In the course of the morning she made several mysterious inquiries of her parent regarding nice points of international law as it concerned murder, and it is probable that he would have been struck by the odd nature of these questions had he not been unduly excited about another matter.
"I tell you, we've got to get home!" he announced gloomily."The German troops are ready at Aix-la-Chapelle for an assault on Liege.
Yes, sir - they're going to strike through Belgium! Know what that means? England in the war! Labor troubles; suffragette troubles;civil war in Ireland - these things will melt winter in Texas.
They'll go in.It would be national suicide if they didn't."His daughter stared at him.She was unaware that it was the bootblack at the Canton he was now quoting.She began to think he knew more about foreign affairs than she had given him credit for.
"Yes, sir," he went on; "we've got to travel - fast.This won't be a healthy neighborhood for non-combatants when the ruction starts.
I'm going if I have to buy a liner!"
"Nonsense!" said the girl."This is the chance of a lifetime.Iwon't be cheated out of it by a silly old dad.Why, here we are, face to face with history!""American history is good enough for me," he spread-eagled."What are you looking at?""Provincial to the death!" she said thoughtfully."You old dear - I love you so! Some of our statesmen over home are going to look pretty foolish now in the face of things they can't understand I hope you're not going to be one of them.""Twaddle!" he cried."I'm going to the steamship offices to-day and argue as I never argued for a vote."His daughter saw that he was determined; and, wise from long experience, she did not try to dissuade him.
London that hot Monday was a city on the alert, a city of hearts heavy with dread.The rumors in one special edition of the papers were denied in the next and reaffirmed in the next.Men who could look into the future walked the streets with faces far from happy.
Unrest ruled the town.And it found its echo in the heart of the girl from Texas as she thought of her young friend of the Agony Column "in durance vile" behind the frowning walls of Scotland Yard.
That afternoon her father appeared, with the beaming mien of the victor, and announced that for a stupendous sum he had bought the tickets of a man who was to have sailed on the steamship Saronia three days hence.
"The boat train leaves at ten Thursday morning," he said."Take your last look at Europe and be ready."Three days! His daughter listened with sinking heart.Could she in three days' time learn the end of that strange mystery, know the final fate of the man who had first addressed her so unconventionally in a public print? Why, at the end of three days he might still be in Scotland Yard, a prisoner! She could not leave if that were true - she simply could not.Almost she was on the point of telling her father the story of the whole affair, confident that she could soothe his anger and enlist his aid.She decided to wait until the next morning; and, if no letter came then -But on Tuesday morning a letter did come and the beginning of it brought pleasant news.The beginning - yes.But the end! This was the letter:
DEAR ANXIOUS LADY: Is it too much for me to assume that you have been just that, knowing as you did that I was locked up for the murder of a captain in the Indian Army, with the evidence all against me and hope a very still small voice indeed?
Well, dear lady, be anxious no longer.I have just lived through the most astounding day of all the astounding days that have been my portion since last Thursday.And now, in the dusk, I sit again in my rooms, a free man, and write to you in what peace and quiet I can command after the startling adventure through which I have recently passed.
Suspicion no longer points to me; constables no longer eye me;Scotland Yard is not even slightly interested in me.For the murderer of Captain Fraser~Freer has been caught at last!
Sunday night I spent ingloriously in a cell in Scotland Yard.Icould not sleep.I had so much to think of - you, for example, and at intervals how I might escape from the folds of the net that had closed so tightly about me.My friend at the consulate, Watson, called on me late in the evening; and he was very kind.
But there was a note lacking in his voice, and after, he was gone the terrible certainty came into my mind - he believed that I was guilty after all.
The night passed, and a goodly portion of to-day went by - as the poets say - with lagging feet.I thought of London, yellow in the sun.I thought of the Carlton - I suppose there are no more strawberries by this time.And my waiter - that stiff-backed Prussian - is home in Deutschland now, I presume, marching with his regiment.I thought of you.
At three o'clock this afternoon they came for me and I was led back to the room belonging to Inspector Bray.When I entered, however, the inspector was not there - only Colonel Hughes, immaculate and self-possessed, as usual, gazing out the window into the cheerless stone court.He turned when I entered.Isuppose I must have had a most woebegone appearance, for a look of regret crossed his face.
"My dear fellow," he cried, "my most humble apologies! I intended to have you released last night.But, believe me, I have been frightfully busy."I said nothing.What could I say? The fact that he had been busy struck me as an extremely silly excuse.But the inference that my escape from the toils of the law was imminent set my heart to thumping.
"I fear you can never forgive me for throwing you over as I did yesterday," he went on."I can only say that it was absolutely necessary - as you shall shortly understand."I thawed a bit.After all, there was an unmistakable sincerity in his voice and manner.
"We are waiting for Inspector Bray," continued the colonel."Itake it you wish to see this thing through?""To the end," I answered.
