The Daring Twins

“I don’t know. He might drive over, and return the same way. Let me see; there’s another train to St. Louis that passes here at one-thirty. It doesn’t stop at Riverdale, but it does at Canton.”

“That’s it!” she exclaimed, eagerly. “That’s his plan, Phil, I’m sure. Eric will get a livery horse at Canton, drive over here, and return in time to catch the one-thirty flyer for St. Louis. It will be due at Canton at about two o’clock, won’t it?”

“Sooner than that. The flyer will make the ten miles in fifteen minutes, easily.”

“But it will take Eric an hour and a half to drive it, in the night. That means he must get here, do what he has to do, and leave by twelve o’clock – or soon after. Why, we won’t have long to wait, after all.”

“Not if we are figuring right, Phœbe. After all, this is only guesswork on our part.”

“I’m sure we are right, Phil. As you say, the natural thing for one in Eric’s position to do is just what we expect he will do. Let us be patient, and we will soon know the truth. If nothing happens by half-past twelve, then we may go home and go to bed.”

“And rest in peace,” he added, with a light laugh that was not mirthful. “I hope that will be our fate.”

“So do I, Phil – with all my heart.”

It was a tedious wait, however, for they were keyed up to a high pitch of excitement and the minutes seemed to drag with teazing languidness. But suddenly, as they talked together in soft whispers, Phœbe glanced around toward the window and then seized Phil’s arm in a warning grasp. The back room of the bank was lighted.

The girl put her eye to one peephole and the boy looked through the other. They saw Eric standing in the room and glancing about him with fearful, yet keenly observant eyes. The inspection seemed to satisfy him, for after tying his handkerchief over the one electric light globe which he had ventured to turn on, in order to dim the strength of its rays, he went straight to the safe and began to fumble with the combination. A few moments later the heavy door swung open.

Again Eric glanced around, but could not know that two intent eyes were regarding his slightest movement. He hastily turned over the packets of bills until he found the one he desired, which he thrust into an inner pocket. Then he took a canvas sack, filled with gold, and this filled his coat pocket completely and had to be crowded in. The next moment he closed the door and set the lock.

It was all done so quickly that Phœbe found she had held her breath during the entire scene. While she panted with excitement and her heart fluttered wildly, Eric removed his handkerchief from the globe and turned off the light.

They both listened eagerly now, but so stealthy were the young man’s movements that no further sound reached their ears. He must have effected his escape from the bank a long time before the twins ventured to stir.

“Phœbe,” said Phil bitterly, “it is evident that I’ve stolen a stack of bills and a bag of gold. The fact can easily be proven against me, anyhow.”

“Not yet,” returned the girl, in a firm, decided tone. “Come with me, Phil.”

She began to make her way around the building to the side door.

“What are you going to do?” he asked.

“I’m going to block Eric’s wicked conspiracy and save you,” she replied. “Open that door, and let us go in.”

CHAPTER XVIII

A SISTER’S LOVE

Phil looked up and down the dark, deserted street. Eric had made off so quietly that not a footfall had been heard. But no one was abroad to see him, however much noise he might have made.

The back room of Spaythe’s Bank was witnessing a succession of curious scenes this eventful night. Phil had opened the safe again and was counting the money. It was a long count, and must needs be accurate; but Phœbe, now cool as ice, helped him in her methodical way and it was not necessary to inspect more of the currency than the packets of bank notes and the gold.

“Whew!” whistled Phil, when the final figures had been made. “Eric wasn’t at all bashful, was he? He grabbed more than three thousand dollars!”

“Three thousand, three hundred and ninety,” repeated Phœbe, jotting down the exact amount on a slip of paper. “All right, Phil; that is what we wanted to know. Now, put this dreadful stuff away.”

He complied. There was a queer feeling in the young fellow’s chest, as if iron fingers were gripping his heart. His worst fears had been realized and he had become the innocent victim of his former friend’s diabolical scheming.

As the Daring twins walked home together through the still night, arm in arm, they exchanged few words. Phil reflected that his business career was practically ruined. Here in Riverdale, his old home, he would be scorned and reviled as a common thief, and wherever he might go in the big outside world his disgrace would be sure to follow him. And what of Eric Spaythe, the false friend who had planned his downfall and would profit by it? With means to pay his debts, and so prevent his father’s knowledge of his past extravagance, Eric would doubtless be more cautious in the future. In time he might become the proprietor of the bank he had to-night so cleverly robbed. As for the false entries on the books, made to cover the minor thefts that had preceded this coup, all evidence would point conclusively to Phil Daring as the culprit. That poor and struggling youth was to become the scapegoat to shield Eric Spaythe, the rich banker’s son.

Phil groaned in spirit, but believed himself to be absolutely helpless.

Phœbe, on the contrary, had recovered her cheerfulness, and as she kissed her twin good night in the hall she whispered:

“Forget about Eric, dear. There’s nothing to worry about, so try to get some sleep. Now that we know the truth, and just what to expect, it will be easy to save you from this contemptible plot.”

Phil clasped the girl close in his arms. It was good to feel that Phœbe, the one person he loved most in all the world, knew his innocence and believed in him. He must be brave and face the future calmly, for her sweet sake.

In his room he looked at his watch. Two o’clock. By this time Eric was well on his way to St. Louis. Phil sighed, went to bed, and having a clear conscience was presently sound asleep.

Phœbe pleaded a headache next morning and did not go to church with the others. Phil, solemn eyed and with careworn features, accompanied Cousin Judith and the children and did his best to keep his thoughts on the sermon.

From her window Phœbe endeavored to watch the movements of old Miss Halliday, but found the woman keeping close to the room in which Gran’pa Eliot was confined. Perhaps she was engaged in her morning’s work, but strangely enough the chickens had been neglected and were plainly calling for food and water.

In order to ease the nervous strain of waiting Phœbe moved softly around the rooms occupied by the Darings and removed all the keys she found in the locks. Having carried these to her room she began trying them in the lock of the door that connected old Elaine’s chamber with her own. She moved carefully and silently, but to her despair none of the keys would fit. A second time she tried them, with no better success. While engaged in replacing the borrowed keys she happened to think of a big bunch of old keys hanging in the closet of the room occupied by Sue and Becky. She readily found this bunch, and with it hurried back to her chamber. One by one the keys were tried and gradually her heart sank as they proved to be too large or too small. There were now but three left on the bunch and she was crouching on her knees before the door when suddenly she heard Elaine enter the other room.

To her astonishment the woman was sobbing and muttering in the same breath, and seemed to be laboring under great excitement.

“It can’t be!” Phœbe heard her say again and again. “It can’t be. No, no, no! – it can’t be.”

Up and down she paced, and finally the girl heard her throw herself upon the bed and give way to a violent outburst of sobbing.

Phœbe dared not move. Her limbs were cramped and numb, but she sat crouching beside the door until gradually Miss Halliday became more quiet and rose from the bed.

“One thing is certain,” muttered the woman in a firmer tone. “No one shall know!”

Again she paced the floor, by degrees recovering her wonted composure. The sobs and mutterings ceased. At last she left the room, and Phœbe breathed freely once more. Then the girl glanced at the bunch of keys she held. With those three that still remained untried lay her sole chance of saving Phil’s honor.

The first was rusty and too big for the lock. The second turned easily, and with a sharp click the bolt flew back. Then Phœbe dropped her head in her hands and began to cry. The transition from despair to joy had been so sharp that it unnerved her; but now she was free to carry out her plans.

Wiping the tears from her eyes she sighed deeply and rose to her feet. On turning the handle of the door, very softly, she found that it would open with perfect freedom. She put her head within the room a moment – just long enough to note that Elaine had left it in perfect order – and then she closed the door again.

Would it be wiser to act at once, or to wait?

Her own anxiety and excitement had, until now, prevented her from appreciating the evident fact that something unusual had occurred in the other part of the house which the old woman regarded as serious. The housekeeper was not prone to give way to violent outbursts of grief. “It can’t be!” she had exclaimed. What couldn’t be? “No one shall know!” Elaine had cried. What could have happened that must be kept a secret? The girl’s first thought was that in some way Elaine had been robbed of the treasure, and Phœbe’s heart stood still as she contemplated that awful suggestion. But perhaps it was some personal matter not connected with Gran’pa Eliot’s hidden hoard.

Going to her window she watched in vain for the housekeeper to appear in the garden; then, unable to restrain her impatience, she ran downstairs and around the corner until she came to the lane at the back. Pausing beside the big maple she looked around at the house and from her position saw Gran’pa Eliot propped up in his chair before the window, his lusterless eyes fixedly regarding the landscape spread out before him.

The window of the next room, where he slept, was open, too. Phœbe could see the housekeeper making the bed and straightening the furniture.

Presently, Elaine came to the window and stood motionless, staring across the fields as if in deep thought. Phœbe shrank back into the shade of the maple.

Now the woman left the window, emerged from the door at the head of the outside stairs, and quietly descended to the yard. Phœbe quitted her post at once and fairly flew back to the house, never pausing until she had regained her own room. Breathless from her run, she paused to peer from the window. Elaine was mixing food for her chickens.

In a moment Phœbe was in the forbidden room. She went straight to the mantel and tried to pull it outward, as she had seen Elaine do; but it refused to move. With a growing fear at her heart she examined closely the framework and finally noticed that one part of the carving was discolored more deeply than the rest, as if with constant handling. Pressing hard against this place, Phœbe desperately dragged the mantel toward her, and this time it swung free of the wall and disclosed the secret cupboard.

Elaine had not been robbed. There were the neat piles of money, just as she had seen them from her peephole.