A RESCUE BY FORCE
Theodore was hesitating, though his father was eager to obey. Garrison
stepped a foot forward and thrust the pistol firmly against the young
man's body, cocking the hammer.
"I'm going--for the love of Heaven, look out!" cried the craven
suddenly, and he backed toward the stairs in haste.
"That's better," said Garrison coldly. "Step lively, please, and don't
attempt the slightest treachery unless you are prepared to pay the
price."
Theodore had no more than started when the door-bell rang--four little
jingles.
"It's mother," said old Robinson, starting for the door.
"Let her remain outside for the present," ordered Garrison. "Get on up
the stairs."
The bell rang again. The Robinsons, resigned to defeat, ascended to
the hall above, with the gun yawning just at the rear.
Once more Garrison called out:
"Dorothy--where are you?"
"Here!" cried Dorothy, her voice still muffled behind a solid door.
"The room at the back. I can't get out!"
Garrison issued another order to Theodore, whom he knew to be the
governing spirit in the fight against himself and Dorothy:
"Put down one hand and get out your keys--but don't attempt to remove
anything else from your pocket, or I'll plug you on the spot."
Theodore cast a defiant glance across the leveled gun to the steady,
cool eyes behind it, and drew forth the keys, as directed.
"If that's you, Jerold--please, please get me out--the door is locked!"
called Dorothy, alarmed by each second of delay. "Where are you now?"
"Coming!" called Garrison. He added, to Theodore: "Keep one hand up.
Unlock the door." He called out again: "Keep cool when it's opened.
Don't confuse the situation."
Young Robinson, convinced that resistance at this point was useless,
inserted the key in the lock and opened the door, at the same time
casting a knowing look at his father, who stood over next to the wall.
In the instant that Garrison's attention was directed to the unlocked
room, old Robinson made a quick retreat to a tiny red box that was
screwed against the wall and twice pulled down a brass ring.
Garrison beheld the action too late to interpose. He knew the thing
for a burglar-alarm--and realized his own position.
Meantime Dorothy had not emerged.
"Jerold! Jerold!" she cried. "My feet are chained!"
"Get in there, both of you, double-quick!" commanded Garrison, and he
herded the Robinsons inside the room, fairly pushing them before him
with the gun.
Then he saw Dorothy.
White with fear, her eyes ablaze with indignation at the Robinsons, her
beauty heightened by the look of intensity in her eyes, she stood by
the door, her ankles bound together by a chain which was secured to the
heavy brass bed.
"Jerold!" she cried as she had before, but her voice broke and tears
started swiftly from her eyes.
"Be calm, dear, please," said Garrison, who had turned on her captors
with an anger he could scarcely control. "You cowards! You infamous
scoundrels!" he said. "Release those chains this instant, or I'll blow
off the top of your head!" He demanded this of Theodore.
"The key isn't here," said the latter, intent upon gaining time since
the burglar-alarm had been sprung. "I left it downstairs."
"I think you lie," said Garrison. "Get busy, or you'll have trouble."
"It's on his ring, with the key to the door," said Dorothy. "They've
kept me drugged and stupid, but I saw as much as that."
Once more Garrison pushed the black muzzle of the gun against
Theodore's body. The fellow cringed. The sweat stood out on his
forehead. He dropped to his knees and, trembling with fear, fumbled
with the keys.
"To think they'd dare!" said Dorothy, who with difficulty refrained
from sobbing, in her anger, relief, and nervous strain.
Garrison made no reply. He was fairly on edge with anxiety himself, in
the need for haste, aware that every moment was precious, with the
town's constabulary doubtless already on the way to respond to the old
man's alarm. The rights of the case would come too late, with his and
Dorothy's story against the statements of the Robinsons, and he had no
intention of submitting to arrest.
"You're wasting time--do better!" he commanded Theodore, and he nudged
the gun under his ribs. "That's the key, that crooked one--use it,
quick!"
Theodore dared not disobey. The chain fell away, and Dorothy ran
forward, with a sob upon her lips.
"Don't hamper me, dear," said Garrison, watching the Robinsons alertly.
"Just get your hat, and we'll go."
Dorothy ran to a closet, drew forth a hat, and cried that she was ready.
"Throw those keys in the hall!" commanded Garrison, and young Robinson
tossed them out as directed. "Now, then, over in the corner with the
pair of you!"
The helpless Robinsons moved over to the corner of the room. Dorothy
was already in the hall. Garrison was backing out, to lock the door,
when Dorothy ran in again beside him.
"Just a minute!" she said, and, going to the bed, despite Garrison's
impatience, she turned down the pillow and caught up a bunch of faded
roses--his roses--and, blushing in girlish confusion, ran out once
more, and slammed the door, which Garrison locked on her relations.
"Throw the keys under the rug," he said quietly. "We've no time to
lose. The old man rang in an alarm."
Dorothy quickly hid the keys as directed. The face she turned to him
then was blanched with worry.
"What shall we do?" she said, as he led her down the stairs. "In a
little town like this there's no place to go."
"I provided for that," he answered; and, beholding her start as a sound
of loud knocking at the door in the rear gave new cause for fright, he
added: "Thank goodness, the old bearded woman has gone around back to
get in!"
Half a minute more, and both were out upon the walk. Garrison carrying
his book, his pistol once more in his pocket.
A yell, and a shrill penetrative whistle from the rear of the house,
now told of Theodore's activities at the window of the room where he
and his father were imprisoned. He was doubtless making ready to let
himself down to the ground.
"We may have to make a lively run," said Garrison. "My motor-car is
two blocks away."
They were still a block from the waiting car when, with yells and a
furious blowing of his whistle, Theodore came running to the street
before his house. One minute later a big red car, with the chief of
the town's police and the chief of the local firemen, shot around the
corner into Myrtle Avenue, and came to a halt before the residence
which the fugitives had just barely quitted.
"Make a run for it now, we're in for a race," said Garrison, and, with
Dorothy skipping in excitement beside him, he came to his waiting
chauffeur.
"That fellow up the street is on our trail!" he said. "Cut loose all
the speed you've got. Fifty dollars bonus if you lose the bunch before
you cross the bridge to New York!"
He helped Dorothy quickly to her seat inside, and only pausing to note
that Theodore was clambering hotly into the big red car, two long
village blocks away, he swung in himself as the driver speeded up the
motor.
Then, with a whir and a mighty lurch as the clutch went in, the
automobile started forward in the road.
Ten seconds later they were running full speed, with the muffler cut
out, and sharp percussions puncturing the air like a Gatling gun's
terrific detonations.
The race for New York had commenced.