The Automobile Girls at Palm Beach: or, Proving Their Mettle Under Southern Skies

The “Automobile Girls” were soon on their way to the countess’s pretty villa. Mollie still held herself apart from the other three girls. She felt that no one of them had risen to the defence of her adored countess with the ardor she expected.

Ruth was running the car slowly. It was only a few miles to the villa. Ruth was a cautious chauffeur, and was not in the habit of managing so large an automobile.

As her car moved quietly and steadily toward its destination, another small automobile dashed past it. Ruth glanced about quickly. The man who drove the small car was exceeding the speed limit. He was alone. He wore a long dust coat with the collar turned up to his ears; he had a cap pulled low over his face, and he wore an immense pair of green goggles. But Ruth’s quick eyes recognized him. Her three companions paid little attention to the man.

“Bab,” said Ruth, at almost the same instant that the small car swept by them, “it is Monsieur Duval who is driving that car!”

“Well,” replied Bab, “what of it? I did not know Mr. Duval was a motorist. But I am not surprised, for he seems to know almost everything.”

“Bab, I think he is on his way to see the Countess Sophia von Stolberg,” Ruth announced with conviction.

“He does not know the countess, does he?” Grace inquired. “I think he was introduced to her only through us.”

“I don’t know what Monsieur Duval knows and what he doesn’t know,” explained Ruth. “But I should like to find out. Anyhow, I am going to beat him to the countess’s house. If she has something important to tell us, Monsieur Duval shall not keep us from hearing it.”

Ruth put on full speed and started her car in pursuit of the flying automobile in front of her. In a few seconds she drew near the automobile. The little car was on the right side of the road and making its best speed. Ruth sounded her horn. She swerved her great car to the left in order to pass the smaller one.

Bab uttered a cry of terror. Mollie and Grace both screamed. Ruth’s face turned white, but she had no time to scream.

The small motor car just in front of her immense automobile turned like a flash. It swept across the road immediately in the path of Ruth’s on-coming car, and not more than a few paces ahead of her.

It was either a mad piece of foolishness on the part of the chauffeur, or a magnificent dare. At the moment Ruth did not stop to wonder whether the man ahead of her had deliberately risked his life and theirs in order to accomplish some purpose. All her ability as a driver was needed to meet the situation.

Ruth’s hands never left the steering wheel of her car. In less than a half second, she put on the full stop brake. With a terrific wrench her great automobile settled back. It stopped just one foot this side of the car that had crossed their path.

Ruth was white with anger. She saw, a moment later, that the driver ahead of her had accomplished his design. For no sooner had Ruth’s car stopped, than the other motorist forged ahead. Ruth resumed the chase, but she was obliged to be careful. She dared not risk the lives of her friends by driving too close to the other car. The man ahead might repeat his trick. Ruth could not be sure that she could always stop her motor in so brief a space of time and distance.

So the smaller of the two automobiles arrived first at the countess’s villa.

The Countess Sophia von Stolberg evidently expecting a visit from the “Automobile Girls,” sat at her piano in her drawing-room, playing one of Chopin’s nocturnes. At the sound of the automobile outside on the avenue the countess left her music and ran out on her veranda to meet her young visitors. But instead of the four girls a heavy, well-built man in a long dust coat and goggles approached the countess. The countess did not recognize him at once. A suave voice soon enlightened her. “Madame,” it said. “I have come to see you on an important matter of business. I must see you alone.”

“What business can you have with me, Monsieur Duval?” asked the young countess coldly. But her voice trembled slightly.

“I bring you news of a friend,” declared Mr. Duval quietly.

“I have no friends whom you could know, Monsieur,” answered the Countess Sophia.

“No?” her visitor replied, shrugging his shoulders and speaking in a light bantering tone. “Shall I inform you, then, and your young friends, whom I now see approaching?”

Ruth’s motor car was now in plain sight. The four girls rushed forward to join the countess.

At the same moment the tap-tap of a stick was heard inside the house. Madame de Villiers appeared, followed by Johann with a tray of lemonade.

The countess spoke quickly. “No, no, you must say nothing to me, now. I cannot listen to you. Please go away.”

Bab noticed that the countess was trembling when she took her hand.

Monsieur Duval bowed courteously to Ruth. “Mademoiselle,” he declared, “I owe you an apology. I fear I am but a poor chauffeur. My car swerved in front of yours on the road. It was unpardonable. I offer you many thanks for your skill. You saved us from a bad smash-up.”

Ruth colored. Hot words rose to her lips. But she feared to say too much. She looked at Mr. Duval gravely. “I think, Mr. Duval,” she remarked, as suavely as the Frenchman could have spoken, “it will be wise for you not to run a motor car unless you learn how to handle it better. You are right. We were exposed to great danger from your carelessness.”

Madame de Villiers now gazed sternly at Monsieur Duval. “Have I the pleasure of your acquaintance?” she inquired coldly, turning her lorgnette on the Frenchman.

Monsieur Duval lost some of his self-assurance in the presence of this beak-nosed old lady. “I met you at Mr. Stuart’s picnic, Madame,” he explained. “Good-bye, ladies.” Monsieur Duval bowed low. Then he turned to the countess. “I will deliver my news to you, Countess Sophia, whenever you are pleased to hear it.” A moment later the Frenchman disappeared. But on his way back to his hotel he smiled. “If life were not a lottery it would be too stupid to endure. Yet this is the first time in my career that a group of young girls have tried to beat me at my own game.”

When the Frenchman had finally gone the countess turned to Mollie, and kissed her. Then she looked affectionately at Bab, Grace and Ruth.

“You saw my signal, didn’t you?” she asked, smiling. “What an energetic society to come to me in such a hurry! I really have something to tell you. It is something serious. Yet I must ask you to trust me, if I tell you only part of a story. I cannot tell you all. As it is much too beautiful to stay indoors, suppose we go to my pavilion down by the water.”

On the way to the boathouse, Ruth stopped to embrace Mollie. “Mollie, darling, forgive me!” she whispered. “I promise you never to doubt our lovely countess again. She is perfect.”

When the Countess Sophia and the four “Automobile Girls” were safely in the boathouse, the young hostess sighed. “I am sorry to talk about disagreeable things to-day,” she murmured. “You cannot understand what a pleasure it is to me to know four such charming young girls. I have had so few companions in my life. Indeed I have been lonely, always.”

The “Automobile Girls” were silent. They hardly knew what to reply.

“I must try to tell you why I sent for you,” the countess went on. “I want to warn you – ”

“About the Count de Sonde?” cried Mollie, who had never gotten over her first prejudice.

“Yes,” replied the countess slowly. “I think I promised to help you save your girl friend Maud Warren. I am afraid she and the count are more interested in each other than you girls imagine.” The countess faltered and looked fearfully about her. “You must not let Miss Warren marry the Count de Sonde,” she murmured. “You must stop such a wedding at all hazards. The Count de Sonde is – ”

“Is what?” asked Barbara.

The countess shook her head. Again she blushed painfully. “I cannot tell you now,” explained the countess. “But I know this. If Miss Warren marries the Count de Sonde she will regret it all her life.”

“But how can we prevent Maud’s marrying the count if she wishes to do so?” queried practical Bab. “Unless you can tell us something definite against the count, we cannot go to Mr. Warren or Maud. Mr. Warren has already forbidden Maud to have anything to do with the Count de Sonde, but Maud continually disobeys her father.”

“I am sorry,” said the young countess hesitatingly. “I wish I dared tell you more. But I can explain nothing. Only I warn you to be careful.”

“Need we to fear the Frenchman, Monsieur Duval?” Ruth asked thoughtfully.

The countess was silent for a moment. Then she said slowly, “You must fear him most of all!”

CHAPTER XII

MAUD REFUSES TO BE RESCUED

When the “Automobile Girls” chaperoned by Miss Sallie, descended to the hotel ball room that evening, where a hop was in progress, the orchestra was playing the “Blue Danube” and Maud and the Count de Sonde were waltzing together. The spectators seated along the wall smiled in spite of themselves for the count’s style of dancing was far from graceful. His idea of waltzing consisted in whirling his partner round and round, and as Maud was at least four inches taller than the count and very thin, the effect was indescribably ridiculous.

“How absurd the count looks!” Bab exclaimed to Ruth. “Just look at those high heels and that strutting walk! Do you suppose Maud Warren can really care for him?”

“No; I don’t think she cares for him at all,” Ruth returned. “It is the lure of his title that has fascinated Maud. The title, ‘Count de Sonde’ is like music in her ears.”

“Do you think Mr. Warren would disinherit Maud, if she married the count?” asked Bab.

Ruth shook her head. “Mr. Warren gave Maud half a million dollars in her own name a year ago,” Ruth explained. “So, you see, she is an heiress already. Besides, Mr. Warren would never forsake Maud. He simply adores her. I think he went off on that fishing trip with father just to keep from seeing Maud carry on. He thinks Aunt Sallie may be able to influence her while he is gone. But do look at Miss Sarah Stuart, Bab!”

Miss Sallie swept down the ball-room floor in a handsome black satin and jet evening gown, with Mrs. De Lancey Smythe in her wake.

There was the fire of battle in Miss Stuart’s eye. On the widow’s cheeks burned two flaming signals of wrath.

“Maud Warren was left in my care by her father, Mrs. Smythe,” declared Miss Sallie. “In Mr. Warren’s absence I forbid Maud’s going about unchaperoned with the Count de Sonde.”

“Miss Warren is not a child, Miss Stuart,” replied Mrs. De Lancey Smythe angrily. “If she chooses to go about with the count I hardly see how you can prevent it. The Count de Sonde is a noble, trustworthy young man.”

“Miss Warren shall not go with him against my wishes,” replied Miss Stuart quietly, “and I fail to see how the matter can possibly interest you.”

Mrs. De Lancey Smythe’s voice trembled with rage. “You appear to be excessively strict with Miss Warren, Miss Stuart,” she returned, “yet you allow your niece and her friends to associate, every day, with a woman who is entirely unknown to you, a woman about whom this entire hotel is talking.”

“Whom do you mean?” Miss Sallie demanded. She was exceedingly angry.

“Mean?” Mrs. De Lancey Smythe laughed mockingly. “I mean this so called Countess Sophia von Stolberg. She is no more a countess than I am. She is a fugitive and a swindler. She will be arrested as soon as there is sufficient evidence against her.”

The “Automobile Girls” had moved up close to Miss Sallie. They waited to hear what she would say in regard to the countess.

“I do not believe the countess to be an impostor. She is our friend,” replied Miss Stuart. “I think we need have no further conversation. Miss Warren will do as I request.” Without answering the other woman moved away with flashing eyes and set lips, leaving Miss Sallie in triumphant possession of the situation.

In a few moments Maud Warren came over to where Miss Sallie and the “Automobile Girls” were still standing.

“Maud, won’t you come up to our room to-night after the dance?” Ruth urged. “We thought it would be jolly to make some fudge in a chafing dish.”

“Can you cook?” laughed Maud. “How funny! It is awfully good of you to ask me to join you, but I have another engagement for this evening.”

“Maud,” said Miss Sallie firmly, “your father left you in my charge. I cannot permit you to keep an engagement with the Count de Sonde.”

Maud was speechless with astonishment. No one had ever forbidden her to do anything in her life. Her father had always tried persuasion and argument. Ruth’s eyes twinkled as she saw the effect Miss Sallie’s firmness had upon Maud. Greatly to her surprise Maud Warren answered quite meekly: “Very well, Miss Stuart. I will not see him if you do not wish it.”

The “Automobile Girls” breathed a sigh of relief. They had feared another battle between Miss Sallie and Maud.

“This is jolly!” exclaimed Maud Warren, an hour later. The five girls were in Ruth’s sitting-room. They were eating delicious squares of warm chocolate fudge.

“I am glad you are enjoying yourself,” replied Ruth. “We would be glad to see you often, but you always seem to be busy.”

Maud tried to look unconscious. “It’s the count’s fault. The poor fellow has a dreadful crush on me,” she sighed.

“Do you care for him?” asked Barbara bluntly.

Maud simpered. “I really don’t know,” she replied. “I think the Count de Sonde has a beautiful soul. He tells me I have a remarkable mind – such sympathy, such understanding!”

Ruth choked over a piece of fudge. The other girls seemed to regard her accident as a tremendous joke. Maud was entirely unconscious that she had anything to do with their merriment.

“Then you really like the count very much!” exclaimed Mollie, opening her pretty blue eyes so wide that Maud was amused.

“You dear little innocent thing!” returned Miss Warren. “Of course I think the count a very interesting man. I don’t deny he has taken my fancy. But as for being in love with him – well, that is another thing.”

“Do you really know anything about the count, Maud?” asked Ruth. “Your father doesn’t approve of him, and don’t you think he knows best?”

“Oh, father never approves of any of my friends,” complained Maud Warren impatiently. “But Mrs. De Lancey Smythe is on my side. She likes the count.”

“But do you know much about Mrs. De Lancey Smythe?” Ruth went on.

Maud was nettled. “Mrs. De Lancey Smythe is a Virginian, and belongs to an old southern family,” she returned.

The “Automobile Girls” looked uncomfortable. It was Ruth who finally spoke.

“I hope you won’t be angry, Maud. It is only because we like you that I am going to tell you something you ought to know. Some one told me to warn you to be careful.”

“Careful about what?” cried Maud, though her flushed face betrayed the answer she expected.

“The Count de Sonde,” replied Ruth.

“But what have you heard against him?” demanded Maud indignantly.

It was Ruth’s turn to flush. What had she heard? If only the countess had been a little less vague in her accusations against the count.

“I am afraid I don’t know anything very definite to tell you,” Ruth confessed, in an embarrassed tone. “Yet we have heard rumors about the count. Foreign noblemen are often fortune-hunters, you know.”

“My dear Ruth, the Count de Sonde is not in need of money,” protested Maud. “He is very wealthy. Only the other day he showed me a letter from his lawyer. It spoke of two hundred thousand francs. It is true the letter was written in French. But the count translated it for me. And then, of course, I know a little French myself.”

“Oh, well,” sighed Ruth, “perhaps we have no right to suspect him. But, Maud, I beg of you to go slowly. You may be mistaken in the count. Think how you would regret it if you were to marry him and find afterwards that he had deceived you.”

“Marry the count!” Maud’s tones expressed great astonishment, then she gave a satisfied laugh. “Don’t worry about my affairs. The count is a real nobleman,” she declared.

A knock sounded at the door, and a bellboy handed Ruth a note. It was addressed to Miss Warren. Ruth gave it to her. Maud opened it. A gratified smile overspread her face, then turning to the “Automobile Girls” she said: “Will you please excuse me, girls, I want to go up to my room for a little while. I will be back in a few minutes.”

The girls ate their fudge in silence for a time. Maud did not return.

“I wonder if Maud is coming back?” remarked Barbara, after a little. “Somehow, I am sorry for Maud. It must be dangerous to be so rich and so silly at the same time.”

“I am afraid Maud is hopeless,” Ruth contended. “I don’t believe it is going to do the slightest good for us to warn her against the count. I wonder if we could manage to save her in any other way?”

Miss Sallie came into the room. “Where is Maud Warren?” she demanded immediately.

The “Automobile Girls” could only explain Maud had gone to her room.

Miss Sallie rang the bell, and sent a maid to inquire for Maud.

The answer came back a few moments later. “Miss Warren had left the hotel for the evening with several friends.”

Miss Stuart said nothing. But the “Automobile Girls” knew Miss Sallie would never forgive Maud Warren for her disobedience.

The four girls were almost ready to say good night, when another light tap sounded at their door.

The girls lowered their voices. Perhaps Maud had lost heart, and had returned to them after all.

Barbara went to the door. It was Marian De Lancey Smythe who had knocked. She wished to speak with Bab for a moment.

Five minutes later Barbara returned to her friends, looking considerably mystified.

“Now, Barbara Thurston, what did Marian Smythe have to say to you?” demanded Mollie. “It is not fair, your having secrets with her from the rest of us.”

“Oh, Marian asked me if we were going to the countess’s to dinner to-morrow night,” Bab replied.

“What a strange question!” exclaimed Grace Carter. “I don’t see why she should care where we go to dinner.”

“Perhaps she had some plan or other on hand herself that she wanted us to take part in,” suggested Mollie.

Bab was silent.

“By the way,” exclaimed Ruth, “did you know I received a letter to-day from darling Olive Prescott? She and Jack have arrived in Paris, and have set up housekeeping in the dearest little flat in the Rue de Varennes. They live on the top floor, and Jack has the front room for his studio. Of course Olive declares Jack is the best husband in the world. He is painting Olive’s portrait for the Paris Salon, and working desperately hard so as to have it finished by April. Come, let’s go to bed.”

Just as Barbara was dropping off to sleep Ruth gave her a little shake.

“Tell me Barbara Thurston, what Marian De Lancey Smythe said to you in the hall!”

“I told you, child,” murmured Bab hesitatingly.

“Honor bright, did you tell us everything, Bab Thurston?”

“No-o-o, not everything,” admitted Bab. “This is exactly what Marian said: ‘Barbara are you going to dine with the countess to-morrow night?’ ‘Yes,’ I replied. Then she said: ‘You had better not go. But if you do go, come home early, and don’t ask me the reason, why.”

“We’ll go, sure as fate!” exclaimed Ruth. “No matter what Marian says.”

CHAPTER XIII

A SURPRISE PARTY

It had been a long day of uninterrupted pleasure for the “Automobile Girls” – one of those sparkling, brilliant days that seem to belong peculiarly to Florida in the early spring.

All morning the girls had cruised around the lake in a launch. Later in the day they had bathed in the salt water of the Atlantic. After luncheon they had played several sets of tennis; and, later Miss Sallie had taken them to the cocoanut grove to drink lemonade and listen to the music.

Miss Sallie had not spoken either to Maud Warren or to Mrs. De Lancey Smythe since the evening before. The two women had carefully avoided Miss Stuart. Once inside the cocoanut grove Bab’s sharp eyes soon discovered Maud, Mrs. Smythe and Marian seated at a table concealed by an enormous cluster of palms. They were deep in conversation. Mrs. Smythe was pouring wholesale flattery into Maud’s ears to which the foolish girl was listening eagerly.

Marian espied Barbara and came over to greet Miss Sallie and the “Automobile Girls.” She knew nothing of her mother’s difficulty with Miss Sallie.

“Marian,” whispered Bab, as her new friend sat down next to her, “why did you wish to know whether we were going to the countess’s to dinner to-night?”

“Why do you ask?” said Marian, looking a little frightened.

“Why it sounded to me as though you must have a reason for what you said,” argued Bab. “Were you trying to warn me about anything? Or, is it simply that you do not like the countess?”

“I think the countess is very fascinating,” was Marian’s only reply.

“Won’t you even tell me why you told us to come home early if we did go?” persisted Barbara.

Marian gave a forced laugh. “Oh, I was only giving you a little good advice about sitting up late. But just the same, I’m a very wise person and you had better take my advice.”

“What are you two girls whispering about?” asked Ruth gayly. “Never have secrets from your little friends. It hurts their feelings, dreadfully.”

“We aren’t having secrets,” responded Barbara. “That is not exactly. I’m only trying to persuade Marian to tell me something. But she’s a regular Sphinx.”

“Which would you rather be, a Sphinx or a chatterbox?” inquired Marian. “And if you would, why would you, and if thus, why, therefore and whereupon?”

“Fine!” exclaimed Ruth. “I never dreamed you could reel off nonsense like that, Marian.”

Marian laughed then rising said, “I suppose I shall have to go back to Mama. I only came over for a minute.” Her eyes again met Barbara’s, and she shook her head slightly, then nodding good-bye to the girls she crossed over to where her mother was still conversing with Maud.

“Why did she shake her head at you, Bab?”

“She says again that we must come home early from the villa, to-night, but she won’t tell me why,” replied Bab. “She evidently knows something that we don’t. She was even more mysterious to-day than she was last night. Do you think we had better go?”

“Go! Of course we will,” cried Ruth. “I don’t believe Marian has anything very serious on her mind.”

“Really, children,” interposed Miss Sallie in an annoyed tone, “if you begin to conjure up mystery over so simple a matter as a dinner invitation I shall feel obliged to keep you all at home. One would think I was chaperoning a party of young sleuths, instead of four normal girls out for a holiday.”

This remark was received with discreet silence, on the part of the four girls, and whatever their thoughts on Marian’s warning were they sternly repressed uttering them aloud during the remainder of the time spent in the grove.

At eight o’clock that night Miss Sallie and the “Automobile Girls” were seated about the countess’s table with only their hostess and her chaperon. There were no other guests at dinner.

“How delightful not to be bored by stupid men!” exclaimed the countess, smiling at her circle of guests. “And what a charming picture the young girls make, Madame de Villiers, do they not? There is not a black coat in our midst to mar the effect of our pretty light frocks. Let me see, Miss Stuart wears violet, dear Madame, gray. And the ‘Automobile Girls’ might represent the four seasons. Ruth, you may be Spring, in your pale green silk frock; little Mollie will have to play Summer in her corn colored gown; Bab’s scarlet frock makes me think of October; and Grace is our Snow Maiden in her white frock.”

The countess wore a beautiful gown of white messaline. Her exquisite face was radiant with child-like pleasure. During the dinner the room rang with her gay laughter. She had never seemed so young, so gracious, and so innocent as she appeared to the “Automobile Girls” that night.

At each plate the countess herself had placed a small bunch of freesias, whose delicate perfume filled the room.

“They are my favorite flowers,” the hostess explained gently, “because they remind me of my beloved Italy.”

At the close of dinner a bowl of bon-bons was passed around the table. There was a good deal of noise and confusion. The girls popped the crackers, drew out the mottoes and read them, and decorated themselves with the fancy paper caps. They were too absorbed in their own pleasure to think, or hear, or see, anything that might have been taking place outside the dining-room. Madame de Villiers, a military cap on her gray hair, looked as fierce and terrifying as a seasoned warrior.