THE NURSE TAKES A CHANCE
Parkins' escape from death owed itself to a surgeon's skill, the
operation upon his head having been successful. Now he sat up in bed,
after seven days at the Sawyer home. He talked very little, but the
furtive roving of his eyes during his wakeful hours denoted his mental
activity. Aside from the injuries to his head, all harmful results had
disappeared. The wound on his scalp was rapidly closing up, and
according to the surgeon, would never be noticed, owing to the dense
growth of his hair. Roached back and parted nearer the middle, the wound
would be obscured. According to both doctors, another week would find
him strong enough to walk about the grounds, but Parkins secretly knew
that he had plenty strength with which to escape. He had no way of
knowing Villard's views concerning him, but he was aware that Updyke
only visited places where something unusual was going on. He could feel
without seeing the Villard satellites--minions of the law!--they were
unremitting. So far as they could prevent there would be no chance for
his escape.
One thing Parkins had done well. He had made a fast friend of his day
nurse. By degrees he had won her confidence, until finally he asked her
if she would not prefer a good salary as his housekeeper rather than
slave on as a nurse.
"I'd go mad with such work on my hands," said he. "Only the faithfulness
of kind-hearted women toward those who suffer makes life worth living.
How much do you average per week?" he inquired abruptly.
"Oh, it's hard to tell, all owing to circumstances. In order to get
anything like steady work I have to take what the doctors offer. Some
weeks I scarcely make anything--other weeks twenty-five dollars, and
sometimes fifty. Last year my weekly average was a little over twenty
dollars. I could hardly make ends meet," she concluded.
"Well, I should think as much!" exclaimed Parkins, with a frown at the
ways of humanity. "How would you like to become housekeeper for me at
fifty dollars a week, with all you can eat, and a Christmas present for
good measure?"
"Are you married?" she asked as if doubtful upon that point.
"No, not yet, but I'm soon to be married--and to the sweetest little
lady in the land. We would have been married now but for the accident.
We were on our way to New York, eloping, as a matter of fact, although
her father was along. We were going to surprise him by suddenly going to
The Little Church Around the Corner, and with him as a witness, have the
ceremony performed. He would have been delighted," said Parkins, with
enthusiasm.
"Surely he would--and a lovely surprise, indeed!" replied the nurse,
gaily. "Was she hurt very badly?"
"No, just shocked, I gather from listening to the doctors. She's out and
around, and the place she is stopping is beautiful--just look out of
that west window into those grounds. See the big white mansion through
the opening? Well, the man that owns that home is many times a
millionaire, and I am Vice President of the company in which he made all
his money."
"You don't say!" exclaimed the nurse.
"Yes, he is the one who picked us up after the wreck--he and Mr. Sawyer
were out for a drive. Villard took the girl to his home and I was
brought here. The doctor said it would be best not to have two invalided
people in the same house."
"Well, that's a fact, especially when they are so close to one another,"
replied the nurse thoughtfully. "But it won't be long before you will be
ready to go your way. Of course you will take the little sweetheart
along."
"Your last cent can go on that," replied Parkins. "But we're going to
fool them, just the same, as soon as I can get out of this--and I'm
almost ready now. We are going to elope, and this time her father will
be none the wiser until it's all over. He is pretty much broken up over
the accident, but the home he is in is a dream, so he'll be happy there
until we come back for him--See? He knows I'm rich, and that I have a
big standing in the business world."
"How will you manage so grave a matter as an elopement?" inquired the
nurse, soberly.
"I'll think it out--oh, now that you are going to be our housekeeper,
and all that, you can help us easily, and no one will ever know it,"
concluded the patient, his face lighting up as if inspired.
Parkins knew how to smile, and to appear the soul of honor. The nurse,
Mrs. Duke by name, as given to him by Dr. Benton when he introduced her,
at once approved him.
"I might be helpful, and would be willing to aid, but I wouldn't want to
be left here to be blamed for it," said she soberly.
"Why, that's easy to avoid," said Parkins. "During your daily exercise,
manage to meet her, and get acquainted. But don't tell her of our plans,
because she is a nervous little soul and might see difficulties in the
way. Naturally she'd want her father along, but that would spoil the
elopement," said the patient, with a sly wink.
"I see that clearly, but what about me? I----"
"I was just going to tell you what to do. First, get acquainted with
her, and on a certain day I'll have a car waiting at a certain place
near by. As you walk along with her you could suggest a pretty place
you'd like to have her see. When she arrives there the car will be
waiting, and you and my sweetheart will jump in, and away you'll go.
Meanwhile, as the car passes this place I will be where I can jump in
and become manager of the affair."
"I'm so afraid of anything like that!" exclaimed Mrs. Duke. "We might be
arrested."
"Oh, pshaw! Nothing of the kind. She's of age--she loves me--and we are
going to be married! The only thing I'm afraid of is that the old
bachelor who owns the place where she is now might want to marry her,
and she is so sweet and obliging, her father might coax her into
marriage with this man Villard," explained Parkins.
"Villard! Is that his place?" asked the nurse, sharply as she again
looked out upon the beautiful home.
"Yes, it's worth a couple of millions, including the land and beach
property," replied the patient.
"Why, he was the man over here last night, was he not?"
"That was Drury Villard. You saw how friendly he was with me, and how
concerned he was about my condition, and everything."
"Yes, indeed, a fine looking man--but too old for that sweet little
girl," said the nurse, shaking her head in deprecation of even the
thought of such a match. "He may be a nice man, and all that, and seems
kindly, but an old man's love is no love at all, so I'm going to help
the girl to escape such a fate," she concluded, shaking her head as she
meant it.
"And if you do, I'll give you one thousand dollars in cash!" whispered
Parkins, as the nurse looked into his eyes.
They held true, disclosing not the least appearance of deceit. Whereupon
Mrs. Duke nodded her head affirmatively.
"I'll do it," she said, "and if you don't mind, I am going out for a
little fresh air"--all of which was accompanied by a knowing smile--the
smile of a skillful accomplice.
To Mrs. Duke a millionaire was a living crime. Want, perpetually barking
at her heels, gave her no charity of feeling toward the rich man--his
kith or his kin. She likened such men to a huge net stretched across the
river of life to which human souls were drawn unerringly by man-made
currents, until caught in the meshes and held in despair. Naught but
death could come to their rescue.
To her, the knowledge that a man of William Parkins' goodness of heart
could be accounted a chattel of the great Villard was unthinkable. As
she walked along among rare trees and flowered bushes her heart turned
cold and her eyes dilated indignation at the inequality of human
destinies. Had she but known the man, his kindly nature, his open purse,
and great benefactions, her hatred of Drury Villard would have been
turned into admiration. Good woman that she was, her intuition had
failed her in her estimate of Parkins' veracity. She had yet to learn
the depravity of the man, who, by the mere use of five magic words--"one
thousand dollars in cash"--had won her hatred toward the best friend he
ever had.
So far as Mrs. Duke was concerned it was easy to meet up with Winifred
Barbour. The girl loved to look upon the waters of the bay, and during
her convalescing days she sat for hours on the sands of the beach and
breathed the ozone borne in upon the breezes from the great Atlantic.
She had wondered about Parkins, still bedfast, but no inkling had come
to her ears of his perfidious intentions toward herself. No gentleman
of Villard's high ideals would have failed to shield the innocent young
woman from a knowledge of the perfidy of the man--but the nurse had not
been taken into account.
Mrs. Duke instinctively knew Winifred at first glance. There she was
seated upon the sands, gracefully poised and tossing pebbles into the
waves.
"Why, bless me!--aren't you Winifred Barbour of Patchogue?" inquired
Mrs. Duke, smiling down upon the girl.
"Yes, that is my name, and Patchogue is my home. Won't you sit down and
listen to the roaring tide coming in? I adore the splashing of the
waves! I do not remember meeting you before," she added, as if in
apology.
"Indeed, I will sit down--it is such a charming spot. You would hardly
remember me, for I left Patchogue years ago, when you were a very sweet
little girl. I begin to recall your features. I am Mrs. Duke."
"Do you live in this vicinity, Mrs. Duke?" asked Winifred, politely.
"No, indeed, sorry as I am to say it. I'm too poor for that--I am at Mr.
Sawyer's at present," said she, as if it didn't matter particularly
where she was.
"Oh, indeed! Some one ill there?"
"Yes, but improving very fast. It's a man, thank goodness--a brave man,
too. I seem to prefer to nurse a man, for they are so much more patient
than women. Not so delicate, you know, and they have more fortitude. But
I must confess I've nursed women, too, who were remarkable!" exclaimed
Mrs. Duke. "Do you live hereabouts?" she asked in a naïve sort of way.
"No, I still live in Patchogue," replied Winifred, dreamily. "It is so
beautiful here, almost like heaven. I wonder if one could always be
happy with every craving of the heart entirely satisfied?"
"Positively not, unless the right man is at hand. The man I'm nursing
now is such a gentleman! Oh, dear--a week or so, and away he goes to his
home of plenty, while I go back to my poor little tenement. Rents are so
awful, aren't they?"
"We have never rented--father and mother always owned a little home, and
since she died, we've continued to live there. I love the little
place!" said Winifred, looking far out beyond the bay.
"Of course you do, my dear child," purred Mrs. Duke, arising to go back
to her charge. "I hope I'll meet you here to-morrow, Miss Barbour, when
I come out for my airing. It's desperately trying to have no one to talk
to."
"Thank you, Mrs. Duke, I'll try to be on hand," was Winifred's reply, as
the nurse sighed and arose to go.
"That's a dear--you can't imagine the dreariness of a life like mine,"
sighed the nurse, turning to go.
On hearing Mrs. Duke's story, Parkins' mind fairly sizzled with plans.
It was a case of now or never so far as Winifred was concerned. He
figured that no matter how much she might be frightened at the plans he
had in mind, that she would calm down, once she saw how much he really
cared for her--and the risk he took to save her from the fate of
becoming the bride of a man so many years her senior.
"Youth for the young--age cannot hold out against it," he soliloquized.
"Now for a plan of action," said he, in lowered voice, to Mrs. Duke.
"Take these memorandums, please," he whispered, reaching under the top
mattress. "Read them carefully, and by all means live up to them. Go to
your room and lock yourself in while you memorize each item of the plan.
Now is the time--quick!" he whispered, his eyes afire with suppressed
excitement.
Mrs. Duke was amazed at the skill of her patient. She read the pages
thrice over, each time in a whispered monotone, her lips moving rapidly.
The instructions read:
1. During your afternoon walk, go to telephone booth in Murray's Wayside
Lunch Room--half a mile east, on the opposite side of the Motor Parkway.
2. Call up Daniel McGonigal--Murray Hill 10011--be sure that you talk to
Dan--no one else--tell him who you are, and whom you represent. Also
tell him about the accident.
3. Read him the note addressed to him.
4. If he seems uncertain tell him its $500 if successful; $250 if we
lose.
5. He is to have a high-power limousine at the beach end of the private
road on the east hedge line of the Sawyer home--to-morrow morning at
eleven sharp--with instructions to take on two women--if not there to
wait one hour--then go home. You will be the other woman.
6. The driver to be accompanied by a uniformed assistant who will sit
beside him unless you need him inside--if there is a struggle.
7. You will meet the girl at the beach on your morning walk, same as
to-day. If she doesn't show up within an hour--come back.
8. If she comes, suggest a walk, east along the beach--for fine view of
wonderful gardens--not to be seen in any other way.
9. My room faces right for full observation--I will be in readiness to
escape, and will be at the Parkway corner by the time the car arrives.
If I fail, go on without me to Herman's--the chauffeur will know.
10. Reassure the girl--soothe her--tell her of my great love--and don't
forget the $1000 you will receive--if successful!
Thus was disclosed to Mrs. Duke the processes of the Parkins' mind,
and--"Wonderful!"--that was her thought as she tucked the instructions
in the bosom of her dress. She gloried in the part she was to take in
defeating the purpose of the rich Villard--and later on--when taking
her fresh air ramble she walked into the booth at Murray's and
telephoned McGonigal.
At first he refused the job, but finally relented upon the grounds of
old friendship. The price was too low for the job, even if it turned out
to be a mere elopement. He very much doubted that version, for he knew
Parkins too well. But Mrs. Duke succeeded in every way and arrived back
in the sick room with triumphant eyes and a thumping heart.
"You have served me well!" said Parkins, patting the hand she laid on
his forehead in search of fever.
There was none, whereat her eyes beamed with delight.
"To-morrow," he continued, "is a fateful day for both of us. It means
joy or sorrow. I'm putting all of the 'eggs in one basket'--we must win
or die! Villard is not asleep! Neither is Updyke! They think I'm too ill
to try anything--so we will show them a thing or two."
"I'll help you against that money shark to my dying breath," replied the
nurse, her eyes envenomed with hatred for such as he. "The girl is
yours--you saw her first, and no doubt she loves you. I'll see that you
get her, too!" whispered the nurse with emphasis.
And so it came about that on the following day, around the hour of
eleven, Parkins looked out upon Great South Bay from a window in a
servant's chamber of Dr. Sawyer's home and what he saw thrilled him to
the marrow of his bones. There they were, two women, easily
recognizable, strolling leisurely along the shore line, stopping now and
then to admire the beauty of the landscape. A closed car stood off a
hundred yards or so at the foot of the east line road. One last sweep of
his eyes and Parkins ran to his room and tore off the bath robe and
pajamas, thus displaying the fact that he was all dressed and ready for
action.
One hour later the Sawyer telephone rang and Villard's excited voice
shouted for the master, who came forward forthwith.
"This is Villard, Dr. Sawyer. Have you seen Winifred?"
The voice, while familiar, hardly matched that of the owner of Dreamy
Hollow.
"Not since yesterday--what is the matter? Anything wrong?"
"She's missing--can't be found on the premises--searched everywhere--all
hands joining. We are simply groping in a blind alley. She walked over
toward the beach about ten o'clock, according to Jerry, but that is the
last thing known of her. He thinks the Parkins' nurse went over that way
a few minutes afterward. Go up in his room, please, and see if the nurse
has returned."
Villard's voice was husky and impatient, but when Sawyer returned and
reported that neither Parkins nor nurse was to be found, and that a bath
robe lay on the floor--also sleeping garments--his voice roared with
anger.
"Where is Updyke's man?" he shouted, stifling the ominous forebodings
that were boring in upon his brain.
"I'll see--hold the wire--and keep steady. Calm yourself, I'll be back
in a minute," said Sawyer.
It was a long drawn-out minute, but the situation was clear. Updyke's
operative had looked in on Parkins at ten minutes of eleven. The nurse
was out for a walk. He came back and sat down on the west corner of the
front veranda, and at ten minutes after eleven returned and found that
the room was empty. The operative's first act was to inform the New York
office from an outside phone, at Murray's, not a minute from the Sawyer
home--by motorcycle. He was now carrying out Updyke's personal orders,
which were--"Stick around until I phone you!"
One thing that had a bearing on the case was Dr. Benton's talk with
Parkins, earlier in the morning. The Updyke man was in the sick room at
the time the doctor made his call and heard everything that was said.
Parkins pleaded to be allowed to take a walk in the garden. The doctor
opposed the idea, and stated that the patient could not walk a hundred
feet without falling in a heap. Also, that another week in bed was
necessary before making an attempt. It was now quite evident that
Parkins had been "playing 'possum," and had succeeded in fooling the
doctor by his apparent weakness of voice, as he plead for out-of-door
exercise.
"That's him all over!" panted Villard, as the particulars of the escape
came to an end. "I'll talk with Updyke--that's all I can do. I'll see
you later and let you know what I find out. Your help has been bully, as
usual. Always grateful--see you later," said he, banging the receiver
into place.
For a moment Villard stood mutely, with hands locked and eyes shut.
Then, with the rage of a lion he sprang into action. Updyke's office was
phoned, and "The Big Fellow" was on deck.
"I thought I'd be hearing from you pretty soon," said he, in reply to
Villard's ring. "Don't worry--Sawyer's butler is one of my men--he got
fooled the same as the rest of you. It shows that Parkins has more
brains than one certain operative. I know one who is going to get
shanghaied. The doctor's pessimism as to Parkins condition in the
presence of my man simply threw him off his balance."
"Never mind the story, old boy. You did your best, but my Winifred is
gone! She is in the hands of a villain!" shouted Villard.
"Well, keep your shirt on, old chap. Raving doesn't get you anywhere. My
man got the news to me before you knew anything had happened--or Sawyer
either. What more do you expect in an instant?"
The growl in Updyke's voice was becoming noticeable, as Villard started
in to apologize.
"I'm just about crazy--don't mind what I say. What else"--but Updyke
ignored the interruption.
"I'm making no promises, but I'm expecting quick results," he continued.
"Parkins is still on the Island, and the big limousine from McGonigle's
garage isn't a racing machine. It can't take to the woods like a small
car unless there is an accomplice who knows the way. I have twelve
motorcycle men out on the job, and three high-speed roadsters. Every
ranger that can be reached by the Chief Forester will assist, and many
secret service men are already alert. I expect to hear news any moment."
"Where do you think he will head for?" inquired Villard.
"I don't think--I know where he is going--but I don't know when he will
get there? I'm not going to tell you now, anyhow. You'd go up in the
air like a balloon," said Updyke with emphasis.
"Then tell me how you know he is going to a certain place. That will
help some. You can see that I am almost crazy!"
"Well, then, brace up and listen. I called up McGonigle and asked him
where Parkins was going in his big limousine and he fell for it. He
stuttered, and hemmed and hawed, until I shouted a real message into his
ear. I said, 'Talk quick or you will be in a hurry-up wagon on your way
to police headquarters!' That's what did the business."
"What did he say to that?"
"My God! On what grounds can I be treated in such a manner, he came back
to me, but his voice was broken. I had him all right, and he knew I had
him. So I answered back--'Because you're an accomplice, and by turning
in evidence that will help convict Parkins you will soften the charge
against yourself.' Then I said I'd help him, most probably, but he must
first tell me the story from beginning to end, or shift for himself."
"Terrible!" sighed Villard. "And he had sold himself to a counterfeit
gentleman! I always thought well of McGonigle. I've known him for
years."
"Well, to make a long story short, he told me everything--how Parkins'
nurse had called him up, and told him of the plan, which was spoken of
as an elopement, offering five hundred for a successful venture, and
two-fifty in any event. Regarding Parkins as a rich man, and sporty, he
took the offer. Now here is the real joker in the pack, and it shows
that luck is still with me," laughed Updyke.
"Let's hear it," said Villard, in a voice less restrained.
"I had another matter on my slate having to do with McGonigle's garage,
so I had sent one of my men over to apply for a job. He entered the
place and found Mac all worked up because a man he had depended on to go
out on a swell limousine job hadn't shown up. The upshot of it was that
he took on my man and gave him a uniform to put on--one of the regular
chauffeur turnouts. That's why I know that we're going to get Parkins,
and get him soon."
"Henry, you are a wonder!--what is the next step?" demanded Villard,
chuckling in spite of his fears.
"The next step is for you to go and sit down with your morning papers,"
shouted Updyke. "I've got other phones waiting on me."
"Just one thing more--tell me where he's taking her," begged Villard.
"What's the use? He won't get her there?"
"Tell me anyhow--I'm stronger when I know the worst," pleaded Villard.
Updyke hesitated. He loathed the thought of letting his friend know the
truth. But finally, in a rasping voice, almost choking with the rage
that he had been trying to conceal, Updyke replied:
"Well, if you must know, the car started for Herman's Road
House--otherwise known as 'The Mad House.'"
With that Updyke threw his receiver on the hook, and asked his
switch-board operator for the call next in line--but he was more than
furious with himself for having yielded to Villard's entreaty.