CHAPTER XVIII.—AT THE LAST MOMENT.
Frank Merriwell’s company had gathered at the railway station to take the train for Puelbo. All but Merriwell and Gallup were on hand. Havener had purchased the tickets.
Hodge restlessly paced up and down the platform, his face dark and disturbed.
There were inquiries for Frank. Stella Stanley came to Havener and asked:
“Where is Mr. Merriwell?”
“I do not know,” confessed the stage manager, who had been deputized for the occasion by Frank to look out for tickets, and make necessary arrangements.
“He hasn’t come?”
“No; but he’ll be here before the train pulls out. You know he has a way of always appearing on time.”
Hodge stopped in his walk, and stared at Havener.
“I’d like to know when he left the hotel,” said Bart. “I called for him several times before coming here, but each time I found he was not in his room, and no one knew anything about him. His bill was not settled, either.”
“But his baggage came down with the others,” said Havener.
“Because the hotel people permitted it, as he was vouched for by Mr. Carson, who seems to be well known to everybody in this city.”
“You don’t suppose anything has happened to detain him, do you?” anxiously asked the actress. “I do hope we shall not make another bad start, same as we did before. Agnes Kirk says she knows something will happen, for Mr. Merriwell gave away the cat Mascot.”
“Agnes Kirk is forever prophesying something dismal,” said Hodge. “She’s a regular croaker. If she didn’t have something to croak about, she wouldn’t know what to do. She declared the cat a hoodoo in the first place, but now she says we’ll have bad luck because Frank let it go. She makes me a trifle weary!”
Hodge was not in a pleasant humor.
Granville Garland and Lester Vance came up.
“It’s almost train time,” said Garland. “Where is our energetic young manager?”
“He will be along,” Havener again asserted.
“I hope so,” said Vance. “I sincerely hope this second venture will not prove such a miserable fizzle as the first one. Everything depends on Frank Merriwell.”
“Something depends on you!” flashed Hodge, who seemed easily nettled. “Frank Merriwell’s company did all it could to make the first venture a fizzle. Now they should do all they can to make this one a success.”
“Hello, Thundercloud is lowering!” exclaimed Garland.
“Save your epithets!” exclaimed Bart. “My name is Hodge.”
“My dear Hodge,” said Garland, with mock politeness, “you must know it is but natural that we should feel a bit anxious.”
“I may feel as anxious as any of you, but I do not go round croaking about it.”
“But our first failure——”
“There it is again! I’m tired of hearing about that! You and Vance are dead lucky to be in this second company, for you both joined in the attempted assault on Merriwell when Folansbee skipped, and the company seemed to be stranded in Puelbo. If I’d been Frank Merriwell I’d sent you flying, and you can bet I would not have taken you back.”
“Then it’s fortunate for us that you were not Frank Merriwell,” Garland sneered.
“It is,” agreed Hodge. “Some people do not know when they are treated well.”
“That will do!” came sharply from Havener. “This is no time to quarrel. By Jove! it’s time for that train, and Merriwell’s not here.”
“Perhaps he’s backed out at the last minute and decided not to take the play out,” said Vance. “It may be that his courage has failed him.”
“Now that kind of talk makes me sick!” exploded Hodge. “If you had any sense you wouldn’t make it!”
“I like that!” snapped Vance, his face flushing.
“I’m glad you do!” flung back Bart. “Didn’t think you would. Hoped you wouldn’t. Only a fool would suppose that, after all this trouble and expense, any man with an ounce of brains in his head would back out without giving a single performance of the play.”
“Well, where is Merriwell?”
Again Havener declared:
“He’ll be here.”
“But here comes the train!”
The train was coming. There was activity and bustle at the station. The platform was alive with moving human beings. Agnes Kirk and Cassie Lee came out of the ladies’ waiting room. The male members of the company got together quickly.
“He has not come!” exclaimed Agnes Kirk, her keen eyes failing to discover Frank. “I feared it! I knew it!”
Hodge half turned away, grumbling something deep in his throat.
The actors looked at each other in doubt and dismay.
With a rush and a roar the train came in, and drew up at the station. Passengers began to get off.
A heavily veiled woman in black came out of the ladies’ room, and started for the train. As she passed the group of actors some of their conversation seemed to attract her notice. She paused an instant and looked them over, and then she turned toward the steps of a car.
“Excuse me, madam,” said Hodge, quickly. “You have dropped your handkerchief.”
He picked it up and passed it to her. As he did so, he noticed the letters “L. F.” on one corner.
“Thank you,” she said, in a low voice.
At that moment, for the last time, Havener was reiterating:
“I believe Frank Merriwell will be here. All get onto the train. He never gets left.”
Then the woman tossed her head a bit and laughed. It was a scornful laugh, and it attracted the attention of several of the group. She turned quickly, and stepped into the nearest car.
“Something tells me he will not arrive,” declared Agnes Kirk. “The hoodoo is still on. This company will meet the same fate the other did.”
“Don’t talk so much about it,” advised Havener, rather rudely. “Get onto the train—everybody!”
Hodge was staring after the veiled woman.
“Wonder what made her laugh like that?” he muttered. “Seems to me I’ve heard that laugh before. It seemed full of scornful triumph. I wonder——”
He did not express his second wonder.
“Come, Hodge,” said Havener, “get aboard. Follow the others.”
“I’ll be the last one,” said Hodge. “I’m waiting for Frank.
“I’m afraid,” confessed Havener, beginning to weaken.
“Afraid of what?” Hodge almost hissed.
“It begins to look bad,” admitted the stage manager. “I’m afraid something has happened to Frank. If he doesn’t come——”
“I don’t go,” declared Bart. “I shall stay and find out what has happened to him. You must go. You must sit on those croakers. Your place is with the company; mine is with Frank Merriwell.”
“All aboard!”
The conductor gave the warning.
“What’s this?”
Rattle-te-bang, on the dead jump, a cab was coming along the street. The cabman was putting the whip to his foaming horses.
“He’s coming,” said Hodge, with cool triumph, putting his hands into his trousers pockets, and waiting the approach of the cab.
Something made him feel certain of it. Up to the platform dashed the cab, the driver flinging the horses back, and flinging himself to the platform to fling open the door.
Dong dong!
The train was starting.
Out of the cab leaped Frank Merriwell, grip in hand. At his heels Ephraim Gallup came sprawling.
Bart was satisfied, Havener was delighted. Both of them sprang on board the train. Across the platform dashed Frank and the Vermont youth, and they also boarded the moving cars.
“Well,” laughed Merry, easily, “that was what I call a close call. Ten dollars to the cabby did it, and he earned his sawbuck.”
“I congratulate you!” cried Havener. “I confess I had given you up. But what happened to detain you?”
“Nothing but a little adventure,” answered Merry, coolly. “I’ll tell you about it.”
They followed him into the car.
Several members of the company had been looking from the car window, and the arrival of Frank had been witnessed. They gave a shout as he entered the car, and all were on their feet.
“Welcome!” cried Douglas Dunton, dramatically—“welcome, most noble one! Methinks thou couldst not do it better in a play. It was great stuff—flying cab, foaming horses, moving train, and all that. Make a note of it.”
“I believe he did it on purpose,” declared Agnes Kirk, speaking to Vance, with whom she had taken a seat.
“Very likely,” admitted Lester. “Wanted to do something to attract attention.”
“I think it was mean! He fooled us.”
But several members of the company shook hands with Frank, and congratulated him.
“I told you he would not get left,” said Havener, with triumph.
At the rear end of the car was a veiled woman, who seemed to sink down behind those in front of her, as if she sought to avoid detection. Somehow, although her face could not be seen, there was in her appearance something that betokened disappointment and chagrin.
Of course Frank was pressed for explanations, but he told them that business had detained him. He did not say what kind of business.
At length, however, with Hodge, Havener and Gallup for listeners, all seated on two facing seats, he told the story of his adventure with the veiled woman, and his arrest, which ended in a discharge that barely permitted him to leap into a cab, race to the hotel, get his grip, pay his bill, and dash to the station in time to catch the train.
As the story progressed Hodge showed signs of increasing excitement. When Merry finished, Bart exclaimed:
“How did the woman look?”
“I did not see her face.”
“How was she dressed? Describe her.”
“Don’t know as I can.”
“Do the best you can.”
Frank did so, and Bart cried:
“I’ve seen her!”
“What?”
Merry was astonished.
“I am sure of it,” asserted Bart. “I have seen that very same woman!”
“When?”
“To-day.”
“How long ago?”
“A very short time.”
“Where?”
“At the station while we were waiting for you to appear.”
“Is it possible. How do you know it was her?”
Then Bart told of the strange woman who had dropped her handkerchief, of the initials he had seen when he picked it up, and of her singularly scornful laugh when she heard Havener declare that Merriwell never got left.
All this interested Frank very much. Bart concluded by saying:
“That woman is on this very train!”
“Waal, may I be tickled to death by grasshoppers!” ejaculated the youth from Vermont. “Whut in thunder do yeou s’pose she’s up to?”
“It may be the same one,” said Frank. “It would be remarkable if it should prove to be the same one. Two women might look so much alike that the description of one would exactly fit the other—especially if both were heavily veiled.”
Bart shook his head.
“Something tells me it is the same woman,” he persisted.
“But why should she be on this train?”
“Who can answer that? Why did she try such a trick on the street?”
“Don’t know,” admitted Merry. “Once I thought it might be that she was mashed on me, but it didn’t prove that way.”
“Oh, I dunno,” drawled Gallup, with a queer grin. “Yeou turned her daown, an’ that made her sore. Ef she’d bin mashed on ye, perhaps she’d done jest as she did to git revenge fer bein’ turned daown.”
“No, something tells me this was more than a simple case of mash,” said Frank.
“What do you make of it?” asked Havener.
“An attempt to bother me.”
“For what?”
“Who knows? Haven’t I had enough troubles?”
“I should say so! But I thought your troubles of this sort were over when you got rid of Lawrence. You left two of the assistants who saw him try to fire the theater to appear as witnesses against him.”
“Oh, I hardly think Lawrence was in this affair in any way or manner. I confess I do not know just what to make of it. Heretofore my enemies have been men, but now there seems to be a woman in the case.”
“If this woman follows you, what will you do?”
“I shall endeavor to find out who she is, and bring her to time, so she will drop the game.”
“See that you do,” advised Hodge. “And don’t be soft with her because she is a woman.”
“Go look through the train and see if you can find the woman you saw,” directed Frank. “If you find her, come back here and tell me where she is.”
“I’ll do it!” exclaimed Bart, getting up at once.
“That fellow is faithful to you,” said Havener, when Bart had walked down the aisle; “but he is awfully disagreeable at times. It’s nothing but his loyalty that makes me take any stock in him.”
“His heart is in the right place,” asserted Merry.
“Nothing makes him doubt you. Why, I believe he wanted to fight the whole company when you failed to appear.”
“An’ he’s a fighter, b’gosh! when he gits started,” declared Gallup. “I’ve seen him plunk some critters an’ he plunked them in great style.”
Hodge was gone some little time, but there was a grim look of triumph when he returned.
“Find her?” asked Merry.
“Sure,” nodded Bart.
“Where?”
“Last car. She did not get onto this one, but I rather think she moved after you came on board. That makes me all the more certain that it is the woman. She’s near the rear end of the car, on the left side, as you go down the aisle.”
“Well,” said Frank, rising, “I think I’ll go take a look at her. Is she alone?”
“Yes.”
“That’s good. And she cannot escape from the train till it stops, if it should happen to be the right woman, which I hope it is.”
Bart wished to accompany Frank to point the woman out, but Merry objected.
“No,” he said, “let me go alone.”
“I can show her to you.”
“If the woman I am looking for is in the car I’ll find her.”
Merry passed slowly through the train, scanning each passenger as he went along. He entered the last car. In a few moments he would know if the mysterious veiled woman really were on that train. If he found her, he would be certain the strange encounter on the street had a meaning that had not appeared on the surface.
The train was flying along swiftly, taking curves without seeming to slacken speed in the least. Frank’s progress through the car was rather slow, as the swaying motion made it difficult for him to get along.
But when he had reached the rear of the car he was filled with disappointment.
Not a sign of a veiled woman had he seen in the car.
More than that, there was no woman in black who resembled the woman who had stopped him on the street in Denver.
Could it be Hodge had been mistaken?
No! Something told him Bart had made no mistake in the matter of seeing a woman who answered the description given by Frank. He had said she was in the last car. She was not there when Frank passed through the car. Then she had moved.
Why?
Was the woman aware that she was being watched? Had she moved to escape observation?
Frank stopped by the door at the rear end of the car. He looked out through the glass in the door.
Some one was on the platform at one side of the door. Frank opened the door and looked out.
The person on the platform was a woman in black, and she wore a veil!