Every Man for Himself | Page 8

frank with
you, I doubt it. Besides, there is the little matter of the launch."
"Why are you so interested in that launch?"
"Because I happen to be the nephew of my uncle who happens to own
it and to have left it in my charge during his absence," said Kendrick
deliberately. "I'm laying the cards face up, madam. The launch is the
property of Honorable Milton Waring, of whom you may have heard.
Undoubtedly it has been stolen."
He was not prepared for the laughter with which his unknown
passenger greeted this bold announcement. He knew she was trying to
smother her mirth, but it finally broke all bounds. A very musical laugh
it was, very pleasant to hear.
"Oh, please forgive me," she gasped finally. "It is very rude of me, I
know; but--you said you were the Honorable Milt's nephew--" Again
she laughed in spite of herself.
"You know my uncle?" he asked eagerly.
"I read the papers," she said evasively. "Everybody knows a public
man."
"I'm laying the cards face up, madam," repeated Kendrick solemnly.
"My name is Kendrick--Philip Kendrick. I was on my way home when
you--well, shanghaied me. Won't you meet me half way by equal
frankness, so that we may avoid--well, any unpleasantness?"
"You mean--?" She had stopped laughing.

"That unless you answer legitimate questions I shall be forced to hand
you over to the police."
"I warn you that you would regret it," she said quietly.
"Very much," agreed Kendrick readily. "I would be sorry to cause you
any inconvenience; but surely you see how impossible it is for me to
avoid being inquisitive under the circumstances. Are you going to be
frank with me or not?"
She did not answer him immediately and he smiled to himself as he
paddled in silence. For, if the truth must be told, Mr. Philip Kendrick
was enjoying himself immensely. He had only the sound of her voice
from which to draw deductions; but the cultured tones of it and the lilt
of her low laughter bespoke an education and refinement with which he
failed to reconcile the idea that she was a lady burglar. Yet----
He stopped paddling to listen intently. Several times now he had
thought he heard a sound off in the darkness behind him. It came
again--a slight hollow sound, as of a paddle scraping against a canoe.
They were being followed. Had the girl heard it, too? He waited for the
wail of the fog-horn to die away--and found her speaking.
"--frank with you, Mr. Kendrick," she was saying. "The circumstances
are less extraordinary than they appear to you. My--husband and I were
at a party at a friend's house on the Island. We paddled over in a canoe
and Joe went ahead of me to locate it. In the dark I must have missed
the spot where he was waiting for me and when you came along so
silently and so close to the bank I naturally thought it was Joe.
Ridiculously simple, you see."
"You have forgotten the launch," prompted Kendrick severely.
"I know nothing about the launch," she denied with resentment. "When
I heard those people coming I thought it was some of the guests from
the party who had said they would race us home. Will you please
paddle on, Mr. Kendrick. It is damp and chilly in this fog and I am
naturally in a hurry to get home."

He laughed with skepticism, but plied his paddle again. He was not as
concerned about the launch as he pretended, of course; at the worst it
probably meant that Stinson had been entertaining some of his friends
on the sly. He had no intention of handing his mysterious passenger to
the police. But was he to let her laugh at him and disappear
unchallenged into the fog out of which she had come?
Phil Kendrick's experience with the opposite sex was very limited, he
had to confess. He had been too completely absorbed in athletics to
afford girls more than passing attention. Those of his social set--those
he had met--had failed to impress him. One or two of them were
attractive enough in a general way, he realized; some were amusing to
him and some very very tedious. It was a new experience to find
himself actually interested in a girl--or rather, her voice! He wished he
could get a look at her till he remembered the poor showing he would
make with his blackened eye. Then he was thankful for the darkness.
Phil planned to land her at the Queen City Yacht Club at the foot of
York St., or at the Canoe Club; either would provide an easy landing.
They must be well across the bay now; but it was hard to say just where
they