The Deaves Affair Part 49

Charley said in a disguised voice: "Keep straight ahead to the right."

He started to back away from them, keeping the light playing on the agonised, fascinated face of Deaves, who stood rooted to the ground.

The hand that held the light trembled a little. Suddenly it was switched off and Charley ran the last few steps that separated him from the car.

Evan involuntarily sprang forward, leaving a speechless and gasping Deaves in the road. But Evan was not thinking of Deaves then. He saw Charley take the driver's seat in the car. The noise of the engine drowned what sounds Evan's feet made. He laid hands on the back of the car as it started to move, and swung himself off the ground. His knees found the gasoline tank. He cautiously turned around and let himself down upon it in a sitting position, his hands still clinging to the folds of the lowered top above his head. As they got under way the man beside Charley blew a blast on a whistle similar to those they had heard before.

They went but slowly for the way was rough. Evan prayed that the tank beneath him might be stoutly swung to the frame. As well as he could he distributed his weight between the tank and the top. After pa.s.sing over some spring-testing b.u.mps in safety he felt somewhat rea.s.sured.

If she stood that there would not be much danger on a smoother road when they hit up speed.

Emerging from the woods they turned into a farm road not so bad, and by means of the farm road they gained a dirt highway, ever increasing speed as the way became smoother. All this neighbourhood was quite unknown to Evan of course, and his point of view was somewhat restricted, being directed solely towards the rear. He watched the stars and made out that the car was choosing roads that were gradually bringing it around in a great circle. He supposed that it was bound back for town--for the "club-house," if he was lucky.

Evan had no clear idea of what he meant to do. His one purpose was to get Charley by himself. He knew the ascendancy that he possessed over that mercurial youth.

They finally struck a smooth macadam road upon which they travelled East at thirty-five miles an hour, the best, no doubt, the old car could do. It was a well-travelled road. They pa.s.sed all cars bound in the same direction, and to the drivers of these cars Evan on his perch was brilliantly revealed in the rays of their headlights. With the idea of suggesting that it was all a joke, Evan waved facetiously to them. They accepted it as intended, or at any rate none of them sought to give him away. They pa.s.sed through several villages, but the people on the sidewalks rarely noticed Evan, or, if they did, they merely gaped at him.

They crossed the long viaduct over the railway yards in Long Island City, and Evan began to grow anxious. If they were going to traverse the whole length of town how could he hope to avoid having the attention of the two men on the front seat called to him by the sharp-eyed small boys? They crossed the Plaza and swung out on Queensboro Bridge, keeping close to the speed limit, or edging over it a little. The drivers they pa.s.sed still obligingly accepted Evan's suggestion that he was paying an election bet, or was up to some other foolishness.

They pa.s.sed a limousine which looked familiar. Evan looked twice and recognized the Deaves turnout. George Deaves sat behind the gla.s.s windows, looking pale and shaken. So he had got out of the woods all right! The chauffeur stared at Evan, then grinned widely, and stepped on his accelerator. The big car came up close.

Evan saw Deaves lean forward to rebuke his chauffeur for the speed.

The chauffeur called his attention to Evan. Deaves' eyes nearly started out of his head. Evan waved his hand. Deaves, with emphatic adjurations to his chauffeur to slow up, fell back on his seat and closed his eyes. "He wants to forget about me," thought Evan. The limousine gradually dropped back out of sight.

Evan's anxiety about the streets of town was presently relieved. After crossing the Bridge Plaza, where, to be sure, a number of people laughed and pointed at him but without apparently attracting the attention of the two men in front, they turned into the darkest and quietest streets. Evan soon saw that they were not bound for the club-house. Their journey through town was not long; through Fifty-eighth to Lexington; down Lexington in the car tracks to Thirty-ninth, and East again. In Thirty-ninth street the car slowed down and Evan held himself in readiness to drop off.

At the moment of stopping Evan ducked under the side of the car opposite to the curb. He heard the car-door slam and feet run across the pavement. Cautiously peering around the back he saw Charley, fully revealed in the light of a street lamp, run up the steps of a house and let himself in with a latch-key. Just before disappearing he glanced up and down the street; no other car was in sight. Evan said to himself: "He is stopping here. That is something to know."

Evan peeped over the top. To his surprise he found the car empty. The second man had dropped off at some point en route without his seeing him. Evidently he still had the securities for Charley's hands had been empty. Evan was chagrined to think of this prize slipping through his fingers; however he still had a line on Charley.

Unfortunately for Evan at this moment a gruff voice behind him said: "Hey, young man, what do you think you're doin'?"

It was a policeman who, having observed Evan's maneuvres from across the street, had felt a perhaps not unnatural curiosity and had come over to satisfy it.

Evan, silently cursing his luck, instantly said with a confiding air: "It's just a joke, officer. Fellow I know hired this car to take his girl out, see? I think they're going to run off and be married, and I want to give them the laugh, see? All in fun."

"Well, it may be so," was the heavily facetious reply, "and again it may not. You better leave that guy be, see?"

"Just as you say," said Evan with a shrug.

He was not at all anxious to have Charley come out and find him in talk with the blue-coat, so he sauntered off down the street, the policeman following with a darkly suspicious eye. Glancing over his shoulder, Evan, to his unspeakable chagrin, saw Charley come scampering down the steps, jump in the car and start off in the other direction. In his heart Evan cursed the whole race of blue-coats.

Evan walked around the block and approached the house from the other side. The policeman was now out of sight. It was still only half-past nine, not too late conceivably to pay a call. Evan rang the bell.

The door was opened by a handsome, bold-eyed girl who had a challenging glance for any personable young male. Evan gave her look for look; she was a potential source of valuable information.

"Charley Straiker live here?" he asked.

"Yes, but he's out now."

"Do you know when he'll be in?"

"In half an hour. He's gone to the garage to put the car away."

"Sure he's coming back?"

"He just told me. In case anybody called up."

The trail was not lost then; Evan took heart. "Well, I'll wait for him," he said. "Where's his room?"

The girl gave him a provoking glance. "I don't know if I ought to let you up. I don't know you."

"Well, I'll stop and talk to you and you soon will," retorted Evan.

She tossed her head. "I can't stand here all night talking."

"What's your name?"

"Ethel Barrymore. What's yours?"

"Leo Dietrichstein."

"Some li'l jollier, aren't you?"

"I'm just learning from you, Ethel."

"Are you an artist like Mr. Straiker?"

"No, I'm a Wall street broker."

"Yes you are!"

"Any rooms to rent, Ethel? I'd like to hang out where you are."

"All the hall rooms are taken."

"They would be, around you. How about a man's size room?"

"Who do you want it for?"

This sprightly exchange was cut short by a shrill voice from the bas.e.m.e.nt calling: "Sa-a-d-e-e-e!"

"Darn!" muttered the girl. "I've got to go or she'll scream her lungs out!"

"Which is Charley's room?" said Evan. "I'll go up."

"Second floor rear hall," she said as she disappeared.

Her cryptic description was sufficient to anyone who knows New York rooming houses. The room was typical. Charley had not been in it long enough to give it any of his own character. You squeezed past the bed to a tiny rectangular s.p.a.ce at the foot where there was just room enough for a bureau, a wash-stand and one chair. If the occupant had a visitor one of them must sit on the bed.

Evan sat down in the chair and filled his pipe, thinking grimly of the surprise that Charley was due to receive when he opened the door.