Kitabı oku: «The Automobile Girls at Chicago: or, Winning Out Against Heavy Odds», sayfa 4

CHAPTER VII
THE MYSTERY OF THE IRON GATES

INSTEAD of running into the Presby home, as she had laughingly threatened to do, Ruth Stuart had dashed at almost full speed into the closed heavy iron gates at the entrance to the Treasureholme grounds. These gates were supposed to be open. As Olive had said, they had not been closed in some months. Why should they be closed now when the "Automobile Girls" car was looked for to arrive at any moment?

None of the girls was thinking of this at the moment. None was in condition to think at all. Ruth had discovered the obstruction in time to throw on the emergency brake, but not quickly enough to stop the headway of the automobile.

The car crashed against the gates with great force. The heavy iron bars of the gates buckled under the impact, then with a great creaking and rattling the hinges gave way, the old brick columns to which the hinges had been attached crumbled and fell in a cloud of dust and mortar. Accompanying the crash was the sound of breaking glass. But not a cry had been raised from the interior of the car, save Ruth's warning.

That cry of warning had set Barbara instantly on the defensive. She threw both arms about Mollie and Olive. Grace was on the front seat with Ruth. Bab braced her feet with a mighty effort. Then the crash came.

It seemed to Barbara Thurston as though her arms were being torn from their sockets. Then the three girls on the rear seat were jerked to their feet. They toppled over the back of the seat ahead of them, plunging head first into the forward part of the car, where the operating mechanism was located.

Ruth and Grace had been hurled against the storm curtain, securely fastened down between themselves and the glass wind shield. Fortunately for them, the curtain held for a few seconds until the shower of glass from the shield had fallen into the roadway, then the curtain gave way and the two girls tumbled out in the wake of the glass.

The automobile, after the first impact, had recoiled several feet. It essayed to plunge forward again, but the emergency brake held it motionless while the motors began to race, making a noise that was heard in the house, which stood at some distance from the fallen gates.

The "Automobile Girls" lay where they had fallen, Ruth and Grace in the roadway, Bab, Mollie and Olive in the forward end of the car.

"There they come," cried Mrs. Presby. "Why, what a frightful noise," she exclaimed, starting for the door, followed by Mr. Presby, with a painful limp.

Tommy's face turned white when he heard the crash. With a bound he passed his father and mother, tore down the steps and off down the drive.

"Something has happened, Richard," cried Mrs. Presby.

"Something will happen to my gout, too, if I have to remain out in this chill atmosphere," declared Mr. Presby irritably.

"Hurry, hurry!" wailed the distant voice of Tommy.

"Oh, what is it?" cried Mrs. Presby, picking up her skirts and running down the drive.

"They're killed! They're killed!" howled Tommy. "They've smashed into the gates. Everything's done. Finished!"

"Run, Richard! Quick! Get help! An accident has occurred," begged Olive's mother.

The woman was almost beside herself with terror. Tommy's face was ghastly.

"Here's Ruth," he said, almost brusquely, lifting the girl by main strength and staggering toward the house. He bore the burden only a few feet, however, then hastily deposited it on the ground. Ruth was senseless.

A neighbor had witnessed the accident and with rare forethought telephoned for a doctor. By this time a general alarm had been sounded. The old fire bell on Treasureholme had been rung by Mr. Presby as the quickest method of summoning assistance. Neighbors came on the run. They were appalled when they first looked upon the wreck of the old gates. The wreck at first sight appeared to be much worse than it really was. The automobile motors were still racing, the exhaust emitting frequent explosions that sounded like the discharge of a Gatling gun. It was almost as though Mr. A. Bubble were summoning assistance on his own responsibility.

No time was lost, however, in attending to the five girls. Ruth and Grace being nearest at hand, were quickly lifted by strong arms and borne to the house. The three girls still in the automobile were tenderly lifted out and also carried in. Each girl was placed in the room that had been set aside for her. The doctor was on hand almost by the time the girls had been placed on their beds. He made a hasty diagnosis of each case, announced that no bones had been broken and, assisted by Mrs. Presby, administered restoratives to the victims of the accident, who soon recovered consciousness.

No one had thought to send word to Mr. Stuart. The household was too much upset to think of anything save the accident that had occurred.

Grace and Ruth really had the front storm curtain to thank for saving their lives. Had they been hurled through the heavy glass wind shield they undoubtedly would have been killed instantly. Mollie and Olive no doubt were saved by Barbara Thurston's presence of mind. But Barbara by devoting her whole effort to saving her companions had been badly bruised and shaken.

Someone in the meantime had shut off the motors and pushed the car out of the way. The wreckage of the gates was also cleared away at the direction of Mr. Presby, so that no one else should collide with it.

The doctor remained at Treasureholme until nine o'clock in the evening. Before taking his departure, however, he gave strict orders that none of his patients were to be allowed to leave their beds until he called the next morning, and pronounced them able to rise and dress.

Mrs. Presby broke down and cried after she learned that the girls were not seriously injured. Tom went out in the woodshed and wailed so loudly that he was heard in the rooms upstairs. Mr. Presby hobbled about irritably. He did not care to have those in the house know how much affected he really was.

Early the next morning he sent for one of his men. The old gentleman was now in a fine temper. Owing to the excitement caused by the accident, and a particularly painful attack of the gout, he had passed a sleepless night and was therefore in a most unamiable frame of mind.

"Who closed those gates?" roared Mr. Presby the instant the man appeared in the doorway of the dining room, where the master was hobbling back and forth.

"I – I don't know, sir."

"You closed them!" thundered Richard Presby.

"I did not. They were open when I last saw them."

"When was that?"

"About an hour before the accident occurred, I think, sir."

"If you didn't close them, who did? Answer me that."

Of course the man could not answer that question. He made no answer at all, thinking thereby not to further irritate his employer.

"I suppose the gates were closed by some of those rascally treasure hunters that are continually tearing over my premises, digging holes for the unwary to fall into and making general nuisances of themselves in every other way. Drive them off. Pepper them with shot if you can't get rid of them in any other way. I may not be here for long, but while I am here, I'm the master of Treasureholme. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," answered the man humbly, his face reflecting no expression at all.

Mr. Presby thumped back and forth with his cane for nearly an hour after that, despite the fact that every step he took sent excruciating pains through his gouty foot. Finally retiring to the library, he went to sleep in his Morris chair, with the troublesome foot propped up on a stool.

Early in the forenoon Mrs. Presby communicated with Miss Sallie and Mr. Stuart, telling them as much of the details of the accident as was known. Ten minutes later Robert Stuart and Miss Sallie were on their way to Treasureholme as fast as an automobile could carry them. The girls were asleep when they arrived. The doctor, who had arrived in the meantime, would not permit his patients to be disturbed. He assured Mr. Stuart, however, that the girls had providentially escaped with a few slight scratches and bruises and that they would all be up before the end of the day.

But the mystery of the closed gates was disturbing the entire household. It was inexplicable. Mr. Presby declared that it was the work either of his enemies or of some treasure-seeker who thought he was doing the owner a service by closing his gates for him.

Late that afternoon the five girls appeared in the dining room little the worse for their shaking up, although Barbara was far more lame and sore than she would admit. A general season of rejoicing ensued, and several neighbors dropped in to congratulate the girls on their miraculous escape from serious injury.

On seeing her father, Ruth's first question was, "What happened to A. Bubble?"

Mr. Stuart did not know. He promised to find out, which he did an hour or so later. Mr. A. Bubble, he told her, would be sent to a shop for repairs the next day, as he intended going back to Chicago that night and would attend to it. The radiator had been badly bent, the forward axle had buckled, guards were smashed, the hood was damaged, in short, Mr. Bubble presented a most disreputable appearance.

Mr. Stuart told Ruth she was in a certain degree responsible for the accident, still she had no thought that the gates would be closed.

"I'll know enough after this to keep my car under control. I won't try to knock over any more houses and things," Ruth retorted.

By the afternoon of their second day at Treasureholme the "Automobile Girls" had practically gotten over the effects of their accident and were cosily established in Olive's room consuming hot chocolate and cakes while Olive, at their urgent request, again recounted the story of the buried treasure. Now that they were face to face with the great mystery, they were alive with curiosity. They were burning to see with their own eyes the place that held so much of mystery and perhaps a fortune that was probably being trodden over by human feet every hour of the day.

CHAPTER VIII
EXPLORING THE SECRET PASSAGE

"I CERTAINLY do adore this room!" exclaimed Mollie Thurston, with glowing eyes.

The "Automobile Girls" and Olive were sitting in the dining room of old Treasureholme. It was a massive, but cheerful room, the ceiling studded with great beams. A fireplace constructed of boulders of varying shapes and sizes, large enough to take a six-foot log, occupied the greater part of one side of the room. Olive Presby had been telling her guests various anecdotes relating to Treasureholme and as usual the conversation had turned to the tale of the long-lost treasure.

An old-fashioned bookcase, extending all the way across one end of the room, was filled with leather-bound books. Bab regarded them longingly. She made up her mind to browse among these old volumes at the first opportunity.

"Help yourself any time you wish," smiled Olive, who had observed Bab's eager glances at the bookcase. Barbara blushed that her thoughts should have been read so easily.

"Oh, I should love to!" she answered simply.

Mollie cast an apprehensive glance about her.

"Are you sure there are no ghosts in this old place?" she asked.

"Of course not. What made you think of that?" laughed Ruth.

"In all the stories I ever read about buried treasure there was sure to be a ghost to guard it," replied Mollie. "Perhaps Treasureholme has a ghost, too. At any rate, I feel spooky."

"So do I," agreed Grace. "Did you hear that noise?"

"It sounds to me like rats or mice," ventured Barbara. "Of course it is. I know the sound. I hope they don't come out while I am here."

A hush fell over the little party of "Automobile Girls." A gentle scratching that seemed to come from the left side of the fireplace was audible to each of them. As they listened the sound seemed to magnify. A draft through the open door that led into the hallway smote Mollie in the back of the neck. She sprang up, uttering a little cry.

"It's a ghost. I felt it blow on my neck," she cried.

"Nonsense! I'll soon show you the ghost," offered Ruth, starting to her feet. "I know this old place pretty well. May I, Olive?"

Olive nodded smilingly. Ruth stepped to the left side of the fireplace and, grasping a knob that had escaped the observation of the Kingsbridge girls, deliberately pulled out a panel that was in reality a door.

The girls uttered exclamations of amazement. Then they saw something move in the dark recess the door had revealed. It was Tom, sitting in the hole in the wall, with his feet curled up under him. He was grinning sardonically.

"Here's your ghost," announced Ruth, taking firm hold of the irrepressible Tom's collar and assisting him out into the room. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Thomas Presby, frightening young women in that fashion."

"Yes, Tom, I am ashamed of you," rebuked Olive. But Tom was perfectly cheerful and unabashed.

"A secret passage?" gasped Mollie.

"It's a sort of underground passage, built to look like an old-fashioned Dutch oven," explained Olive.

"Per – perhaps the treasure is buried there," suggested Bab scarcely above a whisper.

Tom laughed derisively. Olive smiled tolerantly.

"If it ever was hidden there, it was taken out long, long ago. That passage has been known for some generations, I believe," said Olive.

"How ever did you get in there?" demanded Ruth, a sudden thought occurring to her.

"Find out," grinned Tom.

"There must be another entrance to it, isn't there, Olive?"

"Not that I know of. Is there, Tom?"

"Maybe and maybe not."

"Oh, please tell us. Can't you see we are burning with curiosity?" begged Bab.

"I'll show the place to any girl who's got the sand to go in there with me," answered Tom Presby.

All the girls, except Barbara, drew back. She was regarding the boy questioningly.

"Will you show me?" she asked.

"You bet I will if you've got the nerve."

"Don't trust him," warned the girls.

"I am not afraid of one small boy, especially Tom," answered Bab, with a twinkle in her eyes. "But, Master Tom, if you try to play any tricks on me it will be a sorry day for you. You can't play tricks on the 'Automobile Girls' without getting into trouble, remember. Olive, may I go?"

"Of course, if you wish," smiled Miss Presby. "I have been in there ever so many times, and" – with a blush – "I have dug and dug in there."

The girls laughed merrily, all save Bab, who was thoughtful. The impression was strong with her that somehow this passage was connected directly or indirectly with the secret of the lost treasure.

"Take a light with you. I won't go in in the dark," declared Barbara.

Tom produced a candle and lighted it. Barbara crawled into the dark hole after him. The others crowded about, peering in wonderingly.

"Close the door," commanded Tom.

Barbara pretended to do so, but left a crack through which the light from the dining room filtered faintly.

"Don't you girls dare to fasten the door," she called. "I should die of fright if I thought I was locked in this hole."

"We'll come in by way of the front door," called back Tom, as he began burrowing into the hole. The place was inky black save for the faint light shed by the candle. "Don't be afraid. After we get out from under the house you will be able to stand up."

"Oh! Is the passage so long as that?" gasped Bab. "I – I guess I don't want to go any further. I'll explore with you to-morrow."

"It won't be any lighter in the daytime," reminded the boy. "It's always dark down here." He was getting further and further away from her.

"Thomas Presby, you come right back here," commanded Barbara. "I won't go another step."

"'Fraid cat!" jeered Thomas.

"I'm not!" retorted Bab, starting forward. She knew she could easily find her way back again. She bumped her head against the roof of the passage several times. The place smelled stuffy and mouldy, though the girl realized that a faint current of air was passing through the tunnel. All at once she discovered that the passage had grown larger. She was able to stand up without difficulty. She then made a further discovery. Tom and his light had disappeared.

"Tom! Oh, Tom!" cried Barbara.

There was no answer. The silence was so deep that it made her ears ring. At first the girl was panic stricken, then she reasoned out her situation more calmly. She had only to retrace her steps to return to the dining room. Tom no doubt had eluded her and left the passage through an exit known only to himself. She would show him that she was as good as any boy.

"I'll go straight back," declared Barbara. But somehow the "going back" was not accomplished with the ease that she had hoped for. The way seemed much longer than had been the case when she was on her way in. Bab was peering ahead of her, expecting every moment to catch sight of the light from the dining room. She would have called out to her companions, only she did not want them to know that she was in trouble or that she was afraid.

Barbara had been in the low-ceilinged passage for some time when she came in contact with a solid wall. She gave a glad little exclamation, believing that she had reached the panel that led into the dining room. She had now but to rap and her companions would open the panel. The wind must have blown the panel shut. Barbara put out her hands and began groping for the panel. To her horror, there was no panel there. Her hands found nothing but earth. Some moments had elapsed when Barbara Thurston realized that she was in a predicament.

"I am lost!" she groaned. "Oh, what shall I do?"

The girl decided to call for assistance. There seemed to be no other way. She raised her voice and shouted, but, to her amazement, the shout was merely a feeble call that could not have been heard many feet away. The low walls deadened the sound of her voice.

A little investigation convinced her that she had strayed into a short blind passage. Having made this discovery, she began creeping back, hugging the right-hand wall of the passage, believing that the main passage must begin on the right-hand side. In this she was correct.

Barbara had proceeded but a short distance before she found the junction of the two passages. She had not observed this shorter passage when following Tom, and no doubt he had known that she would be almost sure to lose her way, just as she had done. But there was no Tom present on whom to vent her displeasure. Neither was Barbara yet out of the tunnel. For all she knew she might be in a wholly new passage. Before going ahead she sat down to think over her situation carefully.

"No, I can't be mistaken. I must be right. But I ought to see the light from the dining room from this point. However, I will go on and trust to luck."

Barbara started on at once, though she took no chance of losing herself. Every foot of the walls on either side was carefully groped over by her hands as she made her way. The earth felt cold and damp. To touch it made her shiver. But Barbara was plucky. She continued bravely on.

"Oh, there's the light," she cried. "I'll call to let them know I am coming. No, I won't. I'll give them a scare. Lucky for me that I kept my head. I might have been lost in that short passage and never found again. How terrible. But an 'Automobile Girl' never gives up. I hear voices. The girls must be wondering what has become of me. I think I hear Tom in the dining room. I wonder what I had better do to punish him for the trick he played on me? I shall have to think it over. I —

"Gracious! What would I do if the girls should happen to have company in the old dining room? I shouldn't dare to come out, for I know I must look a fright." Bab soon reached the panel, which was still as she had left it upon entering the passage. Then as she craned her neck forward and peered into the dining room she uttered a smothered exclamation.

Mr. and Mrs. Presby were sitting facing the fire, talking. The girl in the passage drew back as she saw Mr. Presby's eye fixed upon the panel. He appeared to be looking straight at her. A moment more and she was convinced that he was not.

Bab was in a quandary. She dared not show herself. What would they think of her, their daughter's guest, were she to be seen crawling from a hole in the wall? Her first meeting with Mr. Presby had been unfortunate enough. He surely would not forgive her for this exploit. Then the humor of the situation dawned upon her. Bab stuffed her handkerchief into her mouth so that they might not hear her giggles.

All at once she ceased laughing and sat up very straight.

"Nathan Bonner called on me at my office to-day. It was of that that I wished to speak with you, and that is why I asked the girls to leave the room." Mr. Presby was speaking.

"Did he wish to help you?"

"He intimated something of the sort. What he did want was permission to call on Olive."

"Oh!" The exclamation escaped Mrs. Presby unwittingly.

"And you told him – ?"

"No. Not with my permission. Bonner is a very rich man, Jane – and an unscrupulous one I am informed. I know little more about him, except that he has come to be an important figure on the Board of Trade. His rise has been phenomenal. I don't care for the man, however. I do not consider him the sort of man that Olive would like."

"You wish me to speak with her upon the subject?" asked Aunt Jane.

"No!" The word came out with explosive force. "The incident is closed. I am not so base as to consider for a moment the idea of my daughter making a rich alliance some day for the sake of retrieving our financial affairs. I am simply confiding the facts to you, that you may be governed accordingly."

Jane Presby rose, and, going over to her husband, kissed him tenderly on the forehead.

"You are a noble man, Richard."

"Has it taken you all these years to find that out?" retorted Mr. Presby testily.

"I have always known it," answered Mrs. Presby simply.

"What do you know about this Jack Howard's attentions to Olive?" he demanded sharply.

"They are childhood friends. Olive is still our baby, Richard. She has no thought of leaving us, I am sure. At least not in a long, long time."

Barbara, realizing that she was listening to a family conference, had suddenly shrunk back further into the corridor. She still could hear their voices. She retired further into the passage. Now their voices reached her ears in a confused murmur. The girl crouched down, waiting. The words of Mr. Presby had not made a very great impression on her, except that he had objected to one Nathan Bonner calling on his daughter. Who Nathan Bonner was Bab did not know.

Words, clear and distinct, spoken by Richard Presby, now reached Barbara plainly. He was speaking of another matter, one that was near to the heart of the "Automobile Girl" crouching there in the secret passage of the old mansion. Barbara's face blanched as she heard and understood what Mr. Presby was saying. She was powerless to shut her ears to the words. Mr. Presby's further remarks were brief. He rose and stamped from the room, followed a few seconds later by his wife.

Barbara crept forward to the panel, peered out cautiously to make sure that there was no one there, then, throwing wide the panel, stepped into the dining room, and, gathering her skirts about her, fled to her room on the next floor. She could hear the girls laughing and talking in Olive Presby's room.

Reaching her bedroom, Barbara Thurston threw herself on the bed, and sobbed as though her heart would break.