The Perils of Pauline Part 15

"Now, will you jump or shall I throw you overboard? One, two, three."

"I'll jump," said Pauline and with arms around each other they leaped into the warm ocean. On went the white launch serene and unruffled by the desertion of its crew. In answer to Pauline's demand for explanation Harry only answered:

"Wait."

Finally it came.

A belch of flame shot up from the launch driving a column of smoke far into the sky, where it spread out and formed a majestic ring, which floated and curled for many moments. A concussion reached them through the water and another in the air smote their ears.

The after part of the launch rode on the waters for a moment and then disappeared. Finally a succession of waves tossed them and pa.s.sed on.

"What does it mean?" gasped the girl.

"Insanity--sheer, downright insanity. That wretch of a 'pirate' was a crazy man.

"He placed that bomb, intending to kill all of us. And Owen deserves a sound thrashing for having anything to do with such a murderous lunatic."

"I think you're rather hard on Owen, Harry," said Pauline. "Of course, we all know that pirates aren't nice persons--but n.o.body could foresee that the man was crazy."

"Well, perhaps. But don't talk, we have a mile and a half swim to sh.o.r.e."

They were spared that ordeal by the Silurian liner Caradoc. Arrayed in borrowed clothes they were notified of a second rescue and came out on deck in time to behold in the dusk of evening the "pirate." He was relating to an admiring throng how he had stuck by the burning ship till it exploded. He had actually been blown into the air and had fallen by good luck into the little boat.

"It's a lie," said Harry in the old man's cackling voice. The "pirate"

heard the voice of the old man and saw the face and the blond hair of Harry.

It was too much for his evil and murderous mind to bear. With a shriek he hurled himself over the rail into the sea. The Caradoc stopped and searched, but no trace of the "pirate" could be found.

CHAPTER VIII

THE COURTELYOU RECEPTION

Two weeks later Pauline and Harry were sitting in the library. Through the half-closed blinds a soft breeze bore to them the fragrance of carnations and roses.

For the first few days after their return Pauline was so thankful they had not lost their lives that she was reconciled to not having found the treasure. But only for the first few days. She was already growing restless.

"You're wasting time, Harry," she said impatiently. "I'd rather face anything than be bored to death."

"Polly, it's got to stop; it isn't safe, it isn't sensible, it isn't even fun any more. Won't you drop the whole freakish thing and marry me?"

Harry was holding Pauline by the hand as she drew her dainty way out of the library. In laughing rebellion she looked over her shoulder and jeered at him.

"Oh, I thought it was I who was going to be afraid," she said.

"Well, if you aren't, who is going to be?"

"You," she t.i.ttered.

He drew her back with a gentle but firm grasp.

"Honestly, Polly, aren't you satisfied yet? Adventure is all right for breakfast or for luncheon once a month, but as a regular unremitting diet it gets on my nerves."

"Still thinking of your own perils?" she volleyed.

Harry's fine keen face took on a look of earnest appeal. He let go her hand, but as she started to run up the stairs he held her with his eyes.

"You dear, silly boy," she cried, returning a step and clasping him in an impetuous embrace. "You are the nicest brother in all the world-- sometimes--but just now I think that adventure is nicer than brothers --or husbands. I'm having the time of my life, Harry boy, and I'm going on and on, and on with it until I've seen all the wild and wicked people and places in the world."

Harry caught her hand and smiled down at her in surrender.

A ring at the door bell and the entrance of the maid caused Pauline to flutter up the stairs. They were preparing to attend the Courtelyou's reception that evening to the great Baskinelli, whose musical achievements had been equaled only by his social successes during this, his first New York season.

"Anyway," she twinkled from the top of the stairs, "you needn't be frightened for tonight. Nothing so meek and mild as a pianist can hurt you."

Harry tossed up his hands in mimic despair and started back to the library.

"Yes, I know she is always at home to you, Miss Hamlin," the maid was saying at the door.

"What a privileged person I am," laughed Lucille Hamlin.

She was Pauline's chum-in-chief, a dark, still tempered girl, in perfect contrast to the adventurous Polly. She greeted Harry with the easy grace of old acquaintanceship.

"Still nursing the precious broken heart?" she queried.

"For the love of Michael, me and humanity," he pleaded, "can't you do something? She won't listen to me. I'm honestly, deucedly worried, Lucille."

"You know very well that n.o.body could ever do anything with Polly. She always had to have her own way--and that's why you love her, though you don't know it, Harry. Shall I run upstairs, Margaret?" she added, turning to the maid.

"No, you're going to stay here," commanded Harry, seizing her hands.

"You've got to do something with Pauline. You're the only one who can. She wants a new adventure every day, and a more dangerous one every time. Talk to her, won't you? Tell her it isn't right for her to risk her life when her life is so precious to so many people. No, wait a minute; sit down here. I'm not half through yet."

He drew her, under laughing protest, to a seat beside him on the stairs. She realized suddenly how serious he was. She let her hand rest comradely in his pleading grasp.

"Why, Harry, yes, if it is really dangerous, you know, I'll do anything I can," she said gravely.

They did not see the cold gray face of Raymond Owen appear at the top of the stairs. The face vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

In her boudoir Polly was laying out her finery of the evening. There came a soft rap at the door.

"Come in," she called, and looked up brightly in Owen's furtive eyes as he opened the door and motioned to her.

"Don't say anything, please, Miss Marvin," he whispered, "just come with me for a moment."

Bewildered by his manner, she followed to the top of the stairs. He directed her gaze to the two young people in earnest conversation below.