Part 13 (2/2)
”This is a devil of a mess,” he muttered dolefully. ”If they catch me in this graveyard, I'll have a hard time proving an alibi. What an idiot I was to get into this thing! I guess I'll get out of it. He's got plenty of witnesses and I've got his ten dollars.” He began sneaking off toward the extreme west end of the graveyard, bent on finding the road to town. ”Holy smoke!” stopping short. ”Another bunch of them coming! I'm surrounded!” He dropped down behind a weed-covered mound and glared straight ahead. Almost directly in his path a lantern wobbled and reeled slowly, finally bringing its bearer to the fence between the burying-ground and the churchyard. A man carried the light and half carried the form of a woman besides.
”Brace up, Nell dear,” Mr. Hooker heard the newcomer say as tenderly as his exertions would allow. ”The worst is over. Here's the church. Good Heavens, just think of being lost in a graveyard!”
”And climbing four fences and a tree,” moaned Eleanor Thursdale. They had come up through the graveyard by mistake.
”It wasn't a tree; it was a fence post. Great Scot! There's no light in the church. What's up? Wait here, dear, and I'll investigate.”
”Alone? Never!” she cried. They climbed their fifth fence, notwithstanding the fact that a gate was near at hand.
”This is an awful pickle I've got you into. You ought to hate me--” he was groaning, but she checked him n.o.bly.
”Hush, Joe, I LOVE it,” she cried.
”You just wait and see how happy I'll make you for this.” He was about to kiss her rapturously, but the act was stayed by the sound of a shrill whistle, thrice given. ”There's Jim Carpenter and Derby,” he exclaimed, and whistled in response. A moment later Derby strolled up from the grove, followed by the chattering Mr. Van Truder.
”That you, Joe?”
”h.e.l.lo, Darb. Good! Where's Jim?”
Some one whistled sharply off to the left, and then Jim Carpenter came hurrying up, the head-waiter close behind.
”h.e.l.lo, Joe. Say, has either of you been coughing?” demanded Carpenter, his hair ready to stand on end.
”I should say not,” said Joe. ”I've scarcely been breathing.”
”Then some ghost is having a hemorrhage,” said the head-waiter, dismally.
[Ill.u.s.tration: ”Hush, Joe, I LOVE it,” she cried.]
”h.e.l.lo, Mr. Dauntless, are you a witness too?”
”Say, Joe,” said his cousin, quickly, ”there's something strange going on. The whole place is full of people. I went back there to open a window and at least two men coughed--one of 'em sneezed. We're being watched. This man says he heard a woman back there, and I saw a funny kind of light in the graveyard.”
”Hang 'em!” growled Joe. ”We can't stop now. Open up the church, Jim.”
”Can't. Lost my key. Is this Miss Thursdale? Glad to meet you. The window's the only way and they're surely watching back there.”
”Mamma has sent the officers after us,” wailed Eleanor.
”Let's go home,” said the waiter. ”I didn't agree to stay out all night.”
”Agree? Aha, I see. You are a spy!” cried Joe.
”A spy? I guess not. I'm a witness.”
”It's the same thing,” cackled Mr. Van Truder. ”You're a spy witness.”
”Joe, isn't this fellow your witness?” demanded Carpenter.
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