Nedra, Page 2

  CHAPTER II

  THE BEGINNING OF FLIGHT

  Mr. Ridgeway paced back and forth outside the iron gates in the GrandCentral Station on the afternoon of April 1st, 190--, a smile ofanticipation and a frown of impatience alternating in his fresh, youngface. Certain lines of care seemed to have disappeared since we saw himlast, nearly a week ago, and in their stead beamed the light of anew-found interest in life. Now and then he took from his pocket atelegram; spectators stared amusedly at him as he read and reread:

  DETROIT, MICHIGAN, March 81, 190--.

  To H.B. Ridge:

  Got away safely. Meet me Forty-second Street, New York, to-morrow atthree. Feel awfully queer and look a fright. Sympathetic lady, nextcompartment, just offered condolences for loss of my husband. What arethe probabilities of storm? Be sure and find out before we start.

  SISTER GRACE.

  "Isn't that just like a girl!" he muttered to himself. "Where else wouldForty-second Street be but New York! London?"

  They had decided to travel as brother and sister and to adopt Ridge asthe surname. Hugh had taken passage for Liverpool on the liner _SaintCloud_, to sail on the second, having first examined the list ofpassengers to ascertain if there were any among them who might know himor his companion in the adventure. The list was now complete, and he,assured that there was no danger of recognition, felt the greatestweight of all lifted from his mind.

  He had also considerately inquired into the state of the weather andlearned that it promised well for the voyage. The whole affair was sucha glorious lark, such an original enterprise, that he could scarcelyrestrain himself in his exhilaration from confiding in his chance hotelacquaintances.

  Purposely, the night before, he had gone to an hotel where he wasunknown, keeping under cover during the day as much as possible.According to the prearranged plan, they were to go aboard ship thatevening, as the sailing hour was early in the morning.

  He was waiting for her train. Every now and then his glance would shootthrough the throng of people, somewhat apprehensively, as if he feared,instead of hoped, that some one might be there. This searching glancewas to determine whether there might be any danger of Chicago or NewYork acquaintances witnessing the arrival of the person for whom hewaited. Once he recognized a friend and dodged quickly behind a knot ofpeople, escaping notice. That is why he audibly muttered:

  "Thank Heaven!"

  Every nerve was tingling with excitement; an indescribable desire tofly, to shout, to race down the track to meet the train, swept throughhim. His heart almost stopped beating, and he felt that his face wasbloodless. For the twentieth time in the last two hours Ridgeway lookedat his watch and frowningly exclaimed:

  "Only five after two! Nearly an hour to wait!"

  He sat down for a moment, only to arise the next and walk to the boardannouncing the arrival of trains. Almost immediately one pulled into thestation. Perceiving a bystander--one of the sort that always give theimpression of being well-informed--he inquired casually where itwas from.

  "Chicago," was the ready answer.

  "Great Scott! Lucky I came early! Grace's idea of time--oh, well, onlythe small matter of an hour out of the way."

  Quickly he sprang forward, taking up a good position to watch. Firstcame a man hurriedly and alone. A bunch of people followed him. Hughpeered unsuccessfully here and there among them. Another bunch; she wasnot in it, and he began to feel a trifle nervous. Now came thestragglers and he grew bewildered. Finally, the last one--a woman hovein sight. With renewed hope he scanned her approach. It was not Grace!His brain was in a whirl. What could have happened? Where was she?Again he jerked out the telegram.

  "Meet me Forty-second Street, New York, at three," he read half-aloud."Nothing could be plainer," he mused in perplexity. "No train at three;another at--she must be on a later one."

  "What time is the next Chicago train due?" he inquired anxiously at theInformation Bureau.

  "Five-thirty, sir," politely answered the official.

  "Five-thirty!" he repeated disgustedly.

  Again the telegram was brought out and this time shown.

  "On what road did you expect the lady?" was the question put withwell-simulated interest that every few minutes was practised ondifferent individuals.

  "Road?" Hugh stared blankly at his questioner. "What road?" Then, like aflash, the solution of the problem pierced his brain.

  "What an ass I am!" he burst out, and added sheepishly: "West Shore!"

  Purposely avoiding the other's face for confirmation of hisself-depreciatory exclamation, together with its unmistakable expressionof professional tolerance for the imbecilities of mankind, Hugh lookedat the time. It was two-thirty. Tearing out of the station, he haileda cab.

  Inside, and moving fast, he winced a little as he thought of his latestrictures on girls and their ways. What a shame to have abused Grace,when he himself had told her to take the Wabash as essential to theirplan. What a blooming idiot he was! New York in the telegram meant, ofcourse, the New York side of the river. He recovered his equanimity; theworld was serene again.

  With a sharp pull the cabman brought up at the ferry and Hugh took hisstand among those waiting for the boat to disgorge its load ofpassengers.

  At that moment a thought struck him, and acting on it, he called out:

  "Hi! porter!"

  "Here, sir!"

  "Where can I get some note paper?"

  "All right, sir!" and in an instant a pad of paper was forthcoming.

  Hugh took out his pencil and wrote a brief note. Then, in a low voice,he said:

  "Here, porter! I want you to do something for me."

  "Yes, sir!"

  "I'll make it worth your while, but I won't hare you attending to anyone else--understand?"

  The porter demonstrated with a nod his perfect comprehension of what wasrequired, and there followed from his employer a minute descriptionof the lady.

  "Young, slight, tall, fair, black hat and veil, and--"

  "In mourning, sir, undoubtedly?"

  "Mourning! No, of course not. Cannot a lady wear black without being inmourning?" Hugh expostulated sharply.

  "Certainly, sir; but generally--"

  Whatever costume the worldly-wise porter would have approved as _enregle_ for a lady, under conditions to his thinking so obviouslyindiscreet, the description was forestalled by the ingenuous young man,who, dissimilarly apprehensive and oblivious to the innuendo, was heardto grumble:

  "What on earth is the matter with people? Everybody seems to delight inpainting this most delectable of undertakings in the most funerealcolors!" and went on anxiously: "You're sure you won't miss, her?"

  With an indulgent smile for the youth and inexperience of his patron,and glancing surreptitiously at the size of the bill in his hand, theattendant calmly announced that there was not the faintest possibilityof an error. He took his position a little to the right of and behindHugh, like an adjutant at dress parade. Through the ferry rushed theweary, impatient travellers. Owing to the place Hugh had taken at oneside of the run, Grace, at first, did not perceive him. Anxiety, almostfright, showed in her face; there passed through her a thrill ofconsternation at the thought that perhaps he had not received hertelegram. The tense figure clasped the travelling-bag convulsively, andher brown eyes flashed a look of alarm over the waiting throng. Anothermoment and their gaze met; a voice ringing with happiness assailed her;her heart throbbed again, and the blood rushed back to hertroubled face.

  Hugh started forward.

  "Hello, old man!" came suddenly from out of the crowd, and two heavybags plunked down on the floor; two strong hands grabbed Hugh by theshoulders and their owner cried out boisterously: "What in the name ofall the gods are you doing here in New York?"

  Hugh's heart was in his mouth. His blood froze within him. For, shakinghim with the embrace of a playful bear, was his old friend McLaneWoods--his chum at Princeton.

  Dazed, and not daring to look up, the entangled man made a wild,imploring g
esture to the porter The latter caught it, stepped forwardand placed the note in the girl's hands.

  "In case I am held up, go to the Astor. Will follow," were the words sheread quickly. With ready wit and only one stealthy glance at the twomen, Grace speedily followed in the wake of the too obsequious porter,who placed her in a cab.

  "To the Astor!" was the transferred instruction. The cabman, quick tonote the ambiguity in the direction given, prepared, with the subtletyof his kind, for a long drive downtown.

  However, the little comedy had not quite escaped attention. There was anote of banter in the strident voice that again addressed Hugh, thespeaker accompanying it with a resounding slap on the back.

  "Congratulations in order, old man? Come--you're caught--own up! Who isshe?" This with a crony-like dig in the ribs. "Runaway match, eh?"

  At the other's greeting, Ridgeway promptly assured himself that all waslost, and was about to return the welcome as best he could, when thedanger in the final words checked him, compelled a subterfuge.

  Assuming a stony glare, an unnatural twist of the mouth, the "old man"turned his bewildered glance upon the speaker, allowing it to resolveitself into a sickening show of reproachfulness, and said in a voicethat almost made its owner laugh, it was so villainously artificial:

  "You have the best of me, sir!"

  An amazed expression came over the face of Mr. Woods. His glowing smiledwindled into an incredulous stare.

  "Don't you know me, Hugh?" he finally demanded, half indignantly.

  "I do not, sir. My name is not Hugh, by the way. It is evident that youmistake me for some one else," answered Mr. Ridgeway solemnly andgutturally.

  "Do you mean to say--oh, come now, old man, don't stand up there and tryto make a monkey of me. When did you get in?" cried Woods.

  "Pardon me," sharply responded the other, "but I must insist that youare mistaken. I am Dr. James Morton of Baltimore. The resemblance mustbe remarkable."

  Woods glared at Hugh, perfectly dumb with amazement. He passed his handover his eyes, cleared his throat a time or two, but seemed completelyat a loss for words to express himself.

  "Are you in earnest?" he stammered. "Are you not Hugh Ridgeway ofPrinceton, ninety--" but Hugh interrupted him politely.

  "Assuredly not. Never was at Princeton in my life. Yale. Will you giveme your name and the address of your friend, please? By Jove, I'd liketo hunt him up some time!" Hugh was searching in his pockets as if for apencil and memorandum-book and waiting for his old chum to give himhis name.

  "Well, of all the--" muttered Woods, looking into the other's facepenetratingly. "I never heard of anything like it. My name is McLaneWoods, and the man who looks like you is Hugh Ridgeway of Chicago.I--I'll be hanged if it isn't too strange to be true."

  "Very strange, indeed," smiled Hugh, striving to maintain the expressionhe had assumed at the beginning--a very difficult task.

  "But this isn't all. At Newburg, I boarded the train, and happening togo through, I saw some one that I could have sworn was a Miss Vernon,whom I met when visiting Ridgeway in Chicago. I started to speak to her;but she gave me such a frigid stare that I sailed by, convinced that Iwas mistaken. Two such likenesses in one day beats my time. Doesn't seempossible, by George! it doesn't," exclaimed the puzzled New Yorker, hiseyes glued to the countenance of the man before him, who, by the way,had almost betrayed himself at the mention of Miss Vernon's name. Athrill of admiration ran through him when Woods announced his receptionby the clever girl who was running away with him.

  "I'll do my best to meet this Mr. Ridgeway. I am frequently in Chicago,"said he. "Glad to have met you, Mr. Woods, anyhow. If you are ever inBaltimore, hunt me up. I am in the E--- Building."

  "With pleasure, doctor; how long will you be in New York?"

  "I am going away to-morrow."

  "Won't you come with me to my club?" began Woods, but Hugh interruptedby beckoning to the omnipresent porter.

  "Thanks! Much obliged! Like to, you know, but have an appointment!" And,shaking his hand, "Good-by!"

  "Good-by!" gasped Woods reluctantly, as if desiring one word more. ButHugh, with a grin on his face that awakened renewed expectations on thepart of the porter, was making, stiff and straight, for thebaggage-room. Once, looking back over his shoulder, he saw that Woodswas standing stock still; and again, with another smile, he watched hismystified friend slowly depart.

  "Now, then, my man, tell me quickly--you gave her the note? What did shedo? Where did she go? Out with it--why don't you speak?"

  "All right, sir. Everything's all right. The lady has gone to thehotel," replied the man as soon as Hugh gave him a chance to answer.

  "Good. Find me another cab, quick. And here," handing him a dollar.

  Meanwhile, Grace Vernon, quite sanguine of soon being with Hugh, wasapproaching the lower part of the city, reasoning, quite logically, thata downtown hotel was selected on account of the probable absence of theultra-fashionable set. There, their secret would be safe,--and also theywould be nearer the steamer.

  Arriving at her destination, Grace dismissed the disappointed cabman,and entered the ladies' waiting-room, where she rang for the clerk.

  "Is there a Mr. Ridge staying here?" she asked of him with an assurancethat, she flattered herself, was admirably assumed.

  "No such person with us, madam. Were you expecting him?"

  "Why, yes," she replied, a little confused. "He should be here anyminute."

  And to his inquiry as to whether she would require anything in themeantime, there came a reply in the negative and he departed.

  With a sigh of relief at being alone, she crossed over to a desk andbusied herself in writing a long letter. This accomplished, she arose,moved over to the window and looked out. The waiting-room faced the mainartery of the city, and below her was the endless stream of humanity.Endeavoring to check a slight feeling of uneasiness that was fast comingover her at Hugh's unexpected non-appearance, she tried to concentrateher thoughts on the panorama of the streets. A half hour passed. Then,in spite of herself, nervousness assailed her. What could be keepinghim? Had he met with an accident? Or, could she have made a mistake inthe name under which he was to register--could he be waiting for her allthe time? Back and forth, to and fro the girl paced. Thoroughly alarmedand in spite of a sense of mortification at such an undertaking, sheagain interviewed the clerk.

  "Will it be convenient for me to see the register?" she inquired, forcedto conceal her embarrassment.

  The clerk obligingly brought the book and eagerly she scanned the list.Unfortunately, for her, there was no mistake. Nothing like Ridgeway,Ridge or Hugh's handwriting greeted her anxious eyes.

  A silence that seemed an inconceivably long one to the almostoverwrought girl was broken by the clerk asking would she register?

  Grace could hardly restrain her agitation. The critical moment had come.Something must be done. But what? Should she register and under whatname? Or, should she wait longer; and if not, where should she go?Finally, with a desperate effort, she looked imploringly at him, andwith heightened color, gasped:

  "No, thank you; I'll wait a little longer for my--my--brother."

  It was out. The prevarication had been uttered, and Grace felt as ifshe had committed a crime and punishment was at hand. Tears of distresscame to her eyes; the situation was becoming intolerable.

  It was just then that there came a shrill cry:

  "Miss Ridge!"

  Grace remained immovable. The name she had inquired for a few minutesago was called without bringing a sign or change of expression to thebeautiful face, on which the wondering eyes of the clerk were fixed. Hestarted to speak, but was withheld by her impassibility.

  Again the same cry, and this time, the last word was accentuated. A boyentered.

  As the clerk, slightly raising his eyebrows, turned toward her, Gracegave a little start; an enlightened glance shot from her eyes; thesignificance of the call gradually dawned upon her.

  "I am Miss Ridge!" came ex
citedly from her trembling lips, the hot bloodcrimsoning her cheeks.

  "A telephone--"

  "For me?" she asked uneasily.

  "From Mr. Ridge; wants you to wait," finished the boy.

  "Thank you! Oh, thank you!" The girl beamed her relief on the staringbell-boy. And, the message having been delayed, the grateful words werehardly spoken before Hugh, almost distracted, rushed into the room.Regardless of appearances or consequences, the tall young fellow seizedher and kissed her in a fashion that would have brought terriblerebuke, under any other circumstance, and which certainly caused theclerk to consider this Mr. Ridge the most demonstrative brother that ina long experience in hotel life he had ever encountered. When Hugh heldher at arm's length to give his admiring gaze full scope, he saw tearsof joy swimming in her eyes. Her voice quivered as she sighed:

  "I should have died in another moment!"

  "You are the dearest girl in all the world!" Then he explained to herthe cause of the delay. After getting rid of Woods, he had rushed to theHotel Astor, where he expected to find her waiting for him. Allinquiries as to whether any lady answering to her description had beenseen there had resulted in failure. He would have been there yet,growing angrier all the while, had not a gentleman who had overheard histroubles suggested that he telephone the Astor House, in the hope thatthe lady might be waiting there.

  At the end of this recital of his vexatious experience Hugh seized hertravelling-bag, and together they made their way out of the hotel.

  "Oh, Hugh!" cried Grace, hanging back a little. "What did Mr. Woods sayto you? What did you say? Do you know he tried to speak with me onthe train?"

  "Honestly, I don't remember, dear--sister. He's the most muddled man,though, in New York, I'll bet a dollar. And now that I think of it, itwasn't absolutely necessary; but when he guyed me about a runawaymatch, it paralyzed me, and I had to do something, so I swore that I hadnever heard of such a person as Ridgeway."

  Grace was too astounded to speak.

  "Then he told me of meeting you," he continued, "and that settled it.Poor old Woods! What a trump you were, Grace!"

  "You wouldn't have thought so if you could have seen me when I firstboarded the train. My! I was blue! Fortunately, I did not see him untilwe were nearly here. Hugh Ridgeway--Ridge, I mean--do you know what Idid? It will make you very angry!" she said as they waited for a cab.

  "Nothing could make me angry." This was said ten seconds later, whenthey were inside the cab and a nervous, smiling young woman at his sidewas squeezing his arm expressively. "Driver!" he called out, "gouptown--anywhere--through the park until I tell you to stop!" andturning to her, added: "We'll have a bit of dinner somewhere and then goaboard. Now, what did you do?"

  "Well," she went on, "I actually tossed up a quarter in the compartmentto see whether I should go on or turn back."

  "You did? Really? Who won?"

  "I did," she answered naively.

  "No; I did. I am beginning to feel too lucky to be awake. And would youhave turned back if you had lost? Would you have left me here with allthis anticipation to dispose of?" he cried.

  "If it came tails, I was to turn back. It came tails."

  "What! And you came anyhow?"

  "Well, you see, after the first flip I concluded to make it two out ofthree trials. So I flipped again, Hugh, and it came tails. Then I madeit three out of five. That was only fair, wasn't it?"

  "Certainly. Seven out of thirteen or eleven out of twenty, just so youwon."

  "I tossed that coin seventeen times, and the final count was nine forNew York and eight for Chicago. The train had started, so I didn't flipagain. Wasn't it a narrow majority, dear?"

  "If it were not for appearing ridiculous, I would kiss you seventeentimes right here. Oh, how about your baggage--luggage, I mean?"he cried.

  "The transfer man will take them to the dock. I have ten big ones--newsteamer trunks. You'll never know how much trouble I had in getting thempacked and out of the house."

  "Ten! Great Scott! I have but two!"

  "Don't worry, dear. You can pack some of your things in mine--cominghome, of course," she said laughingly.

  "Great, isn't it?" he chuckled. "Nobody on earth ever did anything likeit. But before I forget it, how did you leave your aunt?"

  "Poor Aunt Elizabeth! She will be so disappointed. I promised to do alot of shopping for her. But she's well and can endure the delay, Ifancy. To prepare her for the shock, I told her that I might stay Eastfor a couple of weeks, perhaps longer. She does not suspect a thing, butshe was awfully cut up about my leaving at this time."

  "I'm glad you quieted Aunt Elizabeth, for it would be just like her tosend detectives after us." Both laughed as he whispered this to her. Asthe cab whirled away she said:

  "What happy fools we are!"

  "Sit back, quick! Cover your face," he suddenly cried.

  "What--who is it?" she giggled.

  "We just passed a policeman, and he looked rather hard at the windows,"he cried, with a broad grin.

  "Oh, you ninny!"

  "Well, we must elope with fear and trembling or it won't count," hecried. "Is there anything you have to buy before we sail? If there is,we must attend to it now, because we leave at a most outlandish hour inthe morning."

  Miss Vernon looked alarmed for a moment, the real enormity of theescapade striking her with full force. But she smiled in the next andsaid that she could make a few necessary purchases in a few minutes ifhe would direct the cabman. "It's a long way to Manila, you know," shesaid. "Hugh, I noticed in the paper the other day that this is theseason for typhoons, or whatever you call them, in the Indian Ocean. Ilooked them up in the dictionary. There's a picture of one in action,and they must be dreadful things. One of them could tear our ship topieces in a minute, I should judge. Wouldn't it be awful--if--if--"

  "Pshaw! Typhoons are nothing! It's a simoon that you're thinking about,and they happen only on the desert. In what dictionary did yousee that?"

  "Webster's, of course."

  Mr. Ridgeway did not continue along that line, but mentally resolved tolook into Webster's on the sly, and, furthermore, to ask the captain ofthe _Saint Cloud_ to tell him all he knew about typhoons.

  "Have him drive to Arnold's, Hugh."

  She left him in the carriage in front of the store, promising to be gonenot more than five minutes. Ten minutes passed and Hugh resignedlylighted a cigarette, stepping to the sidewalk to smoke. After he hadsmoked four cigarettes a perceptible frown approached his brow. Helooked at the big doorway, then at his watch, then at the imperturbablecabman. Her five minutes had grown to half an hour. His good nature wasgoing to the bad and he was about to follow in her footsteps whensuddenly he saw her emerging from the store.

  "I had to mail a letter," she explained as they drove off. "Oh, Hugh,I'm so nervous, I know that I will do something silly before we sail."

  "A letter?"

  "Yes; I mailed one letter to Uncle Harry before I left Chicago, youknow, but I forgot something important, so I had to write again to-day."

  "What did you forget?"

  "I forgot to tell him you were coming out on the same ship and wouldlook after me as if I were your own sister, Hugh."

  Strange to say, neither of them smiled as their hands met in a warm,confident clasp.