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So the young bride enriched her husband, but Carshaw refused to desert his business. He will die a millionaire, but he hopes to live like one for a long time. Petch and Jim fought over Polly. There was talk about it in East Orange, and Polly threw both over; the latest gossip is that she is going to marry a police-inspector. Mrs. Carshaw, Sr., still visits her "dear friend," Helen Tower.
She could see neither Carshaw nor Aunt Rachel, the one having determined to lie low for a few hours, and the other being hidden from sight already as she hastened through the rain to the small inn where Voles and Mick the Wolf were located. These worthies were out. The proprietor said they had hired a car and gone to Bridgeport.
"The yacht mystery is only just beginning or I'm a Dutchman!" That evening of her dismissal from Brown's, and her meeting with Rex Carshaw, Winifred opened the door of the dun house in One Hundred and Twelfth Street the most downhearted girl in New York. Suddenly, mystery had gathered round her. Something threatened, she knew not what.
"What a pretty girl you are!" exclaimed the visitor, wholly unconscious of the calm insolence which "society" uses to its inferiors. "I'm certain I have seen you somewhere, for your face is perfectly familiar, but for the life of me I cannot recall the occasion." Mrs. Carshaw was not mistaken. Some dim cell of memory was stirred by the girl's likeness to her mother.
They saw some houses, but Carshaw wanted no explanation or parleying then and pressed on. They entered a lane, or driveway, and followed it. There came a murmuring of mighty waters, the voice of the sea; they were on the beach of Long Island Sound. Far behind, in the gloom, shone a lurid redness, marking the spot where the two cars and the bullock were being converted into ardent gasses.
First of all, I'll write Rex and ask him to come for bridge to-night." She did this, but without effect, for Carshaw was engaged elsewhere, having taken Winifred to a theater. However, Meiklejohn was again at the bridge party, and when he asked whether Mrs. Carshaw had paid a visit that afternoon, and the address of the girl had been given, Helen Tower answered: "I don't know it.
But, for goodness' sake, next time you grab Winifred, rush her to the nearest clergyman and make her Mrs. Carshaw, Jr. That'll help a lot. Leave me to get the Senator and the rest of the bunch. Now, if you'll be good, I'll show you the house where your Winifred was born!"
It was five o'clock when a taxi brought her to the Marlborough-Blenheim Hotel, and Senator Meiklejohn was the most astonished man on the Jersey coast at the moment when she entered unannounced, for Mrs. Carshaw had simply said to the elevator-boy: "Take me to Senator Meiklejohn's sitting-room." Undeniably he was startled; but playing desperately for high stakes had steadied him somewhat.
Winifred bolted of her own accord. We must tread lightly, Mr. Carshaw. Really, I shouldn't be here at all. I came only to help, to put you on the right trail, to see that Winifred is not detained by force if she wishes to accompany you. Do you get me?" "I believe there is good authority for the statement that the law is an ass," grumbled the other. "Not the law.
It is a thrilling moment in a man's life when he learns that his well-being provides an all-sufficing content for some dear woman. Come weal, come woe, Carshaw knew then that he was clasping his future wife in his arms. He ran with her through a mob of frightened cattle, and discovered a gate leading into a field. "Can you stand if I lift you over?" he said, leaning against the bars. "Of course!
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