The Automobile Girls at Chicago: or, Winning Out Against Heavy Odds

"Then go at once," commanded Mr. Presby sternly.

"Wait!" exclaimed Ruth. "I'll drive the car, storm or no storm. The cold air will help me to brace up. How far is it to Mr. Stevens' house?"

"Mile and a half," answered Tom.

"Come with me, Tommy. We will be there and back in twenty minutes. Do you know the way?"

"Yes, he knows the way. He knows too much about everything in these parts," answered Mr. Presby testily. "I will telephone to Mr. Stuart."

"Oh, don't, please. At least – not un – until I get back. Per – perhaps Mr. Stevens may find her."

"He will, if anyone can," declared Olive. Everyone in the room was overwhelmed with the mystery of it all. That a person could disappear so completely from a room that had only one entrance and with that entrance guarded at the moment passed all comprehension.

Once more Mollie set herself to examining every nook and corner of the room. She even raised the lids of the closed trunks and chests, thinking that possibly Barbara might have hidden in one of them. There was no trace whatever of the missing girl.

"Has anyone found the diary?" questioned Olive.

"Could it be that she fell through a trap in the floor?" queried Grace.

"There are no traps in the floor," answered Mr. Presby sharply.

"If there were, and Bab had fallen in, she would have dropped into one of our rooms," explained Olive. "I believe I will go all over the house," she decided as an afterthought.

"We will go with you," declared Grace. "Oh, Bab, Bab; where are you?" Grace broke into a paroxysm of heart-breaking sobs. This was too much for Mollie, who began sobbing also.

"Come, come, girls; this won't do," chided Olive. "We must keep our heads clear. Something has happened to Bab, but I'll venture to say that she is all right, no matter where she is."

"But – but if she is all right, why doesn't she call to us?" questioned Mollie, gazing at Olive through her tears.

Olive was unable to answer that question. The same thought had occurred to her. Now Mr. Presby began thumping the sides of the room with his cane. They understood his purpose and waited in breathless silence until he had gone all the way around the room.

"All sounds alike," he announced. "I didn't know but there might be another of those secret passages up here. I see, however, that it is not possible. Come, there is nothing to be gained by remaining here. Come, Mollie. Do not take it too much to heart," soothed Mr. Presby.

Mollie was now leaning against the wall with head buried in her arms, crying softly. The others had started for the stairway. A servant came up the stairs and announced that Ruth had telephoned from the Stevens place saying that Bob Stevens had gone to Brightwaters, and that she was going there to find him.

"Good gracious! What was that?" screamed Mrs. Presby, gripping her husband's arm with both hands as a mighty crash shook the building. A violent current of air smote them, another cloud of suffocating dust filled the air.

"Mollie's gone, too!" screamed Grace Carter.

CHAPTER XIV

TOMMY TAKES A WILD RIDE

FOR a moment the little group stood regarding one another in horror-stricken silence, then by common consent they all made for the stairway. Mr. Presby was half carrying, half dragging his wife, who was in a state of collapse. All had lost their heads completely. They did not know at what moment that terrible mysterious force might whisk them all out of existence. Instead of remaining calmly to solve the reason for Mollie's disappearance before their very eyes, all hands were fleeing from the scene of the double disaster. Mollie had not even cried out. She had simply gone, followed by that mighty crash. That was all they knew about it.

They did not halt until they had reached the ground floor, where Mr. Presby called a servant to summon the neighbors and summon them quickly. Fifteen minutes later the neighbors began to arrive. With them were two or three strangers, whose offers to join in the search through the house Mr. Presby politely declined, as he was suspicious of all strangers. Those of the neighbors who were friends of long standing were given free rein to search the house and grounds as thoroughly as they wished. They took full advantage of the opportunity, delving into every nook and corner.

In the meantime Ruth Stuart with the shivering Tommy by her side was driving her automobile across the country. There was no storm curtain in place now. Even the wind shield had been turned down because the snow clouded it so Ruth could not get a clear sight ahead. As it was, she could see no more than a rod or two in advance. She took the storm full on the right side of her face. The girl's eyes and nerves were steady now. Her touch on the steering wheel was light, for at that speed a heavy hand might have ditched the outfit.

Country people on the road were startled by a rush of wind and a shadowy monster shooting past them with a snort, occasionally sending their horses off the highway in frightened leaps. But Ruth Stuart's eyes never wavered from the straight path ahead. Evidently she had forgotten her promise to herself to drive with her car under more perfect control. Every ounce of speed that Mr. A. Bubble possessed was being used on the present run.

Tommy's eyes were full of snow, his lips were blue, his hands were gripping the cushions until he had no feeling left in them.

"Tell me when we get near to the place," commanded Ruth in a sharp, incisive tone.

"Ju-s-s-st around the nu-nu-next turn," chattered Thomas. "He's at Martin's ranch."

Ruth turned the air into her siren. A wild, weird wail rose from the horn. Tommy shivered more than ever. That sound always did make the hair rise right up on the crown of his head. Ruth kept the siren going. Rounding the bend at top speed, her siren wailing, she made enough noise to be plainly heard above the storm. Taking careful note of her position, she ran up the drive into the yard, slowing down just as she saw two men come from the house bare-headed.

"Jump in, quick!" she cried to Bob Stevens. "Trouble!"

Bob was quick-witted. He understood that something was wrong. He caught one of the canopy braces and swung himself in over the closed door.

The car was still in motion. Without a word of further explanation, Ruth advanced her spark. When they rounded into the road the snow from the skidding rear wheels flew up into the air higher than the peak of Jud Martin's hip-roofed barn. Stevens instinctively gripped the automobile body.

"Put a blanket over your head," called back Ruth.

"I can stand it bare-headed here, if you can keep your seat in this cold wind up ahead," answered Stevens calmly. "What is it?"

"I'll tell you when you get there. I haven't time now."

Bob asked no further questions. They were racing back to Treasureholme at a rate of speed that would have left the Pacific Coast Limited some distance to the rear in a very short time.

Boom! A report like that of a cannon startled Tommy. Boom! Another similar report and Tom was on the verge of leaping from the car.

"Tire's gone. Rear tire's down," called Stevens. Ruth nodded, but he could not see that she reduced the speed of the car in the slightest degree. Bob Stevens never had had such a ride as that, even on a railroad train, but he declined to give in to his inclination to warn her to slow down. If a young woman had the nerve to drive a car at that speed he surely should have sufficient pluck to ride behind her.

Tommy had tightened his grip on the cushion. His body was swaying from side to side, now and then humping up into the air as the wheels passed over a hummock.

"I shall go on as long as the rims hold," flung back Ruth in acknowledgment of his warning about the tires.

The young man knew very well that the rims were likely to be crunched in like egg shells at any second. That would mean the complete wreck of the car and no doubt the instant death of the passengers at the speed they were now traveling. The soft, springy snow that covered the ground protected the rims from the hard road somewhat. He observed, however, that in rounding sharp turns in the road, Ruth steadied the car with her foot brake. She was driving with great skill, even though the pace was a reckless one. Bob gazed at the back of her head, a great admiration for her pluck welling up within him. But he felt sorry for Tommy. It was plainly to be seen that Thomas Warrington Presby was not having the happiest ride imaginable.

"Almost there," encouraged Ruth. "If anything happens, never mind me, but run for the house as fast as you can go."

He did not answer, but he was thinking deeply. Something of a very serious nature must have occurred at Treasureholme to make necessary all this haste. He did not know that they had sent for him because of the great confidence the Presbys reposed in him. It would have made little difference to the resourceful Bob Stevens if he had known.

The car lurched into the drive, past the scene of Ruth's previous disaster, where the broken posts and twisted gates still lay at one side of the drive. None of the occupants of the car heeded these evidences of a former smash-up. Ruth's eyes were on the drive. Bob's eyes were on the house, while Tommy's eyes were so full of snow that they weren't fixed on anything in particular.

The car came to a jolting stop in front of the Presby home. At that instant the rear of the car settled with a crunching sound.

"There go the rims," said Ruth calmly. "But I don't care now. Please hurry."

Bob lifted Tommy to the ground, the boy being on the side that Stevens had leaped from just as the rims were going down. He then assisted Ruth out. Tommy rubbed the snow from his eyes, blinked rapidly and gazed at Ruth.

"Never no more for mine," he declared, with ungrammatical force.

Ruth tried to run up the steps. She halted suddenly. Her body swayed unsteadily. Stevens thought she was going to collapse. He took firm hold of her arm.

"Let me assist you," he said politely.

"I – I am all right," muttered Ruth. "Just a little dizzy from watching the road so closely," then she crumpled up on the steps of Treasureholme.

Bob Stevens picked her up and carried the girl into the house, followed by Tom, still blinking. Tom was choking a little, too. Everything had been moving so rapidly that, active as was his mind, he hadn't been able to follow matters very clearly.

The door swung open. Bob handed his burden over to Mrs. Presby.

"She's played out. Better put her to bed. What's wrong?"

"No, no, no!" protested Ruth. "Give me a drink of something hot. I – I'm chilled through." She staggered to one side of the hall, waved assistance aside and leaned against the wall with closed eyes for a few seconds. Then Ruth straightened up suddenly.

"Bab! Have they found her?" she cried.

Mrs. Presby shook her head. Grace came running down the hall. She threw herself into Ruth's arms.

"Oh, Ruth! Mollie's gone, too!" she sobbed.

"What's this?" demanded Stevens. "Tell me quickly what has occurred."

Mrs. Presby told him very briefly all that she knew about the series of disasters that had befallen them. The hall was fairly well filled with neighbors, all more or less helpless. With bulging eyes and open mouths, they were listening and gaping without doing anything on their own account.

Bob dashed toward the stairs without asking another question. Neighbors, the Presbys and the three girls followed him. Mr. Presby was the last in line. He thumped up the stairs with the aid of his stick. Bob had halted near the door of the attic, where he stood surveying the room with critical eyes.

"Get lights! It's dark here," he directed sharply. "Now tell me just what occurred as far as you know, please. Who discovered the loss of Miss Thurston and her sister?"

Ruth told him what she knew of Bab's disappearance. Olive related the story of how Mollie had suddenly vanished.

"They certainly didn't vanish into thin air. They are still in this house and I am going to find them, even if I have to tear the house down, with Mr. Presby's permission, of course."

"Get the girls. Go as far as you like. Tear down the old house if you must. I shall not have use for it very much longer."

Bob groped about on the floor. His hands found a broken stove poker. With this he began sounding the walls about waist high, thumping and listening, listening and thumping. He paused suddenly.

"Where was Miss Mollie standing when you last saw her?" he demanded, turning to the group.

"There on the south side," answered Olive.

"Something has been there against the wall for some time, hasn't there? I see a mark on the wall."

"I don't recall whether or not there was anything there," answered Mr. Presby.

"Yes, there was an old dresser there. I moved it aside to-day to get some things that had fallen behind it. We were cleaning out the garret. That's the dresser over yonder," Olive informed him.

The young man did not look at the piece of furniture indicated by Miss Presby. Instead, he strode over to the point where the dresser had stood for no one knew how long. It was a dresser belonging to some of the Presby ancestors. It never had been disturbed during the present owner's occupancy.

Stevens began thumping over every inch of the wall at that point. He varied his investigations finally by trying the wainscoting on either side. The latter to his keen ears gave out a different sound. He turned sharply.

"Bring me a maul, if you have one."

Mr. Presby directed one of the farm hands to bring one from the woodshed. In the meantime the others in the attic watched in breathless silence as Stevens pursued his investigations.

"You haven't heard them call or cry out?"

"No," answered Olive.

Ruth had said scarcely a word. She had appeared to be crushed upon hearing of Mollie's disappearance. She had answered questions briefly and with apparent great effort. But now her eyes were following every movement of Bob Stevens.

A commotion on the stairs caused Bob to stride over to the door. It was the man with the maul, a heavy tool used for driving fence posts and other similar work. Bob took it from him and started for the place where the dresser had formerly stood. He halted just before reaching his objective point. The others in the chamber were crowding about him.

"I would suggest that you people stand back," he said. "We don't know what might happen. I might loose my grip on the maul. I don't want to injure anyone."

The "people" shrank back out of the way.

"I'm going to do some damage, Mr. Presby. At least I think I am."

Richard Presby nodded.

Bob stepped close to the wall, moved back three or four feet, then slowly swung the maul in a circle and let drive with all the force at his command against the side of the wall. The maul landed with a tremendous report.

A most remarkable thing followed, sending the occupants of the room rushing for the staircase, the women uttering cries of alarm. Bob staggered backwards and sat down heavily on the floor. His experiment had been attended with greater success than he had even dreamed were possible. It had been followed by a terrific crash. A cloud of dust filled the room, the structure vibrated as if from a slight earthquake shock, then quiet once more settled over the gloomy attic of Treasureholme.

CHAPTER XV

AN AMAZING OCCURRENCE

BOB was on his feet again ere the dust had settled in the room.

"Don't be alarmed," he cried. "There is no danger so long as you keep away from that partition. That is where the trouble lies."

"Where – where is the hammer?" cried Grace.

Stevens stepped forward and looked for the maul on the floor near the baseboard, but finally glanced up with a perplexed expression in his eyes.

"The maul has disappeared, too," he said.

There was a gasp following this announcement. But the young man was not disturbed.

"I understand a little of what all this means," he said. "The maul has gone. If someone will get me an axe I will chop down this partition near where I struck it with the maul."

"Is there some secret there?" whispered Mr. Presby over Bob's shoulder. The young man nodded.

"Yes. I have an idea what it is. However, we shall see."

When the axe was brought he chose his location with some care, then began chopping away, swinging the axe in a manner that showed him to be no novice at that sort of work. The axe went through the partition soon after that. Using the back of the tool, he began smashing in the boards, here and there employing the blade to cut through a scantling or a brace. Soon after he had laid open a dark recess behind the partition.

Tom pushed forward and was about to crawl in when the young man stopped him.

"Better be careful, young man! That may be a pitfall, and I suspect that it is."

The others were too amazed to speak. Still another secret in the old house had been revealed. But the sudden disappearance of the maul was still unexplained, though Stevens had his own idea about this. He began cutting further. A tremendous crash followed a moment of chopping. He sprang back to await developments. There were none.

"There, I think I have drawn the monster's teeth," he said, reaching for a lantern. "One of you will please hold another lantern at the entrance here. I may need help."

Ruth Stuart snatched a lantern from one of the countrymen and stepped promptly up beside the young man. He nodded.

"Do not try to follow me in here unless I tell you to. I must first find out what is in here."

"Do you think they are there?" she asked in a half whisper.

"Yes. Probably below somewhere," he answered, thrusting the lantern ahead of him and crawling into the opening he had made.

Bob found himself in a narrow chamber formed by a gable that had been shut off and enclosed by the partition. He did not trouble himself at that moment to investigate the strangeness of the disappearance of his maul. Instead, he began going over the little room cautiously. The light from his lantern soon revealed a hole in the floor about a yard square.

"Don't lean against that partition on your life," he called. Those near the entrance to the gable apartment drew back a little. They gazed at the apparently solid wall to the left of the hole, in respectful silence. Bob lowered his lantern into the hole and peered in. It appeared to extend down a long distance. A trap door that evidently was intended to cover the opening, lay to one side of the opening. As he peered in he saw that the opening revealed a bricked-in shaft.

"A chimney, as I live!" he exclaimed. Then he raised his voice in a long-drawn shout.

"Hello-o-o down there!" There was no response. Stevens called again. A faint wail drifted up through the shaft. Ruth, at the panel, hearing it, uttered a scream of joy.

"They're there! They're there!" she cried.

For the first time since his arrival at the house, Bob Stevens showed traces of excitement in his face, but his voice was calm when he spoke.

"Get a rope, quickly. A long one," he commanded.

Ruth, Olive and Tommy crowded into the narrow opening, unable to restrain their impatience longer.

"Be careful," warned Bob. "This floor doesn't seem to be very strong."

The three held their ground, however.

"Hello-o-o down there! Are you hurt?"

They were unable to distinguish the words of the reply, but it evidently was made by Barbara.

"There's a ladder," exclaimed Tommy, starting to go down it. Stevens hauled him back.

"Keep out. It looks shaky. I am going down there myself. That's why I sent for a rope. I don't want to fall in, too. Men, I want you to stand by to lend a hand on the rope. Keep it fairly taut, but don't hold me back."

When all the arrangements had been made, Bob started down the ladder. He had gone not more than four or five feet when he found that the ladder extended no further. It appeared to have been broken off. He called to the men to lower away. Finally his feet reached something soft. At first the horrified thought came to him that it was the body of one of the girls for whom he was in search. Instead, what he had found proved to be a piece of an old mattress with a bundle of old clothes heaped on it. This was something like seven feet from the opening through which he had descended.

He heard a moan from beneath the heap of old garments. He tore them feverishly aside. Mollie lay before him, pale and with eyes closed. Stevens uttered a shout.

"I've got Miss Mollie. She is injured. Stand by to pull her up when I give you the word," he directed in a tone of excitement. Quickly securing the rope under her arms, he bade them haul away, he lifting the girl as high as his arms would reach, then grasping her feet, lending such assistance as possible in this way. She was quickly in the arms of her friends, who bore her downstairs to her own room and set to work to revive her.

Now came the next stage of Bob Stevens' work. He could not imagine where Barbara could be. Just at this point he discovered a bend in the supposed chimney. This he decided was in order to avoid some obstruction on the second floor of the house. He found an opening in the platform scarcely large enough to admit his own broad shoulders. There, unmistakably was a ladder, made of thin strips of iron, bolted to the chimney itself.

"I'm going further down," he shouted to those above. "Don't pull unless I call upon you to do so. Are you down there, Miss Barbara?"

"Yes," came the answer. It sounded very far away. Bob knew that the young woman must be a great distance below him, or else there was another bend in the chimney that shut off the sound of her voice. Perhaps, too, there was another landing. One might expect to meet with anything in this house of mysteries.

"The other one is all right," yelled the young man to those above. "Keep up your courage, Miss Barbara. I will be with you as soon as I can get down. Can you climb up?"

"No." He did not catch what followed. Bob was climbing down the narrow ladder, prudently keeping the rope about his waist in case the ladder should give way. He carried the lantern with him on his descent, which he made with considerable caution. He feared that were he to dislodge a brick or a section of the ladder, it might fall on the girl below and seriously injure her. Why she should be so far below the narrow platform where he had found Mollie Thurston he did not pause to ask himself. The urgent work of the moment was to get Barbara out as quickly as possible.

"Is there no end to this?" muttered the young man. He figured that he must be somewhere in the vicinity of the cellar. Barbara's voice, now strong and clear, halted him suddenly.

"Be careful," she warned. "The ladder doesn't reach all the way down. You will fall if you don't step carefully."

"Where are you?" he cried. "Goodness, I'm glad to hear your voice! I feared you had been killed."

"I don't know how this happened. I am down here. That is all I can tell you about it."

Stevens had reached the end of the ladder by this time. He lowered his lantern, directing her to take it from the rope, then observing that he was not more than half a dozen feet from the bottom, he dropped lightly down beside her.

"Did you fall down here?" he asked.

"The last several feet I did," she answered. Bab was pale, but her eyes were bright.

"Then how did you get down this far? Didn't the landing stop you?" questioned the young man while looping the rope under Barbara's arms.

"Yes, the landing stopped me. I thought I surely had been killed, but after a little I pulled myself together and screamed for help. I guess no one heard me."

"They were excited. The house is in an uproar. Your sister is in the hands of her friends. I think she will be all right."

"My sister?" questioned Bab, opening her eyes wide.

"Yes. Didn't you know she fell in, too?"

"Tell me – was she – how did it happen?" demanded Bab, all in one voice. "Oh, it was awful! Mollie fell in, you say?"

"Yes. I got her out with the help of the others. You haven't answered my question. Why did you come on down here?"

"I thought there might be an opening at the bottom. This chimney was intended to be used for climbing. Hurry. I want to see Mollie."

Barbara was in a fever of excitement. She could not see why she shouldn't climb the rope. Stevens advised her to calm herself, saying that when she reached the ladder she might climb, but not to cast off the rope.