Elsie Banks Returns
Bonner, considerably annoyed and alarmed by the marshal's actions, made
every effort to turn him back before he could ruin everything by an
encounter with Mr. Barnes. He sent men on bicycles and horseback to
overtake him; but the effort was unsuccessful. Mr. Crow had secured a
"ride" in an automobile which had brought two newspaper correspondents
over from Boggs City. They speeded furiously in order to catch a train
for New York, but agreed to drop the marshal at the big bridge, not more
than a mile from Judge Brewster's place.
Chagrined beyond expression, he made ready to follow Anderson with all
haste in his own machine. Rosalie hurriedly perfected preparations to
accompany him. She was rejoining the house party that day, was consumed
by excitement over the situation, and just as eager as Bonner to
checkmate the untimely operations of poor old Anderson Crow.
The marshal had more than half an hour's start of them. Bonner was his
own chauffeur and he was a reckless one to-day. Luck was against him at
the outset. The vigorous old detective inspired to real speed, for the
first time in his lackadaisacal life, left the newspaper men at the
bridge nearly three-quarters of an hour before Bonner passed the same
spot, driving furiously up the hill toward Judge Brewster's.
"If your bothersome old daddy gets his eyes on Barnes before I can head
him off, dearest, the jig will be up," groaned Bonner, the first words
he had spoken in miles. "Barnes will be on his guard and ready for
anything. The old--pardon me, for saying it--the old jay ought to know
the value of discretion in a case like this."
"Poor old daddy," she sighed, compassion in her heart. "He thinks he is
doing it for the best. Wicker, I hope it is--it is not Mr. Barnes," she
added, voicing a thought which had been struggling in her mind for a
long time.
"Why not, dearest?"
"It would mean one of two things. Either he does not want to recognise
me as his child--or cannot, which is even worse. Wicker, I don't want to
know the truth. I am afraid--I am afraid."
She was trembling like a leaf and there was positive distress in her
eyes, eyes half covered by lids tense with alarm.
"Don't feel that way about it, dear," cried he, recovering from his
astonishment and instantly grasping the situation as it must have
appeared to her. "To tell you the truth, I do not believe that Mr.
Barnes is related to you in any way. If he is connected with the case at
all, it is in the capacity of attorney."
"But he is supposed to be an honourable man."
"True, and I still believe him to be. It does not seem possible that he
can be engaged in such work as this. We are going altogether on
supposition--putting two and two together, don't you know, and hoping
they will stick. But, in any event, we must not let any chance slip by.
If he is interested, we must bring him to time. It may mean the
unravelling of the whole skein, dear. Don't look so distressed. Be
brave. It doesn't matter what we learn in the end, I love you just the
same. You shall be my wife."
"I _do_ love you, Wicker. I will always love you."
"Dear little sweetheart!"
They whirled up to the lodge gate at Judge Brewster's place at last, the
throbbing machine coming to a quick stop. Before he called out to the
lodge keeper, Bonner impulsively drew her gloveless hand to his lips.
"Nothing can make any difference now," he said.
The lodge keeper, in reply to Bonner's eager query, informed them that
Mr. Barnes had gone away ten or fifteen minutes before with an old man
who claimed to be a detective, and who had placed the great lawyer under
arrest.
"Good Lord!" gasped Bonner with a sinking heart.
"It's an outrage, sir! Mr. Barnes is the best man in the world. He never
wronged no one, sir. There's an 'orrible mistake, sir," groaned the
lodge keeper. "Judge Brewster is in Boggs City, and the man wouldn't
wait for his return. He didn't even want to tell Mr. Barnes what 'e was
charged with."
"Did you ever hear of anything so idiotic?" roared Bonner. Rosalie was
white and red by turn. "What direction did they take?"
"The constable told Mr. Barnes he'd 'ave to go to Tinkletown with 'im at
once, sir, even if he 'ad to walk all the way. The old chap said
something, sir, about a man being there who could identify him on sight.
Mr. Barnes 'ad to laugh, sir, and appeared to take it all in good
humour. He said he'd go along of 'im, but he wouldn't walk. So he got
his own auto out, sir, and they went off together. They took the short
cut, sir, by the ferry road, 'eaded for Tinkletown. Mr. Barnes said he'd
be back before noon, sir--if he wasn't lynched."
"It's all over," groaned Bonner dejectedly. Something had slipped from
under his feet and he was dangling in space, figuratively speaking.
"There's nothing to do, Rosalie, except to chase them down. Mr. Crow has
ruined everything. I'll leave you at Bonner Place with mother and Edith,
and I'll hurry back to Tinkletown."
The excitement was too much for Rosalie's nerves. She was in a state of
physical collapse when he set her down at his uncle's summer home half
an hour later. Leaving her to explain the situation to the curious
friends, he set speed again for Tinkletown, inwardly cursing Anderson
Crow for a meddling old fool.
In the meantime Tinkletown was staring open-mouthed upon a new
sensation. The race between Anderson and Bonner was hardly under way
when down the main street of the town came a jaded team and surrey.
Behind the driver sat a pretty young woman with an eager expression on
her pale face, her gaze bent intently on the turn in the street which
hid Anderson Crow's home from view. Beside the young woman lounged
another of her sex, much older, and to all appearances, in a precarious
state of health. The young men along the street gasped in amazement and
then ventured to doff their timid hats to the young woman, very much as
if they were saluting a ghost. Few of them received a nod of recognition
from Elsie Banks, one-time queen of all their hearts.
Roscoe Crow bounded out to the gate when he saw who was in the carriage,
first shouting to his mother and sisters, who were indoors receiving
congratulations and condolences from their neighbours.
Miss Banks immediately inquired if she could see Rosalie.
"She ain't here," said Roscoe. "She's away fer a month--over at the
Bonners'. He's her feller, you know. Ma! Here's Miss Banks! Edner! Sue!"
Mrs. Crow and the girls flew out to the gate, babbling their surprise
and greetings.
"This is my mother," introduced the young lady. "We have just come from
New York, Mrs. Crow. We sail for England this week, and I must see
Rosalie before we go. How can we get to Mr. Bonner's place?"
"It's across the river, about twelve miles from here," said Mrs. Crow.
"Come in and rest yourselves. You don't have to go back to-day, do you?
Ain't you married yet?"
"No, Mrs. Crow," responded Elsie, with a stiff, perfunctory smile.
"Thank you, we cannot stop. It is necessary that we return to New York
to-night, but I must see Rosalie before going. You see, Mrs. Crow, I do
not expect to return to America. We are to live in London forever, I
fear. It may be the last chance I'll have to see Rosalie. I must go on
to Bonner Place to-day. But, dear me, I am so tired and hot, and it is
so far to drive," she cried ruefully. "Do you know the way, driver?" The
driver gruffly admitted that he did not. Roscoe eagerly bridged the
difficulty by offering to act as pathfinder.
At first Mrs. Banks tried to dissuade her daughter from undertaking the
long trip, but the girl was obstinate. Her mother then flatly refused to
accompany her, complaining of her head and heart. In the end the elder
lady decided to accept Mrs. Crow's invitation to remain at the house
until Elsie's return.
"I shall bring Rosalie back with me, mother," said Elsie as she prepared
to drive away. Mrs. Banks, frail and wan, bowed her head listlessly and
turned to follow her hostess indoors. With Roscoe in the seat with the
driver, the carriage started briskly off down the shady street, headed
for the ferry road and Bonner Place.
To return to Anderson Crow and his precipitancy. Just as the lodge
keeper had said, the marshal, afoot and dusty, descended upon Mr. Barnes
without ceremony. The great lawyer was strolling about the grounds when
his old enemy arrived. He recognised the odd figure as it approached
among the trees.
"Hello, Mr. Crow!" he called cheerily. "Are you going to arrest me
again?" He advanced to shake hands.
"Yes, sir; you are my prisoner," said Anderson, panting, but stern. "I
know you, Mr. Barnes. It won't do you any good to deny it."
"Come in and sit down. You look tired," said Barnes genially, regarding
his words as a jest; but Anderson proudly stood his ground.
"You can't come any game with me. It won't do you no good to be perlite,
my man. This time you don't git away."
"You don't mean to say you are in earnest?" cried Barnes.
"I never joke when on duty. Come along with me. You c'n talk afterward.
Your hirelin' is in jail an' he c'n identify you; so don't resist."
"Wait a moment, sir. What is the charge?"
"I don't know yet. You know better'n I do what it is."
"Look here, Mr. Crow. You arrested me the first time I ever saw you, and
now you yank me up again, after all these years. Haven't you anything
else to do but arrest me by mistake? Is that your only occupation?"
Anderson sputtered indignantly. Driven to it, he informed John Barnes
that he was charged with kidnaping, attempted murder, polygamy, child
desertion, and nearly everything else under the sun. Barnes, at first
indignant, finally broke into a hearty laugh. He magnanimously agreed to
accompany his captor to Tinkletown. Not only that, but he provided the
means of transportation. To the intense dismay of the servants, he
merrily departed with Mr. Crow, a prisoner operating his own patrol
wagon. The two were smoking the captive's best cigars.
"It's mighty nice of you, Mr. Barnes, to let us use your autermobile,"
said Anderson, benignly puffing away as they bowled off through the
dust. "It would 'a' been a long walk. I'll speak a good word fer you fer
this."
"Don't mention it, old chap. I rather enjoy it. It's been uncommonly
dull up here. I did not get away as soon as I expected, you see. So I am
charged with being Rosalie's father, eh? And deserting her? And
kidnaping her? By jove, I ought to be hung for all this!"
"'Tain't nothin' to laugh at, my friend. You ought to be ashamed of
yourself. I was onto you the day you stopped me in the road an' ast
about her. What a fool you was. Reg'lar dead give-away."
"See here, Mr. Crow, I don't like to upset your hopes and calculations,"
said Barnes soberly. "I did that once before, you remember. That was
years ago. You were wrong then, and you are wrong now. Shall I tell you
why I am interested in this pretty waif of yours?"
"It ain't necessary," protested the marshal.
"I'll tell you just the same. My son met her in New York while he was at
school. He heard her story from mutual friends and repeated it to me. I
was naturally interested, and questioned you. He said she was very
pretty. That is the whole story, my dear sir."
"That's all very purty, but how about the B in your hat?"
"I don't understand. Oh, you mean the political bee?"
"Politics, your granny! I mean the 'nitial that Briggs saw. No; hold on!
Don't answer. Don't say anything that'll incriminate yourself."
"I never had an initial in my hat, and I don't know Briggs. Mr. Crow,
you are as crazy as a loon." He prepared to bring the machine to a
standstill. "I'm going home. You can ride back with me or get out and
walk on, just as you please."
"Hold on! Don't do that! I'll see that you're paid fer the use of the
machine. Besides, consarn ye, you're my prisoner." This was too much for
Barnes. He laughed long and loud, and he did not turn back.
Just beyond the ferry they turned aside to permit a carriage to pass. A
boy on the box with the driver shouted frantically after them, and
Anderson tried to stop the machine himself.
"Stop her!" he cried; "that's Roscoe, my boy. Hold on! Who's that with
him? Why, by cracky, it's Miss Banks! Gee whiz, has she come back here
to teach again? Whoa! Turn her around, Mr. Barnes. They are motionin'
fer us to come back. 'Pears to be important, too."
Barnes obligingly turned around and ran back to where the carriage was
standing. An hour later the automobile rolled into the driveway at
Bonner Place, and Anderson Crow, a glorious triumph in his face, handed
Miss Banks from the tonneau and into the arms of Rosalie Gray, who at
first had mistaken the automobile for another. Pompous to the point of
explosion, Anderson waved his hand to the party assembled on the
veranda, strolled around to Mr. Barnes's seat and acquired a light for
his cigar with a nonchalance that almost overcame his one-time prisoner,
and then said, apparently to the whole world, for he addressed no one in
particular:
"I knowed I could solve the blamed thing if they'd jest give me time."