Part 19 (1/2)

She paid no heed to his shouts. She opened the throttle wider and wider, and the steam roadster darted away through the darkness, with Patricia Langdon under the wheel, leaving Richard Morton, cap in hand, standing in the middle of the highway, gazing after her, speechless with amazement and more than ever in love with the courageous young woman who could dare, and do, so much.

Patricia Langdon was thoroughly capable of operating any automobile, as was demonstrated by this somewhat startling climax to the unpleasant scene through which she had just pa.s.sed. Beneath her customary repose of manner, her outward self-restraint and her dignified if somewhat haughty manner, there was a spirit of wildness, which, for years, had found no expression, till now. But, the moment she turned the car about and succeeded in heading it in the opposite direction, the instant she realized that she was mistress of the situation, which, so short a time before, had been replete with unknown terrors, she experienced all that sense of exhilaration which the winner of any battle must feel, when it is brought to a successful issue. She heard herself laugh aloud, defiantly and with a touch of glee, although it did not seem to her as if it were Patricia Langdon who laughed; it was, perhaps, some hitherto undiscoverable spirit of recklessness within her, which called forth that expression of defiant joy, which Richard Morton could not fail to hear.

The night was dark, by now, and there were only the stars to light the narrow way along which Patricia was compelled to guide the flying car; but she thought nothing of this, for she could dimly discern the outlines of the roadway before her, and she believed she could follow it to the main highway, without accident. Morton had not lighted his lamps. There had been no opportunity to do so. But the road was an unfrequented one; and Patricia, as she fled away from Morton, through the darkness, thought only of making her escape, not at all of the dangers she might encounter while doing so.

Several times, she caught herself laughing softly at the recollection of how she had triumphed over the daring young ranchman, and at the predicament in which she had left him, standing there near the bridge, in a locality that was entirely unknown to him, from which he must have some difficulty in finding his way to a place where he could secure another conveyance. He might know what it meant to be left horseless on the ranges of the West, but this would be a new and a strange--perhaps a wholesome--experience for him.

Presently, she came to the turn of the road that would bring her upon the main highway; and here she stopped the car, and got down from it, long enough to light the lamps. This done, she went on again, as swiftly as she dared, yet not too rapidly, because now she felt that she was as free as the air singing past her. The highway she traversed was almost as familiar to her as the streets of New York City.

The exhilaration she had experienced when she triumphed over Richard Morton and escaped from him, increased rather than diminished as she sped onward, and when, almost an hour later, she guided the car between the huge gate-posts which admitted it to the grounds of Cedarcrest, and followed the winding driveway toward the entrance to the stone mansion, she was altogether a different Patricia Langdon from the one who had started out, in company with the young Westerner, shortly after five o'clock that afternoon.

She brought the car to a stop under the _porte-cochere_, and announced her arrival by several loud blasts of the automobile-horn; a moment later, the doors were thrown open, and Sally Gardner rushed out to receive her.

”I am afraid I am late, Sally,” Patricia called out, in a voice that was wholly unlike her usual calm tones. ”Will you call someone to care for the car?” Without waiting for a reply, she sprang from beneath the wheel, and with a light laugh returned the impetuous embrace with which the young matron greeted her.

In some mysterious manner, word had already been pa.s.sed to the guests that Patricia Langdon had arrived in Richard Morton's car, but alone; and so, by the time Patricia had released herself from Sally's clinging arms, Roderick Duncan, followed by the others of the party, appeared in the open doorway. Duncan came forward swiftly, but his host forestalled him in putting the question he would have asked.

”I say, Patricia!” Jack Gardner called out. ”What have you done with Morton? Where is d.i.c.k?”

”Really, Jack, I don't know,” replied Patricia, standing quite still, with her right arm around Sally's shoulders, and lifting her head like a thoroughbred filly. Mrs. Gardner's left arm still clung around her waist. ”Mr. Morton is back there, somewhere, on the road. If he doesn't change his plans, he should arrive here, presently.” She laughed, as she replied to the question, perceiving, at the moment, only the humorous side of it. She was still under the influence of that swift ride alone; still delighted by the thought of the predicament in which she had left her escort, because of his outrageous conduct toward her.

”Did you meet with an accident? Has anything happened to Mr. Morton?”

inquired Agnes Houston.

Patricia shrugged her shoulders, and, again laughing softly, withdrew from Sally's embrace and began to ascend the steps. One of the Cedarcrest servants appeared at that moment, to take the car around to the garage; and for some reason each member of the party stepped aside, one way or another, so that Miss Langdon was the one who led the way into the house, the others falling in behind her, and following. The circ.u.mstance of her arrival in such a manner and the suggestion of mystery conveyed in Patricia's answer to Jack Gardner's question convinced all that something had happened which needed an explanation. Patricia's demeanor was so different from her usual half-haughty bearing, that it was, in a way, a revelation to them all.

Each one there had his or her own conception of the occasion, and probably no two opinions were the same; but at least they were all agreed on one point: that there had been a scene somewhere, and that Richard Morton had got the worst of it.

Patricia led the way to the dining-room. Her head was high, her eyes were sparkling. Duncan hastened to her side, but she took no notice of his nearness. As she entered the room, she called out:

”Do order some dinner served to me, Sally. I am as hungry as the proverbial bear. You see, I had antic.i.p.ated a hearty dinner with you, and the long ride I have had--particularly that part of it which I have taken alone--has whetted my appet.i.te.”

Sally nodded toward the butler, and waved him away, knowing that he had overheard Patricia's words, and that she would speedily be served; the others of the party resumed their former seats around the table, and the practical Sally turned and faced Patricia, again, her eyes flas.h.i.+ng some of the indignation she felt because of her guest's evident reluctance to explain the strange circ.u.mstance of her arrival at Cedarcrest alone.

”Patricia Langdon,” she said, ”I think you might tell us what has happened. We are all on edge with expectancy. Where is d.i.c.k Morton?”

”Oh, he is somewhere back there on the highway, walking toward Cedarcrest, I suppose,” replied Patricia smilingly, dropping into a chair beside the table.

”Did you start out from New York together?” persisted Sally.

”Oh, yes.”

”Won't you please tell us what has happened?”

Patricia's lips parted, while she hesitated for a reply. She had no desire to tell these people of the incidents that had actually occurred. Many another, in her position, would have revealed at once the whole truth, and would have made these others acquainted with the conduct of Richard Morton, during that wild ride she had been forced to take with him through the gathering gloom. But Patricia was not that kind. She was quite conscious of the strangeness of her arrival at Cedarcrest alone, in Morton's car, and of the wrong constructions which might be given to the incident. She knew that every man who was present in the room, would bitterly resent the indignities Morton had put upon her, if she should relate the facts. But she believed that Morton had been sufficiently punished. She even doubted if he would appear there, at all, now; and so, instead of replying to Sally's repeated request, she shrugged her shoulders, and responded:

”I think I'll leave the explanation to Mr. Morton, when he arrives.”

Food was placed before her at that moment and she transferred her attention to it; while her friends, perceiving that she was not inclined to take them into her confidence, started other subjects of conversation, although the mind of each one of them was still intent upon what might have happened during Patricia's journey from New York in the company of Richard Morton.