Part 38 (1/2)

”Think hard, Will,” she recommended, with a smile.

”I'll do that,” he said, ”but there's nothing on earth that can alter my determination to make Maud the Princess of Groostork.

_That's_ settled.”

”Graustark, Will.”

”Well, whatever it is,” said he, and departed.

He did think hard, but not so much about a regal home for aged people as about Channie Scoville who had now become a positive menace to all of his well-ordered and costly plans. The princ.i.p.al subject for thought just now was not Graustark but this conniving young gentleman who stood ready to make a terrible mess of posterity. Mr. Blithers was sufficiently fair-minded to concede that the fellow was good- looking, well-bred and clever, just the sort of chap that any girl might fall in love with like a shot. As a matter of fact, he once had admired Scoville, but that was before he came to look upon him as a menace. He would make a capital husband for any girl in the world, except Maud. He could say that much for him, without reserve.

He thought hard until half-past one and then went to the wireless office, where he wrote out a message in cipher and directed the operator to waste no time in relaying it to his offices in Paris. His wife was right. It would be the height of folly to offer Scoville money and it would be even worse to inspire the temporary imprisonment of the young man.

But there was a splendid alternative. He could manage to have his own daughter abducted,--chaperon included,--and held for ransom!

The more he thought of it the better it seemed to him, and so he sent a cipher message that was destined to throw his Paris managers into a state of agitation that cannot possibly be measured by words. In brief, he instructed them to engage a few peaceable, trustworthy and positively respectable gentlemen,--he was particularly exacting on the score of gentility,--with orders to abduct the young lady and hold her in restraint until he arrived and arranged for her liberation! They were to do the deed without making any fuss about it, but at the same time they were to do it effectually.

He had the foresight to suggest that the job should be undertaken by the very detective agency he had employed to shadow young Scoville and also to keep an eye on Maud. Naturally, she was never to know the truth about the matter. She was to believe that her father came up with a huge sum in the shape of ransom, no questions asked. He also remembered in time and added the imperative command that she was to be confined in clean, comfortable quarters and given the best of nourishment. But, above all else, it was to be managed in a decidedly realistic way, for Maud was a keen-witted creature who would see through the smallest crack in the conspiracy if there was a single false movement on the part of the plotters. It is also worthy of mention that Mrs. Blithers was never--_decidedly never_--to know the truth about the matter.

He went in to luncheon in a very amiable, even docile frame of mind.

”I've thought the matter over, Lou,” he said, ”and I guess you are right, after all. We will make all the repairs necessary, but we won't consider living in it ourselves. We'll return good for evil and live in a hotel when we go to visit the royal family. As for--”

”I meant that you were to think hard before attempting to force Maud upon Prince Robin's subjects without preparing them for the--”

”I thought of that, too,” he interrupted cheerfully. ”I'm not going to cast my only child into the den of lions, so that's the end of it.

Have you given the order, my dear?”

”No,” she said; ”for I knew you would change it when you came in.”

Late that evening he had a reply from his Paris managers. They inquired if he was responsible for the message they had received. It was a ticklish job and they wanted to be sure that the message was genuine. He wired back that he was the sender and to go ahead. The next morning they notified him that his instructions would be carried out as expeditiously as possible.

He displayed such a beaming countenance all that day that his wife finally demanded an explanation. It wasn't like him to beam when he was worried about anything, and she wanted to know what had come over him.

”It's the sea-air, Lou,” he exclaimed glibly. ”It always makes me feel like a fighting-c.o.c.k. I--”

”Rubbis.h.!.+ You detest the sea-air. It makes you feel like fighting, I grant, but not like a fighting-c.o.c.k.”

”There you go, trying to tell me how I feel. I've never known any one like you, Lou. I can't say a word that--”

”Have you had any news from Maud?” she broke in suspiciously.

”Not a word,” said he.

”What have you done to Channie Scoville?” she questioned, fixing him with an accusing eye.

”Not a thing,” said he.

”Then, what is it?”

”You won't believe me if I tell you,” said he warily.