Jacques Futrelle

“ The elderly gentleman’s lips formed the words mechanically, as they were taken out of his mouth.
Then the carriage turned into Pennsylvania Avenue. Dorothy laughed again and grew a little hysterical; so much so that Gillmore had to take hold of her hand to soothe her. It was an awfully nice hand, smooth as velvet and warm and cosy. Gillmore held it all the way up Pennsylvania Avenue. She grew much better. ”

“ Smythe savagely kicked the box which had contained the feast; then, after a while, wandered away, disconsolate, to his room swearing roundly, and dreamed foolish dreams of Eleanor Phillips and runaway marriages and other things which should not intrude themselves into the mind of a young man who seeks a brilliant future. In his dreams somehow, it appeared that an elopement with Eleanor would settle the problem, but dreams are illogical things.
When Cadet Gillmore presented himself to the colonel at ten o'clock that morning he was received gravely ”

“ Gillmore cried again, “How dare you marry us when we are not looking?”
The droning voice went on. Quick, vigorous action was necessary.
“Run!” said Dorothy.
Hand in hand they fled from the voice which was just saying: “I pronounce you man and wife.”
Dorothy never recalled clearly what happened after that. When she fully recovered she was in the apartments of her uncle and aunt on the third floor. The secretary of war had gone down-stairs seeking a reason for her sudden appearance. In the lobby he met an elderly gentleman with aggressive side-whiskers, who was raging, positively raging. ”

“ Suddenly, in the middle of the dinner, Dorothy caught sight of some one and sat up straight.
“Oh, look there,” she exclaimed. “It’s Eleanor and Cadet Smythe and the old gentleman with the whiskers. I knew I had seen him: it’s Eleanor’s father.”
After dinner there was a mass meeting.
“Well, what are you doing here?” was the simultaneous query from each side.
“We're married,” said Cadet Smythe, proudly “Yes, we eloped and came on here. Eleanor’s father met us and has forgiven us.”
He turned to the elderly gentleman.
“Mr. Phillips,” he said, “a friend of mine from West Point, Cadet Gillmore. ”

“ Gillmore had, by this time, forgotten all about the evils which beset him, in contemplation of that wonderful creature, Dorothy.
“My uncle, the secretary of war!” said Dorothy, talking rapidly, and her face flushed. “He’s in Washington. He’s a sort of a—a—something; anyhow, he has an awful lot to say about what they do at West Point. We'll go to him and tell him and then he'll fix it.”
“No,” said Gillmore. “It wouldn’t be fair to you.”
“Silly,” said Dorothy, and a charming chin was uptilted defiantly. “You have nothing to say about it. I’ll tell him. He’ll believe me; he always does. ”

“ Dorothy winced a little at the pain in her ankle, but announced her intention of going. Then Gillmore climbed down the ladder, assisted her out, and started on with her as a matter of course.
“No, no, no!” she said hurriedly. “You mustn't. It would only make it worse if we were caught. I must go alone.”
Then, limping, and without a single good-night, she ran across an open space, into the darkness.
Thus Cadet Gillmore lied. He was an officer and a gentleman. What could he have done?
II.
Cadet Gillmore awoke suddenly with the feeling that there was some one else in the room. ”

“ He extended a hand trembling with anger and the secretary took the yellow slip.
It said:
Knowing you objected to me I ran away with Eleanor this afternoon and we were married. Intended to go to my sister’s in Washington, and later come to New York for your forgiveness, but missed train, so came to Peekskill instead. Both send love.
Smythe.
The secretary of war laughed.
“Love!” snorted Mr. Phillips.
V.
The next day the Secretary of War went out for a walk, early, and being a busy man stopped in his office to dispose of two or three trivial matters. ”

“ The secretary glared fiercely at Gillmore, whom he blamed vaguely for this sudden outburst, then he took his pretty niece in his arms to comfort her. Lucky secretary!
“There, there!” he said soothingly. “What is it?”
“Ca—ca—cadet Gill—gi—gillmore is going to be expelled from West Point,” Dorothy bubbled at last.
The secretary seemed surprised, then glanced inquiringly at the cadet.
“For lying,” said Gillmore, grimly answering the question. He was not a man to soften a fact with gentle words.
“Lying?” repeated the secretary. “Lying? ”

“ They climbed the stairs, were seized upon by an obsequious waiter and ushered into a private dining-room. There was one table, only one set for two.
“You see, we are ready, sir.” said the waiter. “You will be served immediately.” ”

“ Mr. Andrew Phillips, 171 Fifth Avenue, New York City. Eleanor has eloped with Cadet Smythe. Left Garrison’s here at 1:55 to-day, reach New York 3:25. Dine at Hector’s. Leave by Pennsylvania at 4:55 for Washington, arrive there 10:55. Probably stop with Cadet Smythe’s sister, 1111 Massylvania Ave.
Laura.
It wouldn’t be fair to tell how Mrs. Ashburton got this information. Anyway she got it, and it was the longest telegram she ever sent. She felt it was an awful waste of money.
IV.
Dorothy and Cadet Gillmore were sitting cosily side by side on the 1:55 train, half way to New York. ”