THE LIFE CHAIN
Early one morning, a very handsome woman of the adventuress type
arrived with several trunks at the big summer hotel, just outside the
town, the St. Germain.
Among the many fashionable people at the watering-place, however, she
attracted no great attention and in the forenoon she quietly went out
in her motor for a ride.
It was Madame Larenz, one of Del Mar's secret agents who, up to this
time, had been engaged in spying on wealthy and impressionable American
manufacturers.
Her airing brought her, finally, to the bungalow of Del Mar and there
she was admitted in a manner that showed that Del Mar trusted her
highly.
"Now," he instructed, after a few minutes chat, "I want you to get
acquainted with Miss Dodge. You know how to interest her. She's quite
human. Pretty gowns appeal to her. Get her to the St. Germain. Then
I'll tell you what to do."
A few minutes later the woman left in her car, so rapidly driven that
no one would recognize her.
It was early in the afternoon that Aunt Josephine was sitting on the
veranda, when an automobile drove up and a very stylishly gowned and
bonnetted woman stepped out.
"Good afternoon," she greeted Aunt Josephine ingratiatingly as she
approached the house. "I am Madame Larenz of New York and Paris.
Perhaps you have heard of my shops on Fifth Avenue and the Rue de la
Paix."
Aunt Josephine had heard the name, though she did not know that this
woman had assumed it without being in any way connected with the places
she mentioned.
"I'm establishing a new sort of summer service at the better resorts,"
the woman explained. "You see, my people find it annoying to go into
the city for gowns. So I am bringing the latest Paris models out to
them. Is Miss Dodge at home?"
"I think she is playing tennis," returned Aunt Josephine.
"Oh, yes, I see her, thank you," the woman murmured, moving toward the
tennis court, back of the house.
Elaine and I had agreed to play a couple of games and were tossing
rackets for position.
"Very well," laughed Elaine, as she won the toss, "take the other
court."
It was a cool day and I felt in good spirits. Just to see whether I
could do it still, I jumped over the net.
Our game had scarcely started when we were interrupted by the approach
of a stunning looking woman.
"Miss Dodge?" she greeted. "Will you excuse me a moment?"
Elaine paused in serving the ball and the woman handed her a card from
her delicate gold mesh bag. It read simply:
Mme. Larenz Paris Gowns
Elaine looked at the card a moment while the woman repeated what she
had already told Aunt Josephine.
"You have them here, then?" queried Elaine, interested.
"Yes, I have some very exclusive models which I am showing at my suite
in the St. Germain."
"Oh, how lovely," exclaimed Elaine. "I must see them."
They talked a few minutes, while I waited patiently for Elaine to start
the game again. That game, however, was destined never to be finished.
More weighty matters were under discussion.
I wondered what they were talking about and, suppressing a yawn, I
walked toward them. As I approached, I heard scattered remarks about
styles and dress fabrics.
Elaine had completely forgotten tennis and me. She took a couple of
steps away from the court with the woman, as I came up.
"Aren't you going to play?" I asked.
"I know you'll excuse me, Walter," smiled Elaine. "My frocks are all so
frightfully out of date. And here's a chance to get new ones, very
reasonably, too."
They walked off and I could not help scowling at the visitor. On toward
the house Elaine and Madame Larenz proceeded and around it to the front
porch where Aunt Josephine was standing.
"Just think, Auntie," cried Elaine, "real Paris gowns down here without
the trouble of going to the city--and cheaply, too."
Aunt Josephine was only mildly interested, but that did not seem to
worry Madame Larenz.
"I shall be glad to see you at three, Miss Dodge," she said as she got
into her car again and drove off.
By that time, I had caught up with Elaine again. "Just one game," I
urged.
"Please excuse me,--this time, Walter," she pleaded, laughing. "You
don't know how sadly I'm in need of new frocks."
It was no use of further urging her. Tennis was out of her mind for
good that day. Accordingly, I mounted to my room and there quickly
donned my riding clothes.
When I came down, I found Aunt Josephine still on the veranda. In
addition to my horse which I had telephoned for, Elaine's little
runabout had been driven to the door. While I was talking to Aunt
Josephine, Elaine came down-stairs and walked over to the car.
"May I go with you?" I pleaded.
"No, Walter," she replied laughing merrily. "You can't go. I want to
try them on."
Properly squelched, I retreated. Elaine drove away and a moment later,
I mounted and cantered off leisurely.
Near Del Mar's bungalow might have been seen again the mysterious
naturalist, walking along the road with a butterfly net in his hand and
what appeared to be a leather specimen case, perhaps six inches long,
under his other arm.
As Madame Larenz whizzed past in her car, he looked up keenly in spite
of his seeming near-sightedness and huge smoked glasses. He watched her
closely, noting the number of the car, then turned and followed it.
Madame Larenz drew up, a second time, before Del Mar's. As she got out
and entered, the naturalist, having quickened his pace, came up and
watched her go in. Then, after taking in the situation for a moment, he
made his way around the side of the bungalow.
"Is Mr. Del Mar at home?" inquired Madame Larenz, as the valet ushered
her into the library.
"No ma'am," he returned. "Mr. Del Mar is out. But he left word that if
you came before he got back, you were to leave word."
The woman sat down at the desk and wrote hastily. When she had finished
the short note, she read it over and folded it up.
"Tell Mr. Del Mar I've left a note here on his desk," she said to the
valet.
A moment later she left the library, followed by the valet, who
accompanied her to her car and assisted her in.
"The hotel," she directed to her driver, as he started off, while the
valet returned to the bungalow.
Outside, the naturalist had come through the shrubbery and had been
looking in at the library window, watching every move of Madame Larenz
as she wrote. As she went out, he paused just a second to look about.
Then he drew a long knife from his pocket, forced the window catch, and
quickly climbed into the room.
Directly to the desk he went and hurriedly ran over the papers on it.
There was the note. He picked it up and read it eagerly.
"My apartment--St. Germain--3 P. M.
"LARENZ."
For a moment he seemed to consider what to do. Then he replaced the
note. Suddenly he heard the sound of footsteps. It was the valet
returning. Quickly the naturalist ran to the window and jumped out.
A moment later, the valet entered the library again. "That's strange,"
he exclaimed under his breath, "I don't recall opening that window over
there to-day."
He looked puzzled. But as no one was about, he went over and shut it.
Some distance down the road, the naturalist quietly emerged in safety
from the bushes. With scarcely a moment's hesitation, his mind
thoroughly made up to his course, he hurried along the road.
Meanwhile, at the St. Germain, Madame Larenz entered and passed through
the rotunda of the hotel, followed by many admiring glances of the men.
Up in her room stood several large trunks, open. From them had been
taken a number of gowns which were scattered about or hung up for
exhibition.
As she entered, quickly she selected one of the trunks whose contents
were more smart than the rest and laid the gowns out most fetchingly
about the room.
In the office of the hotel a few moments later, the naturalist entered.
He looked around curiously, then went to the desk and glanced over the
register. At the name "Mme Larenz, Paris, Room 22," he paused.
For some seconds he stood thinking. Then he deliberately walked over to
a leather chair and took a prominent seat near-by in the lobby. He had
discarded his net, but still had the case which now he had shoved into
his pocket. From a table, he picked up a newspaper.
It was not long before Del Mar pulled up before the hotel and entered
in his usual swagger manner. He had returned to the bungalow, read the
note and hurried over to the St. Germain.
He crossed the lobby, back to the office. As he did so, the naturalist
had his face hidden deeply in the open newspaper. But no sooner had Del
Mar passed than the newspaper fell unappreciated and he gazed after
him, as he left the lobby by the back way.
It was only a few minutes after she had completed arranging her small
stock so that it looked quite impressive, that Madame Larenz heard a
knock at the door and recognized Del Mar's secret code. She opened the
door and he strode in.
"I got your note," he said briefly, coming directly to business and
telling her just what he wanted done. "Let me see," he concluded,
glancing at his watch. "It is after three now. She ought to be here any
minute."
Outside, Elaine drove up to the rather garish entrance of the St.
Germain and one of the boys in uniform ran forward to open the door and
take charge of the car. She, too, crossed the lobby without seeing the
old naturalist, though nothing escaped him.
As she passed, he started to rise and cross toward her, then appeared
to change his mind.
Elaine went on out through the back of the lobby, directed by a boy,
and mounted a flight of stairs, in preference to taking the lift to the
second, or sort of mezzanine floor. Down along the corridor she went,
hunting for number twenty-two. At last she found it at the end, and
knocked.
Del Mar and Madame Larenz were still talking in low tones when they
heard a light tap on the door.
"There she is, now," whispered Larenz.
"All right. Let her in," answered Del Mar, leaping quietly to a closet.
"I'll hide here until I get the signal. Do just as I told you."
Outside, at the same time, according to his carefully concocted plans,
Del Mar's car had driven up and stopped close to the side of the hotel,
which was on a slight hill that brought the street level here not so
far below the second story windows. Three of his most trusted men were
in the car.
Madame Larenz opened the door. "Oh, I'm so glad you came," she rattled
on to Elaine. "You see, I've got to get started. Not a customer yet.
But if you'll only take a few gowns, other people will come to me. I'll
let you have them cheaply, too. Just look at this one."
She held up one filmy, creamy creation that looked like a delicate
flower.
"I'd like to try it on," cried Elaine, fingering it rapturously.
"By all means," agreed Madame. "We are alone. Do so."
With deft fingers, Larenz helped her take off her own very pretty
dress. As Elaine slipped the soft gown over her head, with her head and
arms engaged in its multitudinous folds, Madame Larenz, a powerful
woman, seized her. Elaine was effectually gagged and bound in the gown
itself.
Instantly, Del Mar flung himself from the closet, disguising his voice.
Together, they wrapped the dress about Elaine even more tightly to
prevent her screaming.
Madame 'Larenz seized a blanket and threw that over Elaine's head,
also, while Del Mar ran to the window. There were his men in the car,
waiting below.
"Are you ready?" he called softly to them.
They looked about carefully. There was no one on that side of the hotel
just at the moment.
"Ready," responded one. "Quick!"
Together, Del Mar and Madame Larenz passed Elaine, ineffectually
struggling, out of the window. The men seized her and placed her in the
bottom of the car, which was covered. Then they shot away, taking a
back road up the hill.
Hurriedly the naturalist went through the lobby in the direction Elaine
had gone, and a moment later reached the corridor above.
Down it, he could hear some one coming out of room twenty-two. He slid
into an angle and hid.
It was Del Mar and the woman he had seen at the bungalow. They passed
by without discovering him, nor could he make out anything that they
said. What mischief was afoot? Where was Elaine?
He ran to the door and tried it. It was locked. Quickly, he took from
his pocket a skeleton key and unlocked it. There was Elaine's hat and
dress lying in a heap on the bed. But she was not there. He was now
thoroughly alarmed.
She could not have passed him in the hall. Therefore she must have gone
or been taken out through the window. That would never have been
voluntary, especially leaving her things there.
The window was still open. He ran to it. One glance out was enough. He
leaped to the ground. Sure enough, there were automobile tracks in the
dust.
"Del Mar's car," he muttered to himself, studying them.
He fairly ran around the side of the hotel. There he came suddenly upon
Elaine's car standing alone, and recognized it.
There was no time for delay. He jumped into it, and let the swift
little racer out as he turned and gathered momentum to shoot up the
hill on high speed.
Meanwhile, I had been jogging along through the country, lonely and
disconsolate. I don't know how it happened, but I suppose it was by
some subconscious desire. At any rate I found myself at the road that
came out across one leading to the St. Germain and it occurred to me
that Elaine might by this time have purchased enough frocks to clothe
her for a year. At any rate I quickened my pace in the hope of seeing
her.
Suddenly, my horse shied and a familiar little car flashed past me. But
the driver was not familiar. It was Elaine's roadster. In it was a
stranger--a man who looked like a "bugologist," as nearly as I can
describe him. Was he running off with her car while she was waiting
inside the hotel?
I galloped after him.
Del Mar's automobile, with Elaine bound and gagged in it, drove rapidly
by back and unfrequented ways into the country until at last it pulled
up before an empty two-story house in a sort of grove of trees.
The men leaped out, lifted Elaine, and carried her bodily into the
house, taking her up-stairs and into an upper room. She had fainted
when they laid her down and loosened the dress from about her face so
that she could breathe. There they left her, on the floor, her hands
and feet bound, and went out.
How long she lay there, she never knew, but at last the air revived her
and she regained consciousness and sat up. Her muscles were sore and
her head ached. But she set her teeth and began struggling with the
cords that bound her, managing at last to pull the dress over herself
at least.
In Elaine's car, the naturalist drove slowly at times, following the
tracks of the automobile ahead. At last, however, he came to a place
where he saw that the tracks went up a lonely side road. To approach in
a car was to warn whoever was there. He ran the cat up alongside the
road in the bushes and jumped out leaving it and following the tracks
up the side roadway.
As he approached a single deserted house, he left even the narrow road
altogether and plunged into the woods, careful to proceed noiselessly.
Through the bushes, near the house, he peered. There he could see one
of Del Mar's men in the doorway, apparently talking to others behind
him.
Stealthily the naturalist crept around, still hiding, until he was
closer to the house on the other side. At last he worked his way around
to the rear door. He tried it. It was bolted and even the skeleton key
was unavailing to slide the bolt. Seconds were precious.
Quickly, he went to the corner of the house. There was a water-leader.
He began to climb it, risking its precarious support.
On the roof at last, the naturalist crawled along, looking for some way
of getting into the house. But he could not seem to find any.
Carefully, he crawled to the edge of the roof and looked over. Below,
he could hear sounds, but could make nothing of them.
From his pocket, he took the leather case and opened it. There was a
peculiar arrangement, like some of the collapsible arms on which
telephone instruments are often fastened to a desk or wall, capable of
being collapsed into small space or of being extended for some
distance. On the thing was arranged a system of mirrors, which the
naturalist adjusted.
It was a pocket periscope.
He thrust the thing over the edge of the roof and down, and looked
through it. Below, he could see into the room from which came the
peculiar sounds.
He looked anxiously. There he could see Elaine endeavoring still to
loosen the cords and unable to do so. Only for a moment he looked. Then
he folded up the pocket periscope into the case and shoved it back into
his pocket. Quickly he crossed the roof again, and slid back down the
rain-pipe.
At the door stood three of Del Mar's men waiting for Del Mar who had
told them he would follow immediately.
The naturalist had by this time reached the ground and was going along
carefully back of the house. He drew his revolver and, pointing it
down, fired. Then he dodged back of an extension and disappeared for
the moment.
Instantly, the three men sprang up and ran toward the spot where it
seemed the shot had been fired. There was no one about the side of the
house. But the wind had carried the smoke into some bushes beside the
grove and they crashed into the bushes, beating about.
At the same time, the naturalist, having first waited until he saw
which way the men were going, dashed about the house in the opposite
direction. Then he slipped, unopposed and unobserved, in through the
open front door, up the stairs and along to the room into which he had
just been looking. He unlocked the door, and entered. Elaine was still
struggling with the cords when she caught sight of the stranger.
"Not a word," he cautioned under his breath.
She was indeed too frightened to cry out. Quickly, he loosened her,
still holding his finger to his lips to enjoin silence.
"Follow me," he whispered.
She obeyed mechanically, and they went out into the hall. On
down-stairs went the naturalist, Elaine still keeping close after him.
He looked out through the front door, then drew back. Quickly he went
through the lower hall until he came to the back door in the kitchen,
Elaine following. He unbolted the door and opened it.
"Run," he said, simply, pointing out of the door. "They're coming back
the other way. I'll hold them."
She needed no further urging, but darted from the house as he closed
the door after her.
. . . . . . .
It was just at this point that Del Mar came riding along the main road
on horseback. He pulled up suddenly as he saw a car run in alongside
the road.
"That's Elaine's runabout," he muttered, as he dismounted and tied his
horse. "How came it here?"
He approached the car, much worried by its unaccountable presence there
instead of before the St. Germain. Then he drew his gun and hurried up
the side road.
He heard a shot and quickened his pace. In the woods unexpectedly he
came upon his three men still beating about, searching with drawn
revolvers for the person who had fired the shot.
"Well?" he demanded sharply, "what's all this?"
"Some one fired a shot," they explained, somewhat crestfallen.
"It was a trick, you fools," he answered testily. "Get back to your
prisoner."
Without a word they turned and hurried toward the house, Del Mar
following. "You two go in," he ordered the foremost. "I'll go around
the house with Patrick."
As Del Mar and the other man ran around the corner, they could just
catch a fleeting glimpse on some one disappearing among the trees.
It was Elaine.
The man hurried forward, blazing away with his gun.
Running, breathless, Elaine heard the shot behind her which Del Mar's
man had fired in his eagerness. The bullet struck a tree near her with
a "ping!" She glanced back and saw the man. But she did not stop.
Instead, she redoubled her efforts, running zigzag in among the trees
where they were thickest.
Del Mar, a little bit behind his man where she could not recognize him,
urged the man on, following carefully.
On fled Elaine, her heart beating fast. Suddenly she stopped and almost
cried out in vexation. A stream blocked her retreat, a stream, swift
and deep.
She looked back, terrified. Her pursuers were coming ahead fast now in
her direction. Wildly she gazed around. There was a canoe on the bank.
In an instant she jumped in, untied it, and seized the paddle. Off she
went, striking for the opposite shore. But the current was racing
swiftly, and she was already tired and exhausted. She could scarcely
make any headway at all in the fierce eddies. But at least, she thought
hurriedly, she was getting further and further away from them
down-stream.
Up above, Del Mar and his man came to the edge of the water. There they
stood for a moment looking down.
"There she is," pointed the man.
Del Mar raised his revolver and fired.
Suddenly a bullet struck Elaine's paddle and broke it. Clutching the
useless splintered shaft, she was now at the mercy of the current,
swept along like a piece of driftwood.
She looked about frantically. What was that roaring noise?
It was the waterfalls ahead!
. . . . . . .
In the meantime, Del Mar's other two men had entered the house and had
run up-stairs, knowing well his wrath if anything had happened. As they
did so, the naturalist poked his head cautiously out of the kitchen
where he had been hiding, and saw them. Then he followed noiselessly,
his revolver ready.
Headlong they ran into the room where they had left Elaine. She was
gone!
Before they could turn, the naturalist locked the door, turned and took
the steps down, two at a time.
Then he ran out of the front door and into the woods at an angle to the
direction taken by Elaine, turning and going down hill, where a rapid,
swollen stream curved about through a gorge. As he reached the stream,
he heard a shot above, and a scream.
He looked up. There was Elaine, swept down toward him. Below he knew
the stream tumbled over a tall cataract into the gorge below.
What could he do?
A sudden crackling of the twigs caused him to turn and catch sight of
me, just coming up.
For, as best I could on horseback, I had followed Elaine's car until at
last I saw that it had been abandoned. Thoroughly alarmed, I rode on,
past a deserted house until suddenly I heard a shot and a scream. It
seemed to come from below me and I leaped off my horse, making for it
as fast as I could, racing toward a stream whose roar I could hear.
There on the bank I came upon a queer old codger, looking about wildly.
Was he the automobile thief? I ran forward, ready to seize him. But as
I did so, he whirled about and with a strength remarkable in one so old
seized my own wrist before I could get his.
"Look!" he cried simply, pointing up the stream.
I did. A girl in a canoe was coming down toward the falls, screaming,
her paddle broken and useless. My heart leaped into my mouth. It was
Elaine!
"Come," he panted eagerly to me. "I can save her. You must do just as I
say."
He pointed to an overhanging rock near-by and we ran to it.
By this time Elaine was almost upon us, each second getting nearer the
veritable maelstrom above the falls.
From the rock overhung also a tree at the very edge of the water.
There was nothing to do but obey him. Above, though we did not see
them, Del Mar and his man were gloating over the result of their work.
But they were gloating too soon. We came to the rock and the tree.
"Here," cried the new-found friend, "I'll get hold of the tree and then
hold you."
Instantly he threw himself on his stomach, hooking his leg about the
tree trunk. I crawled out over the ledge of slippery rock to the very
edge and looked over. It was the only chance.
The old naturalist seized my legs in his hands. I slid down the rock,
letting myself go.
Literally, his presence of mind had invented what was really a life
chain, a human rope.
On came the canoe, Elaine in it as white as death, crying out and
trying to stop or guide it as, nearer and nearer through the
smooth-worn walls of the chasm, it whirled to the falls.
With a grip of steel, the naturalist held to the tree which swayed and
bent, while also he held me, as if in a vise, head down.
On came Elaine--directly at us.
She stood up and balanced herself, a dangerous feat in a canoe at any
time, but doubly so in those dark, swirling, treacherous waters.
"Steady!" I encouraged. "Grab my arms!"
As the canoe reached us, she gave a little jump and seized my forearms.
Her hands slipped, but I grasped her own arms, and we held each other.
The momentum of her body was great. For an instant I thought we were
all going over. But the naturalist held his grip and slowly began to
pull himself and us up the slippery rock.
A second later the canoe crashed over the falls in a cloud of spray and
pounding water.
As we reached the bank above the rock, I almost lifted Elaine and set
her down, trembling and gasping for breath. Before either of us knew it
the queer old fellow had plunged into the bushes and was gone without
another word.
"Walter," she cried, "call him back, I must tell him how much I owe
him--my life!"
But he had disappeared, absolutely. We shouted after him. It was of no
use.
"Well, what do you think of that?" cried Elaine. "He saved my
life--then didn't wait even to be thanked."
Who was he?
We looked at each other a moment. But neither of us spoke what was in
our hearts.