Part 42 (1/2)

”I mean that man, and you, and the woman. I'll send someone for the others. If you're the fellow that did the sluggin' on the campus last night, you won't get away from me again.”

”What's the use of dragging the young lady into this?” demanded Orme.

”None o' your business.”

”Can I speak to her a minute, first?”

”No, you can't. There's been too many Chicago hold-up men around here lately, and I won't take chances with you.” The policeman made this explanation apparently in deference to Orme's appearance, which, in spite of the evidence of struggle, was that of a gentleman. ”Looks don't always tell,” he continued.

That the girl should be taken to the station and held, under such suspicious circ.u.mstances was simply not to be thought of.

Doubtless she could quickly set in motion forces that would liberate her, but the disgrace of detention was something she must be saved from at any cost.

She was known in Evanston. Her ident.i.ty once established, the story of her arrest would be sure to spread. Her position would then be the more painful, because the circ.u.mstances of the case were such that she was unwilling to explain them.

Moreover, Orme realized that, if he and Arima were held, the care of the girl would be his first thought, and the recovery of the papers would be forced into second place. That would not be according to her wish.

a.s.suredly, if he was to get the papers, he could do better alone.

She sat in the car, not more than six feet from him, her face the picture of mingled emotions. Orme saw that he must rea.s.sure her as to himself before he carried out the plan which had suddenly come to his mind.

”You will make a mistake, officer, if you detain me,” he said, speaking distinctly, so that the girl would be sure to hear.

”Cut it out,” said the policeman.

”A little telephoning will set me free in an hour,” Orme continued, bending to pick up his hat, which had fallen to the ground at the beginning of the fight. ”You can't do anything except take me to the station and find out that you have bungled.”

”That's my affair,” said the policeman. ”But here, we've done enough talkin'.” He waved his revolver in a gesture which indicated that they were to enter the car.

Now, Orme knew that the girl had not seen him throw the papers to the road. Neither had she seen Arima pick them up. Whatever guess she had made as to his disposal of them, there was no reason for her to doubt that he had again got them into his possession, during some stage of the struggle.

He looked at her earnestly and significantly, then smiled slightly, in the thought of rea.s.suring her.

When he was certain that she was watching his every move, he glanced at the car, then up the road to the north. Then, with such quickness that the policeman had no time to prevent, he s.n.a.t.c.hed from the inner pocket of his coat the envelope containing the blank contract which had first disappointed Arima, and tossed it into the tonneau.

”Go!” he shouted.

Like a shot, she sent the car forward. It disappeared swiftly into the night.

Thus far, Orme was satisfied. He had got the girl safely away. She thought that he had thrown the papers into the car, and when she came to examine them she would be disappointed, but Orme felt that she would then understand--that she would continue to trust him.

As the car darted away the policeman swung his club at Orme.

Before the blow could strike, the upraised arm was caught by a little hand and with a quick jerk, the policeman was pulled to the ground. His revolver, which he held in his left hand, went off as he fell, and a leaf, cut from a tree above by the bullet, sailed into Orme's face.

The policeman lay helpless in the cunning hold of Maku--Maku, who, fully restored to his senses, had crept up to save Arima from the law.

Orme wondered whether the girl had heard the shot. Probably not, for she was driving into the wind. But he had no time to consider the point, for Arima, suddenly conscious of freedom, leaped for the remaining car. He had the papers; he would hurry them safely to his master, leaving Orme and the policeman to the mercies of his reviving confederates.

The papers were still first in his thoughts. And why not? Orme remembered the scathing rebuke by the j.a.panese minister. In the flash of thought that preceded his own action he realized that the recovering of the papers was Arima's one means of righting himself.