Part 13 (1/2)

But Jones did not come back.

”Where's Howard?” he demanded.

”h.e.l.lo, Jones; what's up?”

”Howard, get that car out at once.”

”Out she comes. Wait till I give her radiator a bucket of water.

Gee!” whispered Howard, whom Hargreave often used as his chauffeur, ”get on to his nibs! First time I ever saw him awake. I wonder what's doing? You never know what's back of those mummy-faced head waiters.... All right, Jones!”

The chauffeur jumped into the car and Jones took the seat beside him.

”Where to?”

”Number 78...” and the rest of it trailed away, smothered in the violent thunder of the big six's engines.

During the car's flight several policemen hailed it without success.

Down this street, up that, round this corner, fifty miles an hour; and all the while Jones shouted: ”Faster, faster!”

Within twelve minutes from the time it left the garage, the car stopped opposite 78 Grove Street, and Jones got out.

”Wait here, Howard. If several men come rus.h.i.+ng out, or I don't appear within ten minutes, fire your gun a couple of times for the police. I don't want them if we can manage without. They'd only bungle.”

”All right, Mr. Jones,” said the chauffeur. He had, in the past quarter of an hour, acquired a deep and lasting respect for the butler chap. He was a regular fellow, for all his bra.s.s b.u.t.tons.

As Jones reached the curb, Florence came forth as if on invisible wings. Jones caught her by the arm. She flung him aside with a strength he had not dreamed existed in her slim body.

”Florence, I am Jones!”

She stopped, recognized him, and without a word ran across the street to the automobile and climbed into the tonneau. Jones followed immediately.

”Home!”

The car shot up the dimly lighted street, shone palely for a second under the corner lamp, and vanished.

”Ah, child, child!” groaned the man at her side, all the tenseness gone from his body. He was Jones again.

Still she did not speak, but stared ahead with unseeing eyes.

No further reproach fell from the butler's lips. It was enough that G.o.d had guided him to her at the appointed moment. He felt a.s.sured that never again would she be drawn into any trap. Poor child! What had they said to her, done to her? How, in G.o.d's name, had she escaped from them who never let anybody escape? Presently she would become normal, and then she would tell him.

”I found the lying note. You dropped it.”

”Horrible, horrible!” she said almost inaudibly.

”What did they do to you?”

”He said he was my father.... He put his arms around me.... And I knew!”