It's Sabotage!

Chapter 45:

They escaped up a steep flight of wooden stairs that scaled the hillside. They hailed a cab as soon as they reached a road. Mr. Byrne rode with Dora all the way back to her house. While stopped at an intersection she retrieved the note she'd pulled off the front of the trolley.

“Look, Michael!” she handed it to him. It read, “Compliments of Colonel Lawrence.”

“Ali's saying that he made your streetcar jump the rails and crash the way Lawrence makes Turkish trains derail and crash --- or some such nonsense.”

“If he thinks I have any influence with Colonel Lawrence, he must be nuts! I can't write to Lawrence and tell him to give back the humidor.”

“I thought you told me Lawrence had traded it to a merchant called Mohamed for cigars.”

“Yes, but another letter came. Mohamed gave the humidor back to Lawrence. He complained that it was made of worthless pine wood.”

“I see,” said Mr. Byrne. “Another mysterious development.”

“What do you mean?” she asked him with big eyes.

“Simply this --- I think this Colonel Lawrence has something up his sleeve. He knows more than he lets on.”

“You mean what goes on in the Arabian Desert and Pittsburgh is somehow connected?”

“It's a world war, isn't it?” Mr. Byrne paid the cabbie.

The Benleys came running out to meet them. They'd heard about the trolley wreck by word of mouth and feared the worst. Mrs. Benley hustled Dora off to a hot bath. Mr. Benley and Mr. Byrne sipped coffee prepared in a hurry by Viola. They commiserated with each other at the table until the ladies joined them for dinner. Viola served a nice steaming roast beef with a few Italian spices and a dish of buttery mashed potatoes with gravy.

“Why does that man keep on following our daughter, Winthrop?” Mrs. Benley passed the gravy. “If you could get us off the Lusitania, you must be able to do something about it.”

Her parents had gone from being great skeptics about Dora's tales of her pursuer to firm believers. The evidence had grown too strong, and Mr. Byrne backed up everything that Dora said.

Mr. Benley wrote a cable and brought it to the table to read aloud:

Sir Adolphus:

My daughter, Dora Benley, has been attacked and nearly killed by a man named Ali. STOP According to Dora, your son, Edward, her fiance, told her that Ali came back with you from Carchemish. STOP He worked for you at your estate for about a year. STOP I assume he must no longer be there. STOP He has followed Dora to America and made her trolley jump off the tracks. STOP He set a tree on fire and crashed it into the trolley, killing several people. STOP The incident is being reported in The Pittsburgh Press. STOP What do you have to say about this? STOP

Please answer right away. STOP

Yours,

Winthrop Benley

Two days later Sir Adolphus replied by cable:

Dear Mr. Benley:

Indeed Ali is no longer with us. STOP He seems to have run off about the time Edward left for the Dardanelles and you went back to America. STOP I don't know why he would be pursuing your daughter, Dora. STOP. It makes as little sense to me as it makes to you. STOP

I am sorry I cannot help you further. STOP

Yours,

Sir Adolphus Ware of Rufford, Bart

“So he's going to play innocent!” Mr. Benley threw the letter down. It shows you how much you can trust any of those damned Europeans, even Englishmen!”

Dora had been confined to the house since the trolley incident, under a kind of virtual house arrest. Her only adventure was to pace up the gravel driveway toward the main road to get the mail and trudge back again to the house. The rest of the time she was closely supervised. Her father now took the further step of hiring a security guard to patrol the grounds at night. Mr. Benley didn't think Ali would be stupid enough to mount an attack on his daughter in her own house during daylight hours.

Dora wrote to Edward:

Dear Edward:

I've been attacked by Ali. He followed me to downtown Pittsburgh. He made the trolley car I was riding jump the tracks and then set it on fire. I do beg you to come home. I'm sure Lawrence can do without you. I can't.

Love,

Dora