The next trolley that passed the old barn after the Hollisters had left
brought a maid servant and a man servant from the Graham place. The
other old servant met them, and together the three went to work. They
had brought with them a lot of large dust-covers and floor-spreads such
as are used by housemaids in cleaning a room, and with these they now
proceeded to cover all the large pieces of furniture in the place. In
a very short space of time the rugs and bits of carpet were carefully
rolled up, the furniture piled in small compass in the middle of the
rooms, and everything enveloped in thick coverings. The curtains,
bric-â-brac, and even the dishes were put away carefully, and the whole
big, inviting home was suddenly denuded. The clothes from the
calico-curtained clothes-presses were folded and laid in drawers, and
everything made perfectly safe for a lot of workmen to come into the
house. Even the hay-loft bedrooms shared in this process. Only a cot
was left for the old servant and a few necessary things for him to use,
and most of these he transported to the basement out of the way. When
the work was done the man and maid took the trolley back home again and
the other old man servant arranged to make his Sabbath as pleasant as
possible in the company of his brother from the near-by farm.
Monday morning promptly at eight o'clock the trolley landed a bevy of
workmen, carpenters, plasterers, plumbers, and furnace men, with a
foreman who set them all at work as if it were a puzzle he had studied
out and memorized the solution. In a short time the quiet spot was
full of sound, the symphony of industry, the rhythm of toil. Some men
were working away with the furnace that had been stored in the cellar;
others were measuring, fitting, cutting holes for lead pipes; still
others were sawing away at the roof, making great gashes in its mossy
extent; and two men were busy taking down the old barn door. Out in
front more men were building a vat for mortar, and opening bags of lime
and sand that began to arrive. Three men with curious aprons made of
ticking, filled with thin wire nails, were frantically putting laths on
the uprights that the carpenters had already set up, and stabbing them
with nails from a seemingly inexhaustible supply in their mouths. It
was as if they had all engaged to build the tower of Babel in a day,
and meant to win a prize at it. Such sounds! Such shoutings, such
bangings, thumpings, and harsh, raucous noises! The bird in the tall
tree looked and shivered, thankful that her brood were well away on
their wings before all this cataclysm came to pass.
Presently arrived a load of sashes, doors, and wooden frames, and
another load of lumber. Things can be done in a hurry if you have
money and influence and the will to insist upon what you want. Before
night there was a good start made toward big changes in the old barn.
Plumbers and gas-fitters and men who were putting in the hot-water heat
chased one another around the place, each man seeking to get his pipes
in place before the lathers got to that spot; and the contractor was
everywhere, proving his right to be selected for this rush job. As
soon as the lathers had finished with a room the plasterers took
possession, and the old door was rapidly being replaced with a great
glazed floor set in a frame of more sashes, so that the old darkness
was gone entirely.
In the roof big dormer windows were taking the place of the two or
three little eyebrow affairs that had given air to the hay heretofore,
and the loft was fast becoming pleasanter than the floor below.
Outside laborers were busy building up a terrace, where a wide
cement-floor piazza with stone foundations and low stone walls was to
run across the entire front. Another chimney was rising from the
region of the kitchen. A white enamel sink with a wide drain-shelf
attached appeared next, with signs of a butler's pantry between kitchen
and dining-room. A delightful set of china-closet doors with little
diamond panes that matched the windows was put in one corner of the
dining-room, and some bookcases with sliding doors began to develop
along the walls of the living-room. Down in the basement a man was
fitting stationary tubs for a laundry, and on both the first floor and
the second bathrooms were being made. If the place hadn't been so big,
the workmen would have got in one another's way. Closets big and
little were being put in, and parts of a handsome staircase were lying
about, until you wouldn't know the place at all. Every evening the old
servant and the neighbor next door, who used to rent the old barn
before he built his own new one, came together to look over what had
been accomplished during the day, and to discourse upon this changing
world and the wonders of it. The farmer, in fact, learned a great deal
about modern improvements, and at once set about bringing some of them
to bear upon his own modest farmhouse. He had money in the bank, and
why shouldn't he "have things convenient for Sally"?
When Sidney Graham reached the city on Monday morning he scarcely took
time to read his mail in the office and give the necessary attention to
the day's work before he was up and off again, flying along the
Glenside Road as fast as his car would carry him. His mind certainly
was not on business that morning. He was as eager as a child to see
how work at the old barn was progressing, and the workmen stood small
chance of lying down on their job that week, for he meant to make every
minute count, no matter how much it cost. He spent a large part of
Monday hovering about the old barn, gloating over each new sign of
progress, using his imagination on more things than the barn. But when
Tuesday arrived an accumulation of work at the office in connection
with a large order that had just come in kept him close to his desk.
He had hoped to get away in time to reach Glenside before the workmen
left in the afternoon, but four o'clock arrived with still a great pile
of letters for him to sign, before his work would be done for the day.
He had just signed his name for the forty-ninth time and laid his pen
down with an impatient sigh of relief when the telephone on his desk
rang. He hesitated. Should he answer it and be hindered again, or
call his secretary and let her attend to it while he slipped away to
his well-earned respite? A second insistent ring, however, brought him
back to duty and he reached out and took up the receiver.
"Is this Mr. Sidney Graham? Long distance is calling!"
The young man frowned impatiently and wished he had sent for his
secretary. It was probably another tiresome confab on that Chicago
matter, and it really wasn't worth the trouble, anyway. Then a small
scared voice at the other end of the wire spoke:
"Is that you, Mr. Graham? Well, this is Carol. Say, Mr. Graham, I'm
afraid something awful has happened to Shirley! I don't know what to
do, and I thought I'd better ask you." Her voice broke off in a gasp
like a sob.
A cold chill struck at the young man's heart, and a vision of Shirley
battling with the ocean waves was instantly conjured up.
"Shirley! Where is she? Tell me, quick!" he managed to say, though
the words seemed to stick in his throat.
"She's down at Washington," answered Carol. "Mr. Barnard phoned her
last night. There was something special nobody else could take notes
about, because it was for a Government contract, and has to be secret.
Mr. Barnard asked her to please go and she went this morning. Mother
didn't like her to go, but she addressed a lot of postal cards for her
to write back, and one came postmarked Baltimore in this afternoon's
mail, saying she was having a nice time. But just now a call came for
mother to go to the telephone. She was asleep and George was crabbing
so I had to come. It was a strange man in Washington. He said he had
just found three postal cards on the road addressed to mother, that all
said 'Help! Quick! Two men were carrying off Shirley and please to
phone to the police.' He took the postals to the police station, but
he thought he ought to phone us. And oh, Mr. Graham, _what shall I
do_? I can't tell mother. It will kill her, and how can we help
Shirley?"
"Don't tell mother," said Graham quickly, trying to speak calmly out of
his horror. "Be a brave girl, Carol. A great deal depends on you just
now. Have you phoned Mr. Barnard? Oh, you say he's in Washington? He
was to meet your sister in Baltimore? He _did_ meet her you say? The
postal card said she had met him? Well, the next thing is to phone Mr.
Clegg and find out if he knows anything. I'll do that at once, and
unless he has heard that she is all right I will start for Washington
on the next train. Suppose you stay right where you are till half-past
five. I may want to call you up again and need you in a hurry. Then
you go back to the cottage as fast as you can and talk cheerfully. Say
you went to take a walk. Isn't Elizabeth with you? Well, tell her to
help keep your mother from suspecting anything. Above all things don't
cry! It won't do any good and it may do lots of harm. Get George off
by himself and tell him everything, and tell him I said he was to make
some excuse to go down town after supper and stay at the telephone
office till ten o'clock. I may want to call him up from Washington.
Now be a brave little girl. I suspect your sister Shirley would tell
you to pray. Good-by."
"I will!" gasped Carol. "Good-by!"
Graham pressed his foot on the bell under his desk and reached out to
slam his desk drawers shut and put away his papers. His secretary
appeared at the door.
"Get me Barnard and Clegg on the phone! Ask for Mr. Barnard or, if he
isn't in, Mr. Clegg. Then go out to the other phone and call up the
station. Find out what's the next express to Washington. Tell
Bromwell to be ready to drive me to the station and bring my car back
to the garage."
He was working rapidly as he talked; putting papers in the safe,
jotting down a few notes for the next day's work, trying to think of
everything at once. The secretary handed him the phone, quietly
saying, "Mr. Clegg on the phone," and went out of the room.
Excited conference with Mr. Clegg brought out the fact that he was but
just in receipt of a telegram from Police Headquarters in Washington
saying that a book with Barnard and Clegg's address and an appeal from
a young woman named Shirley Hollister who was apparently being
kidnapped by two strange men in an auto, had been flung into a passing
car and brought to them. They had sent forces in search of the girl at
once and would do all in their power to find her. Meantime they would
like any information that would be helpful in the search.
Mr. Clegg was much excited. He appeared to have lost his head. He
seemed glad to have another cooler mind at work on the case. He
spluttered a good deal about the importance of the case and the
necessity for secrecy. He said he hoped it wouldn't get into the
papers, and that it would be Barnard and Clegg's undoing if it did. He
seemed more concerned about that and the notes that Shirley probably
had, than about the girl's situation. When Graham brought him up
rather sharply he admitted that there had been a message from Barnard
that he would be detained over night probably, but he had attached no
significance to that. He knew Barnard's usual hotel address in
Washington but hadn't thought to phone him about the telegram from
police headquarters. Graham hung up at last in a panic of fury and
dismay, ringing violently for his secretary again.
"The next train leaves at five o'clock," she said capably, as she
entered. "Bromwell has gone after the car. I told him to buy you a
mileage book and save your time at this end. You have forty minutes
and he will be back in plenty of time."
"Good!" said Graham. "Now call up long distance and get me Police
Headquarters in Washington. No! Use the phone in father's office
please, I'll have to use this while you're getting them."
As soon as she had left the room he called up the shore again and was
fortunate in getting Carol almost immediately, the poor child being
close at hand all in a tremble, with Elizabeth in no less a state of
nervousness, brave and white, waiting for orders.
"Can you give me an exact description of your sister's dress, and
everything that she had with her when she started this morning?" asked
Graham, prepared with pen and paper to write it down.
Carol summoned her wits and described Shirley's simple outfit exactly,
even down to the little black pumps on her feet, and went mentally
through the small hand-bag she had carried.
"Oh, yes!" she added, "and she had a book to read! One she found here
in the cottage. It had a red cover and was called, "From the Car
Behind."
Graham wrote them all down carefully, asked a few more details of
Shirley's plans, and bade Carol again to be brave and go home with a
message to George to be at the phone from half-past eight to ten.
He was all ready to go to his train when the Washington call came in,
and as he hurried to his father's office to answer it he found his
heart crying out to an Unseen Power to help in this trying hour and
protect the sweet girl in awful peril.
"Oh, God, I love her!" he found his heart saying over and over again,
as if it had started out to be an individual by itself without his will
or volition.
There was no comfort from Washington Police Headquarters. Nothing more
had been discovered save another crumpled postal lying along the
roadside. They received with alacrity, however, Mr. Barnard's
Washington hotel address, and the description of the young woman and
her belongings. When Graham had finished the hasty conversation he had
to fly to make his train, and when at last he lay back in his seat in
the parlor car and let the waves of his anxiety and trouble roll over
him he was almost overwhelmed. He had led a comparatively tranquil
life for a young man who had never tried to steer clear of trouble, and
this was the first great calamity that had ever come his way.
Calamity? No, he would not own yet that it was a calamity. He was
hurrying to her! He would find her! He would not allow himself to
think that anything had befallen her. But wherever she was, if she was
still alive, no matter how great her peril, he was sure she was praying
now, and he would pray too! Yes, pray as she had taught him. Oh, God!
If he only knew how to pray better! What was it she had said so often?
"Whatsoever ye ask in my name"--yes, that was it--"I will do it." What
was that talismanic Name? Ah! Christ! "Oh, God, in the name of
Christ--" But when he came to the thought of her she was too exquisite
and dear to be put into words, so his petition went up in spirit form,
unframed by words to weight it down, wafted up by the pain of a soul in
torture.
At Baltimore it occurred to Graham to send a telegram to Barnard to
meet him at the train, and when he got out at Union Station the first
person he saw was Barnard, white and haggard, looking for him through
the bars of the train gate. He grasped the young man's hand as if it
were a last straw for a drowning man to cling to, and demanded in a
shaking voice to know if he had heard anything from Miss Hollister.
One of the first questions that Graham asked was whether Barnard had
been back to the office where Miss Hollister had taken the dictation,
to report her disappearance.
"Well, no, I hadn't thought of that,"' said Barnard blankly. "What
would they know about it? The fact is I was rather anxious to keep the
facts from getting to them. You see they warned me that there were
parties anxious to get hold of those specifications. It's Government
work, you know."
"They should know at once," said Graham sternly. "They may have inside
information which would give us a clew to follow. The secret service
men are onto a lot of things that we common mortals don't suspect."
Mr. Barnard looked mortified and convinced.
"Well, what _have_ you done so far? We would better understand each
other thoroughly so as to save time and not go over old ground. You
have been in communication with Police Headquarters, of course?" asked
Graham.
"Why, no," said the older man apologetically. "You see, I got here
just in time for the train, and failing to find the young lady in the
station where we had agreed to meet, I took it for granted that she had
used the extra time in driving about to see a few sights in the city,
as I suggested, and had somehow failed to get back in time. I couldn't
understand it because she had been quite anxious to get home to-night.
I could have caught the train myself, but didn't exactly like to leave
her alone in a strange city, though, of course, it's perfectly safe for
a steady girl like that. Afterward it occurred to me that she might
have gotten on the train and perhaps I should have done so too, but
there was really very little time to decide, for the train pulled out
two minutes after I reached the station. I waited about here for a
time, and then went over to the Continental, where my sister is
stopping, thinking I would ask her to stay in the station and watch for
the young lady and I would go home; but I found my sister had run down
to the shore for a few days; so I had something to eat and while I was
in the dining-room your telegram came. I was hoping somehow you had
seen Miss Hollister, or had word from her, and it was all right."
One could see the poor man had no conception of what was due to a lady
in his care, and Graham looked at him for a moment with rage, wishing
he could take him by the throat and shake some sense into him.
"Then you don't know that she's been kidnapped and the police are out
on track for her?" said Graham dryly.
"No! You don't say!" exclaimed Barnard, turning white and showing he
had some real feeling after all. "Kidnapped! Why--why--how _could_
she? And she's got _those notes_! Why, Graham! You're fooling! Why,
how came you to know?"
Graham told him tersely as he walked the man over to the telephone
booths, and finished with:
"Now, you go in that booth and phone your Government man, and I'll call
up police headquarters and see what's doing. We've got to work fast,
for there's no telling what may have happened in the last three hours.
It's up to us to find that girl before anything worse happens to her."
White and trembling Barnard tottered into the booth. When he came out
again the sleuth-hounds of the Secret Service were on the trail of
Shirley Hollister's captors.