HOBART FORGETS AND TALKS
XXXI McADAMS BLOWS IN
XXXII A BRIDGE OF LOVE
THE CASE AND THE GIRL
CHAPTER I
THE LADY IN THE LIMOUSINE
West, still attired in khaki uniform, but wearing the red chevron of honourable discharge on his left sleeve, sat in the Club writing room, his feet comfortably elevated, endeavouring to extract some entertainment from the evening paper. The news was not particularly interesting, however, and finally, obsessed with the feeling that it would soon be time for him to seriously contemplate the procuring of suitable employment, the young man turned the sheet about rather idly, and ran his eyes down the columns devoted to classified advertising.
Half way down the first column, under the head of "miscellaneous," he paused and read a paragraph with some interest; then read it over again, emitting a soft whistle between his teeth.
"Well, by Jove!" he said to himself slowly, "That doesn't sound so bad either; out of the ordinary, at least. Say, Thompson," and he turned to a tall young fellow busily writing at the adjoining desk, and shoved the paper under his eyes, pointing at the paragraph which had attracted attention, with one finger, "What do you make out of that, old man?"
The other, rather sober-faced, and slow of speech, read the advertisement word by word, with no change of expression.
"Rot," he said solemnly. "Either a joke, or some scheme on. Why? interested in it?"
"In a measure, yes. Sounds rather business-like to me. I've got a good mind to answer, and take a chance."
"You're a fool if you do, Matt," decisively, and turning back to his writing. "That is some game being pulled off, and the first thing you know, you'll be in bad. Likely as not it means blackmail. Besides there is no address."
"That's one thing I like about it," retorted the other. "They are in earnest, and taking no chances of having their purpose guessed at. There is a way to reach them, if the one answering is sufficiently in earnest. By Jove, I don't see how any one can get in bad, merely by finding out what it all means."
"Well, do as you please; you would anyhow. Only you have my advice."
West read the item again. He had been eighteen months in France, and his discharge from the army had left him bored and dissatisfied with the dull routine of civil life. He dreaded to get back into the harness of a prosaic existence; even his profession as a civil engineer had someway lost its charm. He had tasted the joy of adventure, the thrill of danger, and it was still alluring. This advertisement promised a mystery which strangely attracted his imagination.
"Wanted: Young man of education and daring for service involving some personal peril. Good pay, and unusual reward if successful. May have to leave city. Purpose disclosed only in personal interview."
As Thompson had pointed out, this was not signed, nor any address given.
West crossed over to an unoccupied desk, and wrote a reply, changing the wording several times, and finally making a clean copy. Thompson glanced across at him, but said nothing. The answer read:
"To Advertiser: Am 26; late captain of Engineers; University graduate adventurous disposition. Would be glad to consider your proposition. Address, Box 57, University Club."
He placed this in an envelope, called a Club messenger, and, handing the boy a sum of money, sent him over to the newspaper office.
Two days elapsed before an answer appeared in his box; a small envelope, addressed in a lady's handwriting apparently, and mailed from one of the sub-postoffices. West tore it open rather eagerly, and read the contents with surprise. The words within had been written by the same hand which appeared upon the envelope, but the language used gave him no clue to the purpose of the writer. The brief note read:
"Box 57 University Club.
"Your answer to advertisement makes a good impression, and I am willing to put you to the further test of a personal meeting. If you are in earnest in this matter, and quite prepared to assume the necessary risk, you will be at the north-west corner of Spaulding Park at 5:30 to-morrow afternoon. Do not come in uniform, but it will be well to bring evening clothes in a bag. Be sure of yourself, and be prompt.
"Very truly yours,
"The Advertiser."
West read this over, again and again, smoking furiously, and endeavouring to weigh each word. He saw Thompson in the other room, but decided not to submit the epistle to his criticism. The letter sounded honest and sincere; the writer evidently had a purpose in view, and was selecting an agent with great care and secrecy. No hint as to what that object was would be revealed blindly—he must be tried in every way first; thoroughly tested as to both character and courage. Undoubtedly steps had already been taken to do this. The delay in reply would have afforded opportunity for some investigation, as his address would give the necessary clue to his identity. The request for evening clothes, however, rather reassured him; evidently his first plunge into this mystery was not to occur in any stratum of low society; no vast amount of personal danger could be involved in such preliminaries. The truth was, the note only increased his former interest in the case, and his determination to probe more deeply into its mystery. So the advertiser was a woman! This fact also stimulated his imagination, and rendered him the more eager. By Jove! he would see the thing through!
His decision was reached, yet West, although still young and adventurous, had received the rigorous training of the soldier, and learned lessons of discretion. He would go, but would make every effort to protect himself against any possible treachery. He had a room at the Club, and wrote a letter or two before proceeding to dress, arranging for their personal delivery in case he failed to return at a designated time; carefully examined his service revolver, and deposited it in the pocket of the business suit he decided to wear. Satisfied with these arrangements, he dressed rapidly, and then packed his bag, bearing it in his hand as he departed in ample time for the point of rendezvous. A cab took him to the place designated, and he found himself alone in a rather desolate spot, with which he was in no way familiar. No doubt he had passed there again and again, as a boulevard extended along one side of the small park, yet his memory retained no clear recollection of the place. There were a few small stores opposite, while the park itself was well kept, and populated almost entirely by nursemaids, judging from the number of baby carriages trailing along the walks. Back of the curb were a few benches, but West chose to remain outside, depositing his bag in plain view of any one passing, and then walked back and forth somewhat nervously. He was there several minutes ahead of time, and compared his watch by a clock in a church tower a block away. He had no knowledge of how he was to be approached, or identified, but his being requested to bring a bag containing evening clothes, somehow suggested riding, rather than walking, and consequently his eyes followed more or less intently the constant stream of automobiles.
He grew restless, and more doubtful as the moments slipped past. Surely he could not have mistaken the place of appointment or the hour? He glanced at the scene
