THE EXPLOITS OF ELAINE (& Its Sequel The Romance of Elaine). Arthur B. Reeve
Hand stealthily let himself into the house. Noiselessly he prowled through the halls until he came to Elaine’s doorway.
He gave a hasty look up and down the hall. There was no sound. Quickly he took a syringe from his pocket and bent down by the door. Inserting the end under it, he squirted some liquid through which vaporized rapidly in a wide, fine stream of spray. Before he could give an alarm, Rusty was overcome by the noxious fumes, rolled over on his back and lay still.
Outside, the other crook was waiting, looking at his watch. As the hand slowly turned the half hour, he snapped the watch shut. With a quick glance up and down the deserted street, he deftly started up the rain pipe that passed near Elaine’s window.
This time there was no faithful Rusty to give warning and the second intruder, after a glance at Elaine, still sleeping, went quickly to the door, dragged the insensible dog out of the way, turned the key and admitted the Clutching Hand. As he did so he closed the door.
Evidently the fumes had not reached Elaine, or if they had, the inrush of fresh air revived her, for she waked and quickly reached for the gun. In an instant the other crook had leaped at her. Holding his hand over her mouth to prevent her screaming he snatched the revolver away before she could fire it.
In the meantime the Clutching Hand had taken out some chloroform and, rolling a towel in the form of a cone, placed it over her face. She struggled, gasping and gagging, but the struggles grew weaker and weaker and finally ceased altogether.
When Elaine was completely under the influence of the drug, they lifted her out of bed, the chloroform cone still over her face, and quietly carried her to the door which they opened stealthily.
Downstairs they carried her until they came to the library with its new safe and there they placed her on a couch.
At an early hour an express wagon stopped before the Dodge house and Jennings, half dressed, answered the bell.
“We’ve come for that broken suit of armor to be repaired,” said a workman.
Jennings let the men in. The armor was still on the stand and the repairers took armor, stand, and all, laying it on the couch where they wrapped it in the covers they had brought for the purpose. They lifted it up and started to carry it out.
“Be careful,” cautioned the thrifty Jennings.
Rusty, now recovered, was barking and sniffing at the armor.
“Kick the mutt off,” growled one man.
The other did so and Rusty snarled and snapped at him. Jennings took him by the collar and held him as the repairers went out, loaded the armor on the wagon, and drove off.
Scarcely had they gone, while Jennings straightened out the disarranged library, when Rusty began jumping about, barking furiously. Jennings looked at him in amazement, as the dog ran to the window and leaped out.
He had no time to look after the dog, though, for at that very instant he heard a voice calling, “Jennings! Jennings!”
It was Marie, almost speechless. He followed her as she led the way to Miss Elaine’s room. There Marie pointed mutely at the bed.
Elaine was not there.
There, too, were her clothes, neatly folded, as Marie had hung them for her.
“Something must have happened to her!” wailed Marie.
Jennings was now thoroughly alarmed.
Meanwhile the express wagon outside was driving off, with Rusty tearing after it.
“What’s the matter?” cried Aunt Josephine coming in where the footman and the maid were arguing what was to be done.
She gave one look at the bed, the clothes, and the servants.
“Call Mr. Kennedy!” she cried in alarm.
“Elaine is gone—no one knows how or where,” announced Craig as he leaped out of bed that morning to answer the furious ringing of our telephone bell.
It was very early, but Craig dressed hurriedly and I followed as best I could, for he had the start of me, tieless and collarless.
When we arrived at the Dodge house, Aunt Josephine and Marie were fully dressed. Jennings let us in.
“What has happened?” demanded Kennedy breathlessly.
While Aunt Josephine tried to tell him, Craig was busy examining the room.
“Let us see the library,” he said at length.
Accordingly down to the library we went. Kennedy looked about. He seemed to miss something.
“Where is the armor?” he demanded.
“Why, the men came for it and took it away to repair,” answered Jennings.
Kennedy’s brow clouded in deep thought.
Outside we had left our taxi, waiting. The door was open and a new footman, James, was sweeping the rug, when past him flashed a dishevelled hairy streak.
We were all standing there still as Craig questioned Jennings about the armor. With a yelp Rusty tore frantically into the room. A moment he stopped and barked. We all looked at him in surprise. Then, as no one moved, he seemed to single out Kennedy. He seized Craig’s coat in his teeth and tried to drag him out.
“Here, Rusty—down, sir, down!” called Jennings.
“No, Jennings, no,” interposed Craig. “What’s the matter, old fellow?”
Craig patted Rusty whose big brown eyes seemed mutely appealing. Out of the doorway he went, barking still. Craig and I followed while the rest stood in the vestibule.
Rusty was trying to lead Kennedy down the street!
“Wait here,” called Kennedy to Aunt Josephine, as he stepped with me on the running board of the cab. “Go on, Rusty, good dog!”
Rusty needed no urging. With an eager yelp he started off, still barking, ahead of us, our car following. On we went, much to the astonishment of those who were on the street at such an early hour.
It seemed miles that we went, but at last we came to a peculiarly deserted looking house. Here Rusty turned in and began scratching at the door. We jumped off the cab and followed.
The door was locked when we tried and from inside we could get no answer. We put our shoulders to it and burst it in. Rusty gave a leap forward with a joyous bark.
We followed, more cautiously. There were pieces of armor strewn all over the floor. Rusty sniffed at them and looked about, disappointed, then howled.
I looked from the armor to Kennedy, in blank amazement.
“Elaine was kidnapped—in the armor,” he cried.
He was right. Meanwhile, the armor repairers had stopped at last at this apparently deserted house, a strange sort of repair shop. Still keeping it wrapped in blankets, they had taken the armor out of the wagon and now laid it down on an old broken bed. Then they had unwrapped it and taken off the helmet.
There was Elaine!
She had been stupefied, bound and gagged. Piece after piece of the armor they removed, finding her still only half conscious.
“Sh! What’s that?” cautioned one of the men. They paused and listened. Sure enough, there was a sound outside. They opened the window cautiously. A dog was scratching on the door, endeavoring to get in. It was Rusty.
“I think it’s her dog,” said the man, turning. “We’d better let him in. Someone might see him.”
The other nodded and a moment later the door opened and in ran Rusty. Straight to Elaine he went, starting to lick her hand.
“Right—her dog,” exclaimed the other man, drawing a gun and hastily levelling it at Rusty.
“Don’t!” cautioned the first. “It would make