Part 27 (1/2)

Through the streets of New York he was finally guiding the great purring creature of might, which in ordinary circ.u.mstances would have filled his being with delight. Thorough master of throttle, spark-advance, and speed-lever, he would have asked nothing better than to drive all day--if Dorothy were only at his side.

He had never felt more utterly disconcerted in his life. Where had she gone--and why?

What did it mean to have the chauffeur also disappear?

Had the two gone off together?

If so, why should she choose a companion of his type?

If not, then what could have formed the motive for the man's abrupt flight from the scene?

And what should be done with the motor-car, thus abandoned to his care?

A quick suspicion that the car had been stolen came to Garrison's mind.

Nevertheless it was always possible that Dorothy had urged the driver to convey her out of the crowd, and that the driver had finally returned to get his car, and found it gone; but this, for many reasons, seemed unlikely.

Dorothy had shown her fear in her last startled question: ”Jerold, you don't suspect me?” She might have fled in some sort of fear after that. But the driver--what was it that had caused him also to vanish at a time so unexpected?

Garrison found himself obliged to give it up. He could think of nothing to do with the car but to take it to the stand where he had hired it in the morning. The chauffeur might, by chance, appear and claim his property. Uneasy, with the thing thus left upon his hands, and quite unwilling to be ”caught with the goods,” Garrison was swiftly growing more and more exasperated.

He knew he could not roll the car to the stand and simply abandon it there, for anyone so inclined to steal; he objected to reporting it ”found” in this peculiar manner at any police headquarters, for he could not be sure it had been stolen, and he himself might be suspected.

Having hired the car in crowded Times Square, near his Forty-fourth Street rooms, he ran it up along Broadway with the thought of awaiting the driver.

The traffic was congested with surface cars, heavy trucks, other motors, and carriages. His whole attention was riveted on the task in hand. Driving a car in the streets of New York ceases to be enjoyment, very promptly. The clutch was in and out continuously. He crept here, he speeded up to the limit for a s.p.a.ce of a few city blocks, and crept again.

Past busy Fourteenth Street and Union Square he proceeded, and on to Twenty-third Street with Madison Square, green and inviting, lying to his right. Pushed over into the Fifth Avenue traffic by the regulations, he contemplated returning to the Broadway stream as soon as possible, and was crawling along with his clutch barely rubbing, when a hansom cab, containing a beautiful but pale young woman, slowly pa.s.sed. The occupant abruptly rose from her seat and scrutinized the car in obvious excitement.

Garrison barely caught a glimpse of her face, busied as he was with the driving. He continued on. Two minutes later he was halted by a jam of carriages and the hansom returned at full speed. Once more the pale young woman was leaning half-way out.

”Stop!” she cried at the astounded Garrison. ”You've stolen that car!

I'll have you arrested! You've got to return it at once!”

Garrison almost smiled, the half-expected outcome had arrived so promptly. He saw that half a dozen drivers of cabs and other vehicles were looking on in wonder and amus.e.m.e.nt.

”Kindly drive into Twenty-sixth Street, out of this confusion,” he answered. ”I shall be glad to halt there and answer all requirements.”

He was so obviously a thorough gentleman, and his manner was so calm and dignified, that the strange young lady almost felt abashed at the charges she had made.

The jam was broken. Garrison ran the car to the quieter side street, and the cab kept pace at his side.

Presently he halted, got down from the seat and came to the hansom, lifting his hat. How thankful he was that no policeman had overheard the young woman's cry, and followed, she might never suspect.

”Permit me to introduce myself as a victim of another's man's wrongful intentions,” he said. ”I hired this car this morning uptown--in fact, in Times Square, and was driven out to Long Island. Returning, we were halted on the bridge--and the chauffeur disappeared--ran away, leaving me to drive for myself.

”I feared at the time it might be the man was a thief, and I am greatly relieved to find the owner of the car so promptly. If this or any other explanation, before an officer, or any court, will gratify you more, I shall be glad to meet every demand you may make upon my time.”

The young woman looked at him with widely blazing eyes. She believed him, she hardly knew why. She had alighted from the hansom.

”I've been driving up and down Fifth Avenue all morning!” she said. ”I felt sure I could find it that way. It isn't mine. It was only left in my charge. I was afraid that something might happen. I didn't want to have it in the first place! I knew it would cause me endless trouble. I don't know what to do with it now.”