Chapter 16

"Let them see the letter," Macloud answered, "but on the distinct stipulation, that they make no effort to apprehend 'Robert Parmenter's Successors' until the women are safely returned. They may pick up whatever clues they can obtain for after use, but they must not do anything which will arouse suspicion, even."

"Why take them into our confidence at all?" asked Croyden.

"For two reasons: It's acting square with them (which, it seems to me, is always the wise thing to do). And, if they are not let in on the facts, they may blunder in and spoil everything. We want to save the women at the earliest moment, without any possible handicaps due to ignorance or inadvertence."

"But can we trust them?" Croyden asked, doubtfully.

"It's the lesser of two evils."

"We will have to explain the letter, its reference to the Parmenter jewels, and all that it contains."

"I can see no objection. We didn't find the treasure, and, I reckon, they're welcome to search, if they think there is a chance."

"Well, let it be exactly as you wish--you're quite as much concerned for success as I am," said Croyden.

"Possibly, more so," returned Macloud, seriously.

And Croyden understood.

Then, they went into the library. The two detectives arose at their entrance. The one, Rebbert, was a Pinkerton man, the other, Sanders, was from the Bureau at City Hall. Both were small men, with clean shaven faces, steady, searching eyes, and an especially quiet manner.

"Mr. Croyden," said Rebbert, "we have been questioning the servants, but have obtained nothing of importance, except that the ladies wore their hats and coats (at least, they have disappeared). This, with the fact that you found Miss Cavendish's glove and handkerchief, on a road without the limits of Hampton, leads to the conclusion that they have been abducted. But why? Miss Carrington, we are informed, has no great wealth--how as to Miss Cavendish?"

"She has more than sufficient--in fact, she is very rich----"

"Ah! then we _have_ a motive," said the detective.

"There is a motive, but it is not Miss Cavendish," Croyden answered. "You're correct as to the abduction, however--this will explain," and he handed him the letter.

The two men read it.

"When did you receive this?" said one.

"At noon to-day," replied Croyden, passing over the envelope.

They looked carefully at the postmark.

"Do you object to explaining certain things in this letter?" Rebbert asked.

"Not in the least," replied Croyden. "I'll tell you the entire story.... Is there anything I have missed?" he ended.

"I think not, sir."

"Very well! Now, we prefer that you should take no measures to apprehend the abductors, until after Miss Cavendish and Miss Carrington have been released. We are going to pay the amount demanded."

"Going to pay the two hundred thousand dollars!" cried the detectives, in one breath.

Croyden nodded. "Afterward, you can get as busy as you like."

A knowing smile broke over the men's faces, at the same instant.

"You too think we found the treasure?" Croyden exclaimed.

"It looks that way, sir," said Rebbert; while Sanders acquiesced, with another smile.

Croyden turned to Macloud and held up his hands, hopelessly.

"If we only had!" he cried. "If we only had!"

XX

THE CHECK

On the second morning after their abduction, when Elaine and Davila arose, the sky was obscured by fog, the trees exuded moisture, and only a small portion of the Bay was faintly visible through the mist.

"This looks natural!" said Elaine. "We must have moved out to Northumberland, in the night."

Davila smiled, a feeble sort of smile. It was not a morning to promote light-heartedness, and particularly under such circumstances.

"Is this anything like Northumberland?" she asked.

"Yes!--Only Northumberland is more so. For a misty day, this would be remarkably fine.--With us, it's midnight at noon--all the lights burning, in streets, and shops, and electric cars, bells jangling, people rushing, pushing, diving through the dirty blackness, like devils in hell. Oh, it's pleasant, when you get used to it.--Ever been there?"

"No," said Davila, "I haven't."

"We must have you out--say, immediately after the holidays. Will you come?"

"I'll be glad to come, if I'm alive--and we ever get out of this awful place."

"It _is_ stupid here," said Elaine. "I thought there was something novel in being abducted, but it's rather dreary business. I'm ready to quit, are you?"

"I was ready to quit before we started!" Davila laughed.

"We will see what can be done about it. We'll have in the head jailer." She struck the bell. "Ask the chief to be kind enough to come here a moment," she said, to the girl who attended them.

In a few minutes, he appeared--suave, polite, courteous.

"You sent for me, Miss Cavendish?" he inquired.

"I did. Sit down, please, I've something to say to you, Mr.----"

"Jones, for short," he replied.

"Thank you!" said Elaine, with a particularly winning smile. "Mr. Jones, for short--you will pardon me, I know, if I seem unduly personal, but these quarters are not entirely to our liking."

"I'm very sorry, indeed," he replied. "We tried to make them comfortable. In what are they unsatisfactory?--we will remedy it, if possible."

"We would prefer another locality--Hampton, to be specific."

"You mean that you are tired of captivity?" he smiled. "I see your point of view, and I'm hopeful that Mr. Croyden will see it, also, and permit us to release you, in a few days."

"It is that very point I wish to discuss a moment with you," she interrupted. "I told you before, that Mr. Croyden didn't find the jewels and that, therefore, it is impossible for him to pay."

"You will pardon me if I doubt your statement.--Moreover, we are not privileged to discuss the matter with you. We can deal only with Mr. Croyden, as I think I have already intimated."

"Then you will draw an empty covert," she replied.

"That remains to be seen, as I have also intimated," said Mr. Jones, easily.

"But you don't want to draw an empty covert, do you--to have only your trouble for your pains?" she asked.

"It would be a great disappointment, I assure you."

"You have been at considerable expense to provide for our entertainment?"

"Pray do not mention it!--it's a very great pleasure."

"It would be a greater pleasure to receive the cash?" she asked.

"Since the cash is our ultimate aim, I confess it would be equally satisfactory," he replied.

"Then why not tell me the amount?"

He shook his head.

"Such matters are for Mr. Croyden," he said.

"Just assume that Mr. Croyden cannot pay," she insisted. "Are _we_ not to be given a chance to find the cash?"

"Mr. Croyden can pay."

"But assume that he cannot," she reiterated, "or won't--it's the same result."

"In that event, you----"

"Would be given the opportunity," she broke in.

He bowed.

"Then why not let us consider the matter in the first instance?" she asked. "The money is the thing. It can make no difference to you whence it comes--from Mr. Croyden or from me."

"None in the world!" he answered.

"And it would be much more simple to accept a check and to release us when it is paid?"

"Checks are not accepted in this business!" he smiled.

"Ordinarily not, it would be too dangerous, I admit. But if it could be arranged to your satisfaction, what then?"

"I don't think it can be arranged," he replied. "The amount is much too great."

"And that amount is----" she persisted, smiling at him the while.

"Two hundred thousand dollars," he replied.

"With what per cent. off for cash?"

"None--not a fraction of a penny!"

She nodded, slightly. "Why can't it be arranged?"

"You're thinking of paying it?" he asked, incredulously.

"I want to know why you think it can't be arranged?" she repeated.

"The danger of detection. No bank would pay a check for that amount to an unknown party, without the personal advice of the drawer."

"Not if it were made payable to self, and properly indorsed for identification?"

"I fear not."

"You can try it--there's no harm in trying. You have a bank that knows you?"

"But scarcely for such large amounts."

"What of it? You deposit the check for collection only. They will send it through. When it's paid, they will pay you. If it's not paid, there is no harm done--and we are still your prisoners. You stand to win everything and lose nothing."

The man looked thoughtfully at the ceiling.

"The check will be paid?" he asked, presently.

"If it isn't paid, you still have us," said Elaine.

"It might be managed."

"That is your part. If the check is presented, it will be paid--you may rest easy, on that score."

Jones resumed his contemplation of the ceiling.

"But remember," she cautioned, "when it is paid, we are to be released, instantly. No holding us for Mr. Croyden to pay, also. If we play square with you, you must play square with us. I risk a fortune, see that you make good."

"Your check--it should be one of the sort you always use----"

"I always carry a few blank checks in my handbag--and fortunately, I have it with me. You were careful to wrap it in with my arms. I will get it."

She went into her room. In a moment she returned, the blank check in her fingers, and handed it to him. It was of a delicate robin's-egg blue, with "The Tuscarora Trust Company" printed across the face in a darker shade, and her monogram, in gold, at the upper end.

"Is it sufficiently individual to raise a presumption of regularity?" she said.

"Undoubtedly!" he answered.

"Then, let us understand each other," she said.

"By all means," he agreed.

"I give you my check for two hundred thousand dollars, duly executed, payable to my order, and endorsed by me, which, when paid, you, on behalf of your associates and yourself, engage to accept in lieu of the amount demanded from Mr. Croyden, and to release Miss Carrington and myself forthwith."

"There is one thing more," he said. "You, on your part, are to stipulate that no attempt will be made to arrest us."

"We will engage that _we_ will do nothing to apprehend you."

"Directly or indirectly?" he questioned.

"Yes!--more than that is not in our power. You will have to assume the general risk you took when you abducted us."

"We will take it," was the quiet answer.

"Is there anything else?" she asked.

"I think not--at least, everything is entirely satisfactory to us."

"Despite the fact that it couldn't be made so!" she smiled.

"I didn't know we had to deal with a woman of such business sense and--wealth," he answered gallantly.

She smiled. "If you will get me ink and pen, I will sign the check," she said.

She filled it in for the amount specified, signed and endorsed it. Then she took, from her handbag, a correspondence card, embossed with her initials, and wrote this note:

"Hampton, Md. "Nov. --'10.

"My dear Mr. Thompson:--

"I have made a purchase, down here, and my check for Two Hundred Thousand dollars, in consideration, will come through, at once. Please see that it is paid, promptly.

"Yours very sincerely,

"Elaine Cavendish.

"To James Thompson, Esq'r., "Treasurer, The Tuscarora Trust Co., "Northumberland."

She addressed the envelope and passed it and the card across to Mr. Jones, together with the check.

"If you will mail this, to-night, it will provide against any chance of non-payment," she said.

"You are a marvel of accuracy," he answered, with a bow. "I would I could always do business with you."

"At two hundred thousand the time? No! no! monsieur, I pray thee, no more!"

There was a knock on the door; the maid entered and spoke in a low tone to Jones. He nodded.

"I am sorry to inconvenience you again," he said, turning to them, "but I must trouble you to go aboard the tug."

"The tug--on the water?" Elaine exclaimed.

"On the water--that is usually the place for well behaved tugs!" he laughed.

"Now!" Elaine persisted.

"Now--before I go to deposit the check!" he smiled. "You will be safer on the tug. There will be no danger of an escape or a rescue--and it won't be for long, I trust."

"Your trust is no greater than ours, I assure you," said Elaine.

Their few things were quickly gathered, and they went down to the wharf, where a small boat was drawn up ready to take them to the tug, which was lying a short distance out in the Bay.

"One of the Baltimore tugs, likely," said Davila. "There are scores of them, there, and some are none too chary about the sort of business they are employed in."

"Witness the present!" commented Elaine.

They got aboard without accident. Jones conducted them to the little cabin, which they were to occupy together--an upper and a lower bunk having been provided.

"The maid will sleep in the galley," said he. "She will look after the cooking, and you will dine in the small cabin next to this one. It's a bit contracted quarters for you, and I'm sorry, but it won't be for long--as we both trust, Miss Cavendish."

"And you?" asked Elaine.

"I go to deposit the check. I will have my bank send it direct for collection, with instructions to wire immediately if paid. I presume you don't wish it to go through the ordinary course."

"Most assuredly not!" Elaine answered.

"This is Thursday," said Jones. "The check, and your note, should reach the Trust Company in the same mail to-morrow morning; they can be depended upon to wire promptly, I presume?"

"Undoubtedly!"

"Then, we may be able to release you to-morrow night, certainly by Saturday."

"It can't come too soon for us."

"You don't seem to like our hospitality," Jones observed.

"It's excellent of its sort, but we don't fancy the sort--you understand, monsieur. And then, too, it is frightfully expensive."

"We have done the best we could under the circumstances," he smiled. "Until Saturday at the latest--meanwhile, permit me to offer you a very hopeful farewell."

Elaine smiled sweetly, and Mr. Jones went out.

"Why do you treat him so amiably?" Davila asked. "I couldn't, if I would."

"Policy," Elaine answered. "We get on better. It wouldn't help our case to be sullen--and it might make it much worse. I would gladly shoot him, and hurrah over it, too, as I fancy you would do, but it does no good to show it, now--when we _can't_ shoot him."

"I suppose not," said Davila. "But I'm glad I don't have to play the part." She hesitated a moment. "Elaine, I don't know how to thank you for my freedom----"

"Wait until you have it!" the other laughed. "Though there isn't a doubt of the check being paid."

"My grandfather, I know, will repay you with his entire fortune, but that will be little----"

Elaine stopped her further words by placing a hand over her mouth, and kissing her.

"That's quite enough, dear!" she said. "Take it that the reward is for my release, and that you were just tossed in for good measure--or, that it is a slight return for the pleasure of visiting you--or, that the money is a small circumstance to me--or, that it is a trifling sum to pay to be saved the embarrassment of proposing to Geoffrey, myself--or, take it any way you like, only, don't bother your pretty head an instant more about it. In the slang of the day: 'Forget it,' completely and utterly, as a favor to me if for no other reason."

"I'll promise to forget it--until we're free," agreed Davila.

"And, in the meantime, let us have a look around this old boat," said Elaine. "You're nearer the door, will you open it? Two can't pass in this room."

Davila tried the door--it refused to open.

"It's locked!" she said.

"Oh, well! we will content ourselves with watching the Bay through the port hole, and when one wants to turn around the other can crawl up in her bunk. I'm going to write a book about this experience, some time.--I wonder what Geoffrey and Colin are doing?" she laughed--"running around like mad and stirring up the country, I reckon."

XXI

THE JEWELS

Macloud went to New York on the evening train. He carried Croyden's power of attorney with stock sufficient, when sold, to make up his share of the cash. He had provided for his own share by a wire to his brokers and his bank in Northumberland. A draft would be awaiting him. He would reduce both amounts to one thousand dollar bills and hurry back to Annapolis to meet Croyden.

But they counted not on the railroads,--or rather they did count on them, and they were disappointed. A freight was derailed just south of Hampton, tearing up the track for a hundred yards, and piling the right of way with wreckage of every description. Macloud's train was twelve hours late leaving Hampton. Then, to add additional ill luck, they ran into a wash out some fifty miles further on; with the result that they did not reach New York until after the markets were over and the banks had closed for the day.

He wired the facts to Croyden. The following day, he sold the stocks, the brokers gave him the proceeds in the desired bills, after the delivery hour, and he made a quick get-away for Annapolis, arriving there at nine o'clock in the evening.

Croyden was awaiting him, at Carvel Hall.

"I'm sorry, for the girls' sake," said he, "but it's only a day lost. We will deliver the goods to-morrow. And, then, pray God, they be freed before another night! That lawyer thief is a rogue and a robber, but something tells me he will play straight."

"I reckon we will have to trust him," returned Macloud. "Where is the Pinkerton man?"

"He is in town. He will be over on the Point in the morning, disguised as a negro and chopping wood, on the edge of the timber. There isn't much chance of him identifying the gang, but it's the best we can do. It's the girls first, the scoundrels afterward, if possible."

At eleven o'clock the following day, Croyden, mounted on one of "Cheney's Best," rode away from the hotel. There had been a sudden change in the weather, during the night; the morning was clear and bright and warm, as happens, sometimes, in Annapolis, in late November. The Severn, blue and placid, flung up an occasional white cap to greet him, as he crossed the bridge. He nodded to the draw-keeper, who recognized him, drew aside for an automobile to pass, and then trotted sedately up the hill, and into the woods beyond.

He could hear the Band of the Academy pounding out a quick-step, and catch a glimpse of the long line of midshipmen passing in review, before some notable. The "custard and cream" of the chapel dome obtruded itself in all its hideousness; the long reach of Bancroft Hall glowed white in the sun; the library with its clock--the former, by some peculiar idea, placed at the farthest point from the dormitory, and the latter where the midshipmen cannot see it--dominated the opposite end of the grounds. Everywhere was quiet, peace, and discipline--the embodiment of order and law,--the Flag flying over all.

And yet, he was on his way to pay a ransom of very considerable amount, for two women who were held prisoners!

He tied his horse to a limb of a maple, and walked out on the Point. Save for a few trees, uprooted by the gales, it was the same Point they had dug over a few weeks before. A negro, chopping at a log, stopped his work, a moment, to look at him curiously, then resumed his labor.

"The Pinkerton man!" thought Croyden, but he made no effort to speak to him.

Somewhere,--from a window in the town, or from one of the numerous ships bobbing about on the Bay or the River--he did not doubt a glass was trained on him, and his every motion was being watched.

For full twenty minutes, he stood on the extreme tip of the Point, and looked out to sea. Then he faced directly around and stepped ten paces inland. Kneeling, he quickly dug with a small trowel a hole a foot deep in the sand, put into it the package of bills, wrapped in oil-skin, and replaced the ground.

"There!" said he, as he arose. "Pirate's gold breeds pirate's ways. May we have seen the last of you--and may the devil take you all!"

He went slowly back to his horse, mounted, and rode back to town. They had done their part--would the thieves do theirs?

Adhering strictly to the instructions, Croyden and Macloud left Annapolis on the next car, caught the boat at Baltimore, and arrived in Hampton in the evening, in time for dinner. They stopped a few minutes at Ashburton, to acquaint Captain Carrington with their return, and then went on to Clarendon.

Both men were nervous. Neither wanted the other to know and each endeavored to appear at ease.

Croyden gave in first. He threw his cigarette into his coffee cup, and pushed his chair back from the table.

"It's no use, Colin!" he laughed. "You're trying to appear nonchalant, and you're doing it very well, too, but you can't control your fingers and your eyes--and neither can I, I fancy, though I've tried hard enough, God knows! We are about all in! These four days of strain and uncertainty have taken it all out of us. If I had any doubt as to my affection for Elaine, it's vanished, now.----I don't say I'm fool enough to propose to her, yet I'm scarcely responsible, at present. If I were to see her this minute, I'd likely do something rash."

"You're coming around to it, gradually," said Macloud.

"Gradually! Hum! I don't know about the 'gradually.' I want to pull myself together--to get a rein on myself--to--what are you smiling at; am I funny?"

"You are!" said Macloud. "I never saw a man fight so hard against his personal inclinations, and a rich wife. You don't deserve her!--if I were Elaine, I'd turn you down hard, hard."

"Thank God! you're not Elaine!" Croyden retorted.

"And hence, with a woman's unreasonableness and trust in the one she loves, she will likely accept you."

"How do you know she loves me?"

Macloud blew a couple of smoke rings and watched them sail upward.

"I suppose you're equally discerning as to Miss Carrington, and her love for you," Croyden commented.

"I regret to say, I'm not," said Macloud, seriously. "That is what troubles me, indeed. Unlike my friend, Geoffrey Croyden, I'm perfectly sure of my own mind, but I'm not sure of the lady's."

"Then, why don't you find out?"

"Exactly what I shall do, when she returns."

"It's sure as fate!" said Croyden.

"Thanks! We each seem to be able to answer the other's uncertainty," he remarked, calmly.

Presently, Macloud arose.

"I'm going over to Ashburton, and talk with the Captain a little--sort of cheer him up. Come along?"

Croyden shook his head.

"Go on!" said he. "It's a very good occupation for you, sitting up to the old gent. I'll give you a chance by staying away, to-night. Make a hit with grandpa, Colin, make a hit with grandpa!"

"And you make a hit with yourself--get rid of your foolish theory, and come down to simple facts," Macloud retorted, and he went out.

"Get rid of your foolish theory," Croyden soliloquized. "Well, maybe--but _is_ it foolish, that's the question? I'm poor, once more--I've not enough even for Elaine Cavendish's husband--there's the rub! she won't be Geoffrey Croyden's wife, it's I who will be Elaine Cavendish's husband. 'Elaine Cavendish _and her husband_ dine with us to-night!'--'Elaine Cavendish _and her husband_ were at the horse show!' 'Elaine Cavendish _and her husband_ were here!--or there!--or thus and so!'"

He could not endure it. It would be too belittling, too disparaging of self-respect.--Elaine Cavendish's husband!--Elaine Cavendish's husband! Might he out-grow it--be known for himself? He glanced up at the portrait of the gallant soldier of a lost cause, with the high-bred face and noble bearing.

"You were a brave man, Colonel Duval!" he said. "What would you have done?"

He took out a cigar, lit it very deliberately, and fell to thinking.... Presently, worn out by fatigue and anxiety, he dozed....

* * * * *

And as he dozed, the street door opened softly, a light step crossed the hall, and Elaine Cavendish stood in the doorway.