"If you'll excuse me, ladies, for mentionin' it," he whispered, "something's got to be done pretty quick. I figure the Madame'll be gettin' back any minute now."
CHAPTER XIII
VIRGINIE DECIDES
Virginie looked up in quick alarm. "Who is that?" she cried, in a low voice, and then, recognizing the bell-boy she had seen so often at the hotel, she gazed at Patricia in amazed surprise. "How did you get here?" she suddenly asked her friend. So absorbed had she been in other matters, that the question had not occurred to her before. Patricia sketched to her in hurried whispers the history of the previous night and the assistance rendered by Chet, while the boy himself stood by uneasily, watching the house and the road. When she had finished, he added:
"I gotta tell you that I heard a good deal of what the little mam'selle was sayin' just now, 'cause I had crept back to warn you folks you'd have to be a bit quicker if we're goin' to get anything done, so I pretty well know the lay of the land. Now I got a plan in the back of my head. It's kind of risky, but I think we can swing it if we work quick. But first we must find out what this here little mam'selle is plannin' to do. Are you goin' to get her to break away from that shady gang an' beat it with us?"
"Oh, that's just what I want her to do—just what I've been thinking of myself!" cried Patricia. "Are you willing, Virginie dear?"
The girl looked at her in some bewilderment. American slang was something she had yet to become acquainted with, and Chet's last remarks were as incomprehensible to her as if they had been uttered in Choctaw.
"We want you to come with us," Patricia explained. "You must not stay any longer with these dreadful people, Virginie. We think we can get you away from them, and you will have a happy life and never, never be tormented by them again."
But the girl shrank back in terror. "No, no!" she cried. "It must not be. I cannot do it, much as I long to. You must not ask it. My father!" whispered Virginie, brokenly, and she needed to say no more. Patricia understood. She had forgotten for a moment how deeply they held this helpless girl in their power. And after the many terrible tales she had heard of the enemy's cruelty, she had not the slightest doubt that they would carry out their threat. What could she say or do that would be of any avail in the face of this? She looked at Chet helplessly.
"Say," he declared at length, "this here's sure a bad lookout, but there must be some way out of it. You can't make me believe that in this here free country any bunch of Huns is goin' to get away with a come-on game like that. Why say, what's the matter with this? We'll bundle the little mam'selle into the car an' hustle back to the city an' get the police out here in a jiff' an' raid the whole place before they have time to turn around. We'd sure find that Crimson Patch somewhere in the ranch. An' they'd have the bunch all in the jug before they had time to do any telephonin' or send any messages or anything. What say?"
"No, no!" cried Virginie, who had somehow taken in his meaning in spite of his slang. "It would not do. You do not understand. They are not all here—in this house. Only Madame—and Melanie, her maid, and the chauffeur, Hermann Klausser (they call him Jacques Thierrot in public) are here. But there are many, many others in New York—everywhere. They are all in these plots. They would find out what had happened, and they would send the message. I am not safe though you were to shut up a dozen of them in jail at once. Do you not see?"