CHAPTER XIII
THE HOUSE IN THE CEDARS
Less than half a mile back, along the main road, Laurie found a countrygarage, in which he left his car. It was in charge of a silent butintelligent person, a somewhat unkempt and haggard middle-aged man, whoagreed to keep the machine out of sight, to have it ready at any momentof the day or night, and to accept a handsome addition to his regularcharge in return for his discretion. He was only mildly interested inhis new patron, for he had classified him without effort. One of themcollege boys, this young fella was, and up to some lark.
Just what form that lark might take was not a problem which stirredHenry Burke's sluggish imagination. Less than twenty hours before hisseventh had been born; and his wife was delicate and milk was seventeencents a quart, and the garage business was not what it had been. To thevictim of these obsessing reflections the appearance of a handsome youthwho dropped five-dollar bills around as if they were seed potatoes wasin the nature of a miracle and an overwhelming relief. His mindcentered on the five-dollar bills, and his lively interest in themassured Laurie of Burke's presence in the garage at any hour when morebills might possibly be dropped.
While he was lingeringly lighting a cigarette, Laurie asked a fewquestions. Who owned the big house back there in the cedar grove, on thebluff overlooking the Sound? Burke didn't know. All he knew, and freelytold, was that it had been empty ever since he himself had come to theneighborhood, 'most two years ago.
Was it occupied now? No, and Burke was sure of that. Only two daysbefore he himself had driven past it and had noted its continuedclosed-up, deserted appearance. It was a queer place, anyhow, he added;one couldn't get to it from the main road, but had to follow a blindpath, which he himself had blundered into by chance, when he wasthinking about something else. He had heard, he now recalled, that itwas owned by some New Yorker who didn't like noise.
Laurie strolled out of the garage with a well-assumed air ofindifference to the perplexities of life, but his heart was racked bythem. As he hesitated near the entrance, uncertain which way to turn, hesaw that behind the garage there was a tool shed, and following the sidepath which led to this, he found in the rear of the shed a workman'sbench, evidently little used in these cold January days. Tacitly, itinvited the discoverer to solitude and meditation, and Laurie gratefullydropped upon it, glad of the opportunity to escape Burke's eye anduninterruptedly think things out. But the daisied path of calmreflection was not for him then.
Theoretically, of course, his plan would be to wait until night andthen, sheltered by the darkness, to approach the house, like a hero ofmelodrama, and in some way secure entrance. But even as this ready-madecampaign presented itself, a dozen objections to it reared up in hismind. The first, of course, was the delay. It was not yet two o'clock inthe afternoon, and darkness would not fall until five, even unwiselyassuming that it would be safe to approach the place as soon as darknesscame. In three hours all sorts of things might happen; and the prospectof marking time during that interval, while his unbridled imaginationran away with him, was one Laurie could not face.
On the other hand, what could he do in broad daylight? If he were seen,as he almost certainly would be, Shaw, careless now, perhaps, in hisfancied security, would take precautions which might make impossible thenight's work of rescue. That, of course, assuming that Shaw was still atthe house among the cedars.
Was he? Laurie pondered that problem. Undoubtedly he had personallytaken Doris there, he and the secretary. But the chances seemed abouteven that, having done this, he would leave her, for the day at least,either in charge of the secretary or of some caretaker. In that case--inthat case--
The young man sprang to his feet. He would waste no more time inspeculation. He would _know_, and at once, who was in that house withDoris. He swung back to the garage with determination in his manner, andentered the place so unexpectedly that Burke, who had fancied him a mileaway, started at the sight of him. Then, with a contented smile, hestilled his nerves and kept his eyes on the bill the visitor held beforehim.
"See here," said the latter, "I want to do a tramp act."
"Sure you do!" Burke promptly acquiesced.
"Can you find me some ragged trousers and an old coat and cap? The worsethey look, the better I'll like it. And while you're about it, get mesome worn-out shoes or boots. How soon can you have them here?"
"I--I dunno." Burke was looking somewhat overwhelmed. "You're prettybig," he mentioned. "Nothin' o' mine 'd fit you."
"Great Scott!" exploded the other. "I don't want 'em to _fit_! I'm notgoing to a pink tea in them."
"But you want to get 'em _on_, don't you?" Burke demanded, with somecoldness.
"I do."
"Well, look at yerself; young fella, and then look at me."
Laurie obeyed the latter part of the injunction. The father of seven wasat least five inches shorter than he, and his legs and shoulders weresmall in proportion. No coat or trousers he wore could possibly go onthe young Hercules before him.
"Oh, well," urged the latter, impatiently, "get some, somewhere. Here.Take a run into town. Use my car if you like. Or go to some one you knowwho's about my size. Only, mum's the word."
Five-dollar bills were in the air, fluttering before the eyes of thegarage-owner like leaves in Vallambrosa. He clutched them avidly.
"And hurry up," added his impatient patron. "Let's see you back here infive minutes."
"Who'll look after the garage? Not that any one's likely to stop," theproprietor gloomily admitted.
"I'll look after it. Come, get a move on!"
"Oh, all right! But I can't be back in no five minutes, nor in thirtyminutes, neither. I gotta go over to Nick Swanson's. He's about yoursize."
"All right, all right! Go to it."
The impatient youth was fairly shooing him out of his own garage, butwith the sweet memory of those five-dollar bills to sustain him, Burkewas patient, even good-humored. One thing he could say about themcollege lads: they was usually ready to pay well for their nonsense.With a forgiving grin he hurried off.
Left alone, Laurie removed his coat and cap, searched the garagesuccessfully for grease, oil, waste, and shoe-blacking, and then,establishing himself in front of a broken mirror in Burke's allegedoffice, removed his collar and effected a startling transformation inthe appearance of his head, face, hands, and shirt.
Beginning in his college days, and continuing throughout his more recenttheatrical experiences, the art of make-up had increasingly interestedhim. The people in his plays owed something to his developing skill, andeven one of the leading ladies had humbly taken suggestions from him.But never in any stage dressing-room had young Mr. Devon secured a moreextraordinary change than the one he produced now, with the simple aidsat hand.
When Burke returned he found his garage in charge of an unwashed,unkempt, unprepossessing young ruffian whom he stared at for a fullminute before he accepted him as the man he had left there. The raggedtrousers, the spotted "reefer" buttoned high around the neck, the dirtycap pulled over the eyes, and the wholly disreputable broken shoes Burkehad brought with him completed the transformation of an immaculate younggentleman into a blear-eyed follower of the open road.
Clad in these garments, Laurie took a few preliminary shuffles aroundthe garage, while the owner, watching him, slapped his thigh inapproval. So great was his interest in the "act," indeed, that when theimpersonator left the garage and started off, Burke showed a strongdesire to follow him and see the finish of the performance, a desirethat recalled for a fleeting instant the determined personality of theyoung gentleman hidden under the tramp disguise.
At the last moment before leaving, Laurie took from his pocket the tinyrevolver he had brought with him, and holding it in his palm, studied itin silence. Should he take it, or shouldn't he? He hesitated. Then habitmastered caution. He dropped it among the discarded heap of clothes, andpicked up in its stead a small screw-driver, which he put into hisragged pocket. That particular tool looked as if it m
ight be useful.
Lounging up the country road, with his cold, bare, dirty hands in thepockets of the borrowed reefer, he looked about with assurance. Hebelieved that in this unexpected guise, he could meet even Shaw and getaway with it; but he meant to be very careful and take no unnecessarychances.
He cut across half a dozen fields, climbed half a dozen fences, wasfiercely barked at by a dozen dogs, more or less, and finally reachingthe grounds of the house in the cedars, approached it from the rear inexactly the half-sneaking, half-cocky manner in which the average trampwould have drawn near a shuttered house from one of whose chimneys smokewas rising. It was a manner that nicely blended the hope of a hand-outwith the fear of a rebuff. Once he fancied he saw something moving amongthe trees. He ducked back and remained quiet for some time. Then,reassured by the continued silence, he emerged, sauntered to the backentrance, and after a brief preliminary study of the shuttered windows,assailed the door with a pair of grimy knuckles.
He had expected a long delay, possibly no response at all. But the dooropened as promptly as if some one had been standing there awaiting hissignal, and on its threshold a forbidding-looking woman, haglike as tohair and features but cleanly dressed, stood regarding him with strongdisapproval. In the kitchen range back of her a coal fire was burning. Atea-kettle bubbled domestically on its top, and cheek by jowl with thisa big-bellied coffee-pot exhaled a delicious aroma.
The entire tableau was so different from anything Laurie had expectedthat for an instant he stared at the woman, speechless and almostopen-mouthed. Then the smell of the coffee gave him his cue. He suddenlyremembered that he had eaten nothing that day, and the fact gave athrill of sincerity to the professional whine in which he made hisrequest.
"Say, lady," he begged urgently, "I'm down an' out. Gimme a cup o'cawfee, will yuh?"
Her impulse, he saw clearly, had been to close the door in his face.Already her hand was automatically responding to it. But he whipped offhis dirty cap and, shivering on the door-step, looked at her withLaurie's eyes, whose beauty no amount of disguise could wholly conceal.There was real appeal in them now. Much, indeed almost everything,depended on what this creature would do in the next minute. Shehesitated.
"I ain't had a mouthful since yesterday," croaked the visitor,pleadingly and truthfully.
"Well, wait there a minute. I'll bring you a cup of coffee."
She turned from the door and started to close it, evidently expectinghim to remain outside, but he promptly followed her in, and her face,hardening into quick anger, softened a little as she saw him coweringover the big hot stove and warming his dirty hands. In silence shefilled a cup with coffee, cut a thick slice from a loaf of bread,buttered it, and set the collation on the kitchen table.
"Hurry up and eat that," she muttered, "and then clear out. If any onesaw you here, I'd get into trouble."
Laurie grunted acquiescence and wolfed the food. He had not sat down,and now, as he ate, his black eyes swept the room while he planned hisnext move. Drying on a stout cord back of the stove were severaldish-towels. They gave him his first suggestion. His second came when heobserved that his hostess, evidently reassured by his haste, had turnedher back to him, and, bending a little, was examining the oven.Noiselessly setting down the cup and the bread, he crept behind her,and, seizing her in one powerful arm, covered her mouth with his freehand. He could not wholly stifle the smothered shriek she gave.
For the next moment he had his hands full. Despite her wrinkles and hergray hair, she was a strong woman, and she fought with a violence and afalse strength due to overwhelming fury and terror. It was so difficultto control her without hurting her that all his strength was taxed. Butat last he brought her slowly down into a chair under the row ofdish-towels, and seizing two of these useful articles, as well as thecord that held them, securely bound and gagged her. As he did so hedropped his role and looked soberly into her furious eyes.
"Look here," he told her. "I'm not going to hurt you; be sure of that.But I've got something to say, and I want you to stop struggling andlisten to it."
Under his quiet tones some of the frenzy died out of the eyes staring upat him.
"I'm here to get Miss Mayo," he went on. "She's in the house, isn't she?If she is, nod." There was a long moment of hesitation. At last the headnodded. "Is there any one else in the house?" The head shook negatively."Is there no one here but you and Miss Mayo?" Laurie could hardly takein this good luck, but again the head shook negatively. "Where is she?Upstairs?"
The head nodded. He stepped back from the bound figure.
"All right," he said cheerfully. "Now I'm going to unbind you and letyou take me up to her. As a precaution, I shall leave the bandage onyour mouth and hands. But, being a sensible woman, of course you realizethat you have absolutely nothing to fear, unless you give us trouble. Ifyou try to do that, I shall have to lock you into a closet for a fewhours."
As he spoke he was unfastening the cord.
"Lead on," he invited, buoyantly.
There was an instant when he thought the struggle with her would beginall over. He saw her draw herself together as if to spring. But she wasevidently exhausted by her previous contest. She was also subdued. Sherose heavily, and, taking her time to it, slowly led the way out of thekitchen and along a hall to the front of the house.
"No tricks, remember," warned Laurie, keeping close behind her. "Playfair, and I'll give you a year's salary when I take Miss Mayo out ofthis."
She turned now and looked at him, and there was venom in the glance.Violently and negatively, she shook her head.
"Don't you want the money?" he interrupted, deeply interested in thisphenomenon. "I'm glad to have met you," he politely added. "You're anunexpected and a brand-new type to me."
She was walking forward again, with no sign now that she heard hisvoice. Reaching a wide colonial staircase that led to the second floor,she started the ascent, but so slowly that the young man behind heruttered another warning.
"No tricks, remember," he repeated, cheerfully. "I'm afraid you'replanning to start something. I believe you're capable of fallingbackward, and bowling me over like a ten-pin. But don't you do it. Adark, musty closet is no place for a kind-hearted, sensible woman tospend twenty-four hours in."
She ignored that, too, but now she moved more quickly, and hercompanion, close at her heels, found himself in an upper hall,approaching a door at the front of the house. Before this door his guidenow planted herself, with much of the effect of a corner-stone settlinginto place.
Keeping a careful eye on her, he stretched out a long arm and tapped atthe panel. There was no answer. He tapped again. Still no answer. Heglanced at the enforcedly silent woman beside him, and something in hereyes, a gleam of triumph or sardonic amusement, or both, was tinder tohis hot spirit.
"Have you led me to the wrong door?" he asked. He spoke very quietly,but the tone impressed the woman. The gleam faded from her eyes. Hastilyshe shook her head.
"If you have--" He nodded at her thoughtfully. Then he raised his voice.
"Doris," he called. "Doris!"
He heard a movement inside the room, an odd little cry, halfexclamation, half sob, and hurried steps approaching. The next minuteher voice came to him, in breathless words, with a tremor runningthrough them.
"Is it you?" she gasped. "Oh, is it you?"
"Yes, open the door."
"I can't. It's locked."
He stared at the unyielding wood before him.
"You mean they've locked you in?"
"Yes. Of course."
It would be, of course, Laurie reflected. That was Shaw's melodramaticmethod.
"We'll change all that, in a minute." He stepped back from the door.
"What are you going to do?" The voice inside was anxious.
"Break it down, if necessary. Breaking down doors to get to you is myspecialty. You haven't forgotten that, I hope." He turned to the womanbeside him. "Have you the key to this?" She shook her head. "If youhave, you may as well h
and it over," he suggested. "I shall certainlybreak down the door if you don't; and it's a perfectly good door, with anice polish on it."
He saw her hesitate. Then, sullenly, she nodded.
"You have it, after all?" He spoke with the natural relief of anindolent young man spared an arduous job. Again she nodded. "Where isit?" She could make no movement with her bound hands, but with aneye-flash she indicated the side of her gown. "In your pocket? Good.I'll get it."
He got it, as he spoke. Holding it in his hand, he again addressed hisreluctant companion.
"When I unlock the door, you will go in first, and walk over to thenearest corner and stand there with your back to the room. Also, here'smy last warning: I should be very sorry to do anything that would hurtor inconvenience you. If you behave yourself I will soon take off thatgag. If you don't, I shall certainly lock you up. In either case, youcan't accomplish anything. So take your choice."
He unlocked the door, and the deliberate figure preceded him into theroom. In the next instant he saw nothing in the world but the eyes ofDoris, fixed on his. Then he knew that he was holding her hands, andlistening to her astonished gasp as she took in his appearance.
"My disguise," he explained. "I couldn't ride up as publicly as youngLochinvar, though I wanted to. So I got this outfit." He turned aroundfor her inspection, deliberately giving her and himself time to pull upunder the strain of the meeting. At the first glimpse of her all hisassurance had returned. He was excited, triumphant. But as he again mether eyes, something in their expression subdued him.
"It took longer to get here than I expected, but of course you knew Iwas on the way," he said.
Her response was unexpected. Dropping into a low chair, she buried herface in her hands and burst into a passion of tears. Aghast, he staredat her, while from the corner the hag stared at them both. Lauriedropped on his knees beside Doris and seized her hands, his heartshaking under a new fear.
"They've been frightening you," he muttered, and was surprised by theintensity of his terror and anger as he spoke. "Don't cry. They'll payfor it."
She shook her head. "It isn't that," she sobbed at last.
"Then what is it?"
"I've brought you here. And I--I think it was a horrible thing to do.I--I can't forgive myself."
Laurie groped vaguely amidst sensations of relief and the mentalconfusion with which, someway, she always filled him.
"You're--all right, aren't you? And you expected me, didn't you?"
"Yes, but--Oh, don't make me talk! Let me cry."
She was crying as she spoke, rackingly, and every sob tore his heart.Again, as so often before, he felt dazed and helpless before the puzzleshe presented. Yet, as always, there seemed nothing to do but obey her,since she, and not he, invariably held the key to the strange situationsin which she placed him. Her tears made him feel desperate, yet he darednot continue to hold her hands, and he did not know what to say. Rising,but keeping his position beside her, he waited for her to grow calmer,and as he waited he subconsciously took in the room.
It was a big front chamber, furnished as a sitting-room. Its broadwindows, with their cushioned window-seats, faced east. Besides thewindow, it had two exits, the door by which he had entered, and anotherdoor, half open, apparently leading into a bedroom. Its comfortableeasy-chairs were covered with gay chintz, its curtains were of the samematerial, its reading-table held books and newspapers, and in its bigopen fireplace fat logs were blazing. Shaw "did" his prisoners well.Laurie remembered the cigarettes, matches, and blankets so thoughtfullyprovided for himself. Like Shaw's own room, the chamber breathed simplecomfort. It was impossible to take in the thought of anything sinisterin connection with it until one observed the gagged woman in the corner,and remembered the locked door.
"Well, Princess," he said at last, still trying to speak lightly, "thisisn't much of a donjon tower, is it?"
Her sobs, hysterical and due to overwrought nerves, had given place tooccasional sharp catches of the breath, like those uttered by a littlechild whose "crying-spell" is almost over. She did not speak, but sheput out her hand to him, and he took it and held it closely, consciousof a deep thrill as the small palm touched his.
"I want to talk to you," he said gently, "but I'd feel a lot morecomfortable if our chaperon were a little more remote. Can we put herinto this inner room?"
Doris nodded, and he waved the woman across the threshold of thebedroom. She would be safe there. He had observed that the windows ofthe inner room were still barred and shuttered. Seemingly, in all thebig house, this up-stairs sitting-room alone had opened its heart to thesun.
"Are you really alone in the house?" he asked.
"Yes, I think so; I'm almost sure of it."
"Then there's no mad rush about leaving?"
"No--I--I think not."
He observed her hesitation but ignored it. He drew two big chairs closeto the open fire, and, leading Doris to one, seated her in it, and tookthe other himself, turning it to face hers. As he did so, she recoiled.
"You look so dreadful!" she explained with a shudder.
"I suppose I do. But forget that and tell me something. When did Shawleave?"
"Within half an hour of the time he brought me here."
"When is he coming back?"
"To-night, I think."
"And he's left you here alone, with no one around but this woman?"Laurie asked, incredulously. Here was another situation hard tounderstand.
"His secretary is somewhere around, a wretched jackal that does whathe's told."
"Oh!" This was news. "Where is he?"
"Out in the garage. He has a room there. I heard him say he had no sleeplast night, and that he expected to get some to-day."
Laurie rose.
"I'll take a look around and see where he is," he suggested. "We can'thave him catching on to my little visit and telephoning to Shaw, youknow."
As he spoke he was walking toward the door that led into the hall, andnow he confidently put out his hand and turned the knob. His expressionchanged. He gave the knob a violent twist, then, setting his shoulderagainst the jamb, tried to wrench the door open. It did not yield.Doris, watching him wide-eyed, was the first to speak.
"Locked?" she whispered.
"Locked," corroborated Laurie. He nodded thoughtfully. Several things,small in themselves, which had puzzled him, were clearing up. Amongothers, the housekeeper's persistent efforts to gain time were nowexplained. Shaw had not been so careless as he had seemed. The meekblond secretary with the pursuing eyes and the chloroforming habit wascertainly in the house.