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Against Odds

<h2>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> <h2>'STRAIGHT FROM THE SHOULDER.'</h2> When Farmer Camp had presented himself at the rendezvous after his visit to the bureau, he had found Smug awaiting him, but in company with a muscular stranger, with whom he represented himself to have important business; and after a few 'leading questions,' which Camp answered quite naively, the two excused themselves, Smug making a second appointment for the following day. Again the farmer was prompt, and this time Mrs. Camp also. I did not make my presence known to them, and Smug did not appear, so I left them to digest this clear case of perfidy, while they viewed the wonders of the Transportation Building and the great golden doorway; and, believing, like Brainerd, that the Midway was a mine likely to yield us at least a clue, I turned my steps westward, my thoughts a singular medley, in which the Camps,[76] Miss Jenrys, Delbras, Greenback Bob, the little brunette, and Monsieur Voisin were strangely intermingled; and—I am obliged to admit it—the young fellow who had accosted me upon Midway, and avowed a knowledge of Miss Jenrys, was also in my thoughts. If it was true that he knew the owner of the black bag, why not question him—carelessly, of course? Perhaps—well, perhaps he knew Monsieur Voisin also. I could hardly have given myself a reason for this sudden anxiety, but it was there, and it sent me straight down Midway Plaisance, as nearly in my former tracks as was possible. It was too late for breakfast, I assured myself, and far too early for luncheon, ergo, if my friend the guard was still upon his beat, I must surely see him, sooner or later. And so it proved. As I emerged from the shadow of the viaduct, over which the Intramural rattled and rolled, I saw him, not far ahead and coming toward me, his hands clasped behind him, his chin-strap down, his face absorbed, and seemingly oblivious of all about him. When we were but a few feet apart, he turned upon his heel and began his backward march, with the same air of indifference to all about him. As he neared the long low cottage opposite the village of the little Javanese, and having 'Java or Home Restaurant' over its door in big letters, and as I was nearing him, I saw him suddenly throw up his head and spring forward. At the same moment I noted a man—hatless, coatless, and wearing upon his waistcoat the badge which indicated his position as 'head waiter'—come running from the direction of the Home Restaurant, pointing as he ran, breathlessly, toward a man and woman who were walking rather briskly eastward. As the guard came opposite this couple I saw him halt just a perceptible instant, his eye upon the hurrying waiter; then he stepped quickly before the coming couple and made[77] a courteous but positive gesture, clearly an order to halt. The man did not halt, but brushed past the polite guard with a scowling face. He was a big fellow, flashily dressed, and with a countenance at once coarse and dissipated; and as he made a second forward movement I could distinctly see his hand drop, with a significant gesture, toward his right hip. 'Stop him!' cried the almost breathless head-waiter. 'A beat.' At the word the woman made a little forward spring, and the man made a movement to follow. 'Halt!' commanded the guard, at the same time clapping a hand upon the man's shoulder, and then—— It was only the work of a moment. There was a quick movement on the man's part, and I saw the butt of a big revolver, and called out in warning: 'Take care!' I might have saved my breath. The tall guard stood moveless until the weapon was actually in sight, and then the arm in the blue coat shot out, strong, swift, straight from the shoulder, and the pistol-arm dropped, the weapon fell to the ground, and the man staggered back, to be received in the unwilling arms of the head-waiter, to struggle there for a moment, and then to submit, quite as much to the fire in the young guard's eye as to the strength of his arm. The woman at the first sign of struggle had drawn away from her companion, slipped into the crowd about them, and was making off in haste, when I said, addressing the waiter: 'Must she be stopped?' The fellow shook his head. 'Let her go,' he said; 'they were dodging their breakfast-bill.' It was the common trick of a common sharper. Having ordered and eaten a late breakfast, they had called for something additional, and in the absence of the waiter had left their places near the door and slipped away.[78] It was over in a moment. The man, forced into honesty by strength superior to his own, sulkily paid the bill, while denying the claim, and then, like his companion, he slipped through the crowd and was soon out of sight. Meantime, my friend the guard, with a look of disgust and weariness upon his face, had turned away the moment his duty was done, and I followed him, smiling a little over this reversal of our positions. 'Well,' I said, as I reached his side, 'I see there is good reason for your ability to judge a "straight-from-the-shoulder" knock-out blow.' He turned quickly, and with a shade of haughtiness upon his face, which was lost in a smile as he recognised me. 'Ah,' he said courteously, 'good-morning! So you witnessed that pitiful affair. It does not fall to my lot to serve ladies.' He hesitated slightly, and then asked, 'Did you deliver up your find?' I laughed and shook my head. I had fallen into step with him, and we were now moving slowly along his beat. 'If you refer to the lady with the dark eyes, who had the poor taste to ignore your presence,' I said, 'I did not. I may have committed a blunder, but my judgment condemned the little person.' He turned toward me a quick look of interest. 'Then you thought——' He stopped, and the red blood dyed his face as on that first day. 'I thought,' I instantly took up the word, 'that she was an adventuress, not a companion or friend to the owner of the little bag.' 'And you were right,' he exclaimed. 'The lady who—who dropped the bag you found was alone when those foreign brutes with their palanquin ran against her. I was not near enough to reach her promptly; but I saw—and the other—the brunette, it is a strange fancy, perhaps, but I have thought that she had been following Miss—the lady,[79] though for what purpose——' He stopped. 'It is no affair of mine. I—I am glad that the lady has her property.' 'But she has not got her property.' 'No? Pardon me, I did not understand.' He had turned his face to the front, but I could see that he was agitated, and was holding himself under with a strong hand. As I walked beside him and noted his fine physique, the well-set head and clear-cut features, I felt genuinely attracted toward the manly fellow, and wondered what was the secret of his interest in that lovely girl, whom he had yet shunned; for, looking back upon the events of the previous day, I could see that he had purposely held aloof from the moment when he saw that a champion and protector was at hand. 'I had thought,' he said after a little, 'that is, I fancied there might be something—some clue to her whereabouts in the bag.' 'It was not complete,' I answered. 'When I could not overtake her, and the brunette did not recommend herself to my confidence, I opened the bag, after some hesitation.' 'Yes?' The syllable was a direct and eager question. 'I found nothing by way of identification save two letters, both unsealed, and these, after some reluctance, I opened.' 'Ah!' A trifle stiffly. 'The first was from a lady in Boston to a lady here at the World's Fair.' 'Indeed!' A freer tone, almost a sigh of relief. 'This gave me so little information that I was obliged to open the second letter, which was written, I suppose, by the owner of the bag, and not as yet posted; even this did not give me her address.' 'How strange!' We had reached the end of his beat, and now I turned with him, and we sauntered slowly toward the Ferris Wheel.[80] I felt that he was worthy of a grain of comfort, if I were able to give it, and I said: 'It was like this. The letter from Boston was written on the eve of a start for this place. The other letter, if posted, would have passed the lady for whom it was intended upon the road. This last letter, written supposedly by the owner of the bag, states that she, having left her New York home some time since, is now in the World's Fair City in company with an aunt, whom she describes as rustic, but delightful, and that because they are stopping very near the Fair she feels safe in coming alone on such days as her aunt elects to pass in the quiet of her own apartment; and the only clue to an address is the statement that she enters the grounds by the Fifty-seventh Street gate.' 'Ah!' It is a sigh of genuine relief. At last he has a clue, if a slight one. But what does he want of a clue? Having gotten thus far, I relate briefly my experience of this morning, omitting description and the name of Monsieur Voisin, whom I describe as a tall dark-haired gentleman, evidently a foreigner, and then I play my card. I am here upon business of an important nature; my time is limited; I do not know the lady; and having committed the folly of holding back first because of the brunette, and last—well, because I had an especial reason for not coming under the notice of this strange man—in short, had I found the lady alone I should have returned her property; in the presence of a third party I did not wish to do so; and then I put my question. He had said that he knew this young lady, and, being here day after day, he would be likely to see her again. She would be sure to revisit the Midway; and what could be more easy than for him to return her lost property, explaining as he chose? It would relieve me much; it would be to me a genuine favour.[81] The guard was silent for a time; then he paused in his measured walk and turned to face me. 'If I have not misunderstood,' he said slowly, 'you set out this morning for the purpose of restoring to the lady her lost property?' 'True.' 'And—do you mean to tell me that because of the presence of this brunette first, and then of the man, you gave up the idea?' 'Quite so.' 'I confess,' he said, 'that I cannot understand why those people should be a hindrance; nevertheless, I am ready to believe that your reason is good and sufficient.' 'Thank you.' 'I trust,' he hastened to add, 'that you will judge me as generously when I say that I cannot oblige you. I know the name of the lady, it is true; but, much as I may desire to serve you, I cannot do so. My desire to avoid the lady, to remain unrecognised by her, is as strong as is yours to hold aloof from her escort. It's an odd position,' he added, with a slow half-smile. 'I trust the contents of Miss—of the bag were not of too great value—not indispensable to her?' 'By no means—quite the contrary; and this being the case, we will trouble ourselves no more about it. Of course I can't urge my request under the circumstances.' I could not repress a smile at the absurdity of the situation. 'And to say that I don't bear malice, as they say in making up a quarrel, let us exchange cards.' I produced my card, a simple pasteboard of the size known as the visiting-card, and with only my name engraved across it. The guard drew back a step, and again that ready flush dyed his face. 'Pardon me. You are addressing me as one gentleman to another, and if I were to give you the name by which I[82] am known here it would not be my true one. I will not give you a fictitious name, and—I can give no other.' I was silent a moment, then—'I will not urge you,' I said; 'but at least, as man and man, equals, we can shake bands.' And I held out my own. His face cleared instantly, and he promptly placed his palm upon mine. 'I can do that,' he said, 'as man to man, as an equal, and'—he threw back his handsome head—'I shall never, I trust, have reason to hesitate before giving my hand as an honest man to an honest man; and now——' He paused, and I with him. 'And now,' I supplemented, 'we are neither of us idlers. This is your beat?' 'For the present.' 'Then—I hope we shall meet again. Success to you.' 'And to you.' He lifted his hat as I turned away, and looking back a moment after, I saw him once more a Columbian Guard on duty, piloting an old woman across the street and away from a sprinkling-cart. 'Handsome enough to be a prince,' I thought. 'An American prince, and poor, doubtless. Honest, I'll wager; and with a mystery. I wonder if the world is pouring all its mysteries into this White City of the world.' <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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