CHAPTER XXVIINAN'S TRIUMPH
The night's events were not yet ended. An automobile left the edge ofthe stone-yard, followed a lane and turned into the main highway, whereit encountered a woman standing in the middle of the road and wavingher arms. She was distinctly visible in the moonlight.
The man with the monocle slowed the car and came to a sudden stop,rather than run her down.
"What's the matter?" he demanded impatiently.
"Wait a minute; I want to talk to you."
"Can't stop," he replied in a querulous tone. "I've got fifty miles tomake before daylight. Out of my way, woman."
With a dexterous motion she opened the door and sprang into the seatbeside him.
"Here! Get out of this," he cried.
"Drive on," she said calmly. "It'll save time, since you're in ahurry."
"Get out!"
"I'm going to ride with you. Why bother to argue?"
He turned nervously in his seat to get a look at her, then shifted theclutch and slowly started the car. The woman sat quiet. While bumpingover the uneven road at a reckless speed the driver turned at times tocast stealthy glances at the person beside him. Finally he asked inexasperation:
"Do you know where I'm going?"
"You haven't told me."
"Do you know who I am?"
"How should I?"
"Oh, very well," with a sigh of relief. "But isn't this rather--er--irregular?"
"Very."
Again he drove for a time in silence. In the direction they werefollowing they whirled by a village every three or four miles, but thecountry roads were deserted and the nearest city of any size lay a goodfifty miles on.
"I don't know who you are," observed the woman presently, "but I canhazard a guess. You call yourself Joselyn--Ned Joselyn--but that isn'tyour name. It's the name you married Annabel Kenton under, but itdoesn't belong to you."
He gave a roar of anger and started to slow down the car.
"Go ahead!" she said imperatively.
"I won't. You're going to get out of here, and lively, too, or I'llthrow you out."
"Do you feel anything against your side?" she asked coolly.
"Yes," with a sudden start.
"It's the muzzle of a revolver. I think it's about opposite your heartand my finger is on the trigger. Go ahead!"
He turned the throttle and the car resumed its former speed.
"Who the deuce are you?" he demanded, in a voice that trembledslightly.
"Like yourself, I have many names," she said. "In Washington they callme Nan Shelley; at Cragg's Crossing I'm Mrs. Scammel, formerly NanCragg."
"Oh--ho!" with a low whistle of astonishment. "Nan Cragg, eh! So you'vereturned from your wanderings, have you?" with a derisive sneer.
"For a time. But in wandering around I've found my place in the worldand I'm now a lady detective, not an especially high-class occupationbut satisfactory as a bread-winner. I find I'm quite talented; I'm saidto be a pretty fair detective."
She could feel him tremble beside her. He moved away from her as far ashe could but the pressure against his side followed his movements.After a time he asked defiantly:
"Well, being a detective, what's your business with me? I hope you'renot fool enough to think I'm a criminal."
"I don't think it; I know it. You're an unusual sort of a criminal,too," she replied. "You're mixed up in a somewhat lawless internationalplot, but it isn't my present business to bring you to book for that."
"What _is_ your present business?"
"To discover what you've done with my father's money."
He laughed, as if relieved.
"Spent it for the cause of Ireland."
"Part of it, perhaps. But the bulk of the money you've taken from theChampions of Irish Liberty, most of which came out of my father's ownpocket, and practically all the money he gave you to invest for him,you have withheld for your own use."
"You're crazy!"
"I know the bank it's deposited in."
Again he growled, like a beast at bay.
"Whatever I have on deposit is to be applied to the Cause," said he."It's reserved for future promotion."
"Have you seen to-day's papers?" she inquired.
"No."
"The revolution in Ireland has already broken out."
"Great Scott!" There was sincere anxiety in his voice now.
"It is premature, and will result in the annihilation of all yourplans."
"Perhaps not."
"You know better," said she. "Anyhow, your actions are now blockeduntil we see how the rebellion fares. The Irish will have no furtheruse for American money, I'm positive, so I insist that my fatherreceive back the funds he has advanced you, and especially his ownmoney which he gave you to invest and you never invested."
"Bah! If I offered him the money he wouldn't take it.
"Then I'll take it for him," she asserted. "You'll give up that moneybecause you know I can have you arrested for--well, let us say a breachof American neutrality. You are not a citizen of the United States. Youwere born in Ireland and have never been naturalized here."
"You seem well posted," he sneered.
"I belong to the Government Secret Service, and the Bureau knowsconsiderable," she replied dryly.
He remained silent for a time, his eyes fixed upon the road ahead. Thenhe said:
"The Government didn't send you to get Cragg's money away from me. Nordid Cragg send you."
"No, my father is afraid of you. He has been forced to trust you evenwhen he knew you were a treacherous defaulter, because of your threatsto betray the Cause. But you've been playing a dangerous game and Ibelieve my father would have killed you, long ago, if--"
"Well, if what?"
"If you hadn't been his own nephew."
He turned upon her with sudden fierceness.
"Look out!" she called. "I've not the same objection to killing mycousin."
"Your cousin!"
"To be sure. You are the son of Peter Cragg, my father's brother, whoreturned to Ireland many years ago, when he was a young man. NedJoselyn is an assumed name; you are Ned Cragg, condemned by the Britishgovernment for high treason. You are known to be in America, but only Iknew where to find you."
"Oh, you knew, did you?"
"Yes; all your various hiding-places are well known to me."
"Confound you!"
"Exactly. You'd like to murder me, Cousin Ned, to stop my mouth, butI'll not give you the chance. And, really, we ought not to kill oneanother, for the Cragg motto is 'a Cragg for a Cragg.' That hasprobably influenced my poor father more than anything else in hisdealings with you. He knew you are a Cragg."
"Well, if I'm a Cragg, and you're a Cragg, why don't you let me alone?"
"Because the family motto was first ignored by yourself."
For a long time he drove on without another word. Evidently he was indeep thought and the constant pressure of the revolver against his sidegave him ample food for reflection. Nan was thinking, too, quietlyexulting, the while. As a matter of fact she had hazarded guess afterguess, during the interview, only to find she had hit the mark. Sheknew that Ned Cragg had been condemned by the British government andwas supposed to have escaped to America, but not until now was she sureof his identity with Ned Joselyn. Her father had told her much, but notthis. Her native shrewdness was alone responsible for the discovery.
"We're almost there, aren't we?" asked Nan at last.
"Where?"
"At the house where you're at present hiding. We've entered the city, Isee, and it's almost daybreak."
"Well?"
"I know the Chief of Police here. Am I to have that, money, Cousin Ned,or--"
"Of course," he said hastily.
CHAPTER XXVIIIPLANNING THE FUTURE
It was nearly a month later when Mary Louise, walking down to the riveron an afternoon, discovered Ingua sitting on the opposite bank andlistlessly throwing pebbles into the stream. She ran across thestepping-stones and
joined her little friend.
"How is your grandfather this morning?" she asked.
"I guess he's better," said Ingua. "He don't mumble so much about theLost Cause or the poor men who died for it in Ireland, but Ma says hisbroken heart will never mend. He's awful changed, Mary Louise. To-day,when I set beside him, he put out his hand an' stroked my hair an'said: 'poor child--poor child, you've been neglected. After all,' sayshe, 'one's duties begin at home.' He hasn't had any fits of the devilslately, either. Seems like he's all broke up, you know."
"Can he walk yet?" inquired Mary Louise.
"Yes, he's gett'n' stronger ev'ry day. This mornin' he walked to thebridge an' back, but he was ruther wobbly on his legs. Ma said shewouldn't have left him, just now, if she wasn't sure he'd pick up."
"Oh. Has your mother gone away, then?"
"Left last night," said Ingua, "for Washington."
"Is her vacation over?"
"It isn't that," replied the child. "Ma isn't going to work any more,just now. Says she's goin' to take care o' Gran'dad. She went toWashington because she got a telegram saying that Senator Ingua isdead."
"Senator Ingua?"
"Yes; he was my godfather, you see. I didn't know it myself till Matold me last night. He was an uncle of Will Scammel, my father thatdied, but he wasn't very friendly to him an' didn't give him any moneywhile he lived. Ma named me after the Senator, though, 'cause she knewwhich side her bread was buttered on, an' now he's left me ten thousanddollars in his will."
"Ten thousand!" exclaimed Mary Louise, delightedly, "why, you Craggsare going to be rich, Ingua. What with all the money your mother gotback from Ned Joselyn and this legacy, you will never suffer povertyagain."
"That's what Ma says," returned the child, simply. "But I dunno whetherI'll like all the changes Ma's planned, or not. When she gets back fromWashington she's goin' to take me an' Gran'dad away somewheres for thewinter, an' I'm to go to a girls' school."
"Oh, that will be nice."
"Will it, Mary Louise? I ain't sure. And while we're gone they're goin'to tear down the old shack an' build a fine new house in its place, an'fix up the grounds so's they're just as good as the Kenton Place."
"Then your mother intends to live here always?"
"Yes. She says a Cragg's place is at Cragg's Crossing, and the fambly'sgoin' to hold up its head ag'in, an' we're to be some punkins aroundhere. But--I sorter hate to see the old place go, Mary Louise," turninga regretful glance at the ancient cottage from over her shoulder.
"I can understand that, dear," said the other girl, thoughtfully; "butI am sure the change will be for the best. Do you know what has, becomeof Ned Joselyn?"
"Yes; he an' Annabel Kenton--that's his wife--have gone away somewherestogether; somewheres out West, Ma says. He didn't squander Ann's money,it seems; not all of it, anyhow; didn't hev time, I s'pose, he was sobusy robbin' Gran'dad. Ned run away from Ann, that time he disappeared,'cause English spies was on his tracks an' he didn't want to be tookpris'ner. That was why he kep' in hidin' an' didn't let Ann know wherehe was. He was afraid she'd git rattled an' blab."
"Oh; I think I understand. But he will have to keep in hiding always,won't he?"
"I s'pose so. Ma says that'll suit _her,_ all right. Am I talkin' moredecent than I used to, Mary Louise?"
"You're improving every day, Ingua."
"I'm tryin' to be like you, you know. Ma says I've been a little Arab,but she means to make a lady of me. I hope she will. And then--"
"Well, Ingua?"
"You'll come to visit me, some time, in our new house; won't you?"
"I sure will, dear," promised Mary Louise.
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