Читать книгу The Valdmere Mystery or The Atomic Ray - Milo Milton Oblinger - Страница 5

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The boys were up at dawn the following morning—a bright cheerful dawn that promised fair weather for Professor Valdmere’s demonstration. Ted, first to arise, hurried to the window and looked out. Beyond the outskirts of the town, as far as eye could reach, the prairie scintillated and sparkled with the early morning dew. Very plainly he could make out Valdmere’s place, the set of low, rambling buildings, the high fence and even the guards themselves who appeared like dark specks limned against the background of the little village of buildings near the center of the estate. Ted turned to Philo.

“Everything looks promising,” he chirped. “A beautiful day. What time is it?”

Before answering, his friend glanced at the dial of his wrist watch.

“Twenty minutes past six. That’s early but we seem to be the last to rise.” He paused, motioned to the row of empty cots. “Wonder what time they got up? Perhaps they were wiser than we are and anticipated that the dining-room would be crowded. What do you think of those foreign-looking roommates of ours?”

Ted scowled lightly. “Tough looking customers, aren’t they? One almost hesitates to sleep in the same room with them. After they went to bed last night they lay for a long time jabbering to each other in that strange language. They’re Russians I think.”

“Bolshevicks!” grimaced Philo.

“No, I wouldn’t say that. All Russians aren’t Bolshevicks, you know. But whatever they are, their appearance surely is not very prepossessing.”

A few minutes later, when the boys descended to the dining room, they found every table occupied and a long line near the door awaiting their turn. Philo grinned at his chum.

“Just what I suspected, Ted, but I have an idea. If we wait here it may be eight o’clock before we have a chance to get our breakfast. Let’s go outside and see if any of the stores are open. If they are, we can buy cookies and fruit and proceed directly out to Valdmere’s place. We may be too late for an early breakfast, but we won’t be crowded out of the first place in the line for Valdmere’s demonstration.”

“That’s a go,” said Ted, following his friend to the door. “I’m willing to miss breakfast altogether if we can do that.”

The first two stores they went to were still locked, but at the third place they met a clerk just opening the front door. In a few minutes they had secured their purchases. On the way out to the professor’s estate, Ted observed:

“We aren’t the only ones imbued with the big idea. See the crowd ahead of us down the street.”

“If those people have had their breakfasts already, they must have been awake all night. Do you suppose there are any of our roommates in that party?”

“I shouldn’t wonder.”

At the next street intersection they were crossing over to the opposite side when a big car, swinging along toward them, unexpectedly put on its brakes and slowed down to a full stop. There was only one person in the automobile, the driver herself, a young girl in her early teens. She called to them softly. Surprised, the two boys swung on their heels and came back.

“Can you tell me the right road to Langdon Prairie?” trembled the young driver. “I—I—I’m a stranger here and am not acquainted with the roads.”

The young lady appeared to be deeply agitated. Her face was white and, in spite of her brave effort to appear composed, her lips trembled. She was a very pretty girl and both Ted and Philo felt sorry for her.

“We’re strangers, too,” Ted was the first to speak. “Just came here yesterday to see Professor Valdmere’s demonstration. But I can tell you what to do. Right at the corner, when you reach the main street, you’ll find a grocery store open. The clerk there will be able to tell you.”

“The store on the south side of the street,” appended Philo.

The girl thanked them, started to take a firmer hold on the wheel, hesitated and with her cheeks deathly white, suddenly raised her hands to her head and slumped back helplessly. For a moment, the two boys stood like wooden statues.

“Why—why, she’s fainted!” exclaimed Philo.

Ted was the first to act. Swinging open the car door, he reached over and assisted the unconscious young lady to a more recumbent and restful position in the front seat. Then he switched off the motor.

“Run over to that house,” he directed Philo, “and see if you can get some water. Hurry!”

Inexperienced in matters of this sort, Ted could almost believe that the driver was dead. Her face was ghastly. As far as he could see, she did not breathe at all. It seemed like a very long time before his chum returned. But when he did, they bathed her face and presently a faint wave of color ebbed back into her cheeks. Ted continued to apply the cold cloth to her head.

“We’d better carry her over to the house,” suggested Philo, greatly perturbed. “She’s in no condition to drive this car. Besides, people are coming and it won’t be long before a crowd will collect.”

It seemed a wise procedure. They had raised her up to a more erect position and were preparing to lift her from the car when she gave a queer, fluttering little gasp and her eyes opened. For a brief period she stared at the two young men a little fearfully.

“Oh!” she gasped.

“I’m sorry, Miss, but you fainted,” Ted informed her. “You remember you stopped here to inquire the way to Langdon Prairie. You mustn’t be afraid. My friend and I will help you into the house. There is a woman there and you can lie down and in a few minutes you will feel better.”

The girl thrust away Ted’s supporting arms, at the same time steadying herself by getting a firm hold on the wheel. To the surprise of both Ted and Philo she drew back away from them as if in terror.

“No, no, no! I mustn’t do that. I’m in a great hurry. I must get to Langdon Prairie just as quickly as I can.”

“You’re in no condition to drive to Langdon Prairie,” said Ted firmly.

“But I must,” she faltered.

“Then you’d better get someone to drive the car,” Philo suggested. “If—if you don’t mind, Miss, we could take you down as far as the corner store and see if we could get someone.”

“I tell you I haven’t time. I’m not acquainted here. If one of you young men will consent to drive me, I’ll pay you handsomely.”

Now, as a matter of fact, neither Ted nor Philo wished to go to Langdon Prairie. They had no idea how far away it was and they were afraid that by proceeding there they might return too late to witness the professor’s demonstration. And yet duty is duty—and there were certain obligations one cannot reasonably neglect. They looked at each other, lips pursed.

“I’ll take you,” stated Ted finally.

“No,” objected Philo, turning upon the girl, “you see, he’s more interested than I am in Professor Valdmere’s demonstration, and I wouldn’t for the world have him miss it.”

“That’s all right,” said Ted, trying to make light of the matter. “Thanks, Philo. You’d better stay.”

Philo shook his head stubbornly and went around to the opposite side of the car and swung open the door.

“If you’ll slide over, Miss, I’ll take the wheel. Good-bye, Ted. Perhaps I’ll be back in time anyway.”

The motor had begun to purr softly, when, to Philo’s surprise, the rear door opened and Ted jumped in. Then that young man’s voice, firm with decision:

“Drive on, Philo. If you’re going to miss it, I am too.”

The girl started to say something but Ted silenced her.

“Professor Valdmere is giving another demonstration Wednesday, so it doesn’t matter. We’re only too glad to be of service to you. Stop at that store, Philo,” he instructed, “and I’ll inquire about the road. It will only take a minute.”

In this Ted was right. A few moments later, in answer to his inquiry, the clerk willingly pointed out the way.

“Turn down Main Street,” he instructed, “and keep right on going. You can’t miss it. Just ten miles.”

“Thanks,” said Ted, bolting for the door.

Soon afterward, entering the car he imparted the information to his chum. They glided down along the main street and out into the open country. Big drops of dew still blinked and twinkled in the grass. The perfumed breath of grass and prairie flowers came to him. Philo stepped on the accelerator. A wind of their own making whipped up around them, A cloud of dust streamed away behind. For a long time no one spoke. Then, his voice trumpeting above the roar of the car, Ted leaned over to the girl.

“Is Langdon Prairie a town?” he shouted.

“I don’t know,” answered the girl.

“Haven’t you ever been there?”

“No.”

Ted could not help but think that it was all very mysterious. The girl acted very strangely, he thought. “Whom do you wish to see in Langdon Prairie?” he asked curiously.

For a time there came no answer to this. Then the girl half turned in her seat and, reaching back with her left hand, gave Ted a small slip of paper that looked as if it had been torn from the back of an old envelope. In the center of the sheet, roughly scrawled, were three words:

“Langdon Prairie. Dad.”

Still holding the bit of paper in his hand, Ted’s brow knit together and he looked up quickly at the girl. An inexplicable feeling had swept through him. On the paper were specks of blood.

“My dad is in trouble,” sobbed the girl, “and he wrote that knowing that I would come to him. I found the note lying on the floor in his office. Oh, it is terrible,” she choked, suddenly covering her eyes with her arm, her body shaking.

“Who is your father?” he asked.

The answer was so startling that even Philo was visibly affected and the car nearly swerved from the road.

“Professor Valdmere!”