"We're in time!"

I took that machine up to the front steps over space never intended for
automobiles, at a pace not proper for lawns or even roads, and only
halted when I was half across the walk. Bill rolled from the tonneau
door and stood by it. I jumped down and came around.

"Lift me out, and put me on my feet," Barbara ordered. "Help me--one on
each side. I can walk. I must!"

We crossed a deserted porch; the evening's opening event--the grand
march--had drawn every one, servants and all, inside. So far, without
challenge, meeting no one. We had the place to ourselves till we stood,
the three of us alone, before the upper entrance of the assembly room.
In there, the last strains of Waikiki died away. I looked to Barbara.
She was in command. Her words back there in town had settled that for
me.

"What do we do now?" I asked.

White as the linen she wore, the girl's face shone with some inner fire
of passionate resolution. I saw this, too, in the determined, almost
desperate energy with which she held herself erect, one clenched hand
pressed hard against her side.

"Take me in there, Mr. Boyne. And you," to Capehart, "find a man you can
trust to guard each door of the ballroom."

"What you say goes." Big Bill wheeled like a well trained cart-horse and
had taken a step or two, when she called after him,

"Arrest any one who attempts to enter."

"Arrest 'em if they try to git in," Capehart repeated stoically. "Sure.
That goes." But I interrupted,

"You mean if they try to get out."

At that she gave me a look. No time or breath to waste. Bill,
unquestioning, had hurried to his part of the work. I took up mine with,
"Forgive me, Barbara. I'll not make that mistake again"; slipped my arm
under hers to support her; dragged open the big doors; shoved past the
hallman there; and we stepped into the many-colored, moving brilliance
of the ballroom.

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE COUNTRY CLUB BALL

The ballroom of the country club at Santa Ysobel is big and finely
proportioned. I don't know if anything of the sort could have registered
with me at the moment, but I remembered afterward my impression of the
great hall fairly walled and roofed with fruit blossoms, and the
gorgeousness of hundreds of costumes. The mere presence of potential
funds raises the importance of an event. The prune kings and apricot
barons down there, with their wives and daughters in real brocades,
satins and velvets, with genuine jewe