CHAPTER XX
NEW HAPPENINGS
Still puzzled, unable to believe his senses, Garrison made a secondquick search of the vicinity that was rapidly being cleared andrestored to order by a couple of efficient police officers, but withoutavail.
Neither Dorothy nor the chauffeur could be found.
One of the officers ordered him to move along with his car. There wasnothing else to be done. Reluctantly, and not without feelings ofannoyance and worry, combined with those of baffled mystery andchagrin, Garrison was presently obliged to climb to the driver's seatand take the wheel in hand.
The motor was running, slowly, to a rhythmic beat. He speeded it up,threw off the brake, put the gears in the "low," and slipped in theclutch. Over the bridge in the halted procession of traffic he steeredhis course--a man bereft of his comrade and his driver and with amotor-car thrust upon his charge.
Through the streets of New York he was finally guiding the greatpurring creature of might, which in ordinary circumstances would havefilled his being with delight. Thorough master of throttle,spark-advance, and speed-lever, he would have asked nothing better thanto drive all day--if Dorothy were only at his side.
He had never felt more utterly disconcerted in his life. Where had shegone--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 abruptflight 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 driverto convey her out of the crowd, and that the driver had finallyreturned 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, youdon't suspect me?" She might have fled in some sort of fear afterthat. But the driver--what was it that had caused him also to vanishat a time so unexpected?
Garrison found himself obliged to give it up. He could think ofnothing to do with the car but to take it to the stand where he hadhired it in the morning. The chauffeur might, by chance, appear andclaim his property. Uneasy, with the thing thus left upon his hands,and quite unwilling to be "caught with the goods," Garrison was swiftlygrowing more and more exasperated.
He knew he could not roll the car to the stand and simply abandon itthere, for anyone so inclined to steal; he objected to reporting it"found" in this peculiar manner at any police headquarters, for hecould not be sure it had been stolen, and he himself might be suspected.
Having hired the car in crowded Times Square, near his Forty-fourthStreet rooms, he ran it up along Broadway with the thought of awaitingthe driver.
The traffic was congested with surface cars, heavy trucks, othermotors, and carriages. His whole attention was riveted on the task inhand. 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 space of a few city blocks, and creptagain.
Past busy Fourteenth Street and Union Square he proceeded, and on toTwenty-third Street with Madison Square, green and inviting, lying tohis right. Pushed over into the Fifth Avenue traffic by theregulations, he contemplated returning to the Broadway stream as soonas possible, and was crawling along with his clutch barely rubbing,when a hansom cab, containing a beautiful but pale young woman, slowlypassed. The occupant abruptly rose from her seat and scrutinized thecar in obvious excitement.
Garrison barely caught a glimpse of her face, busied as he was with thedriving. He continued on. Two minutes later he was halted by a jam ofcarriages and the hansom returned at full speed. Once more the paleyoung 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 sopromptly. He saw that half a dozen drivers of cabs and other vehicleswere looking on in wonder and amusement.
"Kindly drive into Twenty-sixth Street, out of this confusion," heanswered. "I shall be glad to halt there and answer all requirements."
He was so obviously a thorough gentleman, and his manner was so calmand dignified, that the strange young lady almost felt abashed at thecharges 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 overheardthe young woman's cry, and followed, she might never suspect.
"Permit me to introduce myself as a victim of another's man's wrongfulintentions," he said. "I hired this car this morning uptown--in fact,in Times Square, and was driven out to Long Island. Returning, we werehalted on the bridge--and the chauffeur disappeared--ran away, leavingme to drive for myself.
"I feared at the time it might be the man was a thief, and I am greatlyrelieved to find the owner of the car so promptly. If this or anyother explanation, before an officer, or any court, will gratify youmore, 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 believedhim, she hardly knew why. She had alighted from the hansom.
"I've been driving up and down Fifth Avenue all morning!" she said. "Ifelt sure I could find it that way. It isn't mine. It was only leftin my charge. I was afraid that something might happen. I didn't wantto have it in the first place! I knew it would cause me endlesstrouble. I don't know what to do with it now."
"I should be gratified," said Garrison, "if you will state that you donot consider me guilty of a theft so stupid as this would appear."
"I didn't think you were the man," she answered. "A chauffeur mycousin discharged undoubtedly stole it. Policemen are after him now,with the man who runs the garage. They went to Long Island City, orsomewhere, to find him, this morning. Perhaps he saw them on thebridge."
She was regaining color. She was a very fine-looking young woman,despite the expression of worry on her face. She was looking Garrisonover in a less excited manner--and he knew she held no thought of guiltagainst him.
"Let me suggest that you dismiss your cab and permit me to take you atonce to your garage," he said, adding to the man on the box: "Cabby,how much is your bill?"
"Five dollars," said the man, adding substantially to his charge.
"Take ten and get out!" said Garrison, handing him a bill.
"Oh, but please----" started the pretty young woman.
Garrison interrupted.
"The man who stole your car did yeoman service for me. I promised himfive times this amount. He may never dare appear to get his money.Kindly step in. Will you drive the car yourself?"
"No, thank you," she murmured, obeying because of his masterly manner."But really, I hardly know----"
"Please say nothing further about it," he once more interrupted. "I amsorry to have been in any manner connected with an event which hascaused you uneasiness; but I am very glad, indeed, to be instrumentalin returning your property and relieving your worry. Where do you keepyour car?"
She told him the place. It was up in the neighborhood of ColumbusCircle. Twenty minutes later the car was "home"--where it would neverget away on false pretenses again, and the news of its coming began togo hotly out by wire.
Garrison heard the men call his fair companion Miss Ellis. He called acab, when she was ready to go, asked for permission to escort her home,and was driven in her company to an old-fashioned house downtown, nearWashington Square. There he left her, with a nice old motherly person,and bade her good-by with no expectation of ever beholding her again,despite the murmured thanks she gave him and the half-timid offer
ofher hand.
When he left and dismissed the cabman he was face to face with theproblem of what he should do to find his "wife." His worry all surgedback upon him.
He wondered where Dorothy had gone--where she could go, why she hadfled from him--and what could he do but wait with impatience some wordof her retreat. He had felt her innocence all but established, andlove had come like a new great tide upon him. He was lonely now, andthoroughly disturbed.
He had warned her she must go to live in some other house than her own;nevertheless she might have proceeded to the Ninety-third Streetresidence for things she would require. It was merely a hope. He madeup his mind to go to the house without delay, aware that the Robinsonsmight make all haste to get there and gain an advantage.
Half an hour later he was once more in the place. The housekeeperalone was in charge. No one had been there in his absence.
He had no intention of remaining long, with Dorothy to find, althoughhe felt inclined to await the possible advent of Theodore and hisfather, whom he meant to eject from the place. As yet he dared notattempt to order the arrest of the former, either for Dorothy'sabduction or the crime attempted on himself in the park. The risk wastoo great--the risk to the fictional marriage between himself andDorothy.
He climbed the stairs, wandered aimlessly through the rooms, sat down,waited, somewhat impatiently, tried to think what were best to do,worried himself about Dorothy again, and finally made up his mind shemight attempt to wire him at his office address. Calling up thehousekeeper, he gave her strict instructions against admitting any ofthe Robinsons--an order which the woman received with apparentgratification. They were merely to be referred to himself, at thisaddress, should they come upon the scene.
He started off. He had barely closed the door and heard the woman puton the chain, and was turning to walk down the brownstone steps whenTheodore, half-way up, panting from haste, confronted him, face to face.
For a moment the two stood staring at each other in surprise. Garrisonwas first to break the silence.
"You came a little late, you see. I have just issued orders you arenot to be admitted to this house again, except with my specialpermission."
"By Heaven, you---- We'll see about that!" said Theodore. "I'll haveyou put under arrest!"
"Try it," said Garrison, grinning in his face. "A charge of abduction,plus a charge even larger, may cause you more than mere annoyance.You've been looking for trouble with me, and you're bound to have it.Let me warn you that you are up against a number of facts that you mayhave overlooked--and you may hear something drop!"
"You think you've been clever, here and in Woodsite, I suppose," saidTheodore, concealing both wrath and alarm. "I could drop a couple offacts on you that would fade you a little, I reckon. And this houseisn't yours yet!"
"I wonder how many lessons you are going to need," answered Garrisoncoldly. "If you put so much as your hand inside this building, I'llhave you arrested for burglary. Now, mind what I say--and get out!"
"I'll see you later, all right," said Robinson, glaring for a moment inimpotent rage, and he turned and retreated from the place.
Garrison, with his mind made up to a _coup_ of distinct importance, waspresently headed for his room in Forty-fourth Street. Before he leftthe Subway he went to a waiting-room, replaced the long mustache uponhis face--the one with which he had started away in the morning--andwalked the few short blocks from the station to his house.
The street was nearly deserted, but the "shadow" he had duped in themorning was on watch, still undismissed from duty by young Robinson.
Garrison went up to him quietly--and suddenly showing his gun, pulledaway the false mustache.
"I'm the man you've been waiting to follow," he said. "Now, don't saya word, but come on."
"Hell!" said the man.
He shrugged his shoulders and was soon up in Garrison's room.