Whenever he approaches a group of the women there rises a series of the most ear-piercing shrieks, and the fluttering that followed would remind a sportsman of a covey of partridges flushed by his dog.
In this one glance Craig sees volumes. He notices one woman dressed in a garb that would proclaim her a Sister in some sacred convent, telling her beads with feverish eagerness, and whenever the mad professor passes by swinging his arms like great flails, she holds in front of her a small crucifix, as though confident that bodily harm cannot reach the one who crouches behind this emblem of the Church.
One alone of all the dozen occupants of the car does not engage in these outbursts of terror. Aleck notices this fact and it makes a deep impression upon him.
This is Dorothy. She stands there, white of face it is true, and doubtless trembling in every limb, as is quite natural, considering the terrible situation, but not a sound escapes her lips, nor does she fly to the other end of the car when the cause of all this turmoil approaches.
Dorothy has traveled far and wide, and this alone has given her a spirit of bravery and independence far beyond the usual run of her sex.
The scene is appalling, and no one can tell how it may end, but thus far she holds her ground. Perhaps the spirit that caused Samson Cereal to run away with the mother has descended to the daughter. She does not appear to be armed, and yet Aleck notes that one hand is concealed from view amid the folds of her rich silken dress. It is not unusual for the American girl of to-day to own a revolver. They are made of the finest of steel, exquisitely fashioned, and look more like a toy than a deadly weapon.
He does not wait; all these things are before him, so that one sweeping glance shows him the whole. Then his feet touch the floor of the car, and at the same moment the great triumph of American engineering again moves, the iron circle with its dangling cars starting upon its journey.
The professor rattles the other door viciously, and such is his savage fury that he threatens to demolish the framework. Then with a roar and a volley of French expletives he turns to make another rush upon the opposite end of the car.
In thus turning he finds himself face to face with a man. The professor heeds him no more than he would a troublesome fly that buzzes before his face. His long arms saw the air like those of a Dutch windmill, and giving his wildest whoop he starts to clear a passage to the other terminus, as though he sees the open door and means to escape by it.
In so doing he counts without his host, for Aleck Craig blocks the way. An experienced boxer, he notes the approach of the wizard with a feeling of disdain. It is almost like boy’s play to encounter such an easy mark, but the safety of those in the car demands prompt action.