CHAPTER XXVI--THE COUNTER PLOT
Ferguson's knock on Suzanne's door was promptly answered by the ladyherself, still in her hat and wrap. She clutched at him as she had donewhen he came to her in her dark hour, drawing him into the room andgasping her news. He was in no mood to follow her ramblings and, as soonas she spoke of a letter, interrupted her with a brusque demand for it.After he had mastered its contents he told her to 'phone at once toLarkin that it was all right, and while she delivered the message, stoodby studying the paper. When she turned back to him he laid his hands onher shoulders and looked into her eyes. The touch that once would havesent the blood burning to her cheeks called up no responsive thrill now:
"This lets you out--it's the end of your responsibility. Your part nowis to be quiet and wait. To-morrow night you'll have Bebita back. Justnail that up in your mind and keep your eyes on it."
"Back where? Will you bring her here?"
It was so like her--so indicative of a mental attitude invariably smalland personal, that he could have smiled:
"I can't say, but probably Grasslands. The end of the route laid downisn't so far from there."
"Shall I go back to Grasslands?"
He pondered a moment, then decided it was wiser to trust nothing to her,even so simple a matter as her withdrawal to the country.
"No, stay where you are. There'd be a lot of questioning if you went,bothersome, hard to answer. When we have her I'll let you know. For therest of this afternoon I'll be in town, in my room here on the floorbelow. If anything of moment should happen send for me, but don't unlessit's vital. I'll be busy getting things ready. Be silent, be grave, behopeful--that's all you have to do now."
He left her, going directly to his room on a lower floor of the hotel.She felt numb and dazed, wondering how she was to live through the nexttwenty-four hours. Her parents returned from their drive and close ontheir entrance came a communication from the Whitney office, saying thejewels had been found and Mr. and Mrs. Janney were wanted downtown. Inthe midst of their bustling excitement she sat mute, following theirmovements with vacant eyes. She saw them leave in agitated haste, Mr.Janney forgetful of her, her mother throwing out phrases of comfort asshe hurried to the door. She was glad when they were gone and she couldbe still, draw all her energies inward in the fight for endurance andcourage.
His coat off, the windows wide for such breaths of air as floated acrossthe heated roofs, Ferguson paced back and forth with a long, evenstride. His uncertainty was ended, the tension relaxed; he stood face toface with the event and measured it.
His assurances to Suzanne that he would make no attempt to apprehend thekidnapers had been sops thrown to pacify her terror. He had no moreintention of a supine acquiescence than Mrs. Janney would have had.Beyond the clearing of Esther, stood out the man's desire to bring tojustice the perpetrators of a foul and dastardly deed. Now, with theircards laid on the table, it rose higher, burned into a steady, hot blazeof rage and resolution.
But between his desire and its fulfilment stretched a maze ofdifficulties. He saw at once what Larkin had seen--that their plan wasas nearly impregnable as such a plan could be. Though he knew every mileof the country they had selected, he knew that the chances of waylayingor flanking them were ten to one against him. Numerous roads, north andsouth, led from the Cresson Pike, some to the shore drive along theSound, some inland crossing the various highways that threaded thecenter of the Island. Any one of these might be chosen as the road downwhich their car would turn, and any one of them, winding through woodsand lonely tracts of country, would offer avenues of escape.
He thought of stationing men along the designated route but it wouldtake an army, impossible to gather at such short notice and impossibleto place without his opponent's cognizance. Hundreds of men could not bepicketed along a ten-mile stretch of highway without those who were theauthors of so daring a scheme being aware. They would be on the watch;no move of such magnitude could be hidden from them. It would be thesame if he called in the police. They would know it, and what could thepolice do that he could not do more secretly, more efficiently?
A following car was also out of the question. There was no reason tosuppose that they would not have several cars of their own, passing andrepassing him, making sure that he was unescorted. The threats of injuryto the child he had set down as efforts to reduce Suzanne to a paralyzedsilence. But if they saw an attempt was on foot to trap them they mightnot show up at all--go as they had come, unknown and unsighted, theircar lost among the procession of motors that passed along the CressonPike. Then taken fright, they might not dare another effort, might dropout of sight with their hostage unredeemed. A chill crept over the youngman, he had a dread vision of the old people's despair, of Suzannedistraught, crazed perhaps. It behooved him to run no risks; to makesure of the child was his first duty, to strike at her abductors hissecond.
The course he finally decided on was the only one that made Bebita'srestoration certain and offered a possibility of routing his opponents.At the hour named he would place on the road six motors, driven by hisown chauffeurs and garage men, and entering the turnpike at intervals often minutes. Three would start from its eastern end, meeting him enroute, three from its western, strung out behind him, now and thenspeeding up, overhauling him and passing on. Of a summer's Saturdaynight the Cresson Pike was full of vehicles, and the six, merged in theshifting stream, would suggest no connection with him or his mission.
Where his hope of success lay was that one of these satellites, to whomthe character and marking of his roadster would be visible at somedistance, might be within sight when he was signaled and see him turninto the branch road. Its business would be to wait until another of thefleet came up, pass the word, and the two follow on his tracks. Thishalt would give the kidnapers time to complete the transaction, get themoney, give up the child, and bind him. If they were interrupted thesituation would be too perilous to permit of delay--he had thought of anattack on the child--and if they had finished and gone the rescuing carscould fly in pursuit.
He was far from satisfied with it; it was very different from theschemes he had had in his head before he measured his resourcefulnessagainst theirs. He dropped into a chair, sunk in moody contemplation ofits deficiencies. The men he had to rely on were not the right kind,loyal and willing enough, but without the boldness and initiativenecessary to such an enterprise. He wanted a lieutenant, some one hecould look to for quick, independent action if the affair took anunexpected turn. You couldn't tell how it might develop, and he, pledgedto his ungrateful role, would be powerless to meet new demands, mightnot know they had arisen.
He was roused by a knock on the door. It surprised him for his presencein the city was unknown except to his own household and the Janneyfamily. Then he thought of Suzanne coming down to him to pour out herfears, and his "Come in" was harsh and unwelcoming. In answer to it thedoor opened and Chapman Price entered.
Ferguson rose, looking at his visitor, startled and silent. His surprisewas caused by the man's appearance, by a fierce disturbance in thehandsome face, pale under its swarthy tan, by the eyes, agate-black andgleaming in a bovine glare. He had seen Chapman angry but never justlike this, and from a state, keyed to anticipate any new shock from anydirection, said:
"What's happened now?"
Price had closed the door and backing up, leaned against it. His answercame, hoarse and broken:
"I've been to those hounds, the Whitneys."
It illuminated the ignorance of his listener, who was readjusting hismind for a reply when the other burst into a storm of invective againstthe lawyers and the Janneys. It broke like a released torrent, sentencesstumbling on one another, curses mingled with wild accusations, itscause revealed in a final cry of: "Stolen--my child--kidnaped--gone!"
Through Ferguson's head, full of weightier matters, flashed a vision ofChapman raging at the Whitneys and a wonder as to what effect his ragehad had. Kicking a chair forward he spoke with a dry quietness:
; "That's all right--you needn't bother to go over it. Pull yourselftogether and sit down."
But he might as well have counseled self-control to an angry lion. Theman, still standing against the door, jerked out:
"I can get nothing from any of them. They know nothing. They've let allthis time pass--following _me_, suspecting _me_. I don't know why Ididn't kill them!"
"Probably because you've sense enough left not to complicate what'scomplicated enough already. What brought you here?"
He seemed unable to answer any direct question, staring with dilatedeyes, his thoughts fastened on the subject of his pain:
"Spent a week--lost a week! Good God, Dick, they ought to be heldresponsible. Where is she? Not one of them knows--not an effort made.She's gone, lost, been stolen, spirited away, while they've been sittingin their office, turning their d----d detectives loose on me."
"Look here, Chapman, I'm not saying you're not right, but the milk'sspilled and it's no good trying to pick it up. If you'll sit down andlisten to me--"
Price cut him off, leaving his post by the door to begin a distractedstriding about the room:
"I couldn't stand it--when I'd got it through me I left. Then I tried toget hold of Suzanne--telephoned her, here somewhere in this place. She'shalf crazy, I think--I don't wonder, she's fonder of Bebita thananything in the world. She wouldn't see me, crying and moaning out thatshe couldn't, that she couldn't bear any more. And when I begged--Ithought that she and I might arrange some combined effort, that whateverwe had been we were partners _now_ in this--she told me to come to you,that you could tell me more, that you could help." He swerved round onFerguson, the hard passion of his glance softened to a despairingurgency, "For God's sake, do. I'm penniless, I know almost nothingexcept that I've got to act now, at once, before any more time is lost.Give me a hand, help me to find her."
Ferguson's voice had an element of endurance in its level tones:
"That's just what I want to do. And if you'll stop talking and let meexplain, you'll see I'm on the way to do it. But it's not _my_ help thatyou want, it's the other way round--_I_ want _yours_."
It was almost dark and Ferguson turned on the lights. Under their thin,white radiance, the two men sat, drawn close to the open window, andFerguson told his story. The other listened, the storm of his angergone, his dark face growing keen and hard as he heard the plan unfolded.An hour later they parted, Price to go to Council Oaks and lie low thereuntil the following night when he would command the fleet of motors inthe chase along the Cresson Turnpike.