CHAPTER XXIII
A PAPER CHASE
In Balthazar's band, which had failed so often do away with PaulineMarvin, there was, nevertheless, one man who had attracted theparticular interest Raymond Owen--Louis Wrentz. Physically andmentally brutal, he had always been one to oppose Balthazar's delays.
Six months before Owen would have shuddered at the thought of employingthis ruffian. Then his great aim was to be rid of Pauline by the mostindirect and secret means.
But Pauline's hair-breadth escape a few weeks before from Mlle de.Longeon's cleverly planned plot, the almost incredible rescue of thesubmarine and recovery of Ensign Summers' torpedo boat plans, as wellas the fact that the year of adventure was rapidly drawing to a closeand that Harry's growing hostility and the increasing danger ofexposure at the hands of some one of his aides, made the secretarywilling to take every chance, made it imperative that he should have alieutenant who could be trusted to strike boldly. Owen sent forWrentz.
The man appeared in the guise of a servant seeking employment, and wasbrought up to Owen's private sitting-room.
"Wrentz, I want you to take charge of my work hereafter," said thesecretary.
"You mean the work of--"
Owen raised his hand in caution. "The work of conducting a certainperson to a far country."
"But Balthazar?" questioned Wrentz.
"I am through with Balthazar. He's done nothing but procrastinate.All his plans have failed because it was to his profit that they shouldfail."
"I'll do the work quickly. What's your present plan?"
"A very simple one, but one that must be very shrewdly handled. Itwill mean that you and some of your friends will have to make a trip toPhiladelphia. Where shall I be able to call you within a day or two?"
"At Stroob's lodging house, in Avenue B."
"Very well. Be prepared to act on short notice."
"I'll stick close to the place, sir."
"And, Wrentz, understand that you are also to act firmly. NoBalthazar, tactics. I'm through being tricked."
"I'm sure I never failed you, sir," said Wrentz, with an aggrievedair.
Owen smiled. "True, but temptation occasionally leads even the mosthonest of men astray," he said, sarcastically.
While this last plot was being hatched Pauline and Harry were playingchess in the library. As she checkmated him for the third time hearose in mock disgust.
"They say chess is a perfect mental test. I wonder who is the brainsof this family now?" she taunted.
"There's a difference between brains and hare-brains. You know, I lostbecause I had that Chicago thing on my mind."
"Oh, isn't that settled yet?"
"No; I'm expecting to be called up any minute with a message that willsend me out there."
"Oh, Harry! That's terrible! When you go to Chicago you never getback for a whole week."
"If you like me so much, why don't you marry me and go with me on allmy trips?"
"Conceited!" she began, but her face fell again as the telephone bellsounded. Harry answered it, and after a few rapid questions turned toPauline.
"That's what it is," he said; "I go tomorrow. I must see Owen," andrang the bell.
"Owen," Pauline exclaimed upon his entrance, "Harry must go to Chicagotomorrow. Isn't it dreadful?"
"I am very sorry. But I hope it will not be for long."
"No," said Harry, curtly. "Look over these papers."
An hour later Owen drew from his typewriter this letter:
Miss Pauline Marvin,
Carson & Brown, Publishers, 9 Weston Place, Philadelphia.
New York.
Dear Madam:
After reading your marine story, published in the CosmopolitanMagazine, we have decided you are just the person to write a new serialwe have in mind.
Would you be interested to call on us at your earliest opportunity?
Yours very truly, J. R. Carson."
Owen sealed, addressed and, stamped the letter and enclosed it in alarger envelope, which he addressed to a friend in Philadelphia, withinstructions to post the enclosure in that city.
He did not trust the mailing of the double letter to a servant, but,putting on his motor togs, prepared to ride to Westbury.
"Well, he's got a reprieve; he's going to stay with us one more day,"Pauline cried, happily, as she met Owen in the hall.
For the flash of an instant something twinged at the cold heart of thesecretary. The bright beauty of Pauline, her happiness, her love forher foster brother, struck home the first realization of somethingmissing--and never to be achieved--in his grim existence. Perhapsfor the moment Raymond Owen had a dim understanding of the value ofinnocence.
The next afternoon Pauline stood on the veranda bidding Harry goodbye.
"I hate to go, Polly, but I must," he said. "I hate to leave you withthat--secretary."
"Harry, please don't start again on that. You know I don't agree withyou, and--and I don't want to quarrel with you when you're goingaway."
"Very well," he said, embracing her, "but don't get into any of yourscrapes while I am away. Remember, it's a long way to Chicago."
"And Tipperary," she laughed. "Goodbye, darling boy, and run home theminute you can."
"I will. Goodbye."
Pauline had turned dejectedly back toward the house when the sound ofsteps on the walk drew her attention. It was the postman.
"I'll take them," she said, extending her hand.
She ran over the envelopes swiftly until she came to one which bore thecorner mark of a publishing concern in Philadelphia. She had neverheard of the firm of Carson & Brown, but, to her enthusiasm of youngauthorship, the very name "publisher" was magical. She opened theletter hastily and read.
For a moment she stood spellbound with happiness. The realization ofher dreams was at hand. Publishers were calling for her work insteadof sending it back when she sent it to them.
With a glad cry, and waving the treasured letter, she rushed out intothe garden to Owen.
"It's happened!" she sang, gaily. "I am discovered."
"You are what, Miss Pauline?"
"Don't you understand? Can't you see?"
"Not exactly, while you slant that letter above your head like areprieve for a doomed man."
"Well, read it." She leaned breathlessly over his shoulder as he readthe familiar lines.
"Miss Pauline, it is splendid!" he exclaimed. "I was always sure youwould be successful with your writing."
"Yes, you encouraged me to get new experiences, while Harry alwaysopposed me," she said. "But, oh, I wish Harry was here to see this."
"Shall you go to Philadelphia?" inquired Owen
"Indeed--shall and instantly."
"Is it so urgent as that."
"Of course. They might change their minds any moment and get some oneelse to write the story. Will you see what train I can take thisevening, Owen, while I run and pack a few things?"
"With pleasure--but don't you think some one ought to accompany you?"
"To Philadelphia? Nonsense. It's just like crossing the street.Please, Owen, don't you begin to worry about every little thing I do."
"Very well," he laughed. As soon as she was gone he selected a timetable, and scanned the train list. Then he took up the telephone andcalled a number.
"Hello, Wrentz?"
"This is Owen. It worked. Be at the Pennsylvania station with yourmen tonight. And, Wrentz, if the plan I gave you fails, I leave it toyou to invent a new one. You understand? What? No. I don't want anyreturn this time."
Before Owen had helped Pauline into her car and bidden her goodbye,Wrentz and his men were on watch in the railroad station.
"Goodbye and good luck."
Pauline was standing in the aisle, the porter stowing her baggage intoher drawing room, when the men entered the car. She noted them withcuriosity. There was nothing very sinister about them, but they seemedobviously out of place
, but the next moment she had forgotten aboutthem, and for the twentieth time, was reading her own story in theCosmopolitan. For now, in the light of the magic it had wrought, shewas bent on studying every word--to absorb the power of her owngenius, so to speak--in order that "her publishers" should not bedisappointed in the forthcoming novel.
When Pauline got off the train at Philadelphia she did not notice thatone of the four men who had aroused her curiosity walked behind her asshe left, or that he was joined by the three others in the taxicabwhich followed hers.
When she left the cab at one of the fashionable hotels, Wrentz alonefollowed her.
He was at Pauline's elbow when she registered. As she followed thebell boy through the lobby, he stepped to the desk, and, noting thenumber of Pauline's room--NO. 22--he signed his name under herswith a flourish.
"By the way," he said easily to the clerk, "is that pet room of' minevacant--the one I had last year?"
The clerk smiled. "I'll see," he said. "I had forgotten it was yourpet room. I can't remember everybody."
"Oh, I was just here for a few days," said Wrentz.
"I remember you."
"Yes, sir; 24 is yours," said the clerk. "Front."
Wrentz stood at the cigar counter to make a purchase. He did not wishto follow Pauline so closely that she might know he had taken the roomnext to hers.
In spite of her excitement, Pauline slept soundly that night. The nextmorning she had breakfast in her own room and at ten o'clock was readyto go to "Carson & Brown's." She was considerably provoked by theignorance of the hotel clerk, who not only did not know the publishinghouse of Carson & Brown, but could not even direct her to Westonplace. He called the head porter and taxicab manager. The latter hadan idea.
"I don't think it's Weston Place, but there's a Weston Street down in--well, it's not a very good section of the city, Miss. I wouldn'twant to--"
"Never mind. In New York some of our best publishing houses areperfect barns. You may call a taxicab."
"Yes, Miss."
"Publishing house in Weston Street-whew! But she doesn't look crazy,"he instructed one of his chauffeurs. "I don't know what the game is,but it's a good job."
Pauline's spirits revived as the cab whisked her through the bigbusiness streets, newly a-bustle with their morning life. She had asense of pity for the workers hastening to their uninspiring toil. Howfew of them had ever received even a letter from a publisher! How fewhad known the thrill of successful authorship!
A few moments after Pauline's departure Louis Wrentz and his companionsset to work.
Two of the men left the room and sauntered to opposite ends of the hallwhere they lingered on watch. Wrentz and the other man stepped outbriskly and each with a screwdriver in his hand began unfastening thenumber-plates over the doors of rooms 22 and 24.
A low cough sounded down the corridor and they quickly desisted fromtheir task and retired to their room while a maid passed by.
In a moment they were out again. Wrentz passed the number plate of 24to his assistant, who handed back the plate Of 22. The numbers wererefastened on the wrong doors. The watchers were called back.
"Now," said Wrentz, "it is only a matter of waiting."
Pauline's cab passed out of the central city into the region offactories.
"This looks like the section where the print shops are in New York,"she said confidently to herself.
But the driver kept on into streets of dingy, ancient houses--streetscrowded with unkempt children and lined with push-carts.
"Are you sure you got the right address of them publishers, Miss?" heasked after awhile. "The next street is Weston and it don't look verypromisin'."
She drew the letter from her handbag and showed it to him.
"Well, that's the queerest thing I know," he said, astonished by theletterhead. "I've been drivin' cabs--horse and taxi--for twentyyears, and I never heard of no such people or no such place."
"Well, at least go around the corner and see. Perhaps it is a new firmthat isn't listed as yet," said Pauline.
The driver swung the cab into a street even more bleak and bedraggledthan the one they had just traversed. He stopped and got out. Paulinefollowed him. A blear-eyed man, slouching on a stoop, looked up infaint curiosity as she addressed him.
"There ain't no No. 9 Weston Street," he answered.
"It usta be over there, but it's burnt down."
Pauline's face fell. "Well, this is certainly stupid," she exclaimed."Of course it isn't Weston Street; it's Weston Place, as the lettersays."
"But my 'City Guide' ain't got no such place in it, miss," answered thechauffeur.
"Well, I'll go back to, the hotel," she said dejectedly.
She was on the verge of tears as she left the elevator and started forher room. She had looked through all the directories and street guidesand knew at last that she had been the victim of a cruel hoax. All herjoy and pride of yesterday had turned to humiliation and grief. Shewanted to be alone--and have a good cry.
She was puzzled for a moment as she drew her key from her handbag andglanced at the numbers on the doors. She had been almost sure that No.22 was the left-hand door, but she had been in such excitement thatshe could not trust any of her impressions. She started to place thekey in the lock of the right-hand door.
Like a flash it opened inward and two pairs of hands gripped her. Hercry was stifled by a hand over her mouth. She was dragged into theroom.
CHAPTER XXIV
THE MUMMY'S LAST WARNING
Pauline had barely time to recognize in her new captors the fourstrange men who had attracted her attention on the train, before abandage was drawn over her eyes, another over her mouth, and cruel,heavy hands began to bind her limbs.
As she listened to the rough voices of the men, the mystery of the"Carson & Brown" letter was entirely cleared away.
"That was easy," commented Wrentz.
"Easier than the rest of the work will be," said one.
"Shall we leave her on the floor, boss?" asked another.
"Yes, of course."
"Then I'll put a pillow under her head."
"Pillow? Why a pillow? Since when did you become tender-hearted,Rocco?"
Rocco scowled, but he made no reply.
"You don't need any pillows or Pullman cars on the way to heaven," saidWrentz with a snarling laugh.
The laugh was checked abruptly by a rap on the door. For an instantthe ruffians looked at each other in alarm. There was no tellingwhether to open that door would be to face the drawn revolvers ofdetectives or only the expectant eyes of a bellboy.
There was nothing to do but to answer, however. Wrentz moved to thedoor.
"Who is it?" he asked.
"Your trunk, sir."
"You are the porter?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, you can leave the trunk at the door. I am too busy to beinterrupted just now. But here--"
Wrentz opened the door an inch and passed a dollar bill to the porter."I am going to need you again in a few hours," he said.
"Yes, sir; thank you, sir."
"Move the girl over behind the bed--out of range there," commandedWrentz. Two men seized Pauline and dragged her across the room whereshe could not be seen through the door, which Wrentz now opened wide.
In the corridor outside stood a large trunk. Wrentz and one of the menlifted it and carried it into the room.
"Your baggage is light," said the man.
"It will be heavier in a little while. Open it."
They obeyed.
"Do you think it is large enough?" asked Wrentz.
"Large enough for what--the girl?" demanded Rocco, who had beensulking since his rebuke.
"You are shrewd, Rocco. You have guessed rightly I suppose you'll wantto put a pillow in it."
"Yes, I would," said Rocco, who was the youngest of the band, "or elseI would kill her first. What is the use of torture?"
Wrentz's dark fact grew ev
en blacker as he eyed the young man.
"If you were a grown man, Rocco," he said, "instead of a soft-heartedboy, you would know that there is one form of murder that is alwaysfound out--the trunk murder. And I want to say this to you," headded with growing heat, "that if I hear one more word of rebellionfrom you this prisoner will be alive some hours after you havedeparted. Now, then, into the trunk with her."
Rocco sullenly helped the others in the grim task. The trunk, large asit was, was not deep enough to permit Pauline a sitting posture, norlong enough to prevent the painful cramping of her limbs. But she wasdeadened to physical pain. With the words of her doom still ringing inher ears--the calm discussion of her death--her terror was hertorture. The choking gag, the cutting bonds, the stifling trunk--inwhich the knife of Wrentz had cut but a few air holes--these were asnothing to the agony of her spirit--the agony of a lingering journeytoward a certain but mysterious end.
Pauline had been a prisoner before, had been through many and desperatedangers, but her heart had never failed her utterly until she felt thepressure of the trunk lid on her bent shoulders and heard the clampingof the locks that bound her in.
She could still hear the voices.
"I'll go down and settle my bill and send up that porter," Wrentz wassaying. "Don't let him help with the trunk, except to run theelevator. You're sure your car is at the side entrance--not out infront?"
"Yes."
"I will meet you there."
Pauline had been so carefully bound that she could not stir in thetrunk. As she felt it lifted and carried rapidly through the corridorto the hotel elevator she strained with all her might to make a noise--to beat with hands or feet or even with her head, the sides of thereceptacle. But it was no use. She was carried through the hotel andout to the side entrance without attracting attention.
She felt the trunk lifted over the men's heads, and the whirring of anautomobile told her that she was being placed in the machine.
"Well, you didn't care much for your pet room this time, Mr. Wrentz,"smiled the clerk as Wrentz asked for his bill.
"Indeed I did, but a message has called me back to New York."
He paid his bill and hurried out to the big car in the back of whichPauline's trunk had been placed. Springing to the wheel, he orderedhis followers in, and they drove away.
Once on suburban roads, Wrentz, either fearful of pursuit or drunk withsuccess, began speeding.
Along the railroad tracks the noise of their speed drew a tumult ofwild sounds from a string of gaily painted cars on the siding. Thesnarls and howls of beasts were mingled with the angry cries of men whoseemed to be at work on the other side of the cars.
To Pauline the noises came faintly, but with a horrid and unearthlynote. She, who had been the victim of so many cruet and fantasticplots, knew not what new danger the roaring of the beasts threatened.
In a moment, though, her mind was set at rest on this point. ForRocco, the young bandit, turning to the man next him, asked: "What doesit mean? What are they doing?"
"It is a circus train," answered the man. "They are loading the beastsinto the cars."
Pauline felt the machine swerve sharply and evidently take to aby-road, for she could hear the swish of leaves on overhanging branchesas they brushed through.
"This place will do," she heard Wrentz say. "Now, be quick about it."
"It has come," breathed Pauline to herself. "This is the place whereI am to die."
Through her mind, in piteous pageant, flashed thoughts of home, ofHarry, of even Raymond Owen. There was a great loneliness in the hourof doom. But it would be over quickly. She shut her eyes tight andclenched her tied hands as the trunk was taken from the machine andplaced upon the ground.
"Open it," commanded Wrentz. "I don't want her to die in there."
The men quickly unclamped the locks and lifted Pauline out.
"Take off the ropes and the bandages," ordered Wrentz.
"Take them off? Why, she'll scream," exclaimed one.
"If she does you may choke her to death in the car," replied Wrentz.
"Why not here?" asked the oldest of the men. "Didn't Mr. --"
"Hush your mouth! You confounded rascal!" Wrentz screamed. "Are yougoing to mention that name here?"
"What harm--as long as she is to die? Dead women tell no more talesthan dead men."
"I will name all names that are to be spoken," declared Wrentz.
"Well, he of the name that is unspoken--at least he did say that wemust have no delays. We want to earn our money as well as you, Louis--remember that."
"Come, come," he said. "This is no way to be arguing among friends.You'll get your money all right; but there is one thing to remember-youain't get it except through me. So let me handle the matter. Put thegirl in the car."
Pauline, although her bonds had been cut away, was unable to rise toher feet. They lifted her to her feet. She took a step or two, whilethey watched her curiously. Quickly strength and self-control cameback to her. With a sudden spring, she struck at Wrentz with her fist,and as he drew back, astonished she darted across the roadway towardthe wood.
It was but a futile, maneuver. She had gone but a few paces when shewas gripped from behind and snatched back.
"You see, Louis--I told you she would do something of the kind," saidthe old bandit.
"And I told you it would do no harm. Place her in the car between youand Rocco. If she screams or makes a move to get away you may do asyou wish, but not until then."
Pauline still struggled feebly as she was lifted into the machine.Wrentz kicked the empty trunk to the side of the byroad and took thewheel again. He drove back to the main drive that skirted therailroad.
Distant as they were by now, the clamor of the caged beasts in thecircus train could still be heard. To Pauline the creatures seemedless wild and cruel than these, her human captors.
Wrentz put on even greater speed than he had ventured before. Twopolicemen, Burgess and Blount, of the Motorcycle Squad, were standingby their wheels in the roadway when the sound of the car's rush reachedtheir ears from half a mile away.
"By George, that fellow's coming some," exclaimed Blount.
"And looks as if he wasn't going to stop," said the other. "Halt!Halt, there!" he commanded, as the machine flashed up in a mantle ofdust.
"They are coming, Louis," said one of the men.
"I know they are. But there is no machine made that can catch thisone. Have your guns ready, though. In case they begin to fire, pickthem off."
Pauline shuddered at the matter-of-fact way in which Rocco and the manon the other side drew their heavy pistols from their hip pockets andrested them on their knees.
"Do you see the girl in that car?" yelled Burgess to his companion overthe din of their streaking machines.
"Yes. We want that party for more than speeding, I guess," answeredBlount. They bent low over their handle-bars and raced on.
"If he takes the 'S' curve like that we've got him--dead or alive,"said Burgess.
"And it looks as if he would. By George, he is!"
Wrentz's car had shot suddenly out of sight around a twist in theroad. Wrentz was an able driver, and, even at its terrific speed, themachine took the first turn gracefully. But Wrentz had not counted ona second shorter turn to the opposite direction. And he worked thewheel madly for a second swerve; the huge car skidded, spun round, and,reeling on two wheels for an instant, turned over in the ditch.
It was several moments before Pauline opened her eyes. She shut themquickly and staggered to her feet shuddering--she had been lyingacross Rocco's dead body which had broken her fall and saved her life.
Two other men lay motionless in the road. But from under theoverturned car there came a sound, and Pauline realized, with quickalarm, that Wrentz was still alive. She ran across the road and intothe parked woods that hid the railroad from the drive.
Wrentz struggled out from beneath the car. His eyes swept swif
tly fromthe bodies of his dead comrades to the form of Pauline just vanishingin the thicket. He was bruised and bleeding, but with the instinct ofa beast of prey he followed his quarry.
"Dead or alive was right," said Burgess, jumping from his wheel andexamining the bodies in the road. "I wonder what that fellow was upto. And where is the girl?"
"I saw her and one of the men make into the park there," said Blount."You take charge here and I'll go after them."
As he moved into the thicket in the direction Pauline had taken youngBlount's attention was attracted by a new commotion. The park was onthe crest of a steep cliff overlooking the railroad tracks and from thetracks came a riot of voices. Blount forced his way through the woodto a viewpoint from the cliff. Below him a score of men were movingrapidly along the tracks in wide, open order, evidently bent on somesort of a hunt.
"The circus men," said Blount to himself. "An animal must have gotout. This is certainly some day for business."
He turned back to the work in hand.
Pauline, spurred by terror as she realized that Wrentz was again uponher trail, had sped like a wild thing through the park paths. Shecould hear the heavy footsteps of her pursuer close behind. She couldhear also a shouting from afar off. She made toward the shouting--the sound of any voice but the voices of the inhuman men who hadplanned her death was welcome to her ears.
She came out upon the cliff where it sloped steeply to the railroadyards, but not too steeply to prevent her descending. From herposition, the lines of freight cars cut off from her vision the strangegroup of hunters who were shouting. Running, stumbling, creeping,clutching at small bushes, she scrambled down the cliff.
"Stop and come back!" she heard a menacing voice behind her. She spedon the faster.
A line of high bushes fringed the bottom of the cliff. Between thebushes and the first rails ran a ditch. Sheltered from all view fromabove, Pauline dragged herself along this ditch, seeking a hidingplace. She knew her strength was almost gone. She was in terror offainting. If she could hide somewhere and rest--
A single empty freight car stood on the outer track a hundred yardsaway. Its open door offered the only means of concealment that shehad. She believed that the bushes were high enough still to shield herwhile she climbed into the car.
In this she was wrong. Wrentz, watching from above--for he wasafraid of the voices on the tracks, below and had not followed Pauline--watched with pleasure as she crawled to the side of the car, and,after two failures, managed to drag herself through the high door. Shesank exhausted. Gradually, however, her strength returned. Her mindrecovered from the dazing experiences of the last few hours. She beganto gain courage and to plan her further flight.
As she moved toward the car door to reconnoiter, the sense of aninvisible presence suddenly possessed her. Instinctively she turned.
One glance behind her and every fiber of her body seemed to turn tostone. Fear she had known, but never terror such as this. She stoodparalyzed, unable to close her eyes, unable to move. For there besideher, towering above her in horrible strength, with wildly grinning faceand cruelly outreaching claws, stood the thing that gave explanation tothe hunt outside and the shouting. Pauline was in the clutches of agorilla. She fainted as she felt herself gripped in the hairy arms.
Wrentz was gloating as he stood on watch over Pauline's hiding place.In a little while the men, would be out of the railroad yard and hewould go down and finish the work. But his rejoicings were turned intoamazement by the sight which now presented itself at the door of thecar.
With Pauline, carried over one arm as if she had been a wisp of straw,the gorilla was crawling down to the trackside. Wrentz saw it crawlalong the ditch and heard the crunch of broken bushes as the hugecreature clambered up the cliff.
Wondering, scarcely able to believe his eyes, Wrentz followed at a safedistance.
Young Policeman Blount, searching for the fugitive chauffeur of thewrecked automobile and the mysterious young woman who had escaped fromit, paused at the sound of heavy foot-falls. A low, guttural, snarlingsound--a sound hardly human--accompanied the footsteps. He hadreached the bottom of the cliff a half mile from where Pauline hadfound her perilous shelter. Peering up through the bushes, hisastonishment and horror were a match for the astonishment and joy ofWrentz. The gorilla, with Pauline still clutched in the mighty paw,had reached almost the top of the cliff at its steepest point.
Blount blew his whistle, blast after blast. He started up the cliff,but came back at the sound of hurrying footsteps and calls; the huntersfrom the railroad yards had heard the signal.
"Hello! Have you seen anything of the gorilla?" yelled the first manto come up.
Blount pointed up the cliff side to where the hideous beast was justdragging Pauline over the topmost ledge.
The men stood spell-bound with pity.
"A girl!" gasped one of them. "She's as good as dead, if she isn'tdead now. He just killed our foreman back in the yards."
"No, thank heaven!" cried Blount, "she's not dead. Look!"
At the top of the cliff they saw Pauline's form suddenly quicken intolife. The gorilla had released its hold upon her to make sure of itsfooting on the perilous ledge. Now she stood, a frail, pitiful,hopeless thing, fighting--actually assailing the beast, more mightythan a dozen men.
Their hearts sick within them they watched the brief struggle. Wrentz,too, watched it, from his hiding place on the top of the cliff. Buthis heart was not sick. In a moment, he was sure, his work would beaccomplished for him, and his employer would be rid of Pauline Marvinin a way that could reflect no blame on any one.
Blount started up the cliff. He took it for granted that the otherswould follow, but looking down after gaining half the distance, he sawthe circus men still huddled together in fascinated awe.
"Look! Look!" they called to him. "He's taking her up the tree."
Blount looked and saw the gorilla climbing ponderously the trunk of alarge tree, the branches of which overhung the precipice. Blountclimbed on frantically. He stopped again. The gorilla was crawlingout upon one of the overhanging branches! The strange beast-brain hadconceived a death for Pauline more terrible than any Raymond Owen badever plotted. Wrentz himself might have envied the gorilla.
Blount drew his revolver. He was not more than a hundred feet belowthem now. "It's the chance of hitting her against the chance of savingher," he muttered. He fired. With a snarl of pain the gorilla turnedand bit savagely at its shoulder. Blount rushed on. He stopped againand fired. He was at the verge of the cliff. He could blaze away nowwith no danger of hitting Pauline, for he was a sure marksman.
With a great throb of joy in his heart the gallant young fellow saw thebeast turn, and, leaving Pauline with her arms around the limb, hereyes shut against the dizzy depths below, move back and scramble down.
Blount was on the cliff-top as the gorilla reached the ground. Thebeast charged. Blount fired again. Again the gorilla, snarling, bitat its wounded side, but it came an as if a dozen lives vitalized thegross body.
Blount backed away from the cliff, but the monster was upon him. Itclutched him, hurled him to ground, dragged him back to the dizzyverge.
Slowly Blount was pressed over the precipice. The watchers below sawhim in his last struggle writhe in the deathly grasp, twist hisrevolver and fire three shots into the heart of the gorilla.
Down the long fall to the jagged rocks went the beast.
Pauline was bending over the bleeding, battered form of the youngofficer when the circus crew reached them.
"Oh, you are brave, brave!" she cried.
He opened his eyes and grinned merrily. "If I'm brave, I'd like toknow what you are."
"Oh, I'm not brave, I'm nothing but a selfish little pig," criedPauline. "I've treated the dearest fellow in the world shamefully.He's forgiven me over and over, but he won't forgive me this time."
"He'll forgive you anything, Mim," Blount assured her, "for
the sake ofgetting you safe back. But I shouldn't like to be the man who got youinto this, when he hears of it."
"The man's safe enough," said Burgess, who had just up in time to hearBlount's last words.
"No, he didn't escape that way," as Blount uttered an ejaculation ofdisgust. "He ran full tilt into me and when I tried to arrest him hedrew his revolver on me. By good luck I got him first--yes, Jo, he'sdead."
"Dead," repeated Pauline in a low tone. "How horrible to go out oflife a moment after you had tried to commit murder."
"It's not his first," Burgess said coolly. "We've been after him andhis gang these six months. It was Wrentz, Jo, and I made a haul ofpapers that'll get somebody into trouble."
"Oh, don't hurt the young one," cried Pauline. "He tried to help me."
"Rocco? He was dead when they picked him up. And, now, Miss Marvin,hadn't I better get you a taxi?"
"Yes, thank you, but," with irrepressible curiosity, "how did you knowme?"
Burgess smiled. "How did I know you? I beg your pardon, Miss, but fornearly a year your picture's been in every paper, more or less, in theUnited States. You're a big head-liner--it's an honor to meet you,face to face. But it's Blount has all the luck. He's saved you--he'llbe a head-liner himself tomorrow."
The hot color rushed over Pauline's face. "A head-liner"--so thatwas what she meant to the public, to the man on the street.
"Please, Please, don't let this get into the Papers," she begged."I'll do anything in the world for you if you'll just keep it out ofthe papers."
"Will you tell us about those other adventures?"
Burgess asked eagerly. "It's a sure thing that somebody's been pullingthe wires, making you walk the tight rope, and somebody that knowseverything you do. Any man on the force who could spot him would bemade."
"No, no," Pauline insisted, an uneasy remembrance of Harry's suspicionslending emphasis to her denial. "Some of those things were done beforeanybody out of the house could know."
"Just as I said," Burgess agreed triumphantly.
"It's somebody in the house. Why he knew about your bull terrier, andthe papers had it had just been given you the day before--darnedclever little dog to give your folks the clue."
"Cyrus?" Pauline's face broke into smiles and dimples. "He's thecleverest, dearest, most beautiful dog in the world."
"Fine dog, yes Miss, if he's like the picture the reporters got."
Pauline's face clouded--for the moment she had forgotten the horrorsof publicity.
"You won't put this in the papers?" she pleaded.
"He shan't," Blount raised himself weakly on his elbow. "If thereporters haven't got it already, we'll keep you out of it anyhow,Miss."
"Keep a scoop like this out of the papers?" Burgess laughed aloud."You're talking through your hat, Blount, it can't be done."
In one terrible flash Pauline saw her name in capitals, her photographalmost life-size, photographs of her trunk, the gorilla, Blount, inhead-liners, too, and Harry, furious, too far away for moral suasion;stern, cold, unforgiving, worse still, disgusted. She realized as shehad never realized before that Harry was what counted most, Harry wasthe one thing she could not live without. To the terrors of thesehours was added the terror of losing him.
She burst into wild sobs.
"I want Harry, I don't want anything in the world but Harry! Oh, takeme home, please take me home!"
Burgess got a taxi and went with her to the hotel, where She was put tobed, a doctor sent for, and where at last she fell asleep.
But it was not until noon the next day that she was able to take thetrain for New York. And then began, two hours and a half that Paulineremembered to the last hour of her life. Her photograph stared at herfrom the front page of every daily paper--even the glasses and thickveil she wore to conceal her identity could not soften the conspicuouspictures. Newsboys called her name, and the gorilla story, Wrentz, andBlount's names, together--every passenger in the car, it seemed toher, men, women, and children, were discussing her. There were sillyjokes, contemptuous criticism, half-laughing suggestions that there wassomething "queer about Miss Marvin." just behind her, she heard onewoman say to another, "But, then, my dear, what could you expect of anygirl whose mother was an Egyptian" as if this equaled breaking thewhole Decalogue.
Though she had wired Owen, the motor did not meet her, and feeling morethan ever forlorn and forsaken, Pauline got into a taxi. Never had theold place looked so beautiful as today when she felt that it couldnever be her home again--she must tell Harry that her mother was anEgyptian and then even if he could forgive her this last adventure hewould never marry her. Oh, how could she have been so silly, soconceited, so cruel to Harry! And what a fool she had been to go insearch of experience in order to write. If she couldn't write with allthis beauty spread out before her, if she couldn't write by living areal, human, everyday life, the sort of life that brings you close tonormal people, how could she ever hope to write by living on excitement--on abnormal excitement and with abnormal people and situations?
She paid the driver and was walking slowly up the steps of the veranda,when, suddenly, she halted as if she had been struck. What was that?It couldn't be--yes, it was--funeral streamers hanging from thedoor-knob!
With a scream that rang through the closed door, Pauline fainted. Whenshe recovered consciousness she was in the library. Bemis and Margaretwere bending over her, and strong, tender arms were around her.
"Harry," she murmured instinctively.
"Don't try to talk, my darling, drink this. You go," to Bemis andMargaret.
"Oh, Harry, I thought you were dead."
"I'm very much alive," Harry said with a tremulous laugh.
"But Harry, what does all that black on the door mean?"
"It means," said Harry, savagely, "that though the mills of the godsgrind slowly they grind surely--Owen's dead."
"Owen!" Her eyes large with terror, Blount's words ringing in her ears--"I shouldn't like to be the man at the bottom of this when Mr. Marvinhears of it." "'Owen," she repeated in a breathless whisper.
"Harry, you didn't kill him?"
"He didn't give me the chance. He was dead when I got here--overdoseof morphine Dr. Stevens said. Seems he was a drug fiend."
"Why that was the reason," Pauline said, her filling with tears. "Hewas crazy, he didn't know what he was doing. Poor Owen, poor Owen"--then turned hastily to safer topics. "But I thought you went toChicago for a week."
"I did, but, you'll laugh, Pauline--I know it sounds fool--theMummy came to me just as she came to me in Montana. I took the firsttrain home. I knew you were in danger--I knew it was a warning.I'll ever trust, you out of my sight again--you've got to marry menow."
Pauline shrank back from his kisses. "No, no, Harry I can't--I won't--there was a woman on the train said my mother was an Egyptian."
Harry broke into a peal of laughter and caught her in his arms.
"Is that the only reason you won't?"
"Harry, is it true?"
"I don't know and I don't care--what difference does it make who yourmother was? You are you, that's all I care for." His voice shook. "Ilove you so, Pauline, that I can't stand this life any longer--anotheradventure--"
Pauline silenced him with a kiss.
"I'm all through with adventures," she declared. "Harry, I'm going to--"
"Marry me? Polly, do you mean it?"
"Yes, yes. Oh, my dearest, I've been a selfish, silly, conceitedlittle pig, but I'm cured, I'm cured at last."
As he clasped her in his arms, the shutter swung violently to, and thecase containing the Mummy fell with a clatter to the floor. Harry ranand lifted it as tenderly as if it had been a little child.
"I suppose we can hardly keep her here," he said regretfully, "butwe'll give, no, I can't give her up entirely, we'll lend her to theMetropolitan Art Museum where she'll receive due honor. She's been afaithful friend to us, Polly."
"And here's anot
her," exclaimed Pauline, as Cyrus ran frantically intothe room, and leaping upon the couch with ecstatic barks of welcome,threatened again to take the place that belonged by right to Harry.But this time Harry joined in Pauline's caresses.
THE END
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