THE THREE GUARDIANS.
The anti-climax had struck the Hotel Tirol some hours before it came upon Brock and Miss Fowler. It seems that Githens had gone first to the big hostelry in quest of light on the very puzzling dilemma in which he found himself involved. Inquiries at the office only served to stir up a grave commotion among the clerks and managers, all of whom vociferously maintained that the hotel was entirely blameless if any deception had been practised. The Tirol did not tolerate anything that savoured of the scandalous; the Tirol was a respectable house; the Tirol was ever careful, always rigid in the protection of its good name; and so on and so forth at great length and with great precision. But Mr. Githens had two officers with him, and he demanded the person of the man calling himself Roxbury Medcroft. The principal bank in the city was also represented in the company of investigators. Likewise there was a laconic gentleman from the British office.
Mr. Medcroft was out. Then, they agreed, it was necessary to see Mrs. Medcroft, or the lady representing herself to be such. Mr. Githens was permitted to go to her rooms in company with the manager of the hotel. What transpired in those rooms during the next fifteen minutes would be quite impossible to narrate short of an entire volume. Edith promptly collapsed. Subsequently she became hysterical. She begged for time, and, getting it, proceeded to threaten every one with prosecution.
"I am Mrs. Medcroft!" she declared piteously. "Where is the American consul? I demand the American consul!"
"What has the American government to do with it?" gruffly demanded Mr. Githens.
"Mr.—Mr.—the gentleman whom you accuse is an American citizen!" she stammered.
"Oho! Then he is not an Englishman?"
"I refuse to answer your questions. You are impertinent. I ask you, sir, as the manager of this hotel, to eject this man from my rooms." The manager smiled blandly and did not eject the man.
"But, madam," he said, "we have a right to know who and what you are. If Mr. Medcroft is in London, this gentleman surely cannot be he, the real Mr. Medcroft. We must have an explanation."
"I'll—I will explain everything to-morrow. Oh, by the way, is there a telegram for me in the office? There must be. I've been expecting it all day. I telegraphed to London for it."
"There is no telegram down there, madam."
At this juncture Mr. Odell-Carney appeared on the scene, uninvited but welcome.
"Wot's all this?" he demanded sternly. Everybody proceeded at once to tell him. Somehow he got the drift of the story. "Get out—all of you!" he said. "I stand sponsor for Mrs. Medcroft. She is Mrs. Medcroft, hang you, sir. If you come around here bothering her again, I'll have the law upon you. The Medcrofts are English citizens and—"
"Oh, they are, are they?" sneered Mr. Githens, with a sinister chuckle.
"Who the devil are you, sir?"
"I'm from Scotland Yard."
"I thought so. You've proved it, 'pon my soul. I am Odell-Carney. Daresay you've heard of me."
"I know you by sight, sir. But that—"
"Clever chap, by Jove! And there's no but about it. Mr.—Mr.—never mind what it is. I don't want to know your name. Mrs. Medcroft, will you permit me to send my wife up to you? Mr. Manager, I insist that you take this c'nfended rabble down to the office and tell them to go to the devil? Don't do it up here; do it down there."
After some further discussion and protest, the Scotland Yard man and his party left the room to its distracted mistress. It may be well to remark, for the sake of local colour, that Tootles was crying lustily, while Raggles barked in spite of all that O'Brien could do to stop him.
Odell-Carney sent his wife to Edith. A few minutes later, as he was making his way to the office, he came upon Mrs. Rodney and Katherine, hurrying, white-faced, to their rooms.
"Oh, isn't it dreadful?" wailed the former, putting her clenched hands to her temples.
"Isn't wot dreadful?" demanded he brutally.
"About Edith! They're going to arrest her."
"Not if I can help it, madam. Where is Mr. Rodney?"
"He hasn't anything to do with it! We're as innocent as children unborn. It's all shocking to us. Mr. Rodney shouldn't be arrested. His rectitude is without a flaw. For heaven's sake, don't implicate him. He's—"
"Madam, I am not a policeman," said Odell-Carney with scathing dignity. "I want your husband to aid me in hushing this c'nfended thing."
"He shan't do it! I won't permit him to be mixed up in it," almost screamed Mrs. Rodney. "I've just heard that he isn't a husband at all. It's atrocious!"
"Bless me, Mrs. Rodney," roared Odell-Carney, "then you oughtn't to be living with him if he isn't your husband. You're as bad as— Hi, look out, there! Don't do that!" Mrs. Rodney had collapsed into her daughter's arms, gasping for breath.
"She's all upset, Mr. Odell-Carney," said Katherine, shaking her mother soundly. "It's just nerves. If you see papa, send him to us. We must take the first train for—for anywhere. Will you tell Mrs. Odell-Carney that if she'll get ready at once, papa will see to the tickets."
"Tickets? But, my dear young lady, we're not going anywhere. We're going to stay here and see your cousin out of her troubles. My wife is with her now."
He started away as Mr. Rodney came puffing up the stairs. Odell-Carney changed his mind and waited.
"Where's Edith?" panted Mr. Rodney.
"Good heavens!" groaned his wife, lowering her voice because three chambermaids were looking on from a near-by turn. "Don't mention that creature's name. Just think what she's got us into. He isn't her husband. Alfred, telephone for tickets on to-night's train. To-morrow will be too late. I won't stay here another minute. Everybody in the hotel is talking. We'll all be arrested."
But Mr. Rodney, for once, was the head of the family. He faced her sternly.
"Go to your rooms, both of you. We'll stay here until this thing is ended. I don't give a hang what she's done, I'm not going to desert her."
"But—but he isn't her husband," gasped Mrs. Rodney, struck dumb by this amazing rebellion.
"But she's your cousin, isn't she, madam?" he retorted with fierce irony.
"I disown her!" wailed his wife, sans raison.
"Go to your rooms!" stormed pudgy Mr. Rodney. Then, as they slunk away, he turned to the approving Odell-Carney, sticking out his chest a trifle in his new-found authority. "I say, Carney, what's to be done next?"
The other looked at him for a moment as if in doubt. Then his face cleared, and he took the little man's arm in his.
"We'll have a drink first and then see," he said.
As they were entering the buffet, a cheery voice accosted them from behind. Freddie Ulstervelt came up, real distress in his face.
"I say, count me in on this. I'll buy, if I may. I've just heard the news from the door porter. Bloody shame, isn't it? I had Mademoiselle Le Brun over to hear the band concert—she is related to that painter woman, by the way; I told Katherine she was. Say, gentlemen, we'll stand by Mrs. Medcroft, won't we? Count me in. If it's anything that money can square, I'm here with a letter of credit six figures long."
"Join us," said Odell-Carney warmly. "You're a good sort, after all."
They sat down at a table. Freddie stood between them, a hand on the shoulder of each. Very seriously he was saying:
"I say, gentlemen, we can't abandon a woman at a time like this. We must stand together. All true sports and black sheep should stand together, don't you know."
It is possible that Odell-Carney appreciated the subtlety of this compliment. Not so Mr. Rodney.
"Sports? Black sheep? Upon my soul, sir, I don't understand you," he mumbled. Mr. Rodney, although he hailed from Seattle, had never known anything but a clean and unrumpled conscience.
Freddie clapped him jovially on the shoulder. "It's all right, Mr. Rodney. I'll take your word for it. But if we are black sheep we shan't be blackguards. We'll stand by the ship. What's to be done? Bail 'em out?"
It is of record that the three gentlemen were closeted with the officers and managers for an hour or more, but it is not clear that they transacted anything that could seriously affect the situation.
Mrs. Medcroft, despite Mrs. Odell-Carney's friendly offices, refused point blank to discuss the situation. She did not dare to do or say anything as yet. Her husband had not telegraphed the word releasing her from the sorry compact. She loyally decided to stand by the agreement, no matter what the cost, until she received word from London that he had triumphed or failed in his brave fight against the "bloodsuckers."
"I will explain to-morrow, dear Mrs. Odell-Carney," she pleaded. "Don't press me now. Everything shall be all right. Oh, how I wish Constance were here! She understands. But she's off listening to silly love talk and doesn't even care what happens to me. Burton, will you be good enough to spank Tootles if she doesn't stop that screaming?"
By nine o'clock that night every one was discussing the significant disappearance of Constance Fowler and the fraudulent husband of Mrs. Medcroft. Just as Mr. Odell-Carney was preparing to announce to the unfortunate wife that the couple had eloped in the most cowardly fashion, Miss Fowler herself appeared on the scene, dishevelled, mud-spattered, and hot, but with a look of firm determination in her face. She strode defiantly through the main hall, ignoring the curious gaze of the loungers, whisking the skirt of her habit with disdainful abandon as she passed on to the lift. A few moments later she burst in upon her sister, a very angry young person indeed. The Odell-Carneys were down the hall discussing her strange defection; it was with no little relief that they saw her enter the room.
"Are we alone?" demanded Miss Fowler, not giving Edith time to proclaim her joy at seeing her. "Well, I've arranged a way to get him out," she went on, her lips set.
"Out?" murmured Mrs. Medcroft.
"Of course. We can't let him stay in there all night, Edith. How much money have you? Hurry up, please! Don't stare!"
"In where? Who's in where?"
"He's in gaol!" with supreme scorn. "Haven't you heard?"
Mrs. Medcroft began to cry. "Mr. Brock in gaol? Good heavens, what shall I do? I—I was depending on him so much. He ought to be here at this very instant. What has he been doing?"
"Edith Medcroft, stop sniffling, and don't think of yourself for a while. It will do you a great deal of good. Where's your money?"
Ruthlessly she began to rummage Edith's treasure trunk. The other came to her assistance after a dazed interval. The family purse came to light.
"I have a little over four thousand crowns," she murmured helplessly.
"Give it me, quick. There's no time to waste. I have about five thousand. It's all in notes, thank heaven. It isn't quite enough, but I'll try to make it do. Don't stop me, Edith. I haven't time to answer questions. He's in gaol, didn't you hear me say? And I love him!"
"But the—the money? Is it to bail him out with?"
"Bail? No, my dear, it's to buy him out with. 'Sh! Is there any one in that room? Well, then, I'll tell you something." The heads of the two sisters were quite close together. "He's in a cell at the—the prison-hof, or whatever you call it in German. It's gaol in English. I have arranged to bribe one of the gaolers—his guard. He will let him escape for ten thousand crowns—we must do it, Edith! Then Mr. Brock will ride over the Brenner Pass and catch a train somewhere, before his escape is discovered. I expect to meet him in Paris day after to-morrow. Have you heard from Roxbury?"
"No!" wailed Roxbury's wife.
"He's a brute!" stormed Miss Fowler.
"Constance!" flared Mrs. Medcroft, aghast at this sign of lese-majesty.
"Don't tell anybody," called Constance, as she banged the door behind her.
Soon after midnight a closely veiled lady drove up to a street corner adjacent to the city prison, a dolorous-looking building which loomed up still and menacing just ahead. She alighted and, dismissing the cab, strode off quickly into the side street. At a distant corner, in front of a crowded eating-house, two spirited horses, saddled and in charge of a grumbling stable-boy, champed noisily at their bits. The young woman exchanged a few rapid sentences with the boy, and then returned in the direction from which she came. A man stepped out of a doorway as she neared the corner, accosting her with a stealthy deference that proclaimed him to be anything but an unwelcome marauder.
The conversation which passed between the slender, nervous young woman and this burly individual was carried on in very cautious tones, accompanied by many quick and furtive glances in all directions, as if both were in fear of observers. At last, after eager pleading on one side and stolid expostulation on the other, a small package passed from the hand of the young woman into the huge paw of the man. The latter gave her a quick, cautious salute and hurried back toward the gaol.
The veiled young woman, very nervous and strangely agitated, made her way back to the spot where the horses were standing. Making her way through the cluster of small tables which lined the inner side of the sidewalk, she found one unoccupied at the extreme end, a position which commanded a view of the street down which she had just come.
Half an hour passed. Midnight revellers at the surrounding tables began to take notice of this tall, elegant, nervous young woman with the veiled face. It was plain to all of them that she was expecting someone; naturally it would be a man, therefore a lover. Her nervousness grew as the minutes lengthened into the hour. A clock in a tower near by struck one. She was now staring with wide, eager eyes down the street, alertly watching the approach of anyone who came from that direction. Twice she half arose and started forward with a quick sigh of relief, only to sink back again dejectedly upon discovering that she had been mistaken in the identity of a newcomer.
Half-past one, then two o'clock. The merry-makers were thinning out; she was quite alone at her end of the place. By this time a close observer might have noticed that she was trembling violently; there was an air of abject fear and despair in her manner.
Why did he not come? What had happened? Had the plot failed? Was he even now lying wounded unto death as the result of his effort to escape captivity? A hundred horrid thoughts raced through her throbbing, overwrought brain. He should have been with her two hours ago—he should now be far on his way to freedom. Alas, something appalling had happened, she was sure of it.
At last there hove in sight, coming from the direction in which lay the prison, a group of three men. It was a jaunty party, evidently under the influence of many libations. They came with arms linked, with dignified but unsteady gait, their hats well back on their heads. In the middle was a very tall man, flanked on one side by a very short fat one, on the other by a slender youth who wanted to sing.
She recognised them and would have drawn back to a less exposed spot, but the slender youth saw her before she could do so. He shouted to his companions as if they were two blocks away.
They bore down upon her. The next instant they were solemnly shaking hands with her, much to her dismay.
"Cons'ance, we've been lookin' f-fer you ever'-where in town. W-where on earth 've you been?" asked Mr. Rodney thickly, with a laudable attempt at severity.
"Ever sinch 'leven o'clock, Conshance," supplemented Freddie, trying to frown.
"My dear Miss F-Fowler," began Odell-Carney in, his most suave manner, "it is after two o'clock. In—in the morning at that. You—you shouldn't be sittin' here all 'lone thish—this hour in the morning. Please come home with us. Your mother hash—has ask us to fetch you—I mean your sister. Beg pardon."
"I—I cannot go, gentlemen," she stammered. "Please don't insist—please don't ask why. I cannot go—"
"I shay, Conshance, by Jove, the joke's on you," exclaimed Freddie. "I know who 't ish you're waitin' f-for. Well, he can't come. He's locked in."
"Freddie, you are drunk!" in deep scorn.
"I know it," he admitted cheerfully. "We've looked ever'where for you. We're your frien's. He said it was at 'n eatin'-house. We've been ever' eatin'-house in Inchbrook. Was here first of all. Leave it to Rodney. Wassen we, Rodney? You bet we was. You wassen here at 'leven o'clock. Come on home, Conshance. 'S all right. He's safe. He can't come."
"But he will come, unless something terrible has happened to him," she almost sobbed in her desperation. "Cousin Alfred, won't you go to the gaol and see what has happened?"
Mr. Rodney took off his hat gallantly and would have gone to do her bidding had not Mr. Odell-Carney laid a restraining grip upon his shoulder.
"Let me explain, Miss F-Fowler. You shee—see, he told us you'd be here, but, hang it all, you wassen here wh-when we came. Never give up, says I to my frien's. We'll search till doomshday. I knew we'd find you if we kep' on searching. Thash jus' wot I said to Roddy, didn' I, Roddy? We mush have overlokked yo' when we were here at 'leven."
"I was not here at eleven," she cried breathlessly.
"Thash jus' what I tol' 'em," insisted Freddie triumphantly. "I saysh: 'What's use lookin' here? She—she isn't on top of any these tables,' an' I—I knew you wassen unner 'em. You ain't—"
"Permit me," interrupted Odell-Carney with grave dignity. "Your friend, Miss Fowler, is not in gaol. He is out—"
"Not in gaol!" she almost shrieked. "I knew it! I knew it could not go wrong. But where is he?"
"He's out on bail. We bailed him out at half-past ten— Wot!" She had leaped to her feet with a short scream and was clutching his arm frantically.
"On bail? At half-past ten? Good heavens, then—then—oh, are you sure?"
"Poshtive, abs'lutely."
"Then what has become of my nine thousand crowns?"
"You c'n search me, Conshance," murmured Freddie.
"I don' know what you 're talkin' 'bout, Cons'ance," said Mr. Rodney in a very hurt tone. "We—we put up security f'r five thous'n dollars, that's what we did. This is all the thanks we getsh for it. Ungrachful!"
Constance had been thinking very hard, paying no heed to his maudlin defence. It rapidly was dawning upon her that these men had secured her lover's release on bail at half-past ten o'clock, an hour and a half before she had given her bribe of nine thousand crowns to the gaoler. That being the case, it was becoming clear to her that the wretch deliberately had taken the money, knowing that Brock was not in the prison, and with the plain design to rob her of the amount. It was a transaction in which he could be perfectly secure; bribing of public officials is a solemn offence in Austria and Germany. She could have no recourse, could make no complaint. Her money was gone!
"Where is Mr. Br—Mr. Medcroft?" she demanded, her voice full of anxiety. If he were out of gaol, why had he failed to come to the meeting-place?
"He's locked in," persisted Freddie.
"That's just it, Miss Fowler," explained Odell-Carney glibly. "You shee—see, it was this way: we got him out on bail on condition he'd 'pear to-morrow morning 'fore the magistrate. Affer we'd got him out, he insisted on coming 'round here so's he could run away with you. That wassen a gennelmanly thing to do, affer we'd put up our money. We coul'n' afford have him runnin' away with you. So we had him locked in a room on top floor of the hotel, where he can't get out 'n' leave us to hold the bag, don't you see. He almos' cried an' said you'd be waitin' at the church or—or something like that bally song, don't you know, an' as a lash reshort, to keep him quiet like a good ferrer—feller, we said we'd come an' get you an' 'splain everything saffis—sasfac—ahem! sassisfac'rly."
She looked at then with burning eyes. Slow rage was coming to the flaming point; And for this she had sat and suffered for hours in a street restaurant! For this! Her eyes fell upon the limp horses and the dejected stable-boy. Two hours!
"You will release him at once!" she stormed. "Do you hear? It is outrageous!"
Without another word to the dazed trio, she rushed to the curb and commanded the boy to assist her into the saddle. He did so, in stupid amazement. Then she instructed him to mount and follow her to the Tirol as fast as he could ride. The horses were tearing off in the darkness a moment later.
The three guardians stood speechless until the clatter died away in the distance. Then Mr. Rodney pulled himself together with an effort and groaned in abject horror.
"By thunner, the damn girl is stealin' somebody's horshes!"
