The Lion's Mouse
Page 32
XXXII
"STEPHEN'S DEAD!"
"I thought you'd sure know the whole story," Kit was saying.
"I on'y knowed about Stephen. That I had to know," said Churn.
"But you knew why Pete came to New York, instead of going West, when hegot out of stir in Chicago?"
"I know he come to kill Heron----"
"Hully gee! Not so loud!"
"Well, I know 'oo he came for den, if you like dat better."
"But that wasn't the whole reason."
"I knowed he was goin' to get hold o' some papers for Chuff; papers datwas mixed all up mit our business."
"H'm! That's what Chuff wanted us to think--that they concerned us. Butif you know about those papers, you must know the rest, about Olga."
"I know vat Olga and Stephen vas to each other, if dat's vat you mean."
"And who Olga is?"
"Olga Beverley."
"Greenhorn! You never got further than that?"
"No. Vat for I get furder? I never see 'er. She's a name to me, dat'sall. Nevaire vould I heard even dat name if I didn't take care o'Stephen, when Jake vas off on a bust or doin' a job for Chuff."
"Funny we never got on to this line o' talk before," mused Kit.
"I don't see vy 'funny.' You and me always haf something better to talkabout, Katchen. And till dese nine days in dis hole, we never 'ad toomuch time together."
"If Pete had been found dead and I hadn't done it, I'd say it was'Olga!' She was the woman who had to give up the papers to him. He toldme he was waitin' for the papers to come. He said he wasn't sure whethershe'd bring 'em herself, or this girl you've seen about in thenewspapers; the one who called on him Sunday afternoon. I've told youabout the women's voices in the hall, and someone sittin' plump on thetrunk when I was inside. Well, if I could o' peeped, I bet I'd seenOlga. She was one of the women dressed for the automobile they're tryin'to trace an' can't."
"Would you knowed Olga if you 'ad seen her?"
"Would I? Say, did you never hear of Roger Sands?"
"He was de guy who worked for Heron las' year, and got de gang goin'after him."
"Well, it was Olga he married, but not with her own name. She'd tookanother so as to get away with the papers. She's had the papers fromthen till now. The thing that interests me, and maybe will you, issomething else. It popped into my nut to-day that the pearls are hers! Ibet something went wrong with the papers, and she gave Pete the pearlsinstead. I bet he was studyin' how to double-cross Chuff, and squarehimself when--when my act comes on."
"What 'old would Chuff 'ave on a woman married mit a big fellah likeSands?" Churn wanted to know. "Vy she let herself be skinned like dat,for Stephen's dead an' stiff dese tree weeks or more?"
"Yes," Kit repeated. "Stephen's been dead 'most a month. That's onereason they couldn't let things slide, so the minute Pete was free theyput him on the job. He was keen, because of Heron. And John Heron blewinto New York just the right time, for the plan. Pete was to get thepapers first, and then--you know what."
"Yes, I know dat. But Stephen--Stephen gone, what 'old 'ad Chuff onOlga?"
"Booby, dear, Olga doesn't know Stephen's dead."
Clo's blood rushed to her brain. She felt faint. Had she been on herfeet she would have fallen. This was the one thing of all for Beverley.Clo felt that she hated this cruel Cheffinsky with an almost murderoushatred. How could she let Beverley know, and make her understand that"Stephen" was dead. Ought she to go back with her news to Park Avenue,and abandon the pearls? The police could never be asked to take a handin this business, and before she could even ask help from O'Reilly andDenham, Churn might have disappeared. With herself as sentinel off duty,nothing was sure, for a dangerous restlessness possessed the pair.Still, Beverley would sacrifice the pearls for the knowledge that herenemies had no longer any hold upon her.
"If I dared telegraph!" the girl thought. For she wanted Beverley tohave both the knowledge and the pearls.
About this hour Violet was in the habit of toiling up with beer for Kitand Churn, and water or lemonade for their neighbour. The woman was duein a few minutes and Clo spent the interval in concocting a message forLeontine Rossignol.
"Tell your mistress I've had news since I last saw her that Stephen isdead," were the words she decided on, before Violet's arrival wasadvertised by a tinkle of ice.
The telegram was delivered that night at the flat in Park Avenue, butMr. and Mrs. Sands and their household had left for Newport. Only aparlour maid remained. She detested Leontine, being Bohemian by birth,while Leontine was French. Anna Schultz decided to forget indefinitelythe telegram for Leontine Rossignol.
When she had sent the message, Clo's thoughts went back to the pearls.She would be driven to leave the house soon for lack of money. If shehad to go without the pearls, she would feel herself a failure. The netwas proving tough for the tiny teeth of a mouse! But the mouse was readyto do anything rather than give up.
That evening Churn again announced his intention to go out at any cost.Whither he was bound, Clo did not know, for she had missed scraps oftalk in the next room. Kit cried, and in the midst of hysterical sobs,the door slammed. Churn had gone! Kit continued to sob.
Clo's blood took fire. She flamed with courage. Having fixed upon herplan of action she darted into the passage and knocked on Kit's door.
"Who's that?" came the sharp answer.
"It's only me. The little girl from the next room," Clo explained in asmall voice like a child's. Her hair hung over her shoulders, and shewore a cheap blue muslin dressing gown chosen by Violet.
Kit threw open the door so suddenly, and stared so keenly through thedusk that Clo shrank back a little. "What do you want?" snapped Kit.
"Oh, maybe I oughtn't to have come!" Clo apologized. "I heard youcrying. And I'm so homesick and miserable myself! Don't be angry."
Kit opened the door wide. Her bleached yellow hair bristled round herface.
"I didn't know I was howling so loud. Say, can you hear us talkin', meand my husband? I hope we don't keep you awake nights."
"You haven't kept me awake once," Clo assured her with truth. "Crying'seasier to hear than talking. You see, I'm in trouble and I'm awfullylonely."
"_I_ haven't got any real trouble," said Kit. "Me and my husbandsometimes have a spat, like all married folks, and I'm fool enough tobawl. He's out now. Would you like me to come in and visit with you awhile?"
"I'd love it!" gasped Clo. She would have preferred an invitation to herneighbour's room, but she hoped for that later. Kit locked her doorcarefully and slipped the key down the neck of her dress. She acceptedClo's suggestion to sit on the bed, which was more comfortable than theone broken-backed chair. Question after question she put, which cost herhostess tiresome flights of imagination to answer. Clo was far fromregretting her move, however. If Churn were absent long, or if he wentout again, Kit said that she would return as an escape from boredom.
It was eleven o'clock when once more Clo heard the two voices, and fromtheir conversation Clo gathered that they did not expect Chuff back tillthe day after to-morrow.
"Day after to-morrow!" echoed Kit. "Then we _must_ get Isaacs hereto-morrow."
"I t'ought of dat," said Churn. "I went up dere after I see Jake. Isaacs'as started for Chicago on business, and won't be back till the same dayas Chuff, day after to-morrah."
Clo drank in each word, and focussed her mind on its meaning. To-morrow,or the day after, her hour would come; then, or never.