With one dive, he tackled his man firmly and securely and pinned him in the corner. If Harold Dulaney had not been so taken off his guard it never could have happened, but Tom was wise in the ways of wrestling holds and Harold Dulaney was helpless for the time. Then the great safe door swung open and disclosed to view the slender huddled form of Jane lying white and limp upon the floor.
It was Sherwood who entered first and knelt beside her, while the others, stern and pallid, stood peering in.
“Get a doctor, Tom!” called Sherwood. “Quick!”
“Here! Somebody take this man and I will,” choked Tom, standing his ground against young Dulaney with anguish in his eyes.
Jefferson Dulaney turned his grim eyes toward his nephew. “Go, quick, young man! I’ll take charge of him,” he said, coming over to stand in front of his nephew, whose face was apoplectic with the stranglehold that Tom had maintained.
Harold choked and spluttered and tried to smile weakly at his uncle.
“What are you doing here, Harold?” he asked sternly.
“Just putting away—my books!” spluttered the young man, trying to get his voice.
“Hush!” said his uncle. “We’ll talk about this later. Get a pitcher of water, quick! They are bringing her out!”
Sherwood had gathered her tenderly in his arms to carry her out. He stumbled and almost fell over the two big ledgers, but Benny nimbly kicked them out of his way.
“What’s become of the electric fans?” asked Dulaney the elder, opening a closet door and poking round. “Where’s that watchman? Doesn’t he know?”
It was Gates who found the fans, stowed away on a high shelf in the dressing room, and connected them near to where Jane lay on the floor with Sherwood leaning over to listen to her heart. Gates also produced a half-filled flask from his pocket, and he poured the liquid between her lips.
But it was a policeman on his beat who noticed lights on the fourth floor, found the great iron gate open and the office building unguarded in the middle of the night, and stalked in with a twirl of his club and a warning whistle to comrades outside. He poked around in the cellar till he routed Joe out of his nice warm bed by the furnace and made him run the elevator up to the fourth floor, much against his will, to see what the trouble was all about.
Sherwood, down on his knees beside Jane, was chafing her cold hands, listening for her heart, watching the white eyelids, and learning to pray while he worked. The other men stood helplessly around suggesting things till Gates got the fan working. Then the elevator came clanging up, bringing two policemen who entered with a gruff, “What’s all this about?” Joe just behind them was looking frightened and trying not to see Harold Dulaney standing there with a pitcher in his hand.
It was Sherwood who sent Joe down again with the elevator. “Wait there till the man comes with the doctor!” he ordered, and Joe hurried away with a hasty glace back at the white-faced girl lying on the floor.
Tom, out in the night in the business part of the city, had no idea where to find a doctor, but some power beyond his own must have guided him, for a few blocks away he saw a policeman who pointed out a car parked half a block away.
“One just went in that house where the light is about ten minutes ago. Watch for him and nab him when he comes out.”
But Tom did not wait for the doctor to come out. He rang the bell of the house furiously and demanded to know if there was a doctor there. Finding him about ready to leave, he carried him off quickly. A wild procession they made as they dashed round corners and broke all speed laws.
Haggard and wan Tom came up at last with the doctor and saw his sister still lying with closed eyes surrounded by those grave, anxious-looking men. Oh, was Jane gone? A terrible wrench went through his soul as he thought of all the harsh things he had said to her, the things he had said to her that very afternoon, and all the sweet sisterly things she had always done for him.
Anguished he stood at her feet watching as the serious-eyed doctor knelt with practiced finger on the pulse, looked, touched, listened, and then began his ministrations.
It seemed ages that the silence lasted, the terrible silence, with all those men about, and Tom so conscious of his terrible weight of anguish. He seemed to age visibly as he knelt there thinking of his mother trusting him, perhaps sleeping as he had told her to. And then Tom, who had never taken much time to think about sacred things before, dropped his head with a long sore breath of trouble down upon his breast, closed his eyes quickly to catch the hot tears that had somehow gathered without his knowledge, and prayed in his heart, conscious for the first time of a God who was listening to his deep heart petition: “Oh God, save my sister! Don’t let her be gone!”
And an instant later, for sheer shame lest others would notice him, he raised his head and saw that Jane had opened her eyes and was looking bewilderedly about her.
Trembling, Tom watched her; trembling, he dropped his head and breathed in his heart, O God, I’ll never forget that of You. I never will!
The men were very silent, moving back out of her vision without seeming to move at all, all but Sherwood who still held her hands warm in his, and Tom, towering gravely above her feet, a new dignity upon him, a blazing joy in his eyes, a joy that had not yet dared to tremble about his lips.
But Sherwood was smiling. “All right now, Jane?”
And more incredibly she smiled back, her eyes taking on a more intelligent look. Almost imperceptibly she nodded her head.
Gates had brought a glass and a spoon, and now the doctor put a spoonful of something between her teeth and she obediently swallowed it. The little audience watched silently, breathlessly, and breathed a soft sigh of relief, the tenseness slowly relaxing.
“She’ll be all right now,” said the doctor, feeling her pulse and watching her. “Just give her a minute or two to rest, and she’ll be as good as ever.”
Sherwood raised his eyes to Tom. “Better let Mother know,” he said in a low tone.
Tom turned to the desk where a telephone stood. “Good night!” he said as he approached it. “That’s why I couldn’t make anybody hear. The receiver’s off!”
Dulaney heard his low exclamation and turned to look. “That’s curious,” he said. “Harold, do you know anything about that?”
“How should I know?” answered the young man offendedly. “This is Miss Arleth’s phone, isn’t it?”
“Well, she never was known to do a careless thing like that,” said the older man. Then turning to Tom. “Better come in to my phone and then you can talk without disturbing your sister.”
Tom followed Dulaney as he led the way to his own office and switched on a light.
“Gee! That receiver’s off, too! Now whaddaya think of that?”
“Curious, indeed!” said Dulaney. “This will have to be looked into tomorrow!” And he stepped back to the other room to find his nephew just emerging from the safe.
“What are you doing in there?” he asked sternly.
“I was just putting my books away,” answered the young man sullenly. “Isn’t it enough that I have to work half the night to get my balance straight without getting bawled out for it?”
“How did it come that your balance wasn’t straight?” asked the uncle. “You handed in your books before five and left, didn’t you? I was here when you went away.”
“Well, I had to go out to keep an appointment with a friend, but I came back about ten o’clock. I was worried about my balance.”
“How much was it out?”
“Oh, just a few cents, but I wanted to get it right before anyone discovered it.”
“Well, suppose you go home now. You’re not needed here any longer. We’ll discuss this further in the morning. You can come to my office at eleven.”
“I certainly don’t think you have any right to order me about like a child!” said the young man with an ugly look. “I was only attending to my own business. If my father had lived, you would not have talked to me this way.”
<
br /> “We will not discuss the matter any further tonight!” said Dulaney in a low tone, and Harold Dulaney stalked out of the office and was seen no more that night.
Back in Dulaney’s office, Tom was talking to his mother in his old superior tone. “That you, Mudge? Well, it’s just ’s I toldya, Jane’s okay. Wha’s that? Where? Oh here, down at the office. Yep. Been here all evening. Yep, had a lotta work ta do. What’s that? Why didn’t she telephone? Oh, she got locked in a room by mistake, an’ she couldn’t make them hear. No, she hadn’t any phone near her. No, there wasn’t any in the room she was in. So she just lay down and went ta sleep. Oh yeah! She’s okay! We’re coming home in a minute or two. May stop at a restaurant ta get her a cup of tea. She didn’t have any supper! Naw, she don’t want you ta get up. She’s going right ta bed when she gets there. Sure, John’s here. He had a key ta the place and knew right where ta look fer her. I’d a been home sooner, only I hadta wait ta get John till he got back from Jersey. Now you and Betts go ta sleep. Jane’s all right and we’ll be home shortly. So long, Mudge, don’t ya worry. It’s awright! Gub-by!”
“Gee! I’m all in!” he said to himself softly as he hung up the receiver and went back to the other room.
Joe had rustled up a battered tray with a cup of tea and a piece of toast from the grubby all-night restaurant in the back alley, and Jane was sitting up at the big desk drinking the tea with Sherwood holding the cup for her, and the other men standing back talking to the doctor and watching her.
Presently Jefferson Dulaney came up to her and put out his hand.
“Well, little girl, we’re mighty glad you seem to be coming round so nicely. I won’t bother you now to tell you how sorry we all are that you had to go through such a terrible experience. We’ll talk about that later. What I just want to say tonight is that I think it’s about time we remembered that piece of your vacation we stole last summer. You remember you were to take it later, and I think this would be a good time. So now, young lady, you’re not to come back to the office till after the first of the year, understand? You get a full two weeks instead of one, double measure because you were so nice about it. No, don’t say a word till I’m through. I’ve been looking over those envelopes out there on your desk, and I see you’ve the whole bunch finished, stamped, and sealed. I suppose you know, don’t you, that it means a great deal to the company to have those go out tomorrow morning? It means we’re two days ahead of anybody else. But I won’t go into that now. You need to get home to bed and have a good rest and play around for a few days, so don’t you dare to come back in the morning. Understand?”
Jane smiled sweetly, her eyes full of a glint of the old cheerfulness in spite of her recent experience. “Oh, I’ll be all right in the morning,” she said with a little laugh at the end of her words. “I’ll stick till Miss Forsythe comes back.”
“No, you won’t! Those are orders! We expect them to be obeyed. As far as the work is concerned, I am arranging to let Mr. Sherwood take your place until your vacation is over, and if necessary at any time he can consult you about it. You remember that our real rush is over until after the first of the year anyway. The Christmas holiday is a time of comparative ease with us, so you can take your rest with a good conscience. Good night! I shall hope to hear you are fully recovered from the shock of this unpleasant experience. Now, boys, you ought to take this little lady home at once. Why don’t you take her right down in the chair in the elevator?”
“Oh, I can walk,” said Jane, standing shakily on her feet and trying to look strong but managing only to make them see how white and limp she looked.
“You’re a plucky little girl!” said Dulaney, his voice husky with feeling. “Boys, don’t let her walk!”
“He’s a prince!” said Tom as he gently pushed his sister back in the chair and stooped to lift one side while Sherwood took the other.
So in state, laughing and still protesting, they carried Jane to the elevator, where a subdued Joe conveyed the party to the street floor.
“Better put her in my car,” said Dulaney, but at that Jane put her foot down decidedly.
“No indeed!” she said. “I appreciate your kindness, but I’m perfectly able to ride in any car, and I would rather have you get home to your rest. It really would worry me a lot if you did that.”
So they stowed Jane in the backseat of the old car, with the elegant fur robes from the Dulaney car tucked well about her. So much the head of the firm insisted upon.
“I’ll go alone and call it a night.” Sherwood grinned, climbing in beside Tom.
Dulaney took Gates with him, and the policemen accepted their handsome tips and went their ways. Joe went back to his watch to sleep no more that night—he didn’t know if all this was going to be blamed on him or not. But Harold Dulaney was nowhere to be seen when they all left.
Riding home in her warm furry nest with her two faithful escorts driving so carefully over rough places, going through the silent dark streets of her city that looked so strange at this hour of the night, feeling the crisp frosty air in her face and breathing deep lungfuls of refreshment, Jane felt a great rush of gratitude. Over and over in her mind went a few lines from a psalm that she had learned when she was a little girl: “He shall call upon me, and I will answer him: I will be with him in trouble; I will deliver him.” And Jane knew that her prayer in that steel tomb had been answered.
As they neared Flora Street, Jane began to think about her family.
“What did you tell Mother and Dad, Tom?” she asked suddenly.
“Dad’s gone ta N’York,” said Tom. “Doesn’t know a thing yet. Went fer Dulaney on some business ta see a man early in the morning. Mudge had ten fits o’ course when you didn’t come home, but I phoned her just now. Told her you’d got locked in before you knew it and there wasn’t any telephone in the room so you couldn’t phone. Told her you were all right, you just lay down and went ta sleep.”
“Oh, that’s good,” said Jane. “Mother would always have been afraid of that safe! And you know the doctor said we must watch out for her heart.”
“Yep!” said Tom with an in-catch of his breath. Death had been too near to the family that night for even Tom to speak of it lightly.
But Mother was up when they reached home and had a nice pot of hot soup ready for them in spite of Tom’s strict orders. Betty Lou in her blue dressing gown and fluffy blue slippers with her curls tumbled was scuttling around bringing up the armed chair for Jane and getting a cushion for her back.
“Well, you’re none of you ta get up in the morning,” ordered Tom. “I can get my own breakfast, John and I, and the rest can sleep. Jinny’s got a vacation, and she needs ta rest, an’ it’s Saturday so Betts won’t have ta go ta school.”
So at last the house was quiet, and Jane lay safe in her own bed, thankful for the cold air that even Flora Street could furnish, and breathing prayers of thanksgiving to God that He had saved her alive and well.
Suddenly she remembered yesterday afternoon and Lauderdale and her own bitter thought that nothing could ever wash from her soul the humiliation and shame of what she had been through.
“Why, it’s all gone now!” she said to herself. How trivial and worthless had suddenly become all the things that she had been reaching after, the things of the world of her summer friends. How unimportant Lauderdale and his opinions had become. One look into eternity had done all that for Jane, and she lay and thought about it, realizing that in a special sense she was a new being, that from henceforth a great many things would have to be different with her. She could never again look at things just as she had before. She had been face-to-face with death, and the Lord Jesus had stood beside her. She had looked at Him and had seen herself and wanted no longer to live for herself.
So at last she fell asleep.
Chapter 17
Jane slept until noon the next day and felt quite like herself when she awakened. Mr. Dulaney called up about half past twelve and said some very nice things to Ja
ne about the kind of work she had been doing. He also said that since he had known her father he was not surprised, either, and this Jane treasured more even than the words he had spoken in praise of herself. She told her mother gleefully, and they had a real joy time for a few minutes, Betty Lou’s eyes shining as if she had received a valuable gift herself. Dear little starry Betty Lou! Jane looked at her, marveling at her sweetness and comparing her own young self with Betty Lou.
“I don’t believe I was half so sweet when I was her age,” she said to her mother when Betty Lou had gone to the grocery. “I’m afraid I was a selfish little beast, always trying to get things for myself and go away somewhere. But Betty Lou just lives her life in the rest of us, and she’s a great deal happier and more satisfied than I ever was. I wish I could go back and undo some things!”
“Dear child!” said her mother. “You were sweet, too. You must not talk so about yourself.” But Jane knew in her soul that it was true, nevertheless.
About one o’clock Sherwood drove up in the big shiny Dulaney car.
“Dulaney wouldn’t take no for an answer,” he explained as he came in pulling off his gloves and looking eagerly at Jane. “How are you, Jane? Able to take a ride? Dulaney insisted that I take his car. He said it ought to be more comfortable than my flivver.”
“Lovely!” said Jane. “I certainly am able to ride. I’m able to be back in the office this minute working hard. I feel lazy.”
“There isn’t a lazy atom about you,” said Sherwood, letting his eyes dwell admiringly upon her for an instant. “Well, how soon can you be ready? Get your bonnet on, Mother, and you, and Betty Lou. Where is Father Arleth? Hasn’t he got back from New York yet? Tom said he’d be able to meet us about half past four somewhere.”
“Father telegraphed he’d be home on the four o’clock from New York,” said Mother. “But I’m afraid I couldn’t go now, John. It would be wonderful, of course, but you see I got up so late this morning that I didn’t get my bread started in time, and it isn’t quite ready to go in the oven yet. I’ll have to get it baked before I could do anything. And Betty Lou has to go to the church at two o’clock to practice her part in the Christmas service for Sunday. She’s a soloist, so I suppose she has to be there or it will throw all the rest out. Why don’t you and Jane go now for a little while, and then about time for Father’s train perhaps we’ll all go down and meet him. Only perhaps you can’t keep the car that long?”
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