A COLUMBIAN GUARD.
It was still our theory--Dave's and mine--that, granted our original
quarry was still in the White City, we must sooner or later encounter
it, if we continued to traverse the thickly populated enclosure long
enough, and with an eye single to our search.
We believed as firmly, yes, more firmly than at first, that Delbras
and his band were still, much of the time, in Midway; and after long
watching we had grown to believe that they had somewhere upon Stony
Island Avenue a retreat where all could find shelter and safety in
time of need.
'But one thing's certain,' quoth Dave, when we were discussing the
matter, 'wherever the place is, they can approach it from more
directions and more entrances than one. They, some of them, have been
seen to enter saloons, to go upstairs, around corners, and into
basements, and are never seen to come out I can only account for it in
one way.'
'And what is that?' I questioned.
'They enter always at the side or rear, and never at the front, and
they only do this when they know, by signal, that the way is clear.'
'If that is true,' I said, 'we shall find them sooner or later.'
One of the characters assumed by me when going about the grounds in my
capacity of a detective was that of a Columbian Guard. I had a natty
blue uniform, in which, when donned with the addition of a brown curly
wig, and a luxuriant moustache just light enough to be called blond, I
became a really distinguished guard. And more than once, when thus
attired, I have watched the conscious faces and overburdened shoulders
and heads of the multitudes of uniformed martyrs who, on these
oft-recurring dedication days, State and national, not to mention
receptions to the great--native and foreign--tramped in sun, mud, or
rain, arrayed in all the rainbow hues, beplumed, gilded, and
uncomfortable, and have thanked the good sense and good taste that
evolved for the manly good-looking 'C. G.' a uniform at once tasteful,
soldierly, and subdued, in which one might walk abroad and not feel
shamefacedly aware that he was too brilliantly picturesque for
comfort.
In this array I had more than once passed my acquaintances of the
bureau and the hospital, Miss Jenrys and her aunt, and even Lossing,
until one day it occurred to me that I might keep him near me, enjoy
his society, and still be on duty, by making myself known; and so,
until he chose to go on duty for a part of the day, we went up and
down Midway, and in and out of the foreign villages together, as Dave
described us, 'keeping step, with our chin-straps up.'
We had made our first appearance in the Plaisance as a brace of guards
off duty, on the day upon which I posted the decoy letter to the
little brunette.
I had made this letter as brief as possible, merely asking her to name
a day or evening when she would be at liberty to do the Liberal Arts,
etc., in company with the writer, and upon second thought, I saw that
it would be a great mistake for me to call for the reply, in case the
brunette caught at the bait. She had shown herself a wary opponent,
and she might think it worth while to know who received her answer.
It was late in the day when we left Midway, and with this new thought
in my mind I dropped Lossing's arm as we approached the Java village,
and skirting the west side of the inclosure, left the grounds by the
Midway exit at Madison Avenue, and hastened on to Washington Avenue.
As I turned a corner I saw a smart carriage at Miss Jenrys' door, but
before I had reached the house I saw the driver turn his head and
gather up his reins, and the next moment Monsieur Voisin, attired as
if for a visit of ceremony, came down the steps slowly, almost
reluctantly, it seemed to me, entered the carriage, and dashed past me
without a glance to right or left.
A card brought Miss Jenrys to the little reception-room where I
waited, and when she had inspected my disguise, which she declared
quite perfect, I made known my errand, and, as I fully expected, she
declared my second thought best.
'I will go to-morrow; there will hardly be an answer before that time;
and--suppose we should meet?'
Before I could reply, the door opened and Miss Ross came in.
'A disguised detective is a thing to see!' she declared; and then,
when she had looked me over and marvelled at the fit of my wig, she
turned to her niece:
'June, child, did thee speak of our dilemma?'
'Auntie, you must give me time!' her face flushing rosily.
'Time indeed! did not this young man's card say, 'A moment. In haste'?
And can we entertain this strange young man by the hour? Fie upon
thee, June! Do thy duty, else----'
June's hand went out in a pretty gesture, and between the two they
made the 'dilemma' clear to me.
Some time since, when Miss Jenrys had expressed a wish to see the
Plaisance thoroughly, I had offered my services, promising to take
them safely through the strange places, behind the mysterious gates
and doors, where they had not ventured to penetrate alone. Now they
had an especial reason for wishing to make this excursion on the next
day, and--would I be at liberty?
I assured them that, in any case, I should doubtless pass a part of
the day, at least, in Midway; and if they would allow me to include
Lossing in our party there need be no change save that, instead of
wearing our guards' uniform, we would go as citizen sight-seers; and
instead of a party of two, there would be a quartet, and so it was
arranged.
Before leaving the house I had been told what I had surmised before
entering.
Monsieur Voisin had asked Miss Jenrys to drive with him, and when she
had declined, upon a plea of indisposition, he had renewed the
invitation for the following day, whereupon Miss Jenrys, in sheer
desperation, recalled that proposed visit to Midway, and, falling back
upon that, once more declined with thanks.
Certainly Monsieur Voisin was a persistent wooer!
He was much in my thoughts, after I had left the ladies, and quite
naturally followed me into dreamland. My head was heavy with pain, and
I went to my room at an early hour. It was long before the lotion did
its work and I fell asleep, and then I dreamed that Monsieur Voisin
had carried off June Jenrys, and had shut her into an old building in
care of the brunette, who locked her in a room at the top of the house
and then set it on fire below.
I saw the flames shoot forth; I saw June's face, pallid and desperate,
at the window, beyond the reach of the highest ladder; I saw Lossing
dash through the flames; and with a yell I awoke.