The Daughter of Anderson Crow Part 41

They whirled up to the lodge gate at Judge Brewster's place at last, the throbbing machine coming to a quick stop. Before he called out to the lodge keeper, Bonner impulsively drew her gloveless hand to his lips.

"Nothing can make any difference now," he said.

The lodge keeper, in reply to Bonner's eager query, informed them that Mr. Barnes had gone away ten or fifteen minutes before with an old man who claimed to be a detective, and who had placed the great lawyer under arrest.

"Good Lord!" gasped Bonner with a sinking heart.

"It's an outrage, sir! Mr. Barnes is the best man in the world. He never wronged no one, sir. There's an 'orrible mistake, sir," groaned the lodge keeper. "Judge Brewster is in Boggs City, and the man wouldn't wait for his return. He didn't even want to tell Mr. Barnes what 'e was charged with."

"Did you ever hear of anything so idiotic?" roared Bonner. Rosalie was white and red by turn. "What direction did they take?"

"The constable told Mr. Barnes he'd 'ave to go to Tinkletown with 'im at once, sir, even if he 'ad to walk all the way. The old chap said something, sir, about a man being there who could identify him on sight.

Mr. Barnes 'ad to laugh, sir, and appeared to take it all in good humour. He said he'd go along of 'im, but he wouldn't walk. So he got his own auto out, sir, and they went off together. They took the short cut, sir, by the ferry road, 'eaded for Tinkletown. Mr. Barnes said he'd be back before noon, sir--if he wasn't lynched."

"It's all over," groaned Bonner dejectedly. Something had slipped from under his feet and he was dangling in s.p.a.ce, figuratively speaking.

"There's nothing to do, Rosalie, except to chase them down. Mr. Crow has ruined everything. I'll leave you at Bonner Place with mother and Edith, and I'll hurry back to Tinkletown."

The excitement was too much for Rosalie's nerves. She was in a state of physical collapse when he set her down at his uncle's summer home half an hour later. Leaving her to explain the situation to the curious friends, he set speed again for Tinkletown, inwardly cursing Anderson Crow for a meddling old fool.

In the meantime Tinkletown was staring open-mouthed upon a new sensation. The race between Anderson and Bonner was hardly under way when down the main street of the town came a jaded team and surrey.

Behind the driver sat a pretty young woman with an eager expression on her pale face, her gaze bent intently on the turn in the street which hid Anderson Crow's home from view. Beside the young woman lounged another of her s.e.x, much older, and to all appearances, in a precarious state of health. The young men along the street gasped in amazement and then ventured to doff their timid hats to the young woman, very much as if they were saluting a ghost. Few of them received a nod of recognition from Elsie Banks, one-time queen of all their hearts.

Roscoe Crow bounded out to the gate when he saw who was in the carriage, first shouting to his mother and sisters, who were indoors receiving congratulations and condolences from their neighbours.

Miss Banks immediately inquired if she could see Rosalie.

"She ain't here," said Roscoe. "She's away fer a month--over at the Bonners'. He's her feller, you know. Ma! Here's Miss Banks! Edner! Sue!"

Mrs. Crow and the girls flew out to the gate, babbling their surprise and greetings.

"This is my mother," introduced the young lady. "We have just come from New York, Mrs. Crow. We sail for England this week, and I must see Rosalie before we go. How can we get to Mr. Bonner's place?"

"It's across the river, about twelve miles from here," said Mrs. Crow.

"Come in and rest yourselves. You don't have to go back to-day, do you?

Ain't you married yet?"

"No, Mrs. Crow," responded Elsie, with a stiff, perfunctory smile.

"Thank you, we cannot stop. It is necessary that we return to New York to-night, but I must see Rosalie before going. You see, Mrs. Crow, I do not expect to return to America. We are to live in London forever, I fear. It may be the last chance I'll have to see Rosalie. I must go on to Bonner Place to-day. But, dear me, I am so tired and hot, and it is so far to drive," she cried ruefully. "Do you know the way, driver?" The driver gruffly admitted that he did not. Roscoe eagerly bridged the difficulty by offering to act as pathfinder.

At first Mrs. Banks tried to dissuade her daughter from undertaking the long trip, but the girl was obstinate. Her mother then flatly refused to accompany her, complaining of her head and heart. In the end the elder lady decided to accept Mrs. Crow's invitation to remain at the house until Elsie's return.

"I shall bring Rosalie back with me, mother," said Elsie as she prepared to drive away. Mrs. Banks, frail and wan, bowed her head listlessly and turned to follow her hostess indoors. With Roscoe in the seat with the driver, the carriage started briskly off down the shady street, headed for the ferry road and Bonner Place.

To return to Anderson Crow and his precipitancy. Just as the lodge keeper had said, the marshal, afoot and dusty, descended upon Mr. Barnes without ceremony. The great lawyer was strolling about the grounds when his old enemy arrived. He recognised the odd figure as it approached among the trees.

"h.e.l.lo, Mr. Crow!" he called cheerily. "Are you going to arrest me again?" He advanced to shake hands.

"Yes, sir; you are my prisoner," said Anderson, panting, but stern. "I know you, Mr. Barnes. It won't do you any good to deny it."

"Come in and sit down. You look tired," said Barnes genially, regarding his words as a jest; but Anderson proudly stood his ground.

"You can't come any game with me. It won't do you no good to be perlite, my man. This time you don't git away."

"You don't mean to say you are in earnest?" cried Barnes.

"I never joke when on duty. Come along with me. You c'n talk afterward.

Your hirelin' is in jail an' he c'n identify you; so don't resist."

"Wait a moment, sir. What is the charge?"

"I don't know yet. You know better'n I do what it is."

"Look here, Mr. Crow. You arrested me the first time I ever saw you, and now you yank me up again, after all these years. Haven't you anything else to do but arrest me by mistake? Is that your only occupation?"

Anderson sputtered indignantly. Driven to it, he informed John Barnes that he was charged with kidnaping, attempted murder, polygamy, child desertion, and nearly everything else under the sun. Barnes, at first indignant, finally broke into a hearty laugh. He magnanimously agreed to accompany his captor to Tinkletown. Not only that, but he provided the means of transportation. To the intense dismay of the servants, he merrily departed with Mr. Crow, a prisoner operating his own patrol wagon. The two were smoking the captive's best cigars.

"It's mighty nice of you, Mr. Barnes, to let us use your autermobile,"

said Anderson, benignly puffing away as they bowled off through the dust. "It would 'a' been a long walk. I'll speak a good word fer you fer this."

"Don't mention it, old chap. I rather enjoy it. It's been uncommonly dull up here. I did not get away as soon as I expected, you see. So I am charged with being Rosalie's father, eh? And deserting her? And kidnaping her? By jove, I ought to be hung for all this!"

"'Tain't nothin' to laugh at, my friend. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. I was onto you the day you stopped me in the road an' ast about her. What a fool you was. Reg'lar dead give-away."

"See here, Mr. Crow, I don't like to upset your hopes and calculations,"

said Barnes soberly. "I did that once before, you remember. That was years ago. You were wrong then, and you are wrong now. Shall I tell you why I am interested in this pretty waif of yours?"

"It ain't necessary," protested the marshal.

"I'll tell you just the same. My son met her in New York while he was at school. He heard her story from mutual friends and repeated it to me. I was naturally interested, and questioned you. He said she was very pretty. That is the whole story, my dear sir."

"That's all very purty, but how about the B in your hat?"

"I don't understand. Oh, you mean the political bee?"

"Politics, your granny! I mean the 'nitial that Briggs saw. No; hold on!

Don't answer. Don't say anything that'll incriminate yourself."

"I never had an initial in my hat, and I don't know Briggs. Mr. Crow, you are as crazy as a loon." He prepared to bring the machine to a standstill. "I'm going home. You can ride back with me or get out and walk on, just as you please."

"Hold on! Don't do that! I'll see that you're paid fer the use of the machine. Besides, consarn ye, you're my prisoner." This was too much for Barnes. He laughed long and loud, and he did not turn back.

Just beyond the ferry they turned aside to permit a carriage to pa.s.s. A boy on the box with the driver shouted frantically after them, and Anderson tried to stop the machine himself.

"Stop her!" he cried; "that's Roscoe, my boy. Hold on! Who's that with him? Why, by cracky, it's Miss Banks! Gee whiz, has she come back here to teach again? Whoa! Turn her around, Mr. Barnes. They are motionin'

fer us to come back. 'Pears to be important, too."

Barnes obligingly turned around and ran back to where the carriage was standing. An hour later the automobile rolled into the driveway at Bonner Place, and Anderson Crow, a glorious triumph in his face, handed Miss Banks from the tonneau and into the arms of Rosalie Gray, who at first had mistaken the automobile for another. Pompous to the point of explosion, Anderson waved his hand to the party a.s.sembled on the veranda, strolled around to Mr. Barnes's seat and acquired a light for his cigar with a nonchalance that almost overcame his one-time prisoner, and then said, apparently to the whole world, for he addressed no one in particular:

"I knowed I could solve the blamed thing if they'd jest give me time."