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"Why not?" said the girl.
The young man laughed with pleasure.

"I am unpardonable," he said. "I live so much alone--that I
forget." Like one who, issuing from a close room, encounters

the morning air, he drew a deep, happy breath. "It has been
three years since a woman has been in this house," he said

simply. "And I have not even thanked you," he went on, "nor
asked you if you are cold," he cried remorsefully, "or hungry.

How nice it would be if you would say you are hungry."
The girl walked beside him, laughing lightly, and, as they

disappeared into the greater hall beyond, Winthrop heard her
cry: "You never robbed your own ice-chest? How have you kept

from starving? Show me it, and we'll rob it together."
The voice of their host rang through the empty house with a

laugh like that of an eager, happy child.
"Heavens!" said the owner of the car, "isn't she wonderful!"

But neither the prostrate burglars, nor the servants, intent
on strapping their wrists together, gave him any answer.

As they were finishing the supper filched from the ice-chest,
Fred was brought before them from the kitchen. The blow the

burglar had given him was covered with a piece of cold
beef-steak, and the water thrown on him to revive him was

thawing from his leather breeches. Mr. Carey expressed his
gratitude, and rewarded him beyond the avaricious dreams even

of a chauffeur.
As the three trespassers left the house, accompanied by many

pails of water, the girl turned to the lonely figure in the
doorway and waved her hand.

"May we come again?" she called.
But young Mr. Carey did not trust his voice to answer.

Standing erect, with folded arms, in dark silhouette in the
light of the hall, he bowed his head.

Deaf to alarm bells, to pistol shots, to cries for help, they
found her brother and Ernest Peabody sleeping soundly.

"Sam is a charming chaperon," said the owner of the car.
With the girl beside him, with Fred crouched, shivering, on

the step, he threw in the clutch; the servants from the house
waved the emptied buckets in salute, and the great car sprang

forward into the awakening day toward the golden dome over the
Boston Common. In the rear seat Peabody shivered and yawned,

and then sat erect.
"Did you get the water?" he demanded, anxiously.

There was a grim silence.
"Yes," said the owner of the car patiently. "You needn't

worry any longer. We got the water."
III

THE KIDNAPPERS
During the last two weeks of the "whirlwind" campaign,

automobiles had carried the rival candidates to every election
district in Greater New York.

During these two weeks, at the disposal of Ernest Peabody--on
the Reform Ticket, "the people's choice for

Lieutenant-Governor--" Winthrop had placed his Scarlet Car,
and, as its chauffeur, himself.

Not that Winthrop greatly cared for Reform, or Ernest Peabody.
The "whirlwind" part of the campaign was what attracted him;

the crowds, the bands, the fireworks, the rush by night from
hall to hall, from Fordham to Tompkinsville. And, while

inside the different Lyceums, Peabody lashed the Tammany
Tiger, outside in his car, Winthrop was making friends with

Tammany policemen, and his natural enemies, the bicycle cops.
To Winthrop, the day in which he did not increase his

acquaintance with the traffic squad, was a day lost.
But the real reason for his efforts in the cause of Reform,

was one he could not declare. And it was a reason that was
guessed perhaps by only one person. On some nights Beatrice

Forbes and her brother Sam accompanied Peabody. And while
Peabody sat in the rear of the car, mumbling the speech he

would next deliver, Winthrop was given the chance to talk with
her. These chances were growing cruelly few. In one month

after election day Miss Forbes and Peabody would be man and
wife. Once before the day of their marriage had been fixed,

but, when the Reform Party offered Peabody a high place on its
ticket, he asked, in order that he might bear his part in the

cause of reform, that the wedding be postponed. To the
postponement Miss Forbes made no objection. To one less

self-centred than Peabody, it might have appeared that she
almost too readily consented.

"I knew I could count upon your seeing my duty as I saw it,"
said Peabody much pleased, "it always will be a satisfaction

to both of us to remember you never stood between me and my
work for reform."

"What do you think my brother-in-law-to-be has done now?"
demanded Sam of Winthrop, as the Scarlet Car swept into Jerome

Avenue. "He's postponed his marriage with Trix just because he
has a chance to be Lieutenant-Governor. What is a

Lieutenant-Governor anyway, do you know? I don't like to ask
Peabody."

"It Is not his own election he's working for," said Winthrop.
He was conscious of an effort to assume a point of view both

noble and magnanimous.
"He probably feels the `cause' calls him. But, good Heavens!"

"Look out!" shrieked Sam, "where you going?"
Winthrop swung the car back into the avenue.

"To think," he cried, "that a man who could marry--a girl, and
then would ask her to wait two months. Or, two days! Two

months lost out of his life, and she might die; he might lose
her, she might change her mind. Any number of men can be

Lieutenant-Governors; only one man can be----"
He broke off suddenly, coughed and fixed his eyes miserably on

the road. After a brief pause, Brother Sam covertly looked at
him. Could it be that "Billie" Winthrop, the man liked of all

men, should love his sister, and--that she should prefer
Ernest Peabody? He was deeply, loyally indignant. He

determined to demand of his sister an immediate and abject
apology.

At eight o'clock on the morning of election day, Peabody, in
the Scarlet Car, was on his way to vote. He lived at

Riverside Drive, and the polling-booth was only a few blocks
distant. During the rest of the day he intended to use the

car to visit other election districts, and to keep him in
touch with the Reformers at the Gilsey House. Winthrop was

acting as his chauffeur, and in the rear seat was Miss Forbes.
Peabody had asked her to accompany him to the polling-booth,

because he thought women who believed in reform should show
their interest in it in public, before all men. Miss Forbes

disagreed with him, chiefly because whenever she sat in a box
at any of the public meetings the artists from the newspapers,

instead of immortalizing the candidate, made pictures of her
and her hat. After she had seen her future lord and master

cast his vote for reform and himself, she was to depart by
train to Tarrytown. The Forbes's country place was there, and

for election day her brother Sam had invited out some of his
friends to play tennis.

As the car darted and dodged up Eighth Avenue, a man who had
been hidden by the stairs to the Elevated, stepped in front of

it. It caught him, and hurled him, like a mail-bag tossed
from a train, against one of the pillars that support the

overhead tracks. Winthrop gave a cry and fell upon the
brakes. The cry was as full of pain as though he himself had

been mangled. Miss Forbes saw only the man appear, and then
disappear, but, Winthrop's shout of warning, and the wrench as

the brakes locked, told her what had happened. She shut her
eyes, and for an instant covered them with her hands. On the

front seat Peabody clutched helplessly at the cushions. In
horror his eyes were fastened on the motionless mass jammed

against the pillar. Winthrop scrambled over him, and ran to
where the man lay. So, apparently, did every other inhabitant

of Eighth Avenue; but Winthrop was the first to reach him and
kneeling in the car tracks, he tried to place the head and

shoulders of the body against the iron pillar. He had seen
very few dead men; and to him, this weight in his arms, this

bundle of limp flesh and muddy clothes, and the purple-bloated
face with blood trickling down it, looked like a dead man.

Once or twice when in his car, Death had reached for Winthrop,
and only by the scantiest grace had he escaped. Then the

nearness of it had only sobered him. Now that he believed he
had brought it to a fellow man, even though he knew he was in

no degree to blame, the thought sickened and shocked him. His
brain trembled with remorse and horror.

But voices assailing him on every side brought him to the
necessity of the moment. Men were pressing close upon him,

jostling, abusing him, shaking fists in his face. Another
crowd of men, as though fearing the car would escape of its

own volition, were clinging to the steps and running boards.
Winthrop saw Miss Forbes standing above them, talking eagerly

to Peabody, and pointing at him. He heard children's shrill
voices calling to new arrivals that an automobile had killed a

man; that it had killed him on purpose. On the outer edge of
the crowd men shouted: "Ah, soak him," "Kill him," "Lynch

him."
A soiled giant without a collar stooped over the purple,

blood-stained face, and then leaped upright, and shouted:
"It's Jerry Gaylor, he's killed old man Gaylor."

The response was instant. Every one seemed to know Jerry
Gaylor.

Winthrop took the soiled person by the arm.
"You help me lift him into my car," he ordered. "Take him by

the shoulders. We must get him to a hospital."
"To a hospital? To the Morgue!" roared the man. "And the

police station for yours. You don't do no get-away."
Winthrop answered him by turning to the crowd. "If this man

has any friends here, they'll please help me put him in my
car, and we'll take him to Roosevelt Hospital."

The soiled person shoved a fist and a bad cigar under
Winthrop's nose.

"Has he got any friends?" he mocked. "Sure, he's got friends,
and they'll fix you, all right."

"Sure!" echoed the crowd.
The man was encouraged.

"Don't you go away thinking you can come up here with your
buzz wagon and murder better men nor you'll ever be and----"

"Oh, shut up!" said Winthrop.
He turned his back on the soiled man, and again appealed to

the crowd.
"Don't stand there doing nothing," he commanded. "Do you want

this man to die? Some of you ring for an ambulance and get a
policeman, or tell me where is the nearest drug store."

No one moved, but every one shouted to every one else to do as
Winthrop suggested.

Winthrop felt something pulling at his sleeve, and turning,
found Peabody at his shoulder peering fearfully at the figure

in the street. He had drawn his cap over his eyes and hidden
the lower part of his face in the high collar of his motor

coat. "I can't do anything, can I?" he asked.
"I'm afraid not," whispered Winthrop. "Go back to the car and

don't leave Beatrice. I'll attend to this."
"That's what I thought," whispered Peabody eagerly. "I

thought she and I had better keep out of it."
"Right!" exclaimed Winthrop. "Go back and get Beatrice away."

Peabody looked his relief, but still hesitated.


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