Authors: Grace Livingston Hill
In ten minutes one message was on its way to a crony in Pittsburgh with whom the thick-set man kept in constant touch for just such occasions as the present, stirring him to strenuous action; another message had winged its mysterious way to Mr. Holman, giving him the main facts in the case; while a third message caught another crony thirty miles north of Pittsburgh and ordered them to board the evening express at his own station, hunt up the parties described, and shadow them to their destination, if possible getting in touch with the Pittsburgh crony when he reached the city.
The pursuer then ate a ham sandwich with liberal washings of liquid fire while he awaited replies to some of his messages; and as soon as he was satisfied that he had set justice in motion he hired an automobile and hied him across country to catch a midnight express to Pittsburgh. He had given orders that his man and accompanying lady should be held in Pittsburgh until his arrival, and he had no doubt but that the orders would be carried out, so sure was he that he was on the right track, and that his cronies would be able and willing to follow his orders.
There was some kind of an excursion on at Pittsburgh, and the place was crowded. The train-men kept calling off specials, and crowds hurried out of the waiting room, only to be replaced by other crowds, all eager, pushing, talking, laughing. They were mostly men, but a good many women and some children seemed to be of the number; and the noise and excitement worried her after her own exciting afternoon. Celia longed to lay her down and sleep, but the seat was narrow, and hard, and people were pressing on every side. That disagreeable man in the slouch hat would stand too near. He was most repulsive looking, though he did not seem to be aware of her presence.
Gordon had a long wait before he finally secured the coveted state-room and started back to her, when suddenly a face that he knew loomed up in the crowd and startled him. It was a face of private detective who was well known about Washington, but whose headquarters were in New York.
Until that instant, it had not occurred to him to fear watchers so far south and west as Pittsburgh. It was not possible that the other bridegroom would think to track him here, and, as for the Holman contingent, they would not be likely to make a public disturbance about his disappearance, lest they be found to have some connection with the first theft of government property. They could have watchers only through private means, and they must have been wily indeed if they had anticipated his move through Pittsburgh to Washington. Still, it was the natural move for him to make in order to get home as quickly as possible and yet escape them. And this man in the crowd was the very one whom they would have been likely to pick out for their work. He was as slippery in his dealings as they must be, and no doubt was in league with them. He knew the man and his ways thoroughly, and had no mind to fall into his hands.
Whether he had been seen by the detective yet or not, he could not tell, but he suspected he had, by the way the man stood around and avoided recognizing him. There was not an instant to be lost. The fine state-room must go untenanted. He must make a dash for liberty. Liberty! Ah, East Liberty! What queer things these brains of ours are! He knew Pittsburgh just a little. He remembered having caught a train at down to the station to take it. Perhaps he might get the same train at East Liberty. It was nearly two hours before it left.
Swooping down upon the baggage, he murmured in the girl’s ear:
“Can you hurry a little? We must catch a car right away.”
She followed him closely through the crowd, he stooping as if to look down at his suit-case, so that his height might not attract the attention of the man whose recognition he feared, and in a moment more they were out in the lighted blackness of streets. One glance backward showed his supposed enemy stretching his neck above the crowd, as if searching for some one, as he walked hurriedly toward the very doorway they had just passed. Behind them shadowed the man in the slouch hat, and with a curious motions of his hand signaled another like himself, the Pittsburgh crony, who skulked in the darkness outside. Instantly this man gave another signal and out of the gloom of the street a carriage drew up at the curb before the door, the cabman looking eagerly for patronage.
Gordon put both suit-cases in one hand and taking Celia’s arm as gently as he could in his haste hurried her toward the carriage. It was the very refuge he sought. He placed her inside and gave the order for East Liberty station, drawing a long breath of relief at being safely out of the station. He did not see the shabby one who mounted the box beside the driver and gave his directions in guttural whispers, nor the man with the slouch hat who watched from the doorway and followed them to a familiar haunt on the nearest car. He only felt how good it was to be by themselves once more where they could talk together without interruption.
But conversation was not easy under the circumstances. The noise of wagons, trains and cars was so great at the station that they could think of nothing but the dim, and when they had threaded their way out of the tangle and started rattling over the pavement the driver went at such a furious pace that they could still only converse by shouting and that not at all satisfactorily. It seemed a strange thing that any cab-man should drive at such a rapid rate within the city limits, the keen-eyed detective as fast as possible he thought nothing of it at first. After a shouted word or two they ceased to try to talk, and Gordon, half shyly, reached out a reassuring hand and laid it on the girl’s shrinking one that lay in her lap. He had not meant to keep it there but a second, just to make her understand that all was well, and he would soon be able to explain things, but as she did not seem to resent it nor draw her own away, he yielded to the temptation and kept the small gloved hand in his.
The carriage rattled on, bumpety-bump, over rough places, around corners, tilting now and then sideways, and Celia, half-frightened, was forced to cling to her protector to keep from being thrown on the floor of the cab.
“Oh, are we running away?” she breathed awesomely into his ear.
“I think not, - dear,” he answered back, the last word inaudible. “The driver thinks we are in a hurry but he has no need to go at this furious pace. I will tell him.”
He leaned forward and tapped on the glass, but the driver paid no attention whatever save perhaps to drive faster. Could it be that he had lost control of his horse and could not stop, or hadn’t he heard? Gordon tried again, and accompanied knocking this time with a shout, but all to no purpose. The cab rattled steadily on. Gordon discovered now that there were two men on the box instead of one and a sudden premonition sent a thrill of alarm through him. What is after all the presence of that detective had been a warning, and he unheeding had walked into a trap? What a fool he had been to get into a carriage where he was at the mercy of the driver. He ought to have stayed in open places where kidnapping would be impossible. Now that he had thought of it he felt convinced that this was just what the enemy would try to do – kidnap him. The more fruitless he found his efforts to make the driver hear him the more he felt convinced that something was wrong. He tried to open the door next him and found it stick. He put all his strength forth to turn the catch but it held fast. Then a cold sweat stood out upon him and horror filled his mind. His commission with its large significance to the country was in imminent jeopardy. His own life was in all probability hanging in the balance, but most of all he felt the awful peril of the sweet girl the next hour if his brain and right arm could not protect her. Instinctively his hand went to the pocket where he had kept his revolver ready since ever he had left Washington. Danger should not find him utterly unprepared.
He realized, too, that it was entirely possible, that his alarms were unfounded; that the driver was really taking them to the East Liberty Station; that the door merely stuck, and he was needlessly anxious. He must keep a steady head and not let his companion see that he was nervous. The first thing was to find out if possible where they really were, but that was a difficult task. The street over which they rattled was utterly dark with the gloom of a smoky city added to the night. There were no street lights except at wide intervals, and the buildings appeared to be blank walls of darkness, probably great warehouses. The way was narrow, and entirely unknown. Gordon could not tell if he had ever been there before. He was sure from his knowledge of the stations that they had gone much farther than to East Liberty, and the darkness and loneliness of the region through which they were passing filled him again with a vague alarm. It occurred to him that he might be able to get the window sash down and speak to the driver, and he struggled with the one on his own side for awhile, with little result, for it seemed to have been plugged up with wads of paper all around. This fact renewed his anxiety. It began to look as if there was intention in sealing up that carriage. He leaned over and felt around the sash of the opposite door and found the paper wads there also. There certainly was intention. Not to alarm Celia he straightened back and went to work again at his own window sash cautiously pulling out the paper until at last he could let down the glass.
A rush of dank air rewarded his efforts, and the girl drew a breath of relief. Gordon never knew how near she had been to fainting at that moment. She was sitting perfectly quiet in her corner watching him, her fears kept to herself, though her heart was beating wildly. She was convinced that the horse was running away.
Gordon leaned his head out of the window, but immediately he caught the gleam of a revolver in a hand that hung at the side of the driver’s box, pointed downward straight toward his face as if with intention to be ready in case of need. The owner of the hand was not looking toward him, but was talking in muffled tones to the driver. They evidently had not heard the window let down, but were ready for the first sign of an attempt on the part of their victims to escape.
Quietly Gordon drew in his head speculating rapidly on the possibility of wrenching that revolver out of its owner’s hand. He could do it from where he sat, but would it be wise? They were probably locked in a trap, and the driver was very likely armed also. What chance would he have to save Celia if he brought on a desperate fight at this point? If he were alone he might knock that revolver out of the man’s hand and spring from the window, taking his chance of getting away, but now he had Celia to think of and the case was different. Not for a universe of governments could he leave a woman in such desperate straits. She must be considered first even ahead of the message. This was life and death.
He wondered at his own coolness as he sat back in the carriage and quietly lifted the glass frame back into place. Then he laid a steady hand on Celia’s again and stooping close whispered into her ear:
“I am afraid there’s something wrong with our driver. Can you be a little brave, - dear?” He did not know he had used the last word this time, but it thrilled into the girl’s heart with a sudden accession of trust.
“Oh, yes,” she breathed close to his face. “You don’t think he has been drinking, do you?”
“Well, perhaps,” said Gordon relieved at the explanation. “But keep calm. I think we can get out of this all right. Suppose you change seats with me and let me try if that door will open easily. We might want to get out in a hurry in case he slows up somewhere pretty soon.”
Celia quietly and swiftly slipped into Gordon’s seat and he applied himself with all his strength and ingenuity gently manipulating the latch and pressing his shoulder against the door, until at last to his joy it gave way reluctantly and he found that it would swing open. He worked carefully, else the sudden giving of the latch would have thrown him out of the carriage and given instant alarm to his driver. He was so thoroughly convinced by this time that he was being kidnapped, perhaps to be murdered, that every sense was on alert. It was his characteristic to be exceedingly cool during a crisis. It was the quality that the keen-eyed chief had valued most in him, and the final reason why he had been selected for this difficult task in place of an older and more experienced man who at times lost his head.
The door to the outside world being open, Gordon cautiously took a survey of the enemy from that side. There was no gleaming weapon here. The man set grimly enough, laying on the whip and muttering curses to his bony horse who galloped recklessly on as if partaking of the desperate desires of his master. In the distance Gordon would hear the rumbling of an on-coming train. The street was still dark and scarcely a vehicle or person to be seen. There seemed no help at hand, and no opportunity to get out, for they were still rushing at a tremendous pace. An attempt to jump now would very likely result in broken limbs, which would only leave them in a worse plight than they were. He slipped back to his own seat and put Celia next to the free door again. She must be where she could get out first if the opportunity presented itself. Also, he must manage to throw out the suit-cases if possible on account of the letters and valuables they contained.
Instinctively his hand sought Celia’s in the darkness again, and hers nestled into it in a frightened way as if his strength gave her comfort.
Then, before they could speak or realize, there came the rushing sound of a train almost upon them and the cab came to a halt with a jerk, the driver pulling the horse far back on his haunches to stop him. The shock almost threw Celia to the floor, but Gordon’s arm about her steadied her, and instantly he was on the alert.
Glancing through the window he saw that they were in front of a railroad track upon which a long freight train was rushing madly along at a giddy pace for a mere freight. The driver had evidently hoped to pass this point before the train got there, but had failed. The train had an exultant sound as if it knew and had outwitted the driver.
On one side of the street were high buildings and on the other a great lumber yard, between which and their carriage there stood a team of horses hitched to a covered wagon, from the back which some boards protruded, and this was on the side next to Celia where the door would open! Gordon’s heart leaped up with hope and wonder over the miracle of their opportunity. The best thing about their situation was that their driver had stopped just a little back of the covered wagon, so that their door would open to the street directly behind the covered wagon. It made it possible for the carriage door to swing wide and for them to slip across behind the wagon without getting too near to the driver. Nothing could have been better arranged for their escape and the clatter of the empty freight cars drowned all sounds.