CHAPTER III.
IN WHICH CECIL BANBOROUGH DRIVES A BLACK MARIA.
Cecil Banborough's feelings can be better imagined than described at theannouncement of the calamity which had befallen Miss Arminster. Thewinsome ways of the charming Violet had impressed the young man moredeeply than he knew until he was brought face to face with a realisationof the miseries to which his own folly had exposed her.
"Where have they taken her?" he demanded of Smith as soon as hisconsternation could find expression.
"She's at the police station round the corner from here."
"Where did this occur?" asked Banborough.
"On Fourteenth Street," replied Smith, "Spotts and I met MissArminster, and she called out as she passed me, 'Don't forget "ThePurple Kangaroo!"' A minute later the police arrested her, and when thecrowd heard that she was a Spanish spy, I swear I think they'd have tornher in pieces if the officers hadn't put her in a prison van and got heraway."
The tragedian paused, shivering from his recent agitation, and Cecil,seeing his condition, rang for some brandy.
"But what does it all mean?" asked the actor, tossing off his drink.
"I know what it means," cried Banborough, "but there's no time to talknow. We've not a moment to lose!" and he rushed downstairs.
Spotts met them at the doorway, and, as they walked rapidly along, theyoung Englishman poured into his companions' ears an account of what hehad learned from Marchmont of the Spanish plot and the unforeseen usewhich had been made of the title of his book, while the tragedianrehearsed again the story of Miss Arminster's arrest, of his ownhair-breadth escape from the clutches of the law, of his prodigies ofvalour in connection with Spotts, whom he had met in his headlongflight, and who, it seemed, had prevailed on his more timid companion tofollow the prisoner in a hansom.
"It's a bad business," admitted Cecil; "but what's to be done?"
"Done!" exclaimed Smith in tragic tones. "Why, rescue the lady instantlyand leave the city without delay. In the present excited state of thepublic no amount of explanation will avail. We may all be arrested asconfederates. We must act!"
"You're talking sense for once," said Spotts. "Heroic measures are theonly ones worth considering, and if you"--turning to Banborough--"willstand by us, we may come out on top after all."
"You can depend on me to any extent," declared the young author. "I'vegot you into this scrape, and I'll do my best to get you out of it."
"That's just what I expected of you, Bishop!" exclaimed Spotts, graspinghis hand. "We can't waste time in talking. You must go and find theother members of the company, Tyb, and warn them of their danger. Nowwhere can we rendezvous outside the city? Speak quickly, some one!"
"The leading hotel in Yonkers," said Smith.
"Right you are," replied Spotts. "Get there as soon as possible and waitfor us to turn up. How about funds?"
"I've plenty of ready money with me," volunteered Cecil, "and veryfortunately a draft to my credit arrived to-day, which I've not yetcashed."
"Good!" said Spotts. "We're in luck. Give Tyb fifty."
Banborough whipped out a roll of bills and handed the desired amount tothe tragedian without demur.
"Now, off you go," cried his brother actor, "and keep your wits aboutyou."
Smith nodded and hailed a passing cab.
"Come," said Spotts to the author, "we've no time to lose."
"What's your plan?" asked Cecil as they swung round the corner andsighted the police station.
"Haven't got any as yet. We'll see how the land lies first. The BlackMaria's still before the door. That's lucky!"
Sure enough, there it was, looking gloomily like an undertaker's wagon,minus the plate glass.
"Must be hot inside," commented the actor, directing a glance at the twolittle grated slits high up in the folding doors at the back, whichapparently formed the only means of ventilation.
Cecil shuddered as he thought of the discomforts which the girl must beenduring, and longed to throw himself upon the vehicle and batter it topieces. But calmer judgment prevailed, and controlling himself heapproached the police station, saying:
"Let me go first. You might be recognised. I'll try and find out whereshe's to be taken."
He accordingly went up to the driver of the Black Maria, who, cap inhand, was wiping his perspiring forehead.
"A fine pair of horses that," he said, indicating the mettlesome baysattached to the vehicle, which, in spite of their brisk run, weretossing their heads and fretting to be off.
"Oh, they're good enough," was the curt reply. "A trifle fresh, but weneed that in our business."
"Something interesting on to-day?" queried Cecil.
"Who the devil are you, anyway?" asked the driver abruptly. And theEnglishman, lying boldly, replied:
"I'm the new reporter on the _Daily Leader_. I was here last week withMr. Marchmont on a burglary case."
"Oh, the New Rochelle robbery," suggested the driver.
Cecil acquiesced, drawing a quiet sigh of relief that his random shothad hit the mark.
"Yes," he said, "that's it. I was introduced round, but I don't remembermeeting you."
"Might have been the other driver, Jim?"
"Now I come to think of it, it was Jim."
"Jus' so. Well, there's copy for you in this case."
"So I imagined. It's your first political arrest, isn't it?"
"That's where the hitch comes in," said the man. "I don't know where todeliver the prisoner. When the court's made up its mind they'll let meknow, and I'll drive on. Now in the Civil War we sent them politicals toFort Wadsworth."
"So you have to wait till they decide?"
"You bet I have. And there ain't no superfluity of shade on the sunnyside of this street neither," replied the driver, as he slipped off hiscoat and hung it with his cap on a peg beside the box seat of the BlackMaria.
"Suppose you were to run into the court and see how they're getting on,"suggested Banborough, slipping a coin into his hand. "I want a word withthe police when they've finished. Mention the _Daily Leader_. I'llwatch your horses."
"Oh, they'll stand quiet enough," said the man. Then, suspiciously,jerking his thumb over his shoulder towards Spotts, he asked: "Who's yerpal?"
"Just a green hand whom I'm initiating into the business."
"You're pretty green yourself or you wouldn't have set me up," said thedriver. "But if you'll mind them horses I'll just run across toMcCafferty's saloon and have a schooner of beer, and then drop intocourt for you."
"All right," responded Cecil. "Only don't be all day; I've got anotherdetail."
"Say," rejoined the man, "I can put beer down quicker than you canwink." And he ran across the street.
"Well, what's to be done?" demanded Banborough, as the man left them.
"That's easily answered," replied Spotts. "When he's in court we'll jumpon the box, drive for all we're worth till we've eluded pursuit, thenrescue Miss Arminster and be off to Yonkers."
"But that's laying ourselves open to arrest," expostulated theEnglishman.
"We've done that already," said his friend.
"But they'll know we're not officials: we've no uniform."
"What, not when the driver has obligingly left his hat and coat?" saidSpotts. "Slip them on. You've dark trousers, and no one will suspect."
"But driving fast--?" protested the author.
"Well, we're going to a 'hurry call,' of course. You've no invention,man! And besides, I can't drive."
"Oh, that doesn't matter," said Banborough. "I understand all abouthorses."
"So I supposed, as you're an Englishman."
"I don't care much for this business, you know," remonstrated theunfortunate author.
"Neither do I," replied the actor. "But we might as well be killed for asheep as a lamb, and we've a good chance of winning. Here comes thedriver; give him a bluff."
"I ain't lost much time," panted that individual as he passed them,wiping the foam from his moust
ache with the back of his hand, andadding: "I'll run right into court and be out again in a jiffy!"
"Stay long enough to see how things are going," called Cecil.
"All right! Guess the horses'll stand," he replied, and disappearedwithin the building.
"Now, Bishop!" cried Spotts. And before the Englishman could think, hiscoat and hat had been whipped off and thrown on the box seat along witha small handbag which the actor carried, and he was being helped intothe very hot and unsavoury clothes of the driver.
"Lucky they fit you," said his friend. "Lead the horses carefully to thecorner, and see they don't make more noise than necessary. If the drivershould come out, you let 'em go; otherwise wait for me. Know where todrive?"
"Along the park?"
"No," said Spotts. "Double several times, then try one of the avenues tothe Harlem River. There are plenty of bridges. Now, careful!" And asCecil moved slowly off, leading the horses towards the upper corner, theactor lounged up to the entrance of the court, blocking the doorway withhis athletic figure.
After what seemed an eternity, Banborough achieved the corner of theblock, and, mounting the box, turned the horses' heads down the sidestreet, keeping an eagle eye upon the entrance of the court-room, withinwhich his companion had now disappeared. Perhaps three minutes hadelapsed when the actor came out, running quietly towards him so as notto attract attention. The street was well-nigh deserted, and no oneseemed to have noticed the movements of the Black Maria.
"Walk slowly till we're round the corner, and then drive for all you'reworth!" gasped Spotts, springing on to the seat beside him.
Cecil followed his directions implicitly, and a moment later they wenttearing down the side street, and swung round the corner into an avenue,nearly colliding with a cable-car in the process, and causing a wildscatteration of passengers and pedestrians.
"Here, that won't do!" cried the actor above the rattle occasioned bytheir rapid progress over the cobblestones. "Ring the bell, or we'll bearrested!"
"Where?" called Banborough.
"That knob under your feet. Press it!"
The Englishman did as directed, and instantly the most hideous clamourarose beneath the carriage. The horses, which had been flying before,excited by the noise, put down their heads and tore blindly forward. Thevehicle rocked and swayed, and the avenue and its occupants swept by inan indistinguishable blur.
"They'll surely track us by the noise!" screamed Cecil, trying to makehimself heard above the horrible din.
"We're too far off by this time," returned Spotts. "Can you manage thehorses?"
"Oh, they're all right so long as we've a clear road!" yelled Banboroughin reply.
They were now well under way, the traffic ahead of them swerving wildlyto right and left at the insistent clamour of the bell. They rushedforward by leaps and bounds, an occasional stretch of asphalt givingthem an instant's respite from the dreadful shaking of the cobblestones.They spoke but little, excitement keeping them quiet, but the Englishmansuffered keenly in spirit at the thought of what the delicate girl, shutup in that dark stifling prison behind them, must be undergoing.
Suddenly in front of them loomed up the helmeted figure of a policeman,swinging his club and gesticulating wildly.
"Run him down!" howled Spotts; and Cecil, who had caught some of themadness of their wild flight, lashed the horses afresh and hurled theBlack Maria straight at the officer of the law.
The constable, still gesticulating, made a hasty leap to one side, andthey swept by a huge express-wagon which was coming up thecross-street, nearly grazing the noses of the rearing horses, andcatching a glimpse of the driver's startled face.
So they ran on and on, faster and faster as the traffic became less, andthe pair of bays settled down in earnest to the race. Suddenly thestreet narrowed, and a confused mass of carts and horses seemed to blockup the farther end. Banborough put on the brake, and with considerabledifficulty succeeded in bringing his team to a standstill on the outeredge of the throng.
"It's the Harlem River," cried Spotts, "and the drawbridge is up, cursethe luck!"
There was nothing for it but wait, and Cecil, jumping down, patted thehorses and examined the harness to make sure that everything was allright.
"You seem in a rush," said a neighbouring driver.
"Hurry call to Harlem," replied Banborough brusquely.
"Whereabouts?"
"Oh, police station."
"What station?"
The Englishman grunted an inaudible reply as a forward movement of thecrowd betokened that the bridge was again in position. A moment laterthey were trotting towards freedom and the open country, Cecil makingthe horses go slower now, wishing to reserve their strength for anyunforeseen emergency.
As the buildings grew more scattered, and patches of woodland appearedhere and there, the actor began to discuss with his companion their planof campaign.
"The sooner we get Violet out of her prison," he said, "and leave thisconfounded vehicle behind, the better."
"It's rather too well populated about here to suit me," repliedBanborough. "But the police haven't been idle since we started, and ourflight has probably been telegraphed all over the countryside. Perhapswe'd better run the risk, for if we're caught red-handed with the BlackMaria we'll find some difficulty in proving our innocence."
"Besides which, I'm anxious to get Miss Arminster out of durance vile assoon as possible, for I think the Leopard's been caged long enough,"said Spotts, laughing.
"Why do you people insist on calling Miss Arminster the Leopard?" askedBanborough.
"Oh," said his companion, "I think I'd better let you find that out foryourself. It would hardly be fair to Violet, and besides--" Then,breaking off suddenly as they entered a strip of woodland, he changedthe conversation abruptly, saying: "Here's as good a place as we'relikely to find--no houses in sight, and a clear view of the road ineither direction." And as Cecil drew up the horses he jumped off thebox.
"How are you going to open the confounded thing?" asked the author.
"Well," replied his companion, "I should think a key would be as good amethod as any other."
"The best, provided you've got the key."
"I imagine you'll find it in the right-hand outside pocket of thedriver's coat," said Spotts. "I thought I heard something jingle as Iwas helping you on with it."
"Right you are," said the Englishman. "Here it is!" producing twonickel-plated keys on a ring. "Now we'll have her out in no time." Andrunning round to the back of the vehicle, he unlocked the folding doorsand threw them wide open, crying:
"My dear Miss Arminster, accept your freedom and a thousand pardons forsuch rough treatment. What the--!" And he stopped short, too surprisedto finish; for, instead of the petite form of the fascinating Violet,there shambled out on to the road the slouching figure of a disreputabletramp, clothed in nondescript garments of uncertain age and colour,terminating in a pair of broken boots, out of which protruded socklessfeet. He had a rough shock of hair, surmounted by a soft hat full ofholes, and a fat German face, whose ugliness was further enhanced by thered stubbly growth of a week's beard.
"I guess youse gents has rescued me unbeknownst, and I'm much obleeged,though I don't know but what I'd rather break stones up to Sing Singthan be chucked round the way I has been for the last hour."
"Who are you?" demanded Banborough.
"Me?" said the figure. "Oh, I'm a anarchist."