XXII
TOGETHER
In a daze, P. Sybarite shook and felt himself all over, unable tocredit his escape from that rain of bullets.
But he was apparently unharmed.
_Kismet!_...
Then suddenly he quickened to the circumstances: the thing wasfinished, November stunned and helpless at his feet, November's drivermaking off, the crowd swarming round, the police an imminent menace.
Now if Marian were in the body of the town-car, as he believed, hemust get her out of it and away before the police and detectives couldovertake and apprehend them both.
Instant action, inspired audacity, a little luck--and the thing mightpossibly be accomplished.
His chauffeur was crawling ignominiously out from beneath the touringcar--his countenance livid with grime and the pallor of fright.Meeting the eye of his employer, he grinned a sheepish grin.
P. Sybarite seized him by the arm.
"Are you hurt?"
"Not ten cents' worth--much less a thousand dollars! No such luck!"
His mouth to the fellow's ear, P. Sybarite whispered hoarsely andhurriedly:
"Unhook your license number--throw it in the car--get ready to moveon the word--lady in that car--kidnapped--I love her--d'youunderstand?--we must get her away--another thousand in this for you--"
"Gotcha," the man cut in smartly. "And I'm with you to the last act!Go to it, bo'--I like your style!"
Swinging about, P. Sybarite jumped upon the running-board of themaroon-coloured car, wrenched the door open, and stumbled in.
In her evening frock and her cloak of furs, Marian lay huddled in acorner, wrists and ankles alike made fast with heavy twine, her mouthclosed tight by a bandanna handkerchief passed round her jaws andknotted at the nape of her neck. Above its folds her face was likesnow, but the little man thought to detect in her staring eyes a hintof intelligence, and on this he counted with all his soul.
"Don't scream!" he pleaded as, whipping out a pocket knife, he severedher bonds. "Don't do anything but depend on me. Pretend, if you like,you don't know what's happening--likely you don't at that! No matter.Have faith in me; I'll get you clear of this yet!"
He fancied a softening look in those wide and frightened eyes of achild.
An instant's work loosed her scored and excoriated wrists; in another,the bonds fell from her ankles. Deftly unknotting the bandage thatclosed her mouth, he asked could she walk. With difficulty, in a huskyand painful whisper, but still courageously, she told him yes.
Hopeful, rather than counting on this assurance, he jumped out andoffered his hand. She put hers into it (and it was cold as ice),stirred, rose stiffly, tottered to the door, and fell into hisarms....
A uniformed patrolman, breaking through the crowd about them, seizedP. Sybarite and held him fast.
"What's this? Who's this?" he gabbled incoherently, brandishing avaguely formidable fist.
"A lady, you fool!" P. Sybarite snapped. "Let go and catch thatscoundrel over there--if you're worth your salt."
He waved his free hand broadly in the direction taken by November'sdriver.
Abruptly and without protest the patrolman released him, butted hisway through the crowd, and disappeared.
An arm boldly about Marian's waist, P. Sybarite helped her to the stepof the touring car--and blessed that prince among chauffeurs, who wasup and ready in his seat!
But now again he must be hindered: a plain-clothes man dropped a heavyhand upon his shoulder and screwed the muzzle of a revolver into P.Sybarite's ear.
"Under arrest!" he blatted wildly. "Carrying fire-arms! Causing acrowd to collect--!"
"All right--all right!" P. Sybarite told him roughly. "I admit it. I'mnot resisting, am I? Take that gun out of my ear and help me get thislady into the car before she's trampled and torn to pieces by thesestaring fools!"
Stupidly enough, the man comprehended some part of his admonishment.Staring blankly from the little man to the girl, he pocketed hisweapon and, grasping Marian's arm, assisted her into the touring car.
"Thanks!" cried P. Sybarite, jumping up on the running-board. "You'remost amiable, my friend!"
And with the heel of his open hand he struck the man forcibly upon thechest, so that he reeled back, tripped over the hapchance foot of aninnocent by-stander, and went sprawling and blaspheming upon his back.
Somebody laughed hysterically.
"Go!" P. Sybarite cried to the chauffeur.
The crowd gave way before the lunge of the car....
They were halfway to Fifth Avenue before pursuit was thought of; hadturned the corner before it was fairly started; in five minutes hadthrown it off entirely and were running free at a moderate pace upBroadway just above Columbus Circle....
"Where to now, boss?" the chauffeur presently enquired.
P. Sybarite looked enquiringly at his charge. Since her rescue she hadneither moved nor spoken--had rested motionless in her corner of thetonneau, eyes closed, body relaxed and listless. But now she roused;unveiled the dear wonder of her eyes of brown; even mustered up theghost of a smile.
"Wherever you think best," she told him gently.
"The Plaza? You might be bothered there. We may be traced--we're sureto. This only saves us for the day. To-morrow--reporters--allthat--perhaps. Perhaps not!... Don't you know somebody out of town towhom you could go for the day? Once across the city line, we're safefor a little."
She nodded: breathed an address in Westchester County....
Some time later P. Sybarite became sensible of an amazing fact. A handof his rested on the cushioned seat, and in it lay, now warm andwonderfully soft and light, Marian's hand.
He stared incredulously until he had confirmed the substance of thisimpression; looked up blinking; met the confident, straightforward,and wistful regard of the girl; and blushed to his brows.
The car swept on and on, through the golden hush of that gloriousSunday morning....