CHAPTER XVII

ESCAPE

Adams opened the door upon a troupe of excited young men. They piled past him with the heedless haste of a stampede, only pausing when they came upon Rudy and Jean.

"What's the matter?" Rudy asked. "What happened?"

"Police!" Sam McMahon said without hesitation. "We saw them coming up the front walk, and we ducked out the back. You had the keys to your flivver," he admitted, "or we'd have been on our way by now. Come on, boy, let's be moving."

"That's right, Rudy," Sport O'Malley said. "All except about leaving you, of course. Come on, we've got to hike for that train."

"How far is the station?" Rudy demanded. "Even if we do make a break for it, if it's more than a mile, they are sure to overtake us before we get there. Remember that one ancient flivver can't go very fast with ten men."

He spoke dully and dispiritedly. The bottom had completely dropped out of his world, and the prospect of a trip to jail had for him none of the alarm which it caused the others. It would, in fact, be quite appropriate as a closing incident for the whole fiasco of his attempt to impress Jean.

Then he heard Jean say: "Wait a minute, I'll take you in my car."

"What?" they demanded in unison.

"What a girl!" Sport exclaimed.

"Hurry," Jean said. "We can still get out the back way."

Rudy attempted to detain her. "I can't let you do this, Jean."

"And I can't let you be arrested in Auntie's house," she flared.

"But we can't hide behind a woman's skirts!" he protested. "Can we, fellows?"

"Try and stop us!" bellowed Al Monroe.

"Come on!" Jean cried. "Let's go!"

Out the back entrance of the house they scrambled and into a long touring car. As they were making this exit, the officers were ringing the front doorbell; but of that they happily were ignorant. Only Mrs. Whitehall was left to explain, with the aid of the telegram, the catastrophe which had befallen her social ambitions.

In the car Rudy sat in silence, realizing only that he was being carried to safety by the girl he loved. And away from her. All his ancient hatred of pretense rose to mock him, that he should have allowed the thing he despised most to ruin his chance for happiness. The other members of the orchestra were too impressed by the dramatic manner of their escape to have much to say. With the exception of Sport O'Malley, sitting in the front seat with Jean, they were unusually quiet. And even Sport apparently was finding little to say to Jean.

The ride was quickly done, and the Vagabonds climbed gratefully out of the car. As they ran to the window to inquire if the hoped-for train were on time, Rudy went to Jean.

"How am I ever going to see you again?" he asked desperately. "If you only knew----"

"You aren't going to see me again," she said. "Ever."

"Oh, I know I've been to blame, Jean. It's a terrible mistake that I'd give anything to undo."

Far down the track there was the faint sound of a train whistle.

"You had better go," she said. "You'll miss your train."

Rudy shook his head. "I'm not going until I know that you've forgiven me. Oh, have I hurt you so much?" he asked. "I don't understand. If you hate me so--then why did you save us from the police?"

"Never ask a girl why," she told him. "Maybe it was because I couldn't see you punished that way."

"We deserved it."

"You don't know Auntie," Jean said. "She'd never forgive you. She'd make them give you a prison sentence, at least."

Rudy frowned. "I don't care about her. I just want you to know how sorry I am."

"Oh, it isn't myself that counts!" Jean burst out unhappily. "It isn't Auntie's humiliation. It's something far greater than any of us--something you and your friends have forgotten--that's the real sufferer."

"What is that?"

"The orphanage."

"Why," he asked, "what do you mean?"

"Can't you see that you've spoiled the whole benefit? Auntie trusted you and counted on you. The other artists have gone back to New York. Grant won't arrive until much later. There'll be no time to get anyone else to head the program this evening."

"I never thought of that," Rudy admitted.

"We'll have to return the ticket money," she went on. "What's left of the fund must go to the broadcasting people. It's hardly worth while to give the other performances if this one is to be such a failure."

"Isn't there something I can do?" Rudy asked miserably.

"It's too late to do anything, I'm afraid," Jean answered. "You've had your joke at the expense of a great charity, the one we've worked so hard for--and because of your thoughtlessness, children will suffer. I could never forgive you for that."

"Jean!"

The girl turned her face away from him, starting her car.

"I never want to see you again," she choked. "Never!"

Then with a roar of the mighty engine and a puff of acrid exhaust, she was gone.

Rudy stood looking down the road after her, his mouth in the same bitter, twisted line it had been that distant day when he had flunked out of the University. So this, too, was to be another failure. This, the loveliest thing that ever had come into his life.

With a screech of brakes, the train slid into the tiny station. The Vagabonds started toward its steps, with their instruments having the appearance of mammoth silver-bedecked bugs.

"Come on, Rudy!" Sport called. "We're leaving in a minute."

With a curt movement of the head, Rudy took his stand.

"I'm not going," he said.

Sport approached him, aghast. "What?"

"Jean's right about that benefit. We've ruined it by our foolishness."

"Well, suppose we have," Sport cried, "are we going to miss this train?"

Rudy nodded. "I am."

"Have you gone nuts, fella?"

"No, I've just got some sense. I can't run out on these people like this. I'm going back there and offer to sing, play or do anything that will help."

"Why, you're crazy," Sport insisted. "They'll jail you!"

"I don't care," Rudy answered doggedly. "I'm going to take my medicine."

Several of the others had approached, wondering about the delay. As soon as they gathered the reason for Rudy's stubbornness, they began to give, for the first time, a thought to the predicament into which they had plunged the charity-benefit committee.

"Oh, come on," said Al Monroe, "we can't help it now. Let's grab this train."

"You grab it, fellows," Rudy said. "I'll write you from the rockpile."

Sport O'Malley shrugged, and got out his cigarettes.

"You won't need to write to me, Rudy. I'll be right there alongside of you."

"What?"

"Say listen! After the way you stood up for me back at that Magic Lantern affair, do you think I'd pull out on you? Why, we're all in on this as much as you are."

"That's right," said little Bud Dwight, "we're all in on this together. If Rudy's game, let's stick, too."

"I can't let you do this," Rudy told them. "Go grab your train--and grab it fast."

Al Monroe thoughtfully fingered his tuba.

"If it'll help them for us to play, we'll play; and I'll bust anybody who says he won't!" He looked around the circle; but with the exception of Sam McMahon's alarmed face, it was apparent that they were in agreement.

"Oke," said Sport. "Hey, taxi," he called to the station hack. "Believe it or not, here's a fare."

"Looks more to me like ten fares," the driver returned, surveying them with dismay.

"That's all right," Sport assured him. "It isn't every driver who's had the chance to have the celebrated Vagabonds draped over his chariot. To the charity benefit, my friend."

"And," added Sam McMahon, "don't stop for any cops!"