CHAPTER XXVI
IT was when she had gotten as far as the door that led into the hall that she saw Louise Bartholomew. She was seated at a table with a dozen or so other young people, who evidently had run over from some nearby summer colony for an evening of dancing. Reba knew by the expression on Louise's face that she must have been aware of her presence there for some time. She gave no start of surprise as their eyes met. Reba smiled faintly at her, and passed swiftly out into the hall. She did not mount the stairs to the dressing-room, but immediately approached the outside door, and went out onto the long veranda. She walked the length of it, and down the few steps at the far end, which led to the large open parking-space, well-filled now with a confusing lot of automobiles, and a few chauffeurs. Reba did not know just where Chadwick Booth had left his car. She had not been with him then, but she knew its number and appearance. Besides, there was the little green cross to simplify her search still more.
She discovered the car inside of three minutes hidden behind two limousines, and quickly went up to it. Chadwick Booth had taken the precaution to lock both of the doors, and for a moment Reba feared that it would be necessary for her to leave behind the motor-coat and silk sweater, which she was very well aware was rolled up inside the coat. She observed, however, that one of the glass windows was not quite closed, and stepping up onto the running-board, Reba slipped her fingers into the tiny space at the top of the window and slipped it down, leaned as far forward as she could, and with a little spring caught hold of a corner of the yellow coat, and dragged it towards her; then pushed up the window again, hopped down from the step, and with both coat and sweater safely over her arm hurried swiftly away.
It was a dark moonless night, and the narrow country road that wound for several miles over rough and uninhabited woodlands was infrequently lighted. Reba knew that there was but one road that approached the restaurant, so she could not lose her way in the apparent wilderness that surrounded her. She knew too that once she reached the state-road there was located a railroad station not far away, for often parties came out from town to dine at the restaurant, and were met at this station by the establishment's motor-bus. But whether she should turn to the left or right when she reached the main highway Reba had no idea. As she scurried along the dark road, it occurred to her as fortunate that she had chanced to bring her shopping-bag with her. But for the sailor's wedding-ring which had necessitated some sort of receptacle she might have been without railroad fare. There was at least ten dollars inside her bag.
Reba was not afraid to walk the dark country roads about Ridgefield on moonless nights, and she told herself there was nothing to be afraid of here. And she wasn't afraid at first. It was when the lights of an approaching automobile appeared around an abrupt curve, that her heart suddenly jerked. She stepped back quickly out of sight behind some bushes, but after the automobile had passed, her heart was pounding hard. This wasn't a road where women were often found walking alone, she imagined. Vague fears took possession of her. Still she pushed on, ears and eyes alert, stopping every now and then to listen and darting quickly out of sight into a dark shadow at every sound that might prove to be an automobile.
Once the sudden flash of the headlight of an automobile from behind caught her before she had a chance to retreat, and the car itself was beside her, and had slipped past, in an instant. When she observed it slow down, fifty yards or so in front of her, and stop, she stood still in her tracks a second, and contemplated plunging into the dense woods. For whoever was driving the car had reversed his engine, and Reba observed that its tail-light was slowly approaching her. Panic-stricken, she stood her ground, however, and waited.
"Can't we give you a lift?" a man's voice suddenly called out, when within speaking distance.
Somehow Reba managed a controlled reply. "No, thank you."
"Better let us."
"No, thank you."
"Just to the state-road?"
"No, thank you," still she insisted. And finally, oh, finally—she heard the relieving sound of grinding gears, and the car moved away.
It was after that, that she wondered if, after all, the dark tangle of underbrush and trees, through which the road was cut, would not prove safer. If only she had enough courage to brave the solitude of some secluded copse, until dawn, her common-sense told her, that nothing would molest her in the woods. But after five minutes of close crouching beneath some alder-bushes she sought the road again, as an escape from the frightening weirdness of her hiding-place.
She hurried fast after that, almost running, falling down once or twice as her foot caught in a root, or on the edge of a protruding stone, all the while biting her under-lip hard to keep her teeth from chattering. She might have lost control of herself long before she reached the state-road, but for the steadying effect of the second automobile that passed her. There was plenty of time to conceal herself this time, and she was well hidden behind a screen of grapevines as it overtook her. When she comprehended the reason of the car's low speed, her teeth stopped chattering instantly, as if she had been plunged into icy water, or in some equally effective manner shocked out of her gathering hysteria. It was Chadwick Booth's car! He was hunting for her, slowly searching the road on either side!
She hadn't considered until now the effect of her flight upon Chadwick Booth. She had been too intent on getting away from him. But of course he would hunt for her, when she failed to return. She must have been gone now, she figured (it was too dark to read the time upon her wrist), nearly an hour. He had, she concluded, found her coat missing from the automobile, and drawn his conclusions. The realization that she had successfully evaded him, made her forget for a while vaguer dangers, and she pursued her way, with more confidence.
It was, however, with a very long deep sigh of relief when Reba finally broke out upon the state-road. Here there was at least an even road-bed, with reassuring white fences gleaming dimly now and then, and electric-lights occasionally, to read the time by. Only half-past ten! Reba took heart. Surely there would be a late train returning to town, from wherever the railroad station was situated. Three automobiles whizzed sharply past her as she stood looking up and down the long straight road, uncertain in which direction to go. If she had been a man she had only to step out into the middle of the road, and hail any one of the automobiles that came by, and ask the way to the nearest railway station, but a woman—at least she, Reba Jerome—dared not do a thing like that. She turned north. In that direction lay Boston anyhow.
Reba was fortunate in her choice. She had walked only a quarter of a mile when she met a white horse drawing a buggy, well filled with a man, a large woman, and a small boy crammed in between. Reba inquired of this reassuring loadful, if there was a railroad station nearby, and the man's voice replied:
"Yes. Quarter mile or so further on, and turn in to yer right by some ice-houses."
"And is there a train to Boston, do you think, to-night?" asked Reba.
"Yes," the man assured her, "at twenty minutes after eleven, or thereabouts."
"And does it surely stop at this station?"
"Yes. Only station fifteen miles further on, or six miles back, it does stop at. You'll ketch yer train all right, ma'am. Depot ain't fifteen minutes' walk away."
"Oh, thank you."
"You're welcome. Git up, Nancy."
When Reba came in sight of the solitary little country station, dimly lighted and standing quite by itself beside the railroad track, she came in sight too of Chadwick Booth's automobile, drawn up close beside the little building. He was there waiting for her, having concluded, no doubt, that she had procured some sort of conveyance, and would arrive at the station in time for the Boston train.
Reba's one idea was to escape from Chadwick Booth, and it so completely possessed her that she did not even consider boldly approaching the station and in spite of his protests boarding the train.
Instead she ran forward quickly into the huge black shadow of a mastodon ice-house, and, keeping close against its wall, sped like some silent-footed yellow moth along its side, until a huge yawning door offered sudden refuge.
From this dark retreat Reba watched the train pull up to the station, stop a moment, and pull away again. Two minutes later, from the same dark hiding-spot, she watched the red tail-light of Chadwick Booth's automobile disappearing toward Boston.