The Wanette Enterprise. (Wanette, Okla.), Vol. 1, No. 39, Ed. 1 Friday, March 1, 1912 Page: 4 of 8
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CHAPTER |.
tho motor
the driver
The roarlpg reports or
fell into abrupt Gilenoe, as
brought hit; car to n hall.
"You signaled?" he railed across the
grind qf set brakes.
In the blt-udinj; glare of the search-
lights from the two machines, tho
gtay one arriving and the limousine
drawn to the roadside, the young girl
stood, her hand still extended in the
gesture which had stopped the man
jdio now leaned across his w heel.
'•Oh, please," she appealed again-
On either sidp stretched away tho
{.ong Island meadows, dark, sound-
ness, apparently nn inhabited. Only
this spot of light broke the monotony
•Of dreariness. A Keen, chill, October
wind sighed past, stirring the girl's
delicate gown as its folds lny un-
heeded in ili<' duet, fluttering her fur-
lined cloak and shaking two or threo
childish curia from tho bondage of
her vclvpt hood. The driver swung
himself down and came toward her
with tiie unhasting swiftness of one
'trained lo the unexpected.
"I beg pardon—can I be of some
use?” lie usketl,
"We arc lost," she
Tiediy. "If you could
should be’ grateful. I—we must get
home soop. I'have been a guest at a
Jiouso somewhere here, and started to
return to New York this afternoon.
•The chauffeur does not know Long
island; wo cannot seem to find any
place. And now we have lost a tire.
} was afrnlck—
She broke off abruptly, as her com-
panion descended from the limousine.
"We only want to know the way;
we're all right,” he explained. "This
is my cousin; I came out after her,
.you see. Don't get so worried, Em-
ily—wo’ll go straight on as soon as
Anderson changes tho tire.”
lie huddled his words slightly and
;gpoke too rapidly, the round, good-
humored face he turned to the white
light was loo flushed; otherwise there
was nothing unusual In his appear-
ance. And his caste was evident and
unquestionable in spile of any clr-
•fujnstance. There was no anger in
girl's dark eyes as she gazed
jptpnight before her, only pity and help-
less distress.
"1 can tell your chauffeur the road,”
•the driver of tho gray car quietly said.
"'Have you far to go?”
"To tho St. rtoyul,” she answered,
looking at him. "My uncle is there.
Is that far?”
"No; you can reach there by ten
fl’cloek. I will speak to your chauf-
feur,"
"Do, like a good fellow," the other
man Interposed. "Awfully obliged.
■You’re not angry, Emily,” he added,
lowering his voice, and moving near-
er her. “Since we’re engaged, why
fhould you get frightened simply be-
cause I proposed we get married to-
pight instead of waiting for a big
wedding? I thought it wa3 a good
Idea, you know, it isn’t my fault An-
elerson got lost instead of getting ua
J'oipe for dinner, is it?”
"Hush, Dick,” she rebuked, hot col-
<r sweeping her face. "You, you aro
not well. And wo aro not engaged;
U'ou forget. Just because people want
•us fo be—” Too proud to let her
Steadiness quiver, she broke tho sen-
tence.
If the tjrivor had heard, and it was
scarcely possible that he had not, ho
J mde no sign. By the acetylene light
he produced an envelope and pencil,
pnd proceeded to sketch p map show-
ing the route fo tho limousine's chauf-
feur.
“Understand ft?” he queried, con-
cluding. He had a certain decision of
planner, not in the lenst arrogant, but
(he result of a serene self-surety
that somehow accorded with his lithe,
trained grace of movement. A judge ( _j
•of men would have read him an nth- | Rupert called
Jote, perhaps in an unusual line.
"Y’es, sir,” the chauffeur replied.
' I’ll get M1b3 Ffrench home in no
time after I get the tire on.”
The indiscretion of the spoken
name was ignored, except for g slight
lift of the hearer’s eyebrows.
"How long does it tak© you to
-change a tire?”
“About half an hour; it’s night, of
•pouree."
Au odd, ehekiug gurgle sounded from
the gray machine, where a dark figure
had sat until now in quiescent mute-
ness.
"Half an hour!” echoed tho gray
machine’s driver, and faced toward
tpe chuckle. ‘ Rupert, it isn’t in your j i’m busy.”
contract, but do you want to come 1 “You’re not
<©v>*r and ehango this tire-’” cousin."
"I’ll do it for you, Darling,” was the
sweet response; the small flguro
rolled over the edge of the car with a
cat-!il:a celerity. “Where are your
teoh', you chauffeur? Quick!"
The bewildered chauffeur mechan-
ically reached for a box on the run-
ning-board, ii3 the young assistant
came up, grinning all over hla malign
dark face.
“Oil, quicker! What’s the matter,
rheumatism? They wouldn't have you
“Not—"
"Fit,” completed Lestrange defi-
nitely, “Can you hang on somewhere,
Rupert?"
"I can," Rupert assured, with an in-
flection of his own. “Get your friend
aboard.”
Lestrange was already In his seat,
waiting.
“What’s that for?” asked the dazed
guest, as, on taking his place, a strap
was slipped around his waist, secur-
ing him to the seat.
‘MSo you won’t fall out,” soothed the
grinning Rupert. “You ain’t well, you
know. Not that I’d care if you did,
but. somebody might blame Darling."
The car leaped forward, gathering
speed to an extent that was a revela-
tion in motoring to Ffrench. The
keen air, the giddy rush through tho
dark, were a sobering tonic. After a
while he spoke to the man beside him,
nervously embarrassed by a situation
he was beginning to appreciate.
“This is a racing car?”
"It was.”
“Isn't it now?”
“If I were going to race it day after
to-morrow, I wouldn’t be risking It
over a country rond to-night. A rac-
in a training_camp for motor trucks I jns machine is petted like a race boi-Be
j until it is wanted.”
"And then?”
“It takes its chances. If you are eon-
aected with the Ffrenches who manu-
facture the Mercury car, you should
know something of automobile racing
yourself. I noticed your limousine
was of that make.”
“Yes, that is my uncle’s company. I
did see a race once at Coney Island.
A car turned over and killed its driver
and made a nasty muss. I—I didn’t
fancy It.”
A wheel slipped off a stone, giving
the car a swerving lurch which was
as instantly corrected—with a second
lurch—by Its pilot. The effect was
not tranquilizfng; the shock swept the
last confusion from Ffrench’s brain.
“Where are you taking me?” he
] presently asked.
“Where do you want to go? I will
| set you down at the next village we
1 come to; you can stay there to-night
! or you can get a trolley to the city.” j
The question remained unanswered.
Several times Ffrench glanced, rather
diffidently, at his companion’s clear,
i firm profile, and looked away again
i without speaking.
"I went out to get my cousin to-day,
and my host gave me a couple of high-
balls,” he volunteered, at last. “I
don’t know what you thought—”
Lestrange twisted his car around a
belated farm wagon;
"How old are you?" he inquired
calmly.
“Twenty-three."
"I’m nearly twenty-seven. That’s
what I thought.”
The simpler mind considered this
for a space.
"Some men are born awake, some
awake themselves, and some are shak-
en into awakening,” paraphrased Le-
strange, in addition. "If I were you, !
I'd wake up; it comes easier and It’s
sure to arrive anyhow. There is the
village ahead—shall I Btop?”
“It looks terribly dull,” was the
doleful verdict.
“Then come with me," flashed the
other unexpectedly; for a fractional
instant his eyes left the road and
turned to his companion’s face. “Did
you ever see race practice at dawn? {
Come try a night In a training camp.”
"You’d bother with me?”
“Yes.”
A head bobbed up by Ffrench’s j
knee, where Rupert was clinging In
some inexplicable fashion.
“Once I rode eight miles out there j
by the hood, head downward, holding j
in $ pin,” he imparted, by way of en-
tertainjnent.
Ffrench stared at the reeling perch l
indicated, and gdsped,
“What for?” he asked.
“So we could keep dh to our cen-
trol instead of being put out of the
running, of course, Did you guess I j
was curing a headache?"
‘But you might have been killed!” j
poor
on Sunday. Hustic, please.”
There never had been anything
done (q that sedate limousine quite as
*'nla was done. Even the preoccupied
girl looked on In fascination at a rap-
idity of unvvasted movement suggest-
ing a conjuring feat.
"By George!” exclaimed her escort.
“A splendid man you’ve got there!
Really, a splendid chauffeur, you
know.”
The driver smiled with a gleam of
irony, but. disregarded the comment.
"Woijld you like to get into your
car?” he asked the girl. “You will bo
able to start very soon.”
"I see that,” she acknowledged
j gratefully. "Thank you; I would
confessed liur- I rather wait here.”
set us right, I ( "Is your chauffeur trustworthy?”
“Oh, yes; he has been in my uncle’s
employ for three years. But he was
never before out here, in this place.”
There was a pause, filled by tho
soft monotone of insults drifting from
the side of the limousine, for Rupert
talked while he worked and his fel-
low-worker did not please him.
"Wrench, baby hippo! Oh, look be-
hind you where you put It—you need
a memory course. You ought to be
passing spools to a lady with a sew-
ing machine. Did you ever see a mo-
tor car before? There, pump her up,
do.” lie rose, drew out his watch and
glanced at it. “Five minutes; I’ll
have to boat that day after tomorrow.”
Tho driver looked over at him and
their eyes laughed together. Now, for
the first time the girl noticed that
across tho shoulders of both men's
jerseys ran in silver letters the name
of a famous foreign automobile.
“I am very grateful, indeed,” she
raid bravely and graciously. “I wish
I could say more, or say it better. The
journey will be short, now.”
But all her dignity could not check
the frightened shrinking of her glance,
first toward the interior of the limou-
sine and then toward the man who
was to enter there with her. And tho
driver of the gray machine spw it.
“We have done very lfttle,” he Te*
turned. “May I put you in your car?”
The chauffeur was gathering his
tools, speechlessly outraged, and mak-
ing ready to start. Segted among the
rugs and cushions, under the light of
the luxurious car, the girl deliberately
drew off her glove and held out her
small uncovered hand to the driver of
the gray machine.
“Thank you,” she said again, meet-
ing his eyes with her own, whose
darkness contrasted oddly with the
blonde curls clustered under her hood.
“You are not afraid to drive into
the city alone?” he asked.
“Alcne! Why, my cousin—"
“Your cousin is going to stay with
“The Journey Will Be Short Now.”
The third car we’ve lost this year; I’m
glad the season's closed.”
Emily Ffrench gave an exclamation,
her velvet eyes widening behind their
black lashes.
“But the driver! Was the
driver hurt, Mr. Bailey?”
“He wasn't killed, Miss Emily,” an-
swered Bailey, with a tinge of pensive
regret. He was a large, ruddy, white-
haired man, with the slow and care-
ful habit of speech sometimes found
in those who live much with massivo
machinery, “No,he wasn't killed; he’s
in the hospital. But he wrecked as
good a car as ever was built, through
sheer foolishness. It costs money.”
Mr. Ffrench responded to the indi-
rect appeal with more than usual irri-
tation, his level gray eyebrows con-
tracting.
“We ought to have better drivers;
Why do you not get better men, Bai-
ley? You wanted to go into this rac-
ing business; you said the cars need-
ed advertising. My brother always at-
tended to that side of the factory af-
fairs while he lived, with you as hla i
manager. Now it is altogether in your
hands. Why do you not find a proper
driver?”
"Perhaps my hands are not used
to holding so much,” mused Bailey un-1
resentfully. "A man might be a good
manager, maybe, and weak as a part-
ner. It isn’t the same job. But a
first-class driver Isn’t easy to get, Mr.
Ffrench. There’s Delmar killed, and
Georgo tied up with another company,
and Dorian retired, all this last sea-
son; and we don’t want a foreigner.
There’s only on© man I like-—”
"Well, get him. Pay him enough.”
Bailey hunched himself together
together and crossed his legs.
“Yes, sir. He’s beaten our cars—
and others—every race lately, with
poorer machines, just by sheer pretty all right,
his fhee still more to the quivering
fire, his always severe expression
hardening strangely and bitterly. "The
son—”
The girl rose to draw the crimson
curtains before the windows and to
push an electric switch, filling the
room with a subdued glow In place of
the late afternoon grayness. Her deli-
cate face, as she regarded her uncle,
revealed roost strongly its characteris-
tic over-earnestness and a sensitive
reflection of the moods of * those
around her. Emily Ffrench’s child-
hood had been passed In a Canadian
convent, and something of Its mysti-
cism clung about her. As the cheert
ful change she had wrought flashed
over the room, Mr. Ffrench held out
his hand In a gesture of summons; so
that she came across to §H 8fi th4
broad arm of his chair during the rest
of the conference, her soft gaze rest-
ing on the third member.
“My adopted Gon and nephew hav-
ing no such talents, wo must do the
best we can,” Mr. French stated, with
his most precise coldness. ‘‘Being
well born and well bred, he has no
taste for a mechanic's labor or for cir-
cus performances with automobiles In
public. Who is your man, Bailey?”
“Lestrange, sir. You must havsi
heard of him often.”
"I never read racing news."
“I read ours” said. Bailey darkly:
“We’ve beeti licked often enough by-
1dm. And he’s straight—he’s one of
the few men who’ll stop at the grand:
stand and lose time reporting h smash?
up and sending help around. Every
man on tho track likes Darllfag Le?
strange.”
"Likes whom?”
Bailey flushed brick-red.
"I didn’t mean to call him that. He
clgns himself D. Lestrange, and some1
cf them started reading It Darling,
jsking because he was such a favorite
and because they liked him anyhow.
It’s just a nickname.”
Emily laughed out involuntarily, sur-
prised.
"I beg pardon,” she at once Apolo-
gised, "but it sounded sb frivolous.”
"If you try this man, you tad bet?
ter keep that nickname out of the fac?
tory,” Mr. Ffrench advised stiffly:
“What respect could the workmen feel
for a manager with such a title? If
possible, you would do well to pre-
vent them from recognising him aa,
the racing driver.”
Bailey, who had risen at the chime,
of a clock, halted amazed.
“Respect for him!” he echoed. "Not
recognize him! Why, there isn’t A
man on the place who wouldn't give
bis cars to be Been on the same side,
of the street with Lestrange, let alone
to work under him. They do read the
racing news. That part of it will be
If I can have him.”
me.
She flung back her head; amaze-
ment, question, relief struggled over
her sensitive face, and finally melted
into irrepressible mirth under the fine j exclaimed Ffrench.
amusement of his regard.
"Y'ou aro clever—and kind, to do
that! No, I am not afraid.”
He closed the door.
“Take your mistress home," he bade !
the chauffeur. "Crank for him, Ru- j
pert."
“Why, why—’’ stammered the limou-
sine's other passenger, turning as the
motor started.
No one heeded him.
"By-by, don’t break any records,”
after the chauffeur. |
“Hold yourself in, do. If you shed J
any more tires, telegraph for me, and )
if I’m within a day’s run I'll come put |
them on for you and save you time.” J
Silence closed in again, as the red j
tail light vanished around a bend. '
The gray car’s driver nodded curtly j
to the stupefied youth iu the middle of
the road.
"Unless you want to stay here all
night, you'd better get In the ma-
chine,” he suggested. “My name’s
Lestrange—I suppose yours Is
Ffrench?”
“Dick Ffrench. But, see here, you
mean Well, but I’m going with my
cousin. I’d like a drive with you, but
Even by the semi-light of the ihihps
there whss visible the mechanician’s
droll twiet of lip and brow’.
“I’d drive to hell with Lestrange,”
he explained sweetly, and settled back
In his place.
Ffrench drew a long breath. After
a moment he again looked at the
driver.
“I'll come," he accepted,
thank you.”
It wgs Lestrange who smiled this
time, with a sudden and enchanting
Warmth of mirth.
"We’ll try to amuse you,” he prom:
lsed.
“And,
driving. He drives faBt, yet he don’t I “If it is necesary—”
knock out his car. But there’s a lot I "I think it is, sir.”
after him—there’s just one way we | Emily moved slightly, pushing back
could get him, and get him for keeps.” j her yellow-brown curls under the rlb-
"And that?” ; bon that banded them. On a sudden
"He’s ambitious. He wants to get j Impulse her uncle looked up at her.
Into something more solid than rac- j "What Is your opinion?” he queu-
ing. If we offered to make him man i tloned. "If Dick had been listening I
ager, he’d come and put some new j should have asked his, and I fancy
ideas, maybe, into the factory, and | yours is fully as valuable. Come, Bhall
race our cars wherever we chose to i we have this racing manager?"
enter them. I know him pretty well.” f Astonished, she looked from her
The propbsition was advanced tenta- uncle to the other man. And per-
tively, with the hesitation of One vea- j haps it was the real anxiety and sus-
pense of Bailey's expression that drew
her quick reply.
“Let uB, uncle., Since We need him',
I let us ha’ve hiifa.”
“Very well,” said Mr. Ffrench'. “Y6li
I hoar, Bailey."
There was a lotiij silence after the
junior partner's withdrawal.
“Come where I can see you, Em-
ily,” her uncle finally demanded. “I
j liked your decided answer a few mo-
j ments ago; you can reason. How long
have you been a daughter in niy’
house?”
"Six years,” she responded, obedf-
ently moving to a low chair opposite’’.
| “I was fifteen when you tobit me 'fronj
.the convent—1'6 make me very, very
j happy, dear.”
"I sent, for you when I sent for Dick’,
and for the same reason. I have tried
three times to rear one of my name td
fitness to bear It, and each on© has
failed except you. I wish you were a
hian, Emily; there is work for a.
Ffrench to do.”
“When you say that, I wish I were’.
But—I’m not, I'm not.” She flung out
her slender, round arms in a gesture
flf Vialnloaa raalo’iioHnri QOt BVflfX
“He Uriderstartds Motor Construction
and Designing."
turing in utikno.wn places. But Ethan of helpless resignation.
gray eyes
fit. to go with your
CHAPTER II.
It was a business consultation that
was being hbia in Mr. Ffrench’s flrelit
library, in spite of the presence of a
tea table and the young girl behind it.
A consultation between the two part-
ners who composed the Mercury Au-
tomobile company, of whom the lesser
was speaking w;tn a certain anecdotal
weight.
"And he said he was losing too
much time on the turhs; so the next
round he took the behd at 72 mile*
*n hoar. H« went over, of course,
Ffrench said nothing, his
fixed on the hearth.
“He understands motor construc-
tion and designing, and he’s been with j
big foreign firms,” Bailey”resumed, ■
after waiting. “He’d be useful around; |
I can’t be everywhere. What he’d do
for us in racing would help a whole
lot. It’s very well to make a fine I
standard car, but It needs advertising !
to keep peoplo remembering. And I
men like to Bay ‘my machine is the
same as Lestrange won the cup race
With. They like it."
"I don't know,” said Mr. Ffrench
slowly, “that it la dignified for the
manager of the Mercury factory to
be a racing driver.”
"The Christine cars are driven by
the son of the than who makes them," j
was the response. “Some drive their am fond of Dick, but—please, no'"
own. ~
"The sdrt of the man wtib makes ;
them.,’’ repeated the other. He turned
a strong-minded woman who might do
Instead. Uncle Ethan, may I ask-—It
Was Mr. Bailey who made me think—
iny cousin whom I never saw, will ha
never come home?”
He voice faltered on the last words,
frightened at her own daring. But Her
uncle answered evenly, if coldly:
"Never;”
"He offenejed you so?”
r "His wijoie life was an offense!
School, college; at home, ,ln each he
went wrong. At twenty?oni>r he left
me and married a woman from ,the
vaudeville stage. It Is not Of him
jrou are to think, Emily, but of a subr
ptitute for him. For that I designed
Dick; once I hoped you would marry
him and sober his idleness."
Please, no,” she refused gently. "I
(Continued n&xt week:)
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Brewer, L. E. The Wanette Enterprise. (Wanette, Okla.), Vol. 1, No. 39, Ed. 1 Friday, March 1, 1912, newspaper, March 1, 1912; Wanette, Oklahoma. (https://gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc853940/m1/4/: accessed April 19, 2024), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, https://gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.