October 13, 2025 • 20 mins
12 - The Best Man by Grace Livingston Hill.
Cyril Gordon, a young and handsome secret service agent is running from pursuers who desperately want the information he holds. He hides out from them in a church, and then finds himself married to a woman he’s never seen before. A sweet and sometimes, funny, romance, with several exciting chases.
Cyril Gordon, a young and handsome secret service agent is running from pursuers who desperately want the information he holds. He hides out from them in a church, and then finds himself married to a woman he’s never seen before. A sweet and sometimes, funny, romance, with several exciting chases.
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter twelve of The Best Man. This LibriVox recording is
in the public domain. Recording by Gale Mattern The Best
Man by Grace livingstone Hill, Chapter twelve. Back at Milton,
an hour before, when the shades of dusk were falling,
and a slender moon hung timidly on the edge of
(00:21):
the horizon, a horse drawing a spring wagon ambled deliberately
into town and came to a reluctant halt beside the
railroad station, having made a wide detour through the larger
part of the county on the way to that metropolis.
The sun had been hot, the road, much of it rough,
and the jolts over stones and bumps had not added
(00:44):
to the comfort of the thick set man, already bruised
and weary from his travels. Joe's conversation had not ceased.
He had given his guest a wide range of topics,
discoursing learnedly on the buckwheat crop and the blight that
might be expected to assail the cherry trees. He pointed
out certain portions of land infested with rattlesnakes, and told
(01:07):
blood curdling stories of experiences with stray bears and wild cats.
In a maple grove through which they passed till the
passenger looked furtively behind him and urged the driver to
hurry a little faster. Joe, seeing his gullibility, only made
his stories of country life the bigger. For the thick
(01:28):
set man, though bold as a lion in his own
city haunts, was a coward in the unknown world of
the country. When the traveler, looking at his watch, urged
Joe to make haste and asked how many miles further
Milton was, Joe managed it that the horse should stumble
on a particularly stony bit of road. Then, getting down
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gravely from the wagon, he examined the horse's feet, each
in turn, shaking his head sadly over the left forefoot.
Jesus I supposed, he meditated, dreamily, stone, bruise, lame horse,
don't believe I ought to go on. Sorry, but it'll
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be the ruination of the horse. You ain't in a hurry,
I hope. The passenger, in great excitement, promised to double
the fare if the young man would get another horse
and hurry him forward, And after great professions of doubt,
Joe gave in and said he would try the horse,
but it wouldn't do to work him hard. They would
(02:31):
have to let him take his time. He couldn't on
any account leave the horse behind anywhere and get a
fresh one, because it belonged to his best friend, and
he promised to bring it back safe and sound. They
would just take their time and go slow and see
if the horse could stand it. He wouldn't think of
trying it if it weren't for the extra money, which
he needed. So the impatient traveler was dragged, fuming along,
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weary hour after weary hour, through the monotonous glory of
his spring afternoon, of which he saw nothing but the
dust of the road as he tried to count the
endless miles. Every mile or two, Joe would descend from
the wagon seat and fuss around the horse's leg. The horse,
nothing loth at such unprecedented attention, dozen cozily by the
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roadside during the process, and so was the traveler brought
to his destination ten minutes after the last train that
stopped at Milton that night had passed the station. The
telegraph office was not closed, however, and without waiting to Hagel,
the passenger paid his thirty dollars for the longest journey
he ever took and disappeared into the station, while Joe,
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whipping up his petted animal and whistling cheerily, where did
you get that? Girl? Went rattling down the shortcut from
Milton home at a surprising pace for a lame horse.
He was eating his supper at home in a little
more than an hour, and the horse seemed to have
miraculously recovered from his stone bruise. Joe was wondering how
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his girl would look at a hat with purple plumes,
and thinking of his thirty dollars with a chuckle. It
was surprising how much that thick set man, weary and
desperate though he was, could accomplish when once he reached
the telegraph station and sent his messages flying on their way.
In less than three minutes after his arrival, he had
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extracted from the station agent the fact that two people,
man and woman, answering the description he gave, had bought
tickets for Pittsburgh and taken the afternoon train for that city.
The agent had noticed them on account of their looking
as if they came from the city. He especially noticed
the purple plumes, the like of which he had never
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seen before. He had taken every minute he could get
off from his selling tickets and sending telegrams to watch
the lady through his little cobwebby window. They didn't wear
hats like that in Milton. In ten minutes, one message
was on its way to a crony in Pittsburgh, with
whom the thickset man kept in constant touch for just
(05:08):
such occasions as the present, stirring him to strenuous action.
Another message had winged its mysterious way to mister Holman,
giving him the main facts in the case, while a
third message caught another crony thirty miles north of Pittsburgh
and ordered him to board the evening express at his
own station, hunt up the parties described, and shadow them
(05:30):
to their destination, if possible, getting in touch with the
Pittsburgh crony. When he reached the city. The pursuer then
ate a ham sandwich with liberal washings of liquid fire
while he awaited replies to some of his messages, and
as soon as he was satisfied that he had set
justice in motion, he hired an automobile and hide him
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across country to catch a midnight express to Pittsburgh. He
had given orders that his man an accompanying lady should
be held in Pittsburgh until his arrival, and he had
no doubt but that the orders would be carried out.
So sure was he that he was on the right track,
and that his cronies would be able and willing to
follow his orders. There was some kind of an excursion
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on at Pittsburgh, and the place was crowded. The trainmen
kept calling off specials, and crowds hurried out of the
waiting room, only to be replaced by other crowds, all eager, pushing, talking, laughing.
They were mostly men, but a good many women and
some children seemed to be of the number, and the
noise and excitement wearied her. After her own exciting afternoon,
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Celia longed to lay her down and sleep, but the
seat was narrow and hard, and people were pressing on
every side. That disagreeable man in the slouch hat would
stand too near. He was most repulsive looking, though he
did not seem to be aware of her presence. Gordon
had a long wait before he find out, secured the
(07:00):
coveted stateroom, and started back to her, when suddenly a
face that he knew loomed up in the crowd and
startled him. It was the face of a private detective
who was well known about Washington, but whose headquarters were
in New York. Until that instant, it had not occurred
to him to fear watchers so far south and west
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as Pittsburgh. It was not possible that the other bridegroom
would think to track him here, And as for the
Holman contingent, they would not be likely to make a
public disturbance about his disappearance, lest they be found to
have some connection with the first theft of government property.
They could have watchers only through private means, and they
(07:44):
must have been wily. Indeed, if they had anticipated his
move through Pittsburgh to Washington, still it was the natural
move for him to make in order to get home
as quickly as possible and yet escape them. And this
man in the crowd was the very one whom they
would have been likely to pick out for their work.
He was as slippery in his dealings as they must be,
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and no doubt was in league with them. He knew
the man and his ways thoroughly, and had no mind
to fall into his hands. Whether he had been seen
by the detective yet or not, he could not tell,
but he suspected he had by the way the man
stood around and avoided recognizing him. There was not an
instant to be lost. The fine stateroom must go untenanted.
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He must make a dash for Liberty. Liberty, Ah, East Liberty.
What queer things these brains of ours are? He knew
Pittsburgh just a little. He remembered having caught a train
at East Liberty station once, when he had not time
to come down to the station to take it. Perhaps
he might get the same train at East Liberty it
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was nearly two hours before it left. Swooping down upon
the baggage, he murmured in the girl's ear, can you
hurry a little? We must catch a car right away.
She followed him closely through the crowd, he stooping as
if to look down at his suitcase so that his
height might not attract the attention of the man whose
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recognition he feared, And in a moment more they were
out in the lighted blackness of the streets. One glance
backward showed his supposed enemy stretching his neck above the crowd,
as if searching for some one, as he walked hurriedly
toward the very doorway they had just passed behind. Them
shadowed the man in the slouch hat, and with a
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curious motion of his hand signaled another like himself, the
Pittsburgh crony, who skulked in the darkness outside. Instantly, this
man gave another signal, and out of the gloom of
the street, a carriage drew up at the curb before
the door. The cabman, looking eagerly for patronage. Gordon put
both suitcases in one hand, and taking Celia's arm as
(09:57):
gently as he could in his haste, hurried her toward
the carriage. It was the very refuge he sought. He
placed her inside and gave the order for East Liberty Station,
drawing a long breath of relief at being safely out
of the station. He did not see the shabby one
who mounted the box beside the driver and gave his
directions in guttural whispers, nor the man with the slouchat,
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who watched from the doorway and followed them to a
familiar haunt on the nearest car. He only felt how
good it was to be by themselves once more, where
they could talk together without interruption. But conversation was not
easy under the circumstances. The noise of wagons, trains and
cars was so great at the station that they could
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think of nothing but the din. And when they had
threaded their way out of the tangle and started rattling
over the pavement, the driver went at such a furious
pace that they could still only converse by shouting, and
that not at all satisfactorily. It seemed a strange thing
that any cabman should drive at such a rapid rate
(11:03):
within the city limits. But as Gordon was anxious to
get away from the station and the keen eyed detective
as fast as possible, he thought nothing of it at first.
After a shouted word or two, they ceased to try
to talk, and Gordon half shyly reached out a reassuring
hand and laid it on the girl's shrinking one that
lay in her lap. He had not meant to keep
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it there but a second, just to make her understand
that all was well and he would soon be able
to explain things. But as she did not seem to
resent it nor draw her own away, he yielded to
the temptation and kept the small gloved hand in his
The carriage rattled on bumpitty bump over rough places around corners,
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tilting now and then sideways, and Celia, half frightened, was
forced to cling to her protector to keep from being
thrown on the floor of the cab. Oh are we
running away? She breathed awesomely into his ear. I think not, dear,
he answered back, the last word inaudible. The driver thinks
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we are in a hurry, but he has no need
to go at this furious pace. I will tell him.
He leaned forward and tapped on the glass, but the
driver paid no attention whatever, save perhaps to drive faster.
Could it be that he had lost control of his
horse and could not stop, or hadn't he heard? Gordon
tried again and accompanied the knocking, this time with a shout,
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but all to no purpose. The cab rattled steadily on.
Gordon discovered now that there were two men on the
box instead of one, and a sudden premonition sent a
thrill of alarm through him. What if, after all, the
presence of that detective had been a warning, and he, unheeding,
had walked into a trap. What a fool he had
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been to get into a carriage where he was at
the mercy of the driver. He ought to have stayed
in open places where kidnapping would be impossible. Now that
he had thought of it, he felt convinced that this
was just what the enemy would try to do, kidnap him.
The more fruitless he found his efforts to make the
driver hear him, the more he felt convinced that something
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was wrong. He tried to open the door next to
him and found it stuck. He put all his strength
forth to turn the catch, but it held fast. Then
a cold sweat stood out upon him, and horror filled
his mind. His commission, with its large significance to the country,
was in imminent jeopardy. His own life was in all
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probability hanging in the balance. But most of all, he
felt the awful peril of the sweet girl by his side.
What terrible experiences might be hers within the next hour
if his brain and right arm could not protect her. Instinctively,
his hand went to the pocket where he had kept
his revolver ready since ever he had left Washington. Dangers
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should not find him utterly unprepared. He realized too, that
it was entirely possible that his alarms were unfounded, that
the driver was really taking them to the East Liberty Station,
that the door merely stuck and he was needlessly anxious.
He must keep a steady head and not let his
(14:20):
companion see that he was nervous. The first thing was
to find out, if possible, where they really were, but
that was a difficult task. The street over which they
rattled was utterly dark, with the gloom of a smoky
city added to the night. There were no street lights
except at wide intervals, and the buildings appeared to be
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blank walls of darkness, probably great warehouses. The way was
narrow and entirely unknown. Gordon could not tell if he
had ever been there before. He was sure from his
knowledge of the stations that they had gone much farther
than to East Liberty, and the darkness and the lone
holiness of the region through which they were passing filled
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him again with a vague alarm. It occurred to him
that he might be able to get the window sash
down and speak to the driver, and he struggled with
the one on his own side for a while, with
little result, for it seemed to have been plugged up
with wads of paper all around. This fact renewed his anxiety.
It began to look as if there was intention in
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sealing up that carriage. He leaned over and felt around
the sash of the opposite door, and found the paper
wads there also. There certainly was intention not to alarm Celia.
He straightened back and went to work again at his
own window sash, cautiously pulling out the paper until at
last he could let down the glass. A rush of
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dank air rewarded his efforts, and the girl drew a
breath of relief. Gordon never knew how near she had
been to fainting. At that moment. She was sitting perfectly
quiet in her corner, watching him. Her feet kept to herself,
though her heart was beating wildly. She was convinced that
the horse was running away. Gordon leaned his head out
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of the window, but immediately he caught the gleam of
a revolver in a hand that hung at the side
of the driver's box, pointed downward, straight toward his face,
as if with intention to be ready in case of need.
The owner of the hand was not looking toward him,
but was talking in muffled tones to the driver. They
evidently had not heard the window let down, but were
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ready for the first sign of an attempt on the
part of their victims to escape. Quietly, Gordon drew in
his head, speculating rapidly on the possibility of wrenching that
revolver out of its owner's hand. He could do it
from where he sat, But would it be wise? They
were probably locked in a trap, and the driver was
very likely armed. Also, what chance would he have to
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save Celia if he brought on a desperate fight at
this point? If he were alone, he might knock that
revolver out of the man's hand and spring from the window,
taking his chance of getting away. But now he had
Celia to think of, and the case was different. Not
for a universe of governments could he leave a woman
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in such desperate straits. She must be considered first, even
ahead of the message. This was life and death. He
wondered at his own coolness as he sat back in
the carriage and quietly lifted the glass frame back into place.
Then he laid his steady hand on Celia's again, and,
stooping close, whispered into her ear, I'm afraid there's something
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wrong with our driver. Can you be a little brave, dear?
He did not know he had used the last word
this time, but it thrilled into the girl's heart with
a sudden accession of trust. Oh yes, she breathed, close
to his face. You don't think he has been drinking,
do you well, perhaps, said Gordon, relieved at the explanation.
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But keep calm. I think we can get out of
this all right. Suppose you change seats with me and
let me try if that door will open easily. We
might want to get out in a hurry in case
he slows up somewhere pretty soon. Celia quietly and swiftly
slipped into Gordon's seat, and he applied himself with all
his strength and ingenuity, gently manipulating the latch and pressing
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his shoulder against the door, until at last, to his joy,
it gave way reluctantly, and he found that it would
swing open. He had worked carefully, else the sudden giving
of the latch would have thrown him out of the
carriage and give an instant alarm to his driver. He
was so thoroughly convinced by this time that he was
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being kidnapped, perhaps to be murdered, that every sense was
on the alert. It was his characteristic to be exceedingly
cool during a crisis. It was the quality that the
keen eyed chief had valued most in him, and the
final reason why he had been selected for this difficult
task in place of an older and more experienced man
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who at times lost his head. The door to the
outside world being open, Gordon cautiously took a survey of
the enemy from that side. There was no gleaming weapon here.
The man set grimly enough, laying on the whip and
muttering curses to his bony horse, who galloped recklessly on,
as if partaking of the desperate desires of his master.
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In the distance, Gordon could hear the rumbling of an
oncoming train. The street was still dark and scarcely a
vehicle or person to be seen. There seemed no help
at hand, and no opportunity to get out, for they
were still rushing at a tremendous pace. An attempt to
jump now would very likely result in broken limbs, which
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would only leave them in a worse plight than they were.
He slipped back to his own seat and put Celia
next to the free door. Again. She must be whereas
she could get out first if the opportunity presented itself. Also,
he must manage to throw out the suitcases if possible,
on account of the letters and valuables they contained. Instinctively,
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his hands sought Celia's in the darkness again, and hers
nestled into it in a frightened way, as if his
strength gave her comfort. Then before they could speak or realize,
there came the rushing sound of a train almost upon them,
and the cab came to a halt with a jerk,
the driver pulling the horse far back on his haunches
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to stop him. The shock almost threw Celia to the floor,
but Gordon's arm about her steadied her, and instantly he
was on the alert. End of Chapter twelve
Chapter twelve of The Best Man. This LibriVox recording is
in the public domain. Recording by Gale Mattern The Best
Man by Grace livingstone Hill, Chapter twelve. Back at Milton,
an hour before, when the shades of dusk were falling,
and a slender moon hung timidly on the edge of
(00:21):
the horizon, a horse drawing a spring wagon ambled deliberately
into town and came to a reluctant halt beside the
railroad station, having made a wide detour through the larger
part of the county on the way to that metropolis.
The sun had been hot, the road, much of it rough,
and the jolts over stones and bumps had not added
(00:44):
to the comfort of the thick set man, already bruised
and weary from his travels. Joe's conversation had not ceased.
He had given his guest a wide range of topics,
discoursing learnedly on the buckwheat crop and the blight that
might be expected to assail the cherry trees. He pointed
out certain portions of land infested with rattlesnakes, and told
(01:07):
blood curdling stories of experiences with stray bears and wild cats.
In a maple grove through which they passed till the
passenger looked furtively behind him and urged the driver to
hurry a little faster. Joe, seeing his gullibility, only made
his stories of country life the bigger. For the thick
(01:28):
set man, though bold as a lion in his own
city haunts, was a coward in the unknown world of
the country. When the traveler, looking at his watch, urged
Joe to make haste and asked how many miles further
Milton was, Joe managed it that the horse should stumble
on a particularly stony bit of road. Then, getting down
(01:51):
gravely from the wagon, he examined the horse's feet, each
in turn, shaking his head sadly over the left forefoot.
Jesus I supposed, he meditated, dreamily, stone, bruise, lame horse,
don't believe I ought to go on. Sorry, but it'll
(02:11):
be the ruination of the horse. You ain't in a hurry,
I hope. The passenger, in great excitement, promised to double
the fare if the young man would get another horse
and hurry him forward, And after great professions of doubt,
Joe gave in and said he would try the horse,
but it wouldn't do to work him hard. They would
(02:31):
have to let him take his time. He couldn't on
any account leave the horse behind anywhere and get a
fresh one, because it belonged to his best friend, and
he promised to bring it back safe and sound. They
would just take their time and go slow and see
if the horse could stand it. He wouldn't think of
trying it if it weren't for the extra money, which
he needed. So the impatient traveler was dragged, fuming along,
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weary hour after weary hour, through the monotonous glory of
his spring afternoon, of which he saw nothing but the
dust of the road as he tried to count the
endless miles. Every mile or two, Joe would descend from
the wagon seat and fuss around the horse's leg. The horse,
nothing loth at such unprecedented attention, dozen cozily by the
(03:19):
roadside during the process, and so was the traveler brought
to his destination ten minutes after the last train that
stopped at Milton that night had passed the station. The
telegraph office was not closed, however, and without waiting to Hagel,
the passenger paid his thirty dollars for the longest journey
he ever took and disappeared into the station, while Joe,
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whipping up his petted animal and whistling cheerily, where did
you get that? Girl? Went rattling down the shortcut from
Milton home at a surprising pace for a lame horse.
He was eating his supper at home in a little
more than an hour, and the horse seemed to have
miraculously recovered from his stone bruise. Joe was wondering how
(04:04):
his girl would look at a hat with purple plumes,
and thinking of his thirty dollars with a chuckle. It
was surprising how much that thick set man, weary and
desperate though he was, could accomplish when once he reached
the telegraph station and sent his messages flying on their way.
In less than three minutes after his arrival, he had
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extracted from the station agent the fact that two people,
man and woman, answering the description he gave, had bought
tickets for Pittsburgh and taken the afternoon train for that city.
The agent had noticed them on account of their looking
as if they came from the city. He especially noticed
the purple plumes, the like of which he had never
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seen before. He had taken every minute he could get
off from his selling tickets and sending telegrams to watch
the lady through his little cobwebby window. They didn't wear
hats like that in Milton. In ten minutes, one message
was on its way to a crony in Pittsburgh, with
whom the thickset man kept in constant touch for just
(05:08):
such occasions as the present, stirring him to strenuous action.
Another message had winged its mysterious way to mister Holman,
giving him the main facts in the case, while a
third message caught another crony thirty miles north of Pittsburgh
and ordered him to board the evening express at his
own station, hunt up the parties described, and shadow them
(05:30):
to their destination, if possible, getting in touch with the
Pittsburgh crony. When he reached the city. The pursuer then
ate a ham sandwich with liberal washings of liquid fire
while he awaited replies to some of his messages, and
as soon as he was satisfied that he had set
justice in motion, he hired an automobile and hide him
(05:52):
across country to catch a midnight express to Pittsburgh. He
had given orders that his man an accompanying lady should
be held in Pittsburgh until his arrival, and he had
no doubt but that the orders would be carried out.
So sure was he that he was on the right track,
and that his cronies would be able and willing to
follow his orders. There was some kind of an excursion
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on at Pittsburgh, and the place was crowded. The trainmen
kept calling off specials, and crowds hurried out of the
waiting room, only to be replaced by other crowds, all eager, pushing, talking, laughing.
They were mostly men, but a good many women and
some children seemed to be of the number, and the
noise and excitement wearied her. After her own exciting afternoon,
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Celia longed to lay her down and sleep, but the
seat was narrow and hard, and people were pressing on
every side. That disagreeable man in the slouch hat would
stand too near. He was most repulsive looking, though he
did not seem to be aware of her presence. Gordon
had a long wait before he find out, secured the
(07:00):
coveted stateroom, and started back to her, when suddenly a
face that he knew loomed up in the crowd and
startled him. It was the face of a private detective
who was well known about Washington, but whose headquarters were
in New York. Until that instant, it had not occurred
to him to fear watchers so far south and west
(07:23):
as Pittsburgh. It was not possible that the other bridegroom
would think to track him here, And as for the
Holman contingent, they would not be likely to make a
public disturbance about his disappearance, lest they be found to
have some connection with the first theft of government property.
They could have watchers only through private means, and they
(07:44):
must have been wily. Indeed, if they had anticipated his
move through Pittsburgh to Washington, still it was the natural
move for him to make in order to get home
as quickly as possible and yet escape them. And this
man in the crowd was the very one whom they
would have been likely to pick out for their work.
He was as slippery in his dealings as they must be,
(08:06):
and no doubt was in league with them. He knew
the man and his ways thoroughly, and had no mind
to fall into his hands. Whether he had been seen
by the detective yet or not, he could not tell,
but he suspected he had by the way the man
stood around and avoided recognizing him. There was not an
instant to be lost. The fine stateroom must go untenanted.
(08:31):
He must make a dash for Liberty. Liberty, Ah, East Liberty.
What queer things these brains of ours are? He knew
Pittsburgh just a little. He remembered having caught a train
at East Liberty station once, when he had not time
to come down to the station to take it. Perhaps
he might get the same train at East Liberty it
(08:52):
was nearly two hours before it left. Swooping down upon
the baggage, he murmured in the girl's ear, can you
hurry a little? We must catch a car right away.
She followed him closely through the crowd, he stooping as
if to look down at his suitcase so that his
height might not attract the attention of the man whose
(09:13):
recognition he feared, And in a moment more they were
out in the lighted blackness of the streets. One glance
backward showed his supposed enemy stretching his neck above the crowd,
as if searching for some one, as he walked hurriedly
toward the very doorway they had just passed behind. Them
shadowed the man in the slouch hat, and with a
(09:34):
curious motion of his hand signaled another like himself, the
Pittsburgh crony, who skulked in the darkness outside. Instantly, this
man gave another signal, and out of the gloom of
the street, a carriage drew up at the curb before
the door. The cabman, looking eagerly for patronage. Gordon put
both suitcases in one hand, and taking Celia's arm as
(09:57):
gently as he could in his haste, hurried her toward
the carriage. It was the very refuge he sought. He
placed her inside and gave the order for East Liberty Station,
drawing a long breath of relief at being safely out
of the station. He did not see the shabby one
who mounted the box beside the driver and gave his
directions in guttural whispers, nor the man with the slouchat,
(10:21):
who watched from the doorway and followed them to a
familiar haunt on the nearest car. He only felt how
good it was to be by themselves once more, where
they could talk together without interruption. But conversation was not
easy under the circumstances. The noise of wagons, trains and
cars was so great at the station that they could
(10:43):
think of nothing but the din. And when they had
threaded their way out of the tangle and started rattling
over the pavement, the driver went at such a furious
pace that they could still only converse by shouting, and
that not at all satisfactorily. It seemed a strange thing
that any cabman should drive at such a rapid rate
(11:03):
within the city limits. But as Gordon was anxious to
get away from the station and the keen eyed detective
as fast as possible, he thought nothing of it at first.
After a shouted word or two, they ceased to try
to talk, and Gordon half shyly reached out a reassuring
hand and laid it on the girl's shrinking one that
lay in her lap. He had not meant to keep
(11:26):
it there but a second, just to make her understand
that all was well and he would soon be able
to explain things. But as she did not seem to
resent it nor draw her own away, he yielded to
the temptation and kept the small gloved hand in his
The carriage rattled on bumpitty bump over rough places around corners,
(11:47):
tilting now and then sideways, and Celia, half frightened, was
forced to cling to her protector to keep from being
thrown on the floor of the cab. Oh are we
running away? She breathed awesomely into his ear. I think not, dear,
he answered back, the last word inaudible. The driver thinks
(12:08):
we are in a hurry, but he has no need
to go at this furious pace. I will tell him.
He leaned forward and tapped on the glass, but the
driver paid no attention whatever, save perhaps to drive faster.
Could it be that he had lost control of his
horse and could not stop, or hadn't he heard? Gordon
tried again and accompanied the knocking, this time with a shout,
(12:31):
but all to no purpose. The cab rattled steadily on.
Gordon discovered now that there were two men on the
box instead of one, and a sudden premonition sent a
thrill of alarm through him. What if, after all, the
presence of that detective had been a warning, and he, unheeding,
had walked into a trap. What a fool he had
(12:53):
been to get into a carriage where he was at
the mercy of the driver. He ought to have stayed
in open places where kidnapping would be impossible. Now that
he had thought of it, he felt convinced that this
was just what the enemy would try to do, kidnap him.
The more fruitless he found his efforts to make the
driver hear him, the more he felt convinced that something
(13:16):
was wrong. He tried to open the door next to
him and found it stuck. He put all his strength
forth to turn the catch, but it held fast. Then
a cold sweat stood out upon him, and horror filled
his mind. His commission, with its large significance to the country,
was in imminent jeopardy. His own life was in all
(13:37):
probability hanging in the balance. But most of all, he
felt the awful peril of the sweet girl by his side.
What terrible experiences might be hers within the next hour
if his brain and right arm could not protect her. Instinctively,
his hand went to the pocket where he had kept
his revolver ready since ever he had left Washington. Dangers
(14:00):
should not find him utterly unprepared. He realized too, that
it was entirely possible that his alarms were unfounded, that
the driver was really taking them to the East Liberty Station,
that the door merely stuck and he was needlessly anxious.
He must keep a steady head and not let his
(14:20):
companion see that he was nervous. The first thing was
to find out, if possible, where they really were, but
that was a difficult task. The street over which they
rattled was utterly dark, with the gloom of a smoky
city added to the night. There were no street lights
except at wide intervals, and the buildings appeared to be
(14:40):
blank walls of darkness, probably great warehouses. The way was
narrow and entirely unknown. Gordon could not tell if he
had ever been there before. He was sure from his
knowledge of the stations that they had gone much farther
than to East Liberty, and the darkness and the lone
holiness of the region through which they were passing filled
(15:03):
him again with a vague alarm. It occurred to him
that he might be able to get the window sash
down and speak to the driver, and he struggled with
the one on his own side for a while, with
little result, for it seemed to have been plugged up
with wads of paper all around. This fact renewed his anxiety.
It began to look as if there was intention in
(15:24):
sealing up that carriage. He leaned over and felt around
the sash of the opposite door, and found the paper
wads there also. There certainly was intention not to alarm Celia.
He straightened back and went to work again at his
own window sash, cautiously pulling out the paper until at
last he could let down the glass. A rush of
(15:46):
dank air rewarded his efforts, and the girl drew a
breath of relief. Gordon never knew how near she had
been to fainting. At that moment. She was sitting perfectly
quiet in her corner, watching him. Her feet kept to herself,
though her heart was beating wildly. She was convinced that
the horse was running away. Gordon leaned his head out
(16:09):
of the window, but immediately he caught the gleam of
a revolver in a hand that hung at the side
of the driver's box, pointed downward, straight toward his face,
as if with intention to be ready in case of need.
The owner of the hand was not looking toward him,
but was talking in muffled tones to the driver. They
evidently had not heard the window let down, but were
(16:31):
ready for the first sign of an attempt on the
part of their victims to escape. Quietly, Gordon drew in
his head, speculating rapidly on the possibility of wrenching that
revolver out of its owner's hand. He could do it
from where he sat, But would it be wise? They
were probably locked in a trap, and the driver was
very likely armed. Also, what chance would he have to
(16:55):
save Celia if he brought on a desperate fight at
this point? If he were alone, he might knock that
revolver out of the man's hand and spring from the window,
taking his chance of getting away. But now he had
Celia to think of, and the case was different. Not
for a universe of governments could he leave a woman
(17:15):
in such desperate straits. She must be considered first, even
ahead of the message. This was life and death. He
wondered at his own coolness as he sat back in
the carriage and quietly lifted the glass frame back into place.
Then he laid his steady hand on Celia's again, and,
stooping close, whispered into her ear, I'm afraid there's something
(17:37):
wrong with our driver. Can you be a little brave, dear?
He did not know he had used the last word
this time, but it thrilled into the girl's heart with
a sudden accession of trust. Oh yes, she breathed, close
to his face. You don't think he has been drinking,
do you well, perhaps, said Gordon, relieved at the explanation.
(17:58):
But keep calm. I think we can get out of
this all right. Suppose you change seats with me and
let me try if that door will open easily. We
might want to get out in a hurry in case
he slows up somewhere pretty soon. Celia quietly and swiftly
slipped into Gordon's seat, and he applied himself with all
his strength and ingenuity, gently manipulating the latch and pressing
(18:20):
his shoulder against the door, until at last, to his joy,
it gave way reluctantly, and he found that it would
swing open. He had worked carefully, else the sudden giving
of the latch would have thrown him out of the
carriage and give an instant alarm to his driver. He
was so thoroughly convinced by this time that he was
(18:41):
being kidnapped, perhaps to be murdered, that every sense was
on the alert. It was his characteristic to be exceedingly
cool during a crisis. It was the quality that the
keen eyed chief had valued most in him, and the
final reason why he had been selected for this difficult
task in place of an older and more experienced man
(19:02):
who at times lost his head. The door to the
outside world being open, Gordon cautiously took a survey of
the enemy from that side. There was no gleaming weapon here.
The man set grimly enough, laying on the whip and
muttering curses to his bony horse, who galloped recklessly on,
as if partaking of the desperate desires of his master.
(19:25):
In the distance, Gordon could hear the rumbling of an
oncoming train. The street was still dark and scarcely a
vehicle or person to be seen. There seemed no help
at hand, and no opportunity to get out, for they
were still rushing at a tremendous pace. An attempt to
jump now would very likely result in broken limbs, which
(19:46):
would only leave them in a worse plight than they were.
He slipped back to his own seat and put Celia
next to the free door. Again. She must be whereas
she could get out first if the opportunity presented itself. Also,
he must manage to throw out the suitcases if possible,
on account of the letters and valuables they contained. Instinctively,
(20:08):
his hands sought Celia's in the darkness again, and hers
nestled into it in a frightened way, as if his
strength gave her comfort. Then before they could speak or realize,
there came the rushing sound of a train almost upon them,
and the cab came to a halt with a jerk,
the driver pulling the horse far back on his haunches
(20:28):
to stop him. The shock almost threw Celia to the floor,
but Gordon's arm about her steadied her, and instantly he
was on the alert. End of Chapter twelve
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