Affinities, and Other Stories. Mary Roberts Rinehart

have to do one thing," he said at last. "You'll have to tell Ida it was you. Heaven knows what she'll think."

      "I'll die first!" I snapped.

      Well, we got into town finally and it was three-thirty by the first clock we saw. Ferd got out and looked at the car, and then climbed in again.

      "Better get along a few blocks and then leave it," he said. "It looks something fierce, and so do we."

      And at that instant, before I could even start the engine, we were arrested for stealing the miserable thing!

      "There is some mistake," Ferd said loftily, but looking green in the electric light. "This is Mrs. Day Illington and this is her own machine."

      "Are you Mr. Illington?"

      "Yes!" said Ferd.

      The man looked very strange, as well he might, considering—well, considering the facts that came out later.

      "I'll have to trouble you to come with me," he said, politely enough. "It will be only a short delay and we'll get this straightened out. But a car answering this description was stolen out the road a few miles and headed toward town, and there's a reward offered."

      He stood on the step and I drove to the station house. I had it fixed in my own mind to go home and write a letter to Day confessing all, and then pack a few things and hide my wretched self for the rest of my life. I even planned what to take; my jewelry and my checkbook, and only a dinner dress or two; and I wrote the letter to Day—in my mind—and one to Ida, telling her it was only a lark, but it had gone wrong without any fault of mine. Then we drew up at the station.

      Ferd got out and went in, and the officer turned on the pavement to help me out. But it was my chance and I took it; I just threw on the gas full and shot ahead down the street. He yelled after me and then began shooting. One bullet must have struck the good rear tire, for it collapsed and almost turned the car round. But I was desperate. I never looked back. I just drove for all I was worth down the street to its end, and after that down other streets, and still others. All the time I was saying I would rather die, and going round corners on two wheels, or one wheel and a rim.

      Finally I got into a part of town I knew and pulled up half a block from my own house. I recall that and leaving the engine still going, and that hideous nightmare of a machine standing by the curb, with its tires lying out on the road in ribbons and its lamps smashed; and I remember going up the steps and finding the hall door unlocked. Then I recall nothing more for a while. I fainted.

      It was Martha, one of the housemaids, who found me, I believe, as she was going out to early mass. They got me upstairs to bed and there was no use trying to run away that night; I could hardly stand. They got me some hot tea and a doctor and a trained nurse, and in the morning before breakfast Day came back. He tiptoed into my room and tried to kiss me, looking awfully frightened; but I would not let him.

      "Send the nurse out!" I whispered. So he did; and still I would not let him kiss me. "Not until I've told you something," I said feebly. "You may not care to when you've heard it all."

      He looked so big and so dependable and so worried that I could have screamed; but I had to tell him. Bill Henderson might have recognised me; and Ferd, as like as not, would be goose enough to tell Ida the whole story. And, anyhow, there's nothing like perfect honesty between husband and wife.

      "Day," I said tremulously, "I'm a felon—a thief! I—I stole a lot of champagne last night and an automobile, and broke down fences, and almost ran over a policeman, and was arrested—or Ferd was—Day, don't look like that!" For his face was terrible. He had gone quite white.

      "You!" he said.

      "Get up and stand by the window, looking out," I implored him. "I can tell you better if I can't see your eyes."

      So he did and I told him the whole thing. He never moved, and I kept getting more and more frightened. It sounded worse, somehow, when I told it. When I had finished he did not come to me as I had hoped. He said:

      "I'd like a few minutes to get used to it, Fan. I'll go out and walk about a bit. It's—it's just a little hard to grasp, all at once."

      So he went out, and I lay and cried into my pillow; but when the nurse had brought me some tea and raised the shades, and the sun came in, I felt a little better. He had not been noisy, anyhow; and in time perhaps he would forgive me, though probably he would never really trust me again. I got up in a chair and had my hair tied with a ribbon and my nails done, and put on my new negligée with lace sleeves; and I felt pretty well, considering.

      At nine o'clock the policeman on the beat asked to see me. I sent down word that I was indisposed; but he said it was urgent and would only take a moment. The nurse put a blanket over my knees and a pillow behind me, and the officer came in. I was frightened; but after all my only real fear had been Day, and now that he knew, Fate could hardly have a fresh blow. But it had, all right.

      "Sorry to disturb you, ma'am," said the officer, "but it's about your car."

      "Yes?" My lips were trembling.

      "It's been found; I found it—and only a block or so away, ma'am; but it's in bad shape—lamps smashed and tires chewed to ribbons. It's a sight, for sure!"

      "But that's not my car!" I exclaimed, forgetting caution.

      "I guess there's no mistake about it, ma'am. Those fellows that stole it, up the river, must have climbed fences with it."

      "How do you know it is my car?" I was absolutely bewildered.

      "These are your license plates, aren't they? I found them under the seat."

      They were my license plates!

      Day came in shortly after and tiptoed into the room. The nurse was out. He came over to me and stooped down.

      "It took me a little by surprise, honey," he said; "but that's over now. You've been foolish, but you've had your lesson. Let's kiss and be friends again."

      "Just a moment, Day," I said calmly. "Have you had your lesson?"

      "Just what do you mean?"

      He followed my eyes to the table and the license plates were there. He actually paled.

      "Where did you get them?"

      "Under the seat of the car Ferd and I stole last night at Devil's Island—my car, which you said was being overhauled!"

      He drew a long breath. Then he got down on his knees and put his head in my lap.

      "I've had my lesson—honest, honey!" he said. "Some darned fool suggested a picnic on one of those islands—mixed couples—and I was ass enough to agree. I took Ida Jackson. We didn't have any picnic—the champagne was stolen——"

      "Ferd and I——" I put in.

      "And then my car went——"

      "My car—and I took it."

      "And we spent all the evening and part of the night chasing the thing for fear you'd hear of it!" He looked up at me and there were dark circles round his eyes. "I haven't been to bed at all, honey," he said humbly. "It's been a rotten night! I've had enough affinity for the rest of my life. There's nobody like you!"

      I would not kiss him just then, but I let him lie down on my couch and hold my hand until he dropped asleep. Somehow the words of Ferd's silly card kept running through my head: