The Automobile Girls at Chicago Part 20

"Put a blanket over your head," called back Ruth.

"I can stand it bare-headed here, if you can keep your seat in this cold wind up ahead," answered Stevens calmly. "What is it?"

"I'll tell you when you get there. I haven't time now."

Bob asked no further questions. They were racing back to Treasureholme at a rate of speed that would have left the Pacific Coast Limited some distance to the rear in a very short time.

Boom! A report like that of a cannon startled Tommy. Boom! Another similar report and Tom was on the verge of leaping from the car.

"Tire's gone. Rear tire's down," called Stevens. Ruth nodded, but he could not see that she reduced the speed of the car in the slightest degree. Bob Stevens never had had such a ride as that, even on a railroad train, but he declined to give in to his inclination to warn her to slow down. If a young woman had the nerve to drive a car at that speed he surely should have sufficient pluck to ride behind her.

Tommy had tightened his grip on the cushion. His body was swaying from side to side, now and then humping up into the air as the wheels pa.s.sed over a hummock.

"I shall go on as long as the rims hold," flung back Ruth in acknowledgment of his warning about the tires.

The young man knew very well that the rims were likely to be crunched in like egg sh.e.l.ls at any second. That would mean the complete wreck of the car and no doubt the instant death of the pa.s.sengers at the speed they were now traveling. The soft, springy snow that covered the ground protected the rims from the hard road somewhat. He observed, however, that in rounding sharp turns in the road, Ruth steadied the car with her foot brake. She was driving with great skill, even though the pace was a reckless one. Bob gazed at the back of her head, a great admiration for her pluck welling up within him. But he felt sorry for Tommy. It was plainly to be seen that Thomas Warrington Presby was not having the happiest ride imaginable.

"Almost there," encouraged Ruth. "If anything happens, never mind me, but run for the house as fast as you can go."

He did not answer, but he was thinking deeply. Something of a very serious nature must have occurred at Treasureholme to make necessary all this haste. He did not know that they had sent for him because of the great confidence the Presbys reposed in him. It would have made little difference to the resourceful Bob Stevens if he had known.

The car lurched into the drive, past the scene of Ruth's previous disaster, where the broken posts and twisted gates still lay at one side of the drive. None of the occupants of the car heeded these evidences of a former smash-up. Ruth's eyes were on the drive. Bob's eyes were on the house, while Tommy's eyes were so full of snow that they weren't fixed on anything in particular.

The car came to a jolting stop in front of the Presby home. At that instant the rear of the car settled with a crunching sound.

"There go the rims," said Ruth calmly. "But I don't care now. Please hurry."

Bob lifted Tommy to the ground, the boy being on the side that Stevens had leaped from just as the rims were going down. He then a.s.sisted Ruth out. Tommy rubbed the snow from his eyes, blinked rapidly and gazed at Ruth.

"Never no more for mine," he declared, with ungrammatical force.

Ruth tried to run up the steps. She halted suddenly. Her body swayed unsteadily. Stevens thought she was going to collapse. He took firm hold of her arm.

"Let me a.s.sist you," he said politely.

"I--I am all right," muttered Ruth. "Just a little dizzy from watching the road so closely," then she crumpled up on the steps of Treasureholme.

Bob Stevens picked her up and carried the girl into the house, followed by Tom, still blinking. Tom was choking a little, too. Everything had been moving so rapidly that, active as was his mind, he hadn't been able to follow matters very clearly.

The door swung open. Bob handed his burden over to Mrs. Presby.

"She's played out. Better put her to bed. What's wrong?"

"No, no, no!" protested Ruth. "Give me a drink of something hot. I--I'm chilled through." She staggered to one side of the hall, waved a.s.sistance aside and leaned against the wall with closed eyes for a few seconds. Then Ruth straightened up suddenly.

"Bab! Have they found her?" she cried.

Mrs. Presby shook her head. Grace came running down the hall. She threw herself into Ruth's arms.

"Oh, Ruth! Mollie's gone, too!" she sobbed.

"What's this?" demanded Stevens. "Tell me quickly what has occurred."

Mrs. Presby told him very briefly all that she knew about the series of disasters that had befallen them. The hall was fairly well filled with neighbors, all more or less helpless. With bulging eyes and open mouths, they were listening and gaping without doing anything on their own account.

Bob dashed toward the stairs without asking another question. Neighbors, the Presbys and the three girls followed him. Mr. Presby was the last in line. He thumped up the stairs with the aid of his stick. Bob had halted near the door of the attic, where he stood surveying the room with critical eyes.

"Get lights! It's dark here," he directed sharply. "Now tell me just what occurred as far as you know, please. Who discovered the loss of Miss Thurston and her sister?"

Ruth told him what she knew of Bab's disappearance. Olive related the story of how Mollie had suddenly vanished.

"They certainly didn't vanish into thin air. They are still in this house and I am going to find them, even if I have to tear the house down, with Mr. Presby's permission, of course."

"Get the girls. Go as far as you like. Tear down the old house if you must. I shall not have use for it very much longer."

Bob groped about on the floor. His hands found a broken stove poker.

With this he began sounding the walls about waist high, thumping and listening, listening and thumping. He paused suddenly.

"Where was Miss Mollie standing when you last saw her?" he demanded, turning to the group.

"There on the south side," answered Olive.

"Something has been there against the wall for some time, hasn't there?

I see a mark on the wall."

"I don't recall whether or not there was anything there," answered Mr.

Presby.

"Yes, there was an old dresser there. I moved it aside to-day to get some things that had fallen behind it. We were cleaning out the garret.

That's the dresser over yonder," Olive informed him.

The young man did not look at the piece of furniture indicated by Miss Presby. Instead, he strode over to the point where the dresser had stood for no one knew how long. It was a dresser belonging to some of the Presby ancestors. It never had been disturbed during the present owner's occupancy.

Stevens began thumping over every inch of the wall at that point. He varied his investigations finally by trying the wainscoting on either side. The latter to his keen ears gave out a different sound. He turned sharply.

"Bring me a maul, if you have one."

Mr. Presby directed one of the farm hands to bring one from the woodshed. In the meantime the others in the attic watched in breathless silence as Stevens pursued his investigations.

"You haven't heard them call or cry out?"

"No," answered Olive.

Ruth had said scarcely a word. She had appeared to be crushed upon hearing of Mollie's disappearance. She had answered questions briefly and with apparent great effort. But now her eyes were following every movement of Bob Stevens.

A commotion on the stairs caused Bob to stride over to the door. It was the man with the maul, a heavy tool used for driving fence posts and other similar work. Bob took it from him and started for the place where the dresser had formerly stood. He halted just before reaching his objective point. The others in the chamber were crowding about him.

"I would suggest that you people stand back," he said. "We don't know what might happen. I might loose my grip on the maul. I don't want to injure anyone."