Part 10 (2/2)
”You say old man Grover ain't dead yet?” Mr. Hooker was growling resentfully, even indignantly.
”He ain't expected to live till night, sir, poor old man,” replied the agent.
”Well, I'll be d.a.m.ned!” roared Mr. Hooker. ”I don't see any sense in a man of his age hanging on like this. He's eighty-three. My time is valuable”--looking at his big silver watch--”and I can't afford to hang around here if he's going to act like this.” The agent stared after him as if he were looking at a maniac. Mr. Hooker set off in the direction of old Mr. Grover's house, which had been pointed out to him by a gaping small boy. ”I'll go up and see about it,” he remarked, as he stepped across a wide rivulet in the middle of the main street. The Somerset Hotel was situated on the most beautiful point of land touching that trim little lake which attracted hundreds of city people annually by its summer wiles. It was too sedate and quiet to be fas.h.i.+onable; the select few who went there sought rest from the frivolities of the world. Eleanor Thursdale had spent one tiresome but proper season there immediately after the death of her father. She hated everything in connection with the place except the little old-fas.h.i.+oned church at the extreme end of the village street, fully half a mile from the hotel. She had chosen it, after romantic reflection, as the sanctuary in which she should become the wife of the man she loved, spurning the great church in town and one of its loveless matches.
The forenoon is left to the imagination of the reader,--with all of its unsettled plans, its doubts and misgivings, its despairs and its failures, its subterfuges and its strategies, its aggravations and complaints. Bell-boys carried surrept.i.tious notes from room to room; a.s.surances, hopes, and rea.s.surances pa.s.sed one another in systematic confusion. Love was trying to find its way out of the maze.
Immediately after luncheon Dauntless set out to discover his faithless cousin. Eleanor kept close to her room, in readiness for instant flight. The necessary Mr. Derby had his instructions to remain where he could be found without trouble. Mrs. Van Truder, taking up Eleanor's battles, busied herself and every one else in the impossible task of locating the young woman's trunks, which, according to uncertain reports, had gone mysteriously astray. Moreover, she had prepared a telegram to the young lady's mother, a.s.suring her that she was quite safe; but Mr. Dauntless boldly intercepted Mr. Van Truder on his way to the desk.
”Allow me,” he remarked, deliberately taking the despatch from the old gentleman. ”I'll send it from the station. Don't bother about it, Mr.
Van Truder.” He drove through the village, but did not stop at the station; his instructions to the driver did not include a pause anywhere. It is not necessary to relate what took place when he descended upon the unfortunate Jim; it is sufficient to say that he dragged him from his sick wife's bedside and berated him soundly for his treachery. Then it was all rearranged,--the hapless Jim being swept into promises which he could not break, even with death staring his wife in the face. The agitated Mr. Dauntless drove back to the hotel with a new set of details perfected. This time nothing should go wrong.
His first action was to acquaint Derby with the plans, and then to send a note of instructions to Eleanor, guarding against any chance that they might not be able to communicate with each other in person.
”It's all fixed,” he announced to Derby, in a secluded corner of the grounds. ”To-night at nine we are to be at the church down the road there--see it? n.o.body is on to us, and Jim has a key. He will meet you there at a quarter of nine. But, hang it all, his wife can't act as a witness. We've got to provide one. He suggested the postmaster, but I don't like the idea; it looks too much like a cheap elopement. I'd just as soon have the cook or the housemaid. I'll get Eleanor there if I have to kill that Van Truder woman. Now, whom shall we have as the second witness?”
”Windoms.h.i.+re, I'm afraid,” lamented Derby. ”You won't be able to get rid of him.”
”Hang him!” groaned Dauntless, his spirits falling, but instantly reviving. ”But he's dead in love with Miss Courtenay. It's pitiful, old man. He feels that he's got to marry Nell, but it's not in his heart to do it. Now if we could only shunt him off on to Miss Courtenay this evening! Her train leaves at nine, they say. He might be forced to take her to the station if you will only get busy and make him jealous.”
”Jealous? I?”
”Certainly. It won't be much of an effort for you, and it will help me immensely. Make love to her this afternoon, and when you suggest taking her to the station this evening he'll be so wrought up that he won't stand for it. See what I mean?”
”Now see here, Joe, I'm willing to do a great deal for you, but this is too much. You forget that I am a minister of the gospel. It's--”
”I know, old man, but you might do a little thing like this for--By Jove, I've got it! Why not have old Mr. Van Truder for the other witness?”
Mr. Van Truder was crossing the lawn, picking his way carefully.
”Good afternoon,” greeted Dauntless.
”Afternoon,” responded Mr. Van Truder. ”Is this the hotel?”
”No, sir; the hotel is about ten feet to your left. By the way, Mr. Van Truder, would you mind doing me a favour this evening?”
”Gladly. Who are you?”
”Joe Dauntless.”
”Anything, my dear Joe.”
”Well, it's a dead secret.”
”A secret? Trust me,” cried the old man, joyfully.
”First, let me introduce my friend, the Rev. Mr. Derby. He's in the secret. It will go no farther, I trust, Mr. Van Truder.”
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