Perils of Pauline

Charles Goddard

Description

Fearless daredevil Pauline wants to experience the world and fulfill her lust for adventure before she settles down, but her massive inheritance is being withheld until she finds a husband. The executor of the estate, the nefarious Raymond Owen, decides to take measures to ensure the money will never reach its rightful owner. Will Pauline figure out his scam before it's too late?

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 avril 2016
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781776599356
• Langue: English

Extrait

THE PERILS OF PAULINE
* * *
CHARLES GODDARD
 
*
The Perils of Pauline First published in 1914 Epub ISBN 978-1-77659-935-6 Also available: PDF ISBN 978-1-77659-936-3 © 2014 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
*
Chapter I - The Breath of Dead Centuries Chapter II - The Will Chapter III - Pauline Taxes the First Trick Chapter IV - Owen Wins the First Game Chapter V - The Pirate and Pauline Chapter VI - The Treasure Hunters Chapter VII - A Flirty Buccaneer Chapter VIII - The Courtelyou Reception Chapter IX - Baskinelli's Quarry Chapter X - Kaboff's Wild Horse Chapter XI - From Cloud to Cliff Chapter XII - The Old Grigsby House Pays Penance Chapter XIII - Double Cross Ranch Chapter XIV - The Great White Queen Chapter XV - The Death Stone Chapter XVI - Sophie McAllan's Wedding Chapter XVII - Palmer Comes Back Chapter XVIII - A Hot Young Comet Chapter XIX - Owen Offers a Reward Chapter XX - Cyrus Makes a Reputation Chapter XXI - The Guest of Honor Chapter XXII - Submarine B-2 Chapter XXIII - A Paper Chase Chapter XXIV - The Mummy's Last Warning
Chapter I - The Breath of Dead Centuries
*
In one of the stateliest mansions on the lower Hudson, near New York,old Stanford Marvin, president of the Marvin Motors Company, dozed overhis papers, while Owen, his confidential secretary, eyed him across themahogany flat-topped desk. A soft purring sound floated in the openwindow and half-roused the aged manufacturer. It came from one of hisown cars—six cylinders chanting in unison a litany of power to thegreat modern god of gasoline.
These things had been in his mind since the motor industry started. Hehad lived with them, wrestled with them during his meals and taken themto his dreams at night. Now they formed a rhythm, and he heard them inhis brain just before the fainting spells, which had come so frequentlyof late. He glanced at the secretary and noted Owen's gaze withsomething of a start.
"What are you thinking about, Raymond?" he queried, with his customarydirectness.
"Your health, sir," replied Owen, who, like all intelligent rascals,never lied when the truth would do equally well. As a matter of fact,Owen had wondered whether his employer would last a year or a month.He much preferred a month, for there was reason to believe that theMarvin will would contain a handsome bequest to "my faithfulsecretary."
"Oh, bosh!" said the old man. "You and Dr. Stevens would make a mummyof me before I'm dead."
"That reminds me, sir," said Owen, smoothly, "that the InternationalExpress Company has delivered a large crate addressed to you fromCairo, Egypt. I presume it is the mummy you bought on your last trip.Where shall I place it?"
Mr. Marvin's eye coursed around the walls of the handsome library,which had been his office since the doctor had forbidden him to visithis automobile works and steel-stamping mills.
"Take out that bust of Pallas Athene," he ordered, "and stand the mummyup in its place."
Owen nodded, poised his pencil and prompted:
"You were just dictating about the new piston rings."
Mr. Marvin drew his hand across his eyes and looked out the window.Within the range of his vision was one of the most charming sights inthe world—a handsome youth and a pretty girl, arrayed in whiteflannels, playing tennis.
"Never mind the letters. Tell Harry and Pauline I wish to see them."
Alone, the old man opened a drawer and took a dose of medicine, then heunfolded Dr. Stevens's letter and read its final paragraph, whichprescribed a change of climate, together with complete and permanentrest or "I will not answer for the consequences."
There was little doubt that no primer mover in a great industry wasbetter able to leave its helm than Standford Marvin. His lieutenantswere able, efficient and contented. The factories would go of theirown momentum for a year or two at least, then his son, Harry, just outof college, should be able, perhaps, to help. His lieutenants hadproved Marvin's unerring instinct in judging character. Not one singlecase came to the old employer's mind of a man who had failed to turnout exactly as he expected. Yet the most trusted man of all, RaymondOwen, the secretary, was disloyal and dishonest.
This one exception was easily enough explained. When Owen came toMarvin's attention, fifteen years before, he was a fine, honest,faithful man. It was born and bred in him to be straight. During thefirst five' or six years in the Marvin household the older man tookpains to keep watch on this quiet, tactful youth until he knew all hisways and even his habits of thought. There was no doubt that Owen wasas upright and clean as the old man himself.
At the age of forty the devil entered into Owen. It came in the formof insomnia. Loss of sleep will make any man irritable andunreasonable, but hardly dishonest. With the sleeplessness, however,came the temptation to take drugs. Owen shifted from one narcotic toanother, finally, settling down upon morphine. Five years of theopiate had made him its slave. Every physician knows that morphinefiends become dishonest.
The secretary had speculated with his modest savings and lost them. Hehad borrowed and lost again, and now, for some time, had been bettingon horse races. This last had made him acquainted with a certainMontgomery Hicks, who lived well without visible source of income.Through Hicks, Owen had betrayed one of his employer's guardedsecrets. Hicks, armed with this secret, promptly changed from afriendly creditor to a blackmailer.
Owen, on his way to summon Pauline and Harry, descended to thebasement, where the butler, gardener, and a colored man were uncratingthe Egyptian mummy. He told them to stand it in place of the bust ofPallas Athene in the library, and then went out, crossing the splendidlawns, and graveled roads to the tennis court. There was no design inOwen's mind against the two players, but of late the instinct of boththe hunter and the hunted were showing in him, and it prompted him toapproach quietly and under cover. So he passed along the edge of ahedge and stood a moment within earshot.
Pauline was about to "serve," but paused to look down at the loosenedlaces of her small white shoe. She heard Harry's racquet drop and sawhim hurdle the net. In another instant he was at her feet tying thetiny bow.
"You needn't have done that, Harry," she said.
"Oh, no!" Harry affirmed, as he vainly tried to make his bow as trimas its mate. "I suppose not. I don't suppose I need to, think, aboutyou all the time either, or follow you around till that new cockerspaniel of yours thinks I'm part of your shadow. Perhaps I don't needto love you."
"Harry, get up! Someone will see you and think you're proposing tome."
"Think? They ought to know I'm proposing. But, Pauline, talking about'need,' there isn't any need of your being so pretty. Your eyes arebigger and bluer than they really need to be. You could see just aswell if you didn't have such long, curly lashes, and there isn't anyreal necessity for the way they group together in that starry effect,like Nell Brinkley's girls. Is there any need of fifteen differentbeautiful shades of light where the sun strikes your hair just back ofyour ear?"
"Harry, stop this! The score is forty-fifteen."
"Yes, all these things are entirely unnecessary. I'm going to have oldMother Nature indicted by the Grand jury for willful, wasteful, wantonextravagance unless—unless—" Harry paused.
"Now, Harry, don't use up your whole vocabulary—promise what?"
"Promise to marry me at once."
"No, Harry, I can't do that—that is, right away. I must have time."
"Why time? Pauline, don't you love me?"
"Yes, I think I do love you, Harry, and you know there is nobody elsein the world."
"Then what do you want time for?"
"Why, to see life and to know what life really is."
"All right. Marry me, and I'll show you life. I'll lead you any kindof a life you want."
"No, that won't do. As an old, settled-down, married woman I couldn'treally do what I want. I must see life in its great moments. I musthave thrills, adventures, see people, do daring things, watch battles.It might be best for me even to see someone killed, if that werepossible. As I was telling Harley St. John last night—"
"Harley St. John? Well, if I catch that fop taking you motoring againyou'll get your wish and see a real nice aristocratic murder. He oughtto be put out of his misery, anyway; but where did you get all thesesudden notions about wild and strenuous life?"
Pauline did not answer. They both heard a discreet cough, and Owenrounded the corner of the hedge. He delivered his message, and thethree walked slowly toward the house.
Advancing to meet them came a dashy checked suit. Above it was a largePanama hat with a gaudy ribbon. A red necktie was also visible, evenat a considerable distance. Between the hat and the necktie a faceseveral degrees darker in color than the tie came into view as thedistance lessened. It was Mr. Montgomery Hicks, whose first name wasusually pronounced "Mugumry" and thence degenerated into "Mug." Mug'sinflamed and scowling face and bulging eyes usually conveyed thegeneral impression that he was about to burst into profanity—aconjecture which frequently proved correct. In this case he merelyremarked in a sort of "newsboy" voice:
"Mr. Raymond Owen, I believe?"
The secretary's sallow face flushed a little as he stepped aside andlet Harry and Pauline pass out of earshot.
"See here, Mug," co