“Where is she?” he demanded as he saw his watch point to the hour of nine. “Where is this young gypsy dancing queen?”
Until this moment he had been told nothing. Hoping against hope that some miracle would bring Petite Jeanne back to them in time for the rehearsal2, Angelo, Florence and Dan Baker3 had put off the inevitable4.
Seeing that the zero hour had arrived, Angelo climbed out of the trenches5. “She’s gone,” he said simply. “She won’t be here.”
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“Gone?” The gray steel face took on the color of glowing metal. “Won’t be here? What do you mean?”
“Been kidnaped.”
“Kidnaped! How? When? Why wasn’t I notified?”
“No reason.” Angelo was still calm. “All’s been done that could be done. The police were here last night. They looked the place over. No clues. She’s gone. That’s all.”
“Police? Here? Last night? This place? Why here last night?” Suspicion had been added to the anger in this man’s hard heart.
Seeing that he had given the thing away, Angelo made a clean breast of the whole affair.
The face of the director, as he learned that Petite Jeanne had been practicing her old dances at night in his theatre with the intention of using those dances on the opening night, was a terrible thing to see.
“That!” he exploded, as Angelo’s story was finished. “That is the end!”
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“Yes,” replied Angelo coldly, “no doubt of it. And well ended, too.”
Beckoning6 to his companions, he walked from the room, down the stairs and out into the autumn morning.
They walked, the three of them, Florence, Angelo and Dan Baker, one full city block. Then Dan Baker spoke7. What he said was:
“Coffee. Coffee and waffles, with pure maple8 syrup9. Right in here.”
Thus spoke Dan Baker, the old trouper. He had lost, perhaps forever, his one chance for fame and fortune. But he had not lost his heart of gold.
* * * * * * * *
After leaving the theatre, Merry had gone at once to a nearby store and purchased a spool10 of stout11 linen12 thread.
Once outside the store, she attached the end of the thread to the silk cord on the falcon13’s leg. The next thing she did was to shake the falcon from her wrist.
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Flapping lazy wings, he soared aloft. Scarcely had he cleared the low building before him, however, than he shot straight away toward the west.
Astonished at the pull he gave upon her thread, and fearful lest he break it, Merry played out the line grudgingly14 until she had him stopped and then slowly drew him back. Catching15 sight of her, he soared back to a place on her wrist.
“So that’s settled!” she exclaimed with considerable animation16. “I guessed as much. Now for something else.”
Boarding a street car and ignoring the astonished stares of those who rode with her as they saw the falcon, she took a seat and rattled17 away toward the west.
When she had ridden thirty blocks she left the car, and stood again on a street corner and released her bird.
The performance of half an hour before was repeated in every detail.
“Still westward18 he wings his flight,” she murmured as she drew the bird back. “That means the Forest Preserve. The flats around the settlement house are at my back now.
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“Can’t go out there alone,” she told herself. “Not safe. They might kidnap me, too.”
She thought of Kay King and Weston. Maxwell Street was not far off.
“They’ll help me,” she told herself.
Turning, she walked rapidly toward Maxwell Street and Kay King’s book store.
“He belongs to those gypsies,” she said an hour later, pointing to the falcon.
Kay had stood frowning and silent while she told her story. “Those gypsies kidnaped Petite Jeanne,” she went on. “I thought that from the start. When I found this bird I was sure of it. Since he flies toward the Forest Preserve I’m sure she’s out there somewhere.”
“You’re probably right,” Kay agreed. “And I know where they’re camped. I bought some old French books from them week before last. You can’t go there on a street car. Too far. Weston’s off with his truck. Went for some trunks. When he gets back we can go out there. I’ll call Big John. He keeps a shop down the street. He’s got a gun, a regular cannon19. We might need it.”
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“Yes,” agreed Merry, as a little thrill ran up her spine20, “we might.”
Weston was slow in returning. Big John with his “regular cannon” needed looking up. It was mid-afternoon by the time they went rattling21 off toward the Forest Preserve.
A strange lot of detectives they were, this “Golden Circle” of Merry’s: Kay King with his sensitive, almost girlish face; Weston, red-faced and habitually22 smiling; Big John, immense, stoical and slow, with a large gun tucked under his arm; and last, but not least, Merry and her falcon.
The men rode on the broad front seat. Merry brought up the rear. She was comfortably stowed away in a pile of old quilts and blankets that lay on the floor of the closed truck.
“Be almost night before we get there,” the girl thought to herself.
As she closed her eyes she seemed to see gypsy camp fires gleaming in the fading light of day. About one of these fires a blonde girl was dancing. The girl was Petite Jeanne. A strange sort of vision, but not far wrong.
点击收听单词发音
1 overdone | |
v.做得过分( overdo的过去分词 );太夸张;把…煮得太久;(工作等)过度 | |
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2 rehearsal | |
n.排练,排演;练习 | |
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3 baker | |
n.面包师 | |
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4 inevitable | |
adj.不可避免的,必然发生的 | |
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5 trenches | |
深沟,地沟( trench的名词复数 ); 战壕 | |
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6 beckoning | |
adj.引诱人的,令人心动的v.(用头或手的动作)示意,召唤( beckon的现在分词 ) | |
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7 spoke | |
n.(车轮的)辐条;轮辐;破坏某人的计划;阻挠某人的行动 v.讲,谈(speak的过去式);说;演说;从某种观点来说 | |
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8 maple | |
n.槭树,枫树,槭木 | |
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9 syrup | |
n.糖浆,糖水 | |
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10 spool | |
n.(缠录音带等的)卷盘(轴);v.把…绕在卷轴上 | |
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12 linen | |
n.亚麻布,亚麻线,亚麻制品;adj.亚麻布制的,亚麻的 | |
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13 falcon | |
n.隼,猎鹰 | |
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14 grudgingly | |
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15 catching | |
adj.易传染的,有魅力的,迷人的,接住 | |
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16 animation | |
n.活泼,兴奋,卡通片/动画片的制作 | |
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17 rattled | |
慌乱的,恼火的 | |
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18 westward | |
n.西方,西部;adj.西方的,向西的;adv.向西 | |
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19 cannon | |
n.大炮,火炮;飞机上的机关炮 | |
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20 spine | |
n.脊柱,脊椎;(动植物的)刺;书脊 | |
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21 rattling | |
adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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22 habitually | |
ad.习惯地,通常地 | |
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