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In the long corridor Orme gave no further attention to Alcatrante, who was pattering along beside him. The course he now had in mind was to hire a cab and ride out of the city all the way to Arradale, if possible. The distance could not be much greater than fifteen miles. If Alcatrante chose to pursue, well and good. There would be ways of disposing of him.
"I I " Something like a sob escaped him, and Orme again found himself divided between contempt and pity. "What were you doing with that wheelbarrow?" Poritol kept his frightened eyes on Orme's face, but he said nothing. "Well, I will explain it. You followed the car when it started for Arradale. You waited here, found a wheelbarrow, and tried to wreck us.
The hour was close to five, and he must discover quickly where he could find the girl. He called up the Père Marquette. "This is Mr. Orme," he explained to the clerk. "Have there been any calls or messages for me?" "Yes, sir, Mr. and Mrs. Wallingham called up at twelve-thirty to know if you were going to Arradale with them." The golfing engagement!
No, they had gone to Arradale and would probably remain until the last evening train. He rang off. It remained to try Arradale. After some delay, he got the clubhouse. Mrs. Wallingham? Yes, she had just come in. Would Mr. Orme hold the wire? Mr. Orme certainly would, and presently he was rewarded for the delay by hearing Bessie's brisk little voice. "Hello?" "Who?" "Bob?"
"A few hundred feet back there." Orme indicated the direction. "Can I reach Arradale by this road?" "Next turn rechts. I will take de man some schnapps." "That will be good. His friends will make it right with you." "Ach! Do not say so!" The German shook his head in deprecation of the idea that he wished any return for his services.
"Vas you in der accident?" "Do I look it?" Orme laughed. "Nein, you do not look it. Ach! Dese autymobles! Dey makes much harm." "It is too bad," admitted Orme. "He vas a millionaire, maybe. Dey comes by here so fast, going to Arradale. Hans! Komm Hier! Ein man is gesmashed. Du must for der doctor go." He turned back to Orme. "Mein son, he will go."
But Orme had no ears for what the sympathetic German said. One word had made his heart leap. "Arradale!" There he was to have dined with Tom and Bessie Wallingham! He had forgotten them utterly. Were they still at the golf club? Possibly, and, in any event, if he could reach the club, he would be near a railroad. "How far is Arradale?" he asked. "Halb-miles. Und vere did you say der hurt man vas?"
The girl had telephoned to Bessie while he waited there on La Salle Street. She had planned a meeting that would satisfy him with full knowledge of her name and place. And the lateness of the car in reaching Arradale was unquestionably owing to the fact that it had not set out on its errand until after the girl reached home and gave her chauffeur the order.
Hitherto he had assumed that, once free of Alcatrante and safe on the train to Arradale, he would have plain going; but now he realized that the dangers would pile up higher as he advanced. In any event, he must get rid of Alcatrante, and as they approached the elevator grills, he spoke. "Senhor," he said, "unless you stop following me, I shall be obliged to hurt you. I give you fair warning."
Tom was at Arradale with Bessie, but the clerks would let Orme stay in the reception-room until it was time to start for his train. Indeed, Orme remembered that Bixby, the head clerk, had been at the wedding of Tom and Bessie had in fact taken charge of the arrangements at the church. Moreover, Tom's office was in this very building the Rookery.
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