Their beloved red automobile, companion in so many adventures and faithful friend in time of need, did not accompany the “Automobile Girls” to Palm Beach. But Mr. Stuart engaged another larger motor car with a chauffeur to run it, as soon as he arrived at the famous southern resort. He preferred Ruth to have a chauffeur at her command in case she needed him.

There was room in the new automobile for ten persons, and Mr. Stuart, Miss Sallie, the four “Automobile Girls,” the Countess Sophia and Madame de Villiers seated themselves in its cavernous depths. Then the car spun out along the famous Shell Road, lined on each side with the tall, delicate yucca plants. A fragrant southern breeze fanned the faces of the happy party. The sunlight was dazzling, the sky a deep blue. All about were masses of tropical vegetation that glittered in the sunshine.

“This place is truly heavenly,” exclaimed the Countess Sophia von Stolberg. She leaned back in the automobile and closed her eyes. “How could one help being happy, surrounded by all this beauty? I am indeed very happy to-day. Are you not happy, Cousine?” she murmured, taking Madame de Villiers’s hand and looking at her with a tender, loving expression. The older woman’s stern face softened.

“Very happy, my dear,” she declared. “This is not a place to remember one’s troubles.”

The countess’s face clouded at the word “troubles.” She began to say something in German, but checked herself. She was far too well-bred to speak any language but English before her new friends.

“Yes; this is a small sized heaven,” agreed Bab. “A kind of oasis in a desert, for over there are the Everglades.”

“And what are the Everglades?” inquired the countess.

“The guide-book says they are trackless jungle,” explained Bab. “They are full of wild animals; wild cats, and panthers, and deer. They have poisonous snakes in them, too. Very few white men ever venture in the Everglades, but the Indians have trails through them. They often kill deer in the jungle and sell them at the hotel.”

“It would not be pleasant to be lost in such a place,” suggested Mollie. She was thinking of her own experience when she was lost in the forest in the Berkshire Hills.

“And it would not be easy to find you in the Everglades either, little sister,” rejoined Bab. “So please beware! Never go into the Everglades alone.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” laughed Mollie. “Being lost once was enough for me.”

“If you ever do disappear, Mademoiselle Mollie, the secret society will never rest until it finds you. We must be very faithful to each other, dear fellow members?” laughed the countess.

“I am sure we agree to that,” declared Ruth.

Walking along the road ahead of them, Barbara espied two figures.

“Do you know,” she demanded, “I believe those two people just in front of us are Maud Warren and her count.”

It really was Maud loitering along the road accompanied by the count.

“Stop our car, Robert,” ordered Miss Sallie.

Maud explained that her motor car had broken down some distance up the road. She and the count had decided to walk on. They hoped to be picked up by friends.

“Do you mean you were out motoring alone with the Count de Sonde?” inquired Miss Stuart severely.

“Why not?” answered Maud, looking insolently at Miss Sallie.

“Ah it is in this free America that one needs no chaperons,” said Madame de Villiers innocently, but with a gleam of mischief in her eyes.

Maud made no reply. Two angry spots glowed in her cheeks.

The countess now made up her mind to intercede. She did not wish Maud to fly into a rage.

“I have had a visit from your friends, the ‘Automobile Girls’, Miss Warren,” she said graciously. “Perhaps you will join them when they come to see me again.”

Maud favored the countess with a chilly stare.

Could it be that Mrs. De Lancey Smythe had been whispering tales about the countess in Maud’s ears? And had this stupid girl believed what she had heard? Ruth felt her heart thump with the embarrassment of the situation. What was Maud going to say? Strangely enough Madame de Villiers’ face held the same look of fear that Ruth’s did. Why should Madame de Villiers look frightened instead of angry?

But Maud never uttered the insult her lips were trying to frame. Spoiled and undisciplined child that she was, when she turned her sneering face toward the countess the words suddenly failed her. For the first time Maud felt that money, after all, counted for little. There was something about this plainly dressed woman that suddenly made her feel mean and ashamed. Maud looked deep into the countess’s beautiful eyes, then answered with unaccustomed meekness. “Thank you so much. I should like to come to see you.”

In the meantime naughty Mollie was taking a slight revenge upon the count.

“You are quite athletic, are you not?” she asked him innocently, her baby blue eyes fastened on his.

“I, athletic?” exclaimed the little count in surprise. “Not very, Mademoiselle. Why do you ask?”

“Because you run so well,” Mollie answered, with a far-away look.

“You refer to this morning, I perceive, Mademoiselle,” expostulated the count. “I do not swim; therefore I ran for help. But there was no danger. Your sister was never in deep water. Yet it was a most effective scene. Doubtless the young lady will enjoy being a heroine.”

Mollie flushed. “Barbara would have been in danger if Marian had not helped to pull her and the child out of the water. And, by the way, Marian does not swim either.”

“Ah, Mademoiselle Marian? I saw her later,” laughed the count. “How droll was her appearance and that of your sister also.”

Mollie heartily disgusted with the little count turned her back on him.

“Get into the motor car, both of you,” ordered Miss Sallie firmly.

A few minutes later their automobile reached the entrance to the cocoanut grove.

“Papa, let us stop here and have tea?” asked Ruth.

“A good idea, Ruth,” agreed Mr. Stuart, giving the chauffeur the order.

“I am very sorry,” interrupted the countess. “But I fear I cannot stop this afternoon.”

“Oh, please do, Countess!” urged Ruth and her friends. Even Maud’s voice was heard to join in the general chorus.

The countess hesitated. She looked at Madame de Villiers with questioning eyes. It was evident that the young countess also yearned for the pleasure of drinking tea under the cocoanut trees. Madame de Villiers shrugged her shoulders. She said something softly, so that no one else could hear. The countess dropped her white chiffon veil down over her face.

“After all, I cannot resist your invitation, Mr. Stuart,” the young woman agreed. “But may I ask you not to stay long?”

Presently Mr. Stuart’s party was seated around a large, rustic table in the beautiful cocoanut grove. Hundreds of other people, clad in white and light clothes, were seated at other tables. In the distance a band played. During the intermissions the listeners could hear the twittering and singing of multitudes of birds, which also sojourn for the winter at Palm Beach.

The countess was the object of many glances from the people near her, although she had not lifted the heavy chiffon veil from her face. She was a woman of rarely beautiful presence. There was something regal in the set of her small head on her graceful shoulders. Her gown and hat were extremely plain and she wore no jewels; but an atmosphere surrounded the lovely countess like an aura of sunlight, Ruth thought. She was very gentle and sweet, though there was something about her that suggested she could be equally stern if the situation required it. Ruth hoped never to incur her displeasure.

When tea was served the countess was obliged to throw back her veil.

Madame de Villiers looked at her disapprovingly. Then the old woman cast hurried glances about her, but was apparently satisfied.

As for the young countess, she took in a deep breath of the warm, soft air laden with the scent of the orange blossoms. She let her eyes wander over the grove and smiled as a burst of music floated across to her.

“I am fascinated, enchanted!” she exclaimed. “Mr. Stuart, I thank you for the pleasure of this afternoon.”

There was always a slight formality in the young countess’s manner which kept people at a distance.

“Do not thank me, Countess,” protested Mr. Stuart. “You and Madame de Villiers are conferring an honor upon us.”

“Madame de Villiers and I are two lonely women,” continued the countess. “We have not seen the beauties of this place, except from our piazza. How exquisite this grove is! Truly, it is like paradise.”

Again the young woman’s gaze swept the tea garden. Suddenly her face turned white. She bit her lips, and sat as if turned to stone. Her eyes were fastened on a group of three men at a nearby table. Madame de Villiers had not noticed them. The men had not yet noticed the Stuart’s guests.

The countess dropped her veil quickly. Ruth and Mollie, sitting on each side of the countess, were the only members of the party who felt that something had happened, and they were wise enough to be absolutely silent. Only the girls’ eyes followed the direction of the countess’s. They, too, saw the three men, one of whom they recognized as Mr. Duval. The other two were strangers, foreign-looking men with waxed mustaches and light hair.

All at once Mollie felt her hand seized convulsively under cover of the table. But the little girl was not prepared for the special mark of confidence that the countess was now to bestow on her. As Mollie held the countess’s hand in her own, she felt a tap, tap in the centre of her palm. Like a flash Mollie remembered. The countess had given her the danger signal they had agreed upon the day before. Mollie looked quickly over at Maud Warren. She presumed the signal indicated that there was something the matter with Maud. But Maud was sitting quietly between Barbara and Grace Carter.

Then what could the countess mean? Could she be jesting? Mollie did not think so. Through the meshes of her white veil the face of the countess looked out very white and grave.

Mollie’s heart was beating fast. What could she say? What must she do? Of one thing she now felt sure. The beautiful Countess Sophia von Stolberg was threatened with trouble. She should have all the aid that the “Automobile Girls” could give.

“I understand,” Mollie now whispered back to her in a low voice. “What shall I do?”

“I must leave the tea garden at once,” replied the countess quietly. “But I do not wish to be observed. Madame de Villiers must go with me, but I do not wish the party to break up. That would make us conspicuous.”

“Ruth and I will go with you. Don’t be worried; we will go quietly. Wait, I must speak to her.”

“Ruth,” Mollie spoke softly to her friend. “The countess wishes to go home without disturbing any one else. Shall we slip out with her, and see her home?”

“Why, of course,” answered Ruth politely, although she was somewhat mystified.

They were about to arise quietly from the table when they were interrupted. A waiter handed a note to Mr. Stuart. Mr. Stuart read it. His face turned very red.

Now, if there was one thing in particular that Robert Stuart loathed it was an anonymous letter. The message he had just received was not signed, and it read:

“Beware of the countess. She is an impostor.”

Mr. Stuart crushed the paper in his hand.

“Mr. Stuart,” said the low voice of the countess, just at this moment, “forgive my leaving so soon. But I must go at once. Mollie and Ruth are coming with me.” As the countess rose from her chair she glanced hastily at the three men at the table near them. These men had also risen. But they were not looking at the countess.

The young woman started hurriedly toward the gate. Madame de Villiers quickly followed her. So did Ruth, Mollie and Mr. Stuart.

“Please wait here until we come back for you,” Ruth said to her aunt.

Monsieur Duval had now crossed the space intervening between the two tables. He had seated himself next to Miss Sallie. The other two foreigners were moving toward the gate.

Ruth hurried on. She gave her order to the chauffeur. The man was soon cranking up the machine. The four women had taken their seats in the motor car. At this moment one of the strangers approached Mr. Stuart. The other took off his hat and bowed low to the countess. He spoke to her in German, but her reply was given in English. It was very plain. “I do not know you,” she said.

The man spoke again. This time his manner was insolent. Madame de Villiers’s face grew dark with rage.

“Hurry!” called Ruth to her chauffeur. Mr. Stuart sprang into the automobile.

The machine sped on leaving the two strangers standing alone in the road.

“Do not worry, Cousine,” the countess murmured in the course of their ride. “The man who spoke to me made a mistake. You will frighten our friends if you are so angry.”

Madame de Villiers said nothing. But there was fire in her small shining black eyes. Her beaked nose looked as though it might peck at the next offender.

Mr. Stuart and the two girls left the countess and her companion at their villa. The two women were now composed. Indeed, the countess made Ruth and Mollie promise that the “Automobile Girls” would come to see her again the next day.

Mollie and Ruth could not help puzzling over the countess as they rode back to the cocoanut grove. Mr. Stuart kept his own counsel.

“I am certain there is some mystery about the countess,” Ruth avowed. “But, whatever the mystery is, the ‘Automobile Girls’ are on her side!”

CHAPTER VIII
THE WARNING

In the meantime Mr. Duval was making himself exceedingly entertaining to Miss Sallie, Grace and Barbara in the tea garden. Maud and the Count de Sonde had withdrawn to a seat near the music, and were engrossed in a tête–à–tête.

Mr. Duval had traveled widely. He told his little audience about Chinese and Japanese tea gardens. He told tales of many lands and gave accounts of numerous adventures in which he had participated.

Barbara and Grace listened fascinated. They hardly knew how the time passed. At last Mr. Stuart came back with Ruth and Mollie. Mr. Warren and Mrs. De Lancey Smythe had joined them, without Marian. Mr. Warren was looking for Maud. But Bab wondered how poor Marian had weathered the storm that must have broken when Mrs. De Lancey Smythe returned to the hotel that morning.

“Where is Marian?” Ruth asked the widow abruptly, looking her straight in the eyes.

Mrs. De Lancey Smythe’s eyes dropped before Ruth’s clear gaze. She twirled her parasol, looked annoyed then said frigidly: “Marian has a headache this afternoon.”

“I trust the wetting she got this morning had nothing to do with it.”

“Marian is an impulsive and reckless girl,” snapped her mother. “She is entirely too fond of disregarding all conventions.”

“Has any one seen my daughter?” Mr. Warren’s deep voice was now heard above the hum of conversation. Mrs. De Lancey Smythe joined him and together they strolled over toward Maud and the count. Mrs. De Lancey Smythe seized this opportunity to say a few words in favor of the Count de Sonde, for it was evident that Mr. Warren had taken a violent dislike to the young man. Had some one persuaded the widow to make this appeal, or was she genuinely attracted by the young French nobleman?

Mr. Stuart found himself agreeably surprised by Monsieur Duval. When the sun began to sink, and the tea drinkers prepared to return to their hotel, Mr. Duval occupied a seat in the Stuart automobile. Moreover, when he said good-bye on the hotel veranda, he carried with him two invitations. One was to dine with the Stuart party that very evening, the other, to go with them the next day on a picnic.

No sooner was Bab out of the automobile than she determined to run up to Marian’s room. She knew the widow had not yet returned. Bab found the number of Marian’s room from the hotel clerk. Then she got in the elevator and went up to the top floor of the hotel.

She knocked at a door in the middle of a long narrow passage, and a faint voice said: “Come in.”

Bab entered a small bed room situated under the eaves of the hotel roof. There were three trunks in the tiny chamber which overlooked a court yard. The room was very close and hot. Marian was on the bed. She had cried herself to sleep. At Bab’s knock she opened her heavy eyes.

“Why, Barbara!” she exclaimed. “It is awfully good of you to come up to see me, but Mama would have three fits if she knew you had seen this room. I am glad you have come, because I have something special to tell you. I – ” Poor Marian hesitated and stopped.

Barbara looked at her with questioning eyes.

“I am afraid it is dreadfully disloyal of me to say another word.” Marian pressed her hands to her temples. “And I haven’t anything really definite to tell you. But, oh Barbara, I have a suspicion that something may happen soon! Will you remember that I had nothing to do with it, and that I mean to prevent it if I can?”

Barbara, completely mystified, hardly knew what to reply.

“Do you mean to warn me, Marian?” she asked her new friend. “Do you mean that something is going to happen that may concern us?”

“No; not exactly,” Marian answered. Then she made an impetuous movement. “Please don’t question me,” she begged. “There is a reason why I dare not answer your questions. Forget what I have said, if you can. But for goodness’ sake, don’t mention to Mama that I have talked with you. I sometimes wonder what will become of us. Things can’t go on much longer. There is sure to be a grand crash. But please go, now, Barbara, Mama might come in and she would be very angry to find you here. I will see you to-night.”

Barbara did not meet Mrs. De Lancey Smythe as she left Marian’s room, but she did run across her in the evening. The widow was hurrying through a side corridor in the hotel. She was wrapped in a long dark cloak, and appeared to be trying to leave the hotel by stealth. Bab drew back into one end of the corridor until the widow had disappeared, then she walked slowly out on the piazza. Marian’s warning was ringing in her ears. What was it that Marian had feared might happen, and why did her mother leave the hotel in that stealthy mysterious manner?

On the piazza Bab found her own friends enjoying the beauty of the night. Maud and the Count de Sonde were talking just outside the group.

“Do you know what I heard to-day?” remarked Mr. Stuart. “I understand that there is a swindler abroad at Palm Beach. A woman at that.”

“You don’t mean it,” exclaimed Miss Sallie. “How dreadful!”

“It seems,” continued Mr. Stuart, “that the detectives have been on the watch for her for some time, but so far she has been too clever for them. However, they have traced her to the Beach, but among the hundreds of tourists they have lost their clue. They do not despair of finding her yet, and a strict watch is being kept. She may be apprehended at any moment.”

“Well, let’s hope she doesn’t attempt to swindle us,” commented Ruth. “By the way where is Monsieur Duval? He disappeared mysteriously the moment dinner was over.”

“He had an engagement, and begged to be excused,” replied Mr. Stuart. “He said he would return in a little while.”

“Speaking of angels,” remarked Mollie, “here he comes now.”

“Yes, and he’s towing along our pet aversion Mrs. D. L. Smythe,” said Grace.

Bab looked toward the approaching pair.

Monsier Duval and Mrs. De Lancey Smythe not yet aware that they were under the observation of the Stuart party, were deeply engaged in conversation.

Barbara, watching closely, saw the Frenchman glance up, then he quickly dropped his eyes, and an expression of cautious cunning flitted over his face. His lips moved, the widow gave a half frightened look, then her expression of absorption changed to one of languid indifference. As the two neared the steps, from their demeanor, one would have concluded them to be mere acquaintances.

What was the meaning of it all? Barbara wondered. And what secret understanding was there between those two people? Bab’s observant eye noted that Monsieur Duval carried over one arm the heavy cloak in which she had seen the widow wrapped a short time before. Had Mrs. De Lancey Smythe gone to meet the Frenchman, and, if so why did she not do so openly? Suppose Mrs. De Lancey Smythe were an impostor, with a game to play. Suppose Mr. Duval were – Barbara sighed impatiently. She was letting her imagination run riot. She resolved to dismiss the whole tiresome business from her mind, and enjoy herself.

At that moment Maud Warren came languidly forward, the little count at her heels. “Miss Stuart,” she announced, “I have persuaded Papa to let me give a masked ball before we go back to New York. There are a number of smart people here at Palm Beach, and I want the count to see one of our American balls. We shall wear our masks until midnight, and then have a cotillon afterwards.”

“That will be delightful, Maud!” replied Ruth. “And that reminds me. Father and I have never arranged about our picnic to-morrow. Don’t you think it would be fun to motor over to the big ostrich farm and have our luncheon there under the trees?”

“Very delightful,” agreed Maud. “Don’t you think so, Count?”

“I shall be charmed,” replied the little count, with an exaggerated bow.

“But we shan’t,” whispered Mollie, naughtily to Barbara, under cover of general conversation.

“In order to cure, we must endure,” returned Bab in an undertone. Whereupon the sisters both chuckled softly.

At this juncture Marian appeared at the end of the piazza, and came slowly toward the group. Her eyes still showed traces of tears, and she looked ill and wretched.

Mr. Stuart greeted Marian kindly, and immediately invited her to Ruth’s picnic. And the invitation, of course, had to include Marian’s mother. “I am sorry you have been ill,” he said courteously, interrupting his conversation with Mr. Duval.

Monsieur Duval’s eyes rested curiously on Marian. His look searched her face. “Perhaps the climate of Palm Beach does not agree with your health,” he suggested. “You do not like it here?”

“It is not a question of what I like or dislike, Mr. Duval,” said Marian curtly.

“But what do you prefer?” persisted the Frenchman with a shade of interest in his manner.

“To mind my own affairs,” returned Marian coldly, turning her back on Monsieur Duval.