The Motor Maids Across the Continent Part 27

I'll have you connected with her room."

Evidently, Mr. John James Stone had spoken to Wilhelmina from the office, where he had made careful inquiries: five ladies in a motor car registering from the East; chaperone very distinguished looking.

Billie waited at the telephone. The ordeal of conversing with John James Stone had brought beads of moisture to her forehead. But she was still not sure that the danger was over. A man like that would be capable of keeping himself connected so as to overhear the conversation. The notion flashed into her mind, just as a sweet voice said, "Yes?" and she determined to take no chances.

"Is this Miss Stone?"

"Yes. Who is this?"

"This is Wilhelmina Campbell"-there was a long pause-"Billie Campbell," she repeated. "Evelyn, have you forgotten that day at Fontainebleau?"

Billie had played her trump card now. There was nothing else she could do. But she was glad she had not mentioned Prairie Inn, for instantly the ba.s.s voice interrupted with-"I thought you said school friend?"

"How angry she must be," thought Billie, "to have her father eavesdrop on her like this."

Evelyn did not pause this time.

"How very nice to see you again. Are you stopping here long?"

"Only a few days. But you made me promise to look you up if ever I came to Salt Lake City, and here I am, you see. There isn't very much time.

Perhaps I can see you to-night--"

Billie and Nancy exchanged long, frightened glances. They were meddling in matters which did not concern them, and which Miss Campbell had forbidden them to touch.

"Do come to-night My room is No. 400, on the fourth floor."

"I'll be there right away," said Billie, and she hung up the receiver.

"Nancy, you'll have to go to bed, and turn out all the lights. I'm so frightened about what I'm doing. It's wrong, I suppose, but I don't want the others to know anything about it." She took Daniel Moore's note from her satchel and slipped it in the neck of her dress. "No. 400," she repeated to herself, as she hurried from the room. "He's certain to go up on the first elevator. Fortunately, we're on the same floor."

She fled down a corridor; turned a corner and hurried down another, almost running into Ebenezer Stone, Evelyn's stern fiance. She heard footsteps behind her, but she did not pause.

"You've been saying good-night, Ebenezer?" said the voice of Mr. Stone.

"Yes, Cousin John; and, by the way, there's a little matter I wanted to see you about--"

Billie heard no more. She had reached No. 400, and old John James would be detained a moment. As she tapped on the door, she drew the letter out of her dress. Instantly the door opened, and Evelyn, beautiful and pale, and very unhappy, stood before her.

"Take this quickly," whispered Billie. "Hide it somewhere. It's from Mr.

Moore."

"Danny!" exclaimed Evelyn, hiding the letter under the pillow.

"Yes."

"But he's married."

"He's not anything of the sort. I should think you'd feel ashamed to treat him so badly."

Billie was standing with her back to the door, and suddenly Evelyn threw both arms around her neck and gave her a good squeeze.

"You were the girl at the inn," she whispered. "And you bring me such wonderful news. I thought-they said-they showed me a clipping"-her voice changed-"think of not having seen you since Fontainebleau. You're the dearest, sweetest--"

Instinctively Billie felt that the father was standing at the door.

"Good old friends?" she heard him say, in his deep, hollow voice.

"I'm sure his body must be full of black caverns," she thought.

"Father, this is Miss--" There was just a perceptible pause, and Billie felt certain that Evelyn was searching vainly in her memory for her name. With great presence of mind, she interrupted her:

"Oh, your father and I have met," she said. "We were introduced over the telephone. I was afraid you might think I was a boy when you heard my name was 'Billie Campbell,'" she added, turning and facing that tower of strength and sternness. The young girl and the big man exchanged a long glance. They were not unlike David and Goliath on the field of battle, and in her heart Billie knew there was going to be a struggle.

"Show the young lady your things, Evie," he said, with a certain complaisant pride in his tone. As if to say: "We will dazzle this young person with our magnificence."

Evelyn wearily led the way into the next room, which was her bedroom, and evidently had no outlet except through her father's room. Billie glanced at the filmy laces and beautiful frocks with lukewarm interest.

She was never particularly interested in clothes.

"It's a pity Nancy-Bell missed the opportunity," she thought.

Mr. Stone was called into the next room to the telephone, and in the two minutes he was away, Evelyn whispered:

"Where is Danny?"

"In town. You're not going to marry that--"

"I'm afraid I must."

"Come with us in the motor to San Francisco."

Billie hardly realized her own words.

"I can't, I can't," whispered Evelyn, in an agonized tone of voice.

"I must be getting back now," said Billie, when the telephone conversation was over. "The things are lovely, Evelyn. Perhaps we shall see you to-morrow. We are going sight-seeing all day, but we shall be here for meals. Good-night."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Come with us in the motor to San Francisco."]

The two girls kissed warmly.

Mr. Stone accompanied Billie around the corridor to her room.

"Good-night," she said, and held out her hand.

He took it in his enormous hand, and, looking down at her with a quizzical expression, he said:

"You are a friend of Daniel Moore?"

Billie's heart almost stopped beating, but she returned his look steadily.