CHAPTER XIV--MUTINY
They resumed the conversation where they had left off.
"It seems to me," said Bob, "from all you say, that monocle-man has beena mighty busy person."
"Of course you knew right along what he is. You didn't need anyinformation from poor little me about him. He couldn't fool great bigYou!" she affirmed admiringly.
"I can imagine what he is--now," observed Bob meditatively. He wasturning over in his mind what she had said about that substitutedbrooch. The some one Bob had imagined he had seen in the hall, afterleaving Miss Dolly's room, might not have been the real thief, afterall; it might have been the monocle-man on the lookout for the thief.And perhaps the monocle-man had seen Bob. That was the reason he was"coming for him." Bob could imagine dear old dad's feelings, if he (Bob)got sent to Sing Sing. What if, instead of rustling and rising to theoccasion, in that fine, old honorable Japanese way, Bob should bringirretrievable disgrace on an eminently respectable family name?
He could see himself in stripes now, with his head shaved, and doing thelock-step. Perhaps, even at that moment, descriptions of him were beingsent broadcast. And if so, it would look as if he were running away fromthe officers of the law, which would be tantamount to a confession ofguilt. Bob shivered. The temperamental young thing did not share hisapprehensions.
"Of course, Lord Stanfield only _thinks_ he has evidence enough toconvict you," she said confidently. "But you'll meet him at every pointand turn the laugh on him."
"Oh, will I?" said Bob ironically.
"And you'll make him feel so cheap! Of course, you've got something upyour sleeve--"
"Wish I had," he muttered.
"Something deep and mysterious," she went on in that confident tone."That's why you acted so queer toward some people. You had a purpose. Itwas a ruse. Wasn't it now?" she concluded triumphantly.
"It was not." Gruffly.
"Fibber! every time you fib, you've got to--" She put up her lips.
"This is getting monotonous," grumbled Bob.
"On the contrary!" breathed the temperamental young thing. "I find itlovely. Maybe you'll learn how sometime."
"Don't want to," he snapped.
"Oh, yes, you do. But as I was saying, you got yourself put in thatsanatorium to mislead everybody. It, too, was a ruse--a part of thegame. It's all very clear--at least, to me!"
He stared at her. And she called _that_ clear? "When did you leave Mrs.Ralston's?" he demanded.
"About three hours ago. Said I'd a headache and believed I'd go to myroom. But I didn't. I just slipped down to the village and hired a taxi.Maybe we'd better keep our marriage a secret, at first." Irrelevantly.
"Maybe we had," answered Bob. And then he called out to the man infront. "Stop a moment."
Before Miss Dolly had time to expostulate, the driver obeyed. Bob sprangout.
"You aren't going to leave me, are you?" said the temperamental littlething. "If so--" She made as if to get out, too.
"No; I'm not going to leave you just yet," answered Bob. Then to thedriver: "See here! Your blamed machine is turned in the wrong direction.You know where you're going to take us?"
"New York."
"No; back to Mrs. Ralston's. You take the first cross-road you come toand steer right for there."
"You're not to do any such thing," called out Miss Dolly. "You're to gowhere _I_ tell you."
"You're to do nothing of the sort," said Bob. "You're to go where _I_tell you."
The driver scratched his head.
"Which is it to be?" asked Bob. "This is the place to have anunderstanding."
"The lady hired me," he answered.
"Yes, and I won't pay you at all, if you don't mind," said Miss Dolly infirm musical accents.
"Guess that settles it," observed the driver.
"You mean--?" began Bob, eying him.
"It means I obey orders. She's my 'fare,' not you. We just picked youup."
"And that's your last word?" Ominously.
"Say, lady"--the driver turned wearily--"have I got to suppress thiscrazy man you got out of the bughouse?"
"Maybe that would be a good plan," answered Miss Dolly, militancy now inher tone. "That is, if he doesn't get in, just sweet and quiet-like."
"It'll be twenty dollars extra," said the man, rising. He was a bigfellow, too.
"Make it thirty," returned Miss Dolly spiritedly. It was an issue andhad to be met. There was an accent of "On-to-Parliament!" in her voice.One can't show too much mercy to a "slave" when he revolts. One has tosuppress him. One has to teach him who is mistress. A stern lesson, andthe slave learns and knows his place.
"Now mind the lady and get back where you belong," said the driverroughly to Bob. "Your tiles are loose, and the lady knows what is goodfor a dingbat like you." Possibly he thought the display of a littleauthority would be quite sufficient to intimidate a recent "patient."They usually became quite mild, he had heard, when the keepers talkedright up to them, like that. The effect of his language and attitudeupon Bob was not, however, quieting; something seemed to explode in hisbrain and he made one spring and got a football hold; then he heaved andthe big man shot over his shoulder as if propelled from a catapult. Hecame down in a ditch, where the breath seemed to be knocked out of him.Bob got on in front. As he started the machine, the man sat up andlooked after him. He didn't try to get up though; he just looked. Nodoubt he had had the surprise of his life.
"I'll leave the car in the village when I'm through with it," Bob calledback. "A little walk won't hurt you."
The man didn't answer. "Gee! but that's a powerful lunatic for a pooryoung lady to have on her hands!" he said to himself.
An hour or so later Bob drew up in front of Mrs. Ralston's house. Heopened the door politely for Miss Dolly and the temperamental youngthing sprang out. The guests were still up, indulging in one of thoselate dances that begin at the stroke of twelve, and the big house showedlights everywhere. There were numerous other taxis and cars in front andBob's arrival attracted no particular attention. Miss Dolly gave him alook, militant, but still adoring. She let him see she had claws.
"Maybe I'll tell," she said.
"Go ahead," he answered.
"Aren't you afraid?"
"No." He hadn't done anything wrong.
"Aren't you even sorry?" she asked, lingering.
"For what?"
"Being so rough to that poor man?"
"I'm not. Good night."
"Good night--darling." She threw out that last word as a challenge. Ithad a tender but sibilant sound. It was a mixture of a caress and ascratch. It meant she hadn't given up her hold on him. He might havedefeated her in one little contest, but she would weave new ways toentrap him. She might even manage to make him out a murderer--he hadbeen so many things since embarking on that mercurial truth-tellingcareer--and then she would give him the choice of the altar or thechair.
He started the machine and she watched him disappear, musingly. Therewas a steely light, too, in her eyes. He was a mutineer and mutineersshould, figuratively, be made to walk the plank. Should she put him injail and then come and weep penitently? At least, it would be thrilling.Certainly anything was better than that cast-off feeling. She felt nobetter than cast-off clothes. This great big brute of a handsome man,instead of jumping at the chance to elope with one who had everything tooffer such a one as he, had just turned around and brought her backhome.
Maybe he thought she wasn't worthy of him. Oh, wasn't she? Her smallbreast arose mutinously, while that cast-off sensation kept growing andgrowing. After rescuing him and saving him, instead of calling her "hisbeautiful doll" or other pet names, and humming glad songs to her--howthey would "row, row, row" on some beautiful river of love--or stroll,stroll, stroll through pathways of perfume and bliss--instead ofregaling her with these and other up-to-date expressions, appropriate tothe occasion, he had repudiated her, cast her off, deposited her here onthe front steps, unceremoniously, carelessly, indiff
erently.
Her cheeks burned at the affront. It was too humiliating. The littlehands closed. The temperamental fingernails bit into the tender palms.At that moment the monocle-man sauntered out of the house and on to theveranda, near where Miss Dolly was standing. She turned to him quickly.Her temperament had about reached the Borgia pitch.
* * * * *
Bob went on down to the village and to the taxi stand near the stationwhere he had promised to leave the machine. The last train had justpassed by, after depositing the last of late-comers from the gaymetropolis. Most of them looked fagged; a few were mildly "corned." Bobregarded them absently and then gave a violent start.
"Gee-gee!" he gasped.
There she was, in truth, the beauteous Gee-gee, and the fair Gid-up,too! Bob gazed in consternation from reddish hair to peroxide. The twocarried grips and were dressed in their best--that is to say, each worethe last thing in hats and the final gasp in gowns.
"Guess none of those society dames will have a thing on us, when itcomes to rags," Gid-up murmured to Gee-gee, as they crossed the platformwith little teeny-weeny steps and headed toward a belated hack or twoand Bob's machine. That young man yet sat on the driver's seat of thetaxi; he was too paralyzed to move as he watched them approach. Where onearth were Gee-gee and Gid-up going? He feared to learn. He had an awfulsuspicion.
"Chauffeur!" Gee-gee raised a begloved finger as she hailed Bob. Theglove had seen better days, but Gee-gee didn't bother much about gloves.When she had attained the finality in hats and the _ne plus ultra_ inskirts, hosiery and stilts (you asked for "shoes") she hadn't much time,or cash, left for gloves which were always about the same old thing overand over again, anyway. "Chauffeur!" repeated Gee-gee.
"Meaning me?" inquired Bob in muffled tones. Why didn't she take a hack?He had drawn up his taxi toward the dark end of the platform.
"Yes, meaning you!" replied Gee-gee sharply. "Can't say I see any otherhuman spark-plug in this one-night burg."
"What can I do for you?" stammered Bob. He was glad it was so shadowywhere he sat, and he devoutly hoped he would escape recognition.
"What can he do? Did you hear that?" Gee-gee appealed indignantly toGid-up. "I don't suppose a great jink like you knows enough to get downand take a lady's bag? Or, to open the door of the limousine?"
"Well, you see this machine's engaged," mumbled Bob. "No, I don't meanthat." Hastily. "I mean I'm not the driver of this car. It doesn'tbelong to me. And that's the truth."
"Where is the driver?" Haughtily. "Send for him at once." Gee-gee didnot like to be crossed. Gid-up was more good-natured; she only shiftedher gum.
"I can't send for him," said Bob drawing his hat down farther over hisface. "He's down the road."
"What's he doing there?"
"I don't know. Maybe, he's walking; maybe, he's sitting in the ditch."
Gee-gee stared, but she could see only a big shadowy form; she couldn'tmake out Bob's features. "The boob's got bees," she confided to Gid-up,and then more imperatively: "Are you going to get off your perch and letus in?"
"Beg to be excused," muttered Bob. "Hack over there! Quick! Before someone else gets it."
That started them away. The teeny-weeny steps encompassed, accelerando,the distance between Bob and his old friend, the hackman who had laughedat what he supposed were Bob's eccentricities. The hackman got down andhoisted in the grips.
"Where to?" he said.
Bob listened expectantly. He feared what was coming.
"Mrs. Ralston's," answered Gee-gee haughtily. At the same time Gid-upthrew away her gum. She would have to practise being without it.
Bob drearily watched the hack roll away. He refused another offer of afare--this time from a bibulous individual who had supped, not wisely,but too well--and nearly got into a fight because the bibulousindividual was persistent and discursive. Then Bob walked away; hedidn't think where he was going; he only wanted to get away from thatchauffeur job. What would come of these new developments, he wondered?The temperamental young thing was "peeved," and the ponies (not equine)had come galloping into the scene at the critical moment.
He tried to account for their presence. Undoubtedly it was a coup ofMrs. Dan's. When she learned that dear Dan was bringingcounter-influence to bear upon her witnesses, she arranged to removethem. She brought them right into her own camp. How? Gee-gee and Gid-updid a really clever and fairly refined musical and dancing act together.Mrs. Ralston frequently called upon professional talent to help her outin the entertaining line. It is true, Gee-gee and Gid-up were hardly"high enough up," or well enough known, to commend themselves ordinarilyto the good hostess in search of the best and most expensive artists,but then Mrs. Dan may have brought influence to bear upon Mrs. Ralston.And Mrs. Clarence may have seconded Mrs. Dan's efforts. They may havesaid Gee-gee and Gid-up were dashing and different, and would be, atleast, a change. They may have exaggerated the talents of the pair andpictured them as rising stars whom it would be a credit for Mrs. Ralstonto discover. The hostess was extremely good-natured and liked to obligeher friends, or to comply with their requests.
Of course, the young ladies would not appear on the scene as Gee-gee andGid-up, in all probability. No doubt, they would assume other and moreappropriate cognomens (non equine). The last show they had played in,had just closed, so a little society engagement, with strong publicitypossibilities, on the side, could not be anything but appealing,especially to Gee-gee with her practical tendencies. Of course, theywould have to make a brave effort to put on their society manners, butGid-up had once had a home and Gee-gee knew how people talked in thesociety novels. Trust Gee-gee to adapt herself!
Bob felt he could figure it all out. Their coming so late would seem toindicate they had been sent for in haste. Mrs. Dan, perhaps, had becomealarmed and wasn't going to take any more chances with the commodore whowas capable of sequestering her witnesses, of inveigling them on boardone of his friend's yachts, for example, and then marooning them on adesert isle, or transporting them to one of those cafe chantants ofParis. Besides, with that after-midnight "hug" and "grizzly" going on,Mrs. Dan knew it wouldn't much matter how late the pair arrived.
By the time Bob had argued this out, he was a long way from the village.He had been walking mechanically toward the Ralston house and now foundhimself on the verge of the grounds. After a moment's hesitation, hewent in and walked up to the house. The dancing had, at length, ceasedand the big edifice was now almost dark. The inmates, or most of them,seemed to have retired. A few of the men might yet be lingering in thesmoking-room or over billiards. For a minute or two Bob stood in silentmeditation. Then his glance swept toward a certain trellis, and a suddenthought smote him.
Wasn't he still Mrs. Ralston's guest? The period for which he had beeninvited hadn't expired and he hadn't, as yet, been asked to vacate thepremises. True, some people had forcibly, and in a most highhandedmanner, removed him for a brief period, but they had not been acting forMrs. Ralston, or by her orders. He was, therefore, legitimately still aguest and it was obviously his duty not to waive the responsibility. Hemight not want to come back but he had to. That even-tenor-of-his-waycondition demanded it. Besides, manhood revolted against retreat underfire. To run away, as he had told himself in the car with Miss Dolly,was a confession of guilt. He must face them once more--even Miss Geraldand the hammer-thrower. He could in fancy, see himself handcuffed in herpresence, but he couldn't help it. Better that, than to be hunted in thebyways and hovels of New York! Oddly, too, the idea of a big comfortablebed appealed to him.
He climbed up the trellis and stood on the balcony upon which his roomopened. Pushing up a window, he entered and feeling around in thedarkness he came upon his grip where he had left it. He drew thecurtains, turned on the lights and undressed. He acted just as ifnothing had happened. Then, donning his pajamas, he turned out thelights, drew back the curtains once more, and tumbled into the downy.