"Did you have a good time?" he inquired, shifting his cigar and
keeping his narrow eyes on the road.
"Yes; it was beautiful--exciting."
"Some horse, Nick Stoner! Some race, eh?"
"I was so excited--with everybody standing up and shouting. And such
beautiful horses--and such pretty women in their wonderful dresses!
I--I never knew there were such things."
He swung the car, sent it rushing past a lumbering limousine, slowed a
little, gripped his cigar between his teeth, and watched the road,
both hands on the wheel.
Yes, things were coming his way--coming faster and faster all the
while. He had waited many years for this--for material fortune--for
that chance which every gambler waits to seize when the psychological
second ticks out. But he never had expected that the chance was to
include a very young girl in a country-made dress and hat.
As they sped westward the freshening wind from distant pine woods
whipped their cheeks; north, blue hills and bluer mountains beyond
took fairy shape against the sky; and over all spread the tremendous
heavens where fleets of white clouds sailed the uncharted wastes, and
other fleets glimmered beyond the edges of the world, hull down, on
vast horizons.
"I want to make you happy," said Brandes in his low, even voice. It
was, perhaps, the most honest statement he had ever uttered.
Ruhannah remained silent, her eyes riveted on the far horizon.
* * * * *
It was a week later, one hot evening, that he telegraphed to Stull in
Saratoga: "Find me a chauffeur who will be willing to go abroad. I'll give you
twenty-four hours to get him here."
The next morning he called up Stull on the telephone from the drug
store in Gayfield: "Get my wire, Ben?"
"Yes. But I----"
"Wait. Here's a postscript. I also want Parson Smawley. I want him to
get a car and come over to the Gayfield House. Tell him I count on
him. And he's to wear black and a white tie."
"Yes. But about that chauffeur you want----"
"Don't argue. Have him here. Have the Parson, also. Tell him to bring
a white tie. Understand?"
"Oh, yes, I understand you, Eddie! You don't want anything of me, do
you! Go out and get that combination? Just like that! What'll I do?
Step into the street and whistle?"
"It's up to you. Get busy."
"As usual," retorted Stull in an acrid voice. "All the same. I'm
telling you there ain't a chauffeur you'd have in Saratoga. Who handed
you that dope?"