Part 19 (1/2)
”You should have been here,” she snapped. ”Everything may be lost. A man is down here after Winifred, and I've caught her talking to him in secret.”
”A cop?” and Voles glanced around the otherwise deserted lobby.
”I don't know--most probably. Or he may be that same man who was walking with her on Wednesday night in Central Park. Anyway, this afternoon he tried to hand her a note in offering her a newspaper. The note fell, and I saw it. Afterward he managed to get it to her in some way, though I never for a moment let her out of my sight; and they met about seven o'clock behind the church.”
”The little cat! She beat you to it, Rachel!”
”There is no time for talk, Ralph. That man will take her from us, and then woe to you, to William, to us all. Things come out; they do, they do--the deepest secrets! Man, man--oh, rouse yourself, sober yourself, and act! We must be far from this place before morning.”
”No more trains from here--”
”You could hire a car for your own amus.e.m.e.nt. Rush her off in that.
s.n.a.t.c.h her away to Boston. We may catch a liner to-morrow.”
”But we can't have her seeing us!”
”We can't help that. It is dark; she won't see your face. Let us be gone. We must have been watched, or how could that man have found us out? Ralph! Don't you understand? You must do something.”
”Where's this spy you gab of? I'll--”
”This is not the Mexican border. You can't shoot here. The man is not the point, but the girl. She must be gotten away at once.”
”Nothing easier. Off, now to the hotel, and be ready in half an hour.
I'll bring the car around.”
Rachel Craik wanted no further discussion. She reached the Maples Inn in a flurry of little runs. Before the door she saw two glaring lights, the lamps of Carshaw's automobile. It was not far from eleven. Even as she approached the hotel, Carshaw got in and drove down the street. He drew up on a patch of gra.s.s by the roadside at the end of the lane behind the church. Soon after this he heard a clock strike eleven.
His eyes peered down the darkness of the lane to see Winifred coming, as she had promised. It was still drizzling slightly--the night was heavy, stagnant and silent. Winifred did not come, and Carshaw's brows puckered with care and foreboding. A quarter of an hour pa.s.sed, but no light tread gladdened his ear. Fairfield lay fast asleep.
Carshaw could no longer sit still. He paced restlessly about the wet gra.s.s to ease his anxious heart. And so another quarter of an hour wore slowly. Then the sound of a fast-moving car broke the silence. Down the road a pair of dragon-eyes blazed. The car came like the chariots of Sennacherib, in reckless flight. Soon it was upon him. He drew back out of the road toward his own racer.
Though rather surprised at this urgent flight he had no suspicion that Winifred might be the cause of it. As the car dashed past he clearly saw on the front seat two men, and in the tonneau he made out the forms of two women. The faces of any of the quartet were wholly merged in speed and the night, but some white object fluttered in the swirl of air and fell forlornly in the road, dropping swiftly in its final plunge, like a stricken bird. He darted forward and picked up a lady's handkerchief.
Then he knew! Winifred was being reft from him again. He leaped to his own car, started the engine, turned with reckless haste, and in a few seconds was hot in chase.
CHAPTER XII
THE PURSUIT
The two automobiles rushed along the Boston Post Road, heading for Bridgeport. The loud rivalry of their straining engines awoke many a wayside dweller, and brought down maledictions on the heads of all midnight joy-riders.
Carshaw knew the road well, and his car was slightly superior to the other in speed. His hastily evolved plan was to hold the kidnappers until they were in the main street of Bridgeport. There he could dash ahead, block further progress, risking a partial collision if necessary, and refer the instant quarrel to the police, bidding them verify his version of the dispute by telephoning New York.
He could only hope that Winifred would bear him out as against her ”aunt,” and he felt sure that Voles and his fellow-adventurer dare not risk close investigation by the law. At any rate, his main object at present was to overtake the car in front, which had gained a flying start, and thus spoil any maneuvering for escape, such as turning into a side road. In his enthusiasm he pressed on too rapidly.
He was seen, and his intent guessed. The leading car slowed a trifle in rounding a bend; as Carshaw careened into view a revolver-shot rang out, and a bullet drilled a neat hole in the wind-screen, making a noise like the sharp crack of a whip. Simultaneously came a scream!
That must be Winifred's cry of terror in his behalf. The sound nerved him anew. He saw red. A second shot, followed by a wilder shriek, spat lead somewhere in the bonnet. Carshaw set his teeth, gave the engine every ounce of power, and the two chariots of steel went raging, reckless of consequences, along the road.