it! I tossed it there on
purpose, but knew that the men would take it away if they found it. I
was terribly stupid and dazed by my fall, but I had sense enough to
think of that. I dropped a handkerchief, too, in another place, but it
did not occur to me while I was in the woods. I was just thinking about
finding my way out.”
“We didn’t find the handkerchief. They must have seen it and picked it
up. We got them just as they were rowing off.”
“The hydroplane did not get there in time, then Captain Holley gave
orders for it to go after them. They were removing bombs and things,
chemicals and everything.”
“Holley! Was he the fellow that brought you here?”
“Yes. But if he hadn’t been there they would have killed me, I guess.
One of the men said, ‘She has seen too much. Throw her in the lake!’”
Donald clenched his fist. “The scoundrel! He is in jail by this time.”
“Did they get Captain Holley?”
“No. He and that ‘scientific farmer’ of Greycliff’s got away. We really
had no proof that any one at White Wings was concerned in this till one
of the two fellows we arrested said something by mistake. I suppose they
thought that the whole affair was discovered and did not take any
chances. Some of the neighbors on the farms around here have been
suspicious of these people, not in any definite way, though. You ought
to have heard all the talk last night and this morning. Several of us
were detailed to help look for you. We were to arrest Holley, or Von
Holle.”
Betty rapidly outlined what had happened the night before, while Donald
possessed himself of one of her hands and held it firmly, living through
the events of the night before with Betty. This was a little
distracting, but Betty was so thankful for Donald’s protection that it
only seemed natural, nor did she have any doubts as to Donald’s state of
mind toward her. She even told him word for word of the strange
proposal, but was not quite prepared for the way in which Donald took
it. Placing her hand back upon her lap, Donald sprang to his feet and
walked across the floor and back.
“Betty! Tell me that you could not think of such a man!”
“Donald Hilton! Sit right down here by me and apologize for thinking
that I could!” Betty dimpled, but was in earnest, as Donald could see.
He dropped down upon the sofa again and duly apologized.
“It makes me go crazy to think of what danger you were in. Betty,
_could_ you wait for me? If I get through this war, may I come back to
you? You know well enough how dearly I love you,—don’t you? If I could
only think you cared enough for me!”
“Don’t be too humble, Donald. Who was it that looked into the mirror of
my fate?”
“Betty!”
“Besides I need somebody to take care of me,—no more adventures for me!”
Foolish, perhaps, but happy conversation followed, about when they first
met, the mirror on Hallowe’en, the skating at the Ice Carnivals, and
other occasions at school. “I knew that you were my girl when we first
skated together,” said Donald. “See here,” and Donald took from his
pocket a little leather case. “Here is the picture of the girl of all
the world for me, and the little pansy that caught on my button that
Hallowe’en night. They never leave me.”
Betty noticed how white and worn Donald seemed and thought to ask him if
he had had any breakfast.
“Why no, Betty, none of us have. We thought that there would be
something here, though if you had not been here, we would have kept on
hunting.”
“There is plenty here. Let me show you the things in the pantry. I’ll
fix you something nice.”
“Indeed not. You are going to lie down and rest here, while I shut the
doors and keep the boys out. Everybody will want some hot coffee. Chuck
Williams will do the cooking. It was not by chance that he was put on
this detail. Wait till you taste his coffee. I don’t think it will hurt
you for once.”
“Oh, I take a cup occasionally. You are so good, Donald,” she added, as
Donald covered her with a light cover which was folded on the end of the
sofa. The marines were now coming to the house, and she and Donald could
hear their conversation.
The stock had been fed and watered. Pails of warm milk were being
carried into the kitchen, and Betty could hear the voice of some one in
charge whom she supposed to be “Chuck Williams.” Donald warned the
sailor lads not to disturb the weary lady in the front room and listened
to some good-natured joking at his expense. A fire was made in the stove
and it was not long before the aroma of fresh coffee stole into the
front room where Betty lay resting. How different this was. She was
perfectly safe, in the hands of her own people, and, best of all, with
Donald to manage everything. He came in soon with a cup of coffee and a
little sandwich made of bread and butter and blackberry jam.
“Have you had anything yet?” asked Betty.
“No, but I shall in a minute. I was just thinking that I had not
finished telling you how we knew you were here. After I found the glove
I went right back to Greycliff. That was early this morning,——”
“Then you were up all night!”
“Surely; that is what soldiers and sailors are for.”
“I have made everybody so much trouble,—but go on, Donald.”
“Well, there was great excitement at Greycliff, of course, over your
disappearance, and more when I told of the arrest of the two men. I
showed the glove to Miss Randolph and I never saw such a look as she
gave me. I know that she thought the men had put an end to you, but I
did not think so, someway. I saw some footprints on the wet sand, small
ones with the big ones,—you see it could not have been long after you
had gone that we caught the men. I thought that they would hardly injure
you because of the hue and cry there would be, and the approach of the
hydroplane and its swift retreat made me think of White Wings as the
most likely place. I can’t say that there was so much sense in my
reasoning, but it proved to be true.
“Now for the part that I will have to give Holley credit for, though you
can imagine how I feel toward _him_! While I was trying to cheer up Miss
Randolph and telling her that I was going to try to hurry off our party
to White Wings, one of the girls came running in with a note in her
hands. She had gone into Louise Holley’s room for something and had seen
this note on the bureau,—it was more of a notice, that read, ‘Tell Miss
Randolph to look at White Wings for Betty.’ Louise had had a telephone
message last night about nine o’clock, Miss Randolph said, but nobody
thought anything of it, for her brother often telephoned. It must have
come from White Wings instead of from the academy.”
“Then Louise was gone?”
“Yes, and Prof. Schaefer, too. One of the stable men who had gone with
me to Greycliff, and was waiting outside to see if there had been any
news, said that he came rather late from the village, and saw the
professor taking Louise to the station. They seemed to be in a hurry,
and were carrying suitcases and bags, but as the girls are sometimes
called home he thought nothing of it, and the excitement over you put it
out of his mind. They were getting ready to come after you with the
_Greycliff_ when we put off, and I am surprised that they have not
gotten here before this.”
“Perhaps the motor is out of fix. I thought that perhaps you had come in
the _Greycliff_.”
“No. We had our own launch.”
“Now do go and get a good breakfast, Donald, please.”
Protesting at being sent away, Donald yielded and carrying Betty’s empty
cup, for she drank the coffee to please him, went into the kitchen to do
full justice to such food as remained.
It was not long before Betty heard a boat, then girls’ voices, and knew
that the _Greycliff_ had arrived. Donald heard them, too, and joining
Betty, went out in front to meet them. There were Cathalina, Hilary,
Lilian and Helen, with “Patty” and Miss Perin.
“Oh, Betty, Betty, Betty!” was the chorus. “All the girls wanted to
come,” said Lilian, after the first greetings were over, “but Miss
Randolph wouldn’t let them. How are you Betty?”
“All right,—a little shaky. Oh, how glad I shall be to go back to the
good old every-dayness!”
“You won’t wait to pick a flower or two?”
“Indeed not!”
Mickey was conferring with the captain of the marines, and the Greycliff
janitor and his wife, with bags and bundles, hastily packed, were going
into the house, where they would stay a few days, or until some one
could be found to run the farm. “We’ll send ye a couple o’ hired men
tomorry,” said Mickey to the janitor, as he left their dooryard to go
back to the boat.
Donald went with the party to the boat, helped Betty into a comfortable
seat and said his farewells with rather a sober face.
“Keep out of danger, Betty,” said he.
“I will. I wish I could ask the same of you, but I wouldn’t be very
patriotic, would I?”
Several interested marines joined Donald and watched the _Greycliff_ and
the girls disappear over the white caps.
Betty, too, watched Donald as long as she could see him, then turned her
attention to her friends, who were looking at her with affection.
“I look like a battered war casualty, don’t I?”
“Not very much battered, but pretty pale. You have been through enough
to kill you. Weren’t you frightened terribly?” asked Cathalina.
“My fall dulled my intellect, I guess,” laughed Betty. “I was frightened
several times and then I got used to it. Was any word sent to father?”
“Fortunately not,” said Cathalina. “Miss Randolph was considering a
telegram when they found the word from Louise. She may have sent one;
no,—I think that she would wait till we actually had you at Greycliff,
then telegraph, so they would not worry if anything were in the papers.
When Donald came to the Hall, he said that the woods had been thoroughly
covered by the men hunting for you, and by the marines hunting for those
men, and that they were going down to White Wings. After they had
arrested the men, a hydroplane came nearly to the shore and went away
again, seeing their lights, I suppose. Since the only hydroplane
anywhere around was at that place they thought some one there must be
interested.”
“They must have found out some more, for Donald seemed to know about our
farmer and Captain Holley.”
“My, Betty, what a heroine you are,—kidnapped and imprisoned in a tower
till the prince arrived.”
“Something like that. I thought of it myself this morning, but it began
to get on my nerves.”
“How would you like to own a flying machine?”
“Not at all. You girls may have all my rides in hydroplanes.”
The experience put Betty to bed for several days, more because of the
exposure and excitement than because of any trouble from the blow upon
her head. She was disgusted at being put in the “pest house,” but quite
enjoyed the rest and the attentions of the girls, who brought her her
books, kept track of the lesson assignments for her, and were forbidden
by the nurse to mention the late adventure. By Wednesday she was in her
class again and preparing for a special examination in “Lit.” A bright
letter from Donald expressed concern for her hard experience, but much
happiness over their understanding. “I will write you how many
submarines we sink, for I sail with the next convoy. The ‘stupid young
American’ is on his way and isn’t worried now in regard to whom you will
wait for! That note was characteristic, but he would regard you as a
beautiful possession. I wish that I could tell you on what boat and when
we go, but that is something I do not know myself.”