Part 46 (2/2)

Norton whispered: ”I have made an important discovery. We must be off at once. Come with me.”

Florence, without the least suspicion in the world, followed him up the broad staircase. What with the many sounds it was not to be wondered at that the difference in the quality of voices did not strike Florence's ear as odd. The result of her confidence was that upon reaching the upper halls, opposite the dressing rooms, she was suddenly thrust into a room and made prisoner. When the light was turned up she recognized with horror the woman who had helped to kidnap her and take her away on the _George Was.h.i.+ngton_ weeks ago. She could not have cried out for help if she had tried.

Meantime Jim got up and began to wander about in search of Florence.

Braine played a clever game that night. He and the Russian, still dominoed like Norton and Florence, ordered the Hargreave auto, by number, entered it and were driven up to the porte-cochere of the Hargreave house. The two alighted, the chauffeur sent the car toward the garage, and Braine and his companion ran lightly down the path to the street where the cab which had followed picked them up.

It grew more and more evident to Jim that something untoward had taken place. He could not find Florence anywhere, in the alcoves, in the side rooms, the supper or card room. Later, to his utter amazement, he was informed that the Hargreave auto had some time since been called and its owner taken home. Some one had taken his place.

His first sensation was impotent fury against Jones, who had permitted them to play with fire. He flung out of the mansion unceremoniously, commandeered a cab, and flew out to Riverdale. And when Jones came to the door he was staggering with sleep.

”What's the matter with you?” demanded Jim roughly. ”Where's Florence?”

”Isn't she with you?” cried Jones, making an effort to dispel the drowsiness. ”What time is it?” suddenly.

”Midnight! Where is she?”

”Midnight? I've been drugged!”

Without a word Jones staggered off to the kitchens, Jim at his heels.

There was always hot water, and within five minutes Jones had drunk two cups of raw strong coffee.

”Drugged!” he murmured. ”Some one in the house! I'll attend to that later. Now, the chauffeur.”

But the chauffeur swore on his oath that he had left Jim and Florence on the steps of the porte-cochere.

”Get in!” said Jones to Norton, now fully alive. He could not get it out of his head that some one in the house had drugged him.

The events which followed were to both Jones and Norton something like a series of nightmares. In the new home of the Princess Parlova a bomb had exploded and fire followed the explosion. From pleasure to terror is only a step. The wildest confusion imaginable ensued. Most of the guests were of the opinion that some anarchist had attempted to blow up the house of the rich Pole. Jones and Norton arrived just as the smoke began to pour out from the windows. A crowd had already collected.

Then Jim overheard a woman masquerader say: ”The fool made the bomb too strong. She is in the room on the second floor. The game is up if she suffocates----” The voice trailed off and the woman became lost in the crowd. But it was enough for the reporter, who pushed his way roughly through the excited masqueraders and entered the house. The rescue was one of the most exciting to be found in the newspaper files of the day.

So Braine in his effort to scare everybody from the house had overreached himself once more.

CHAPTER XIX

Florence was a fortnight in recovering from the shock of her experience at the masked ball of the Princess Parlova, who, by the way, disappeared from New York shortly after the fire, no doubt because of her fear of the Black Hundred. The fire did not destroy the house, but most of the furnis.h.i.+ngs were so thoroughly drenched by water that they were practically ruined. Her coming and going were a nine-days'

wonder, and then the public found something else to talk about.

Norton was a constant visitor at the Hargreave place. There was to him a new interest in that mysterious house, with its hidden panels, its false floors, its secret tunnels; but he treated Jones upon the same basis as. .h.i.therto. One thing, however: He felt a sense of security in regard to Florence such as he had not felt before. So, between a.s.signments, he ran out to Riverdale and did what he could to amuse his sweetheart. Later they took short rides in the runabout, and at length she became as lively as she had ever been.

But often she would catch Norton brooding.

”What makes you frown like that?”

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