"Yes."
"This is Doctor Morse. I am at the Queen Hotel. Mr. Norton has been badly hurt, and he wants you and Mr. Jones to come at once. We can not tell just how serious the injury is. He is just conscious. Shall I tell him you will come immediately?"
"Yes, yes!"
Florence snapped the receiver on the hook. She wanted to fly, fly. He was hurt. How, when, where?
"Susan! Susan!" she called.
"What is it?" asked Susan, running into the room.
"Jim is badly hurt. He wants me to come at once. Oh, Susan! I"ve been dreading something all day long." Florence struck the maid"s bell. "My wraps. You will go with me, Susan."
"Where, Miss Florence," asked the maid, alive to her duty.
"Where? What is that to you?" demanded Florence, who did not know that this maid was a detective.
"Why not wait till Mr. Jones returns?" she suggested patiently.
"And let the man I love die?" vehemently.
"At least you will leave word where you are going, Miss Florence."
"The Queen Hotel. And if you say another word I"ll discharge you.
Come, Susan."
There happened to be a taxicab conveniently near (as Vroon took care there should be), and Florence at once engaged it. She did not see the man hiding in the bushes. The two young women stepped into the taxicab and were driven off. They had been gone less than five minutes when Jones returned with his purchase, to find the house empty of its most valuable a.s.set. He was furious, not only at the maid, who, he realized, was virtually helpless, but at his own negligence.
In the midst of his violent harangue the bell sounded. In his bones he knew what was going to be found there. It was a letter on the back of which was drawn the fatal black mask. With shaking fingers he tore open the envelope and read the contents:
"Florence is now in our power. Only the surrender of the million will save her. Our agent will call in an hour for an answer. THE BLACK HUNDRED."
As a matter of fact, they had wanted Jones almost as badly as Florence, but her desire for a book--some popular story of the day--had saved him from the net. The letter had been written against this possibility.
Jones became cool, now that he knew just what to face. The Queen Hotel meant nothing. Florence would not be taken there. He called up Norton. It took all the butler"s patience, however, as it required seven different calls to locate the reporter.
Meantime the taxicab containing Florence and Susan spun madly toward the water front. Here the two were separated by an effective threat.
Florence recognized the man Vroon and knew that to plead for mercy would be a waste of time. She permitted herself to be led to a waiting launch. Always when she disobeyed Jones something like this happened.
But this time they had cunningly struck at her heart, and all thought of her personal safety became as nothing. For the present she knew that she was in no actual physical danger. She was merely to be held as a hostage. Would Susan have mentality enough to tell Jones where the taxicab had stopped? She doubted. In an emergency Susan had proved herself a nonent.i.ty, a bundle of hysterical thrills.
As a matter of fact, for once Florence"s deductions were happily wrong.
When the chauffeur peremptorily deposited Susan on the lonely country road, several miles from home, she ran hot-foot to the nearest telephone and sent a very concise message home. Susan was becoming acclimated to this strange, exciting existence.
Norton arrived in due time, and he and Jones were mapping out a plan when Susan"s message came.
[Ill.u.s.tration: THEY WERE MAPPING OUT A PLAN WHEN SUSAN"S MESSAGE CAME]
"Good girl!" said Jones. "She"s learning. Can you handle this alone, Norton? They want me out of the house again, for I believe they were after me as well as Florence. Half an hour gone!"
"Trust me!" cried Norton.
And he ran out to his auto. It was a wild ride. Several policemen shouted after him, but he went on unmindful. They could take his license number a hundred times for all he cared. So they had got her?
They could wait till their enemy"s vigilance slacked and then would strike? But Susan! The next time he saw Susan he was going to take her in his arms and kiss her. It might be a new sensation to kiss Susan, always so prim and offish. Corey Street--that had been her direction. They had put Florence in a motor boat at the foot of Corey Street. He was perhaps half an hour behind.
Florence never opened her lips. She stared ahead proudly. She would show these scoundrels that she was her father"s daughter. They plied her with questions, but she pretended not to hear.
"Well, pretty bird, we"ll make you speak when the time comes. We"ve got you this trip where we want you. There won"t be any jumping overboard this session, believe me. We"ve wasted enough time. We"ve got you and we"re going to keep you."
"Let her be," said Vroon morosely. "We"ll put all the questions we wish when we"re at our destination." And he nodded significantly toward the ships riding at anchor.
Florence felt her heart sink in spite of her abundant courage. Were they going to take her to sea again? She had acquired a horror of the sea, so big, so terrible, so strong. She had had an experience with its sullen power. They had gone about four miles down when she looked back longingly toward sh.o.r.e. Something white seemed to be spinning over the water far behind. At first she could not discern what it was.
As she watched it it grew and grew. It finally emerged from the illusion of a gigantic bird into the actuality of an every-day hydroplane. Her heart gave a great bound. This flying machine was coming directly toward the launch; it did not deviate a hair"s breadth from the line. Fortunately the men were looking toward the huge freighter a quarter of a mile farther on, and from their talk it was evident that the freighter was to be her prison--bound for where?
Nearer and nearer came the hydroplane. Was it for her?
It was impossible for the men not to take notice of the barking of the engines at last.
"The thing"s headed for us!"
Vroon stared under his palm. It was not credible that pursuit had taken place so quickly. To test yonder man-bird he abruptly changed the course of the launch. The hydroplane veered its course to suit.
Florence heard her name called faintly. One of the men drew his revolver, but Vroon knocked it out of his hand.
"There"s the police boat, you fool!"
"Jump!" a voice called to Florence.
She flung herself into the water without the slightest hesitation.
All this came about something after this fashion. When Norton arrived at the foot of Corey Street a boatman informed him that a young woman of his description had got into a fast motor boat and had gone down the river.
"Was there any struggle?"
"Struggle? None that I could see. She didn"t make no fuss about going."
"Have you a launch?"
"Yes, but the other boat has half an hour"s start, and I"d never catch her in a thousand years. But there"s a hydroplane a little above here.
You might interest the feller that runs it."
"Thanks!"
But the aviator would not listen.
"A life may hang in the balance, man!" expostulated Norton, longing to pommel the stubborn man.
"What proof have I of that?"