XIX. DREAD UPON THE WATERS
For a moment after Danglar had gone, Rhoda Gray stood motionless; andthen, the necessity for instant action upon her, she moved quicklytoward the doorway herself. There was only one thing she could do, justone; but she must be sure first that Danglar was well started on hisway. She reached the doorway, looked out--and suddenly caught her breathin a low, quick inhalation, In the semi-darkness she could just make outDanglar's form, perhaps twenty-five yards away now, heading along thelane toward the street; but behind Danglar, at a well-guarded distancein the rear, hugging the shadows of the fence, she saw the form ofanother man. Her brows knitted in a perplexed and anxious frown. Thesecond man was undoubtedly following Danglar. That was evident. But why?Who was it? What did it mean?
She retreated back into the shed, and commenced hastily to disrobe anddress again in her own clothes, which she had flung down upon thefloor. In the last analysis, did it matter who it was that was followingDanglar--even if it were one of the police? For, supposing that the manwho was shadowing Danglar was a plain-clothes man, and suppose he evenfollowed Danglar and the rest of the gang to the old iron plant, andsuppose that with the necessary assistance he rounded them all up, andin that sense effected the Adventurer's rescue, it scarcely meant abetter fate for the Adventurer! It simply meant that the Adventurer, asone of the gang, and against whom every one of the rest would testify asthe sole means left to them of wreaking their vengeance upon one who hadtricked and outwitted them again and again for his own ends, would standhis trial with the others, and with the others go behind prison bars fora long term of years.
She hurried now, completing the last touches that transformed her fromGypsy Nan into the veiled figure of the White Moll, stepped out intothe lane, and walking rapidly, reached the street and headed, not in thedirection of Harlem, but deeper over into the East Side. Even as Danglarhad been speaking she had realized that, for the Adventurer's own sake,and irrespective of what any premature disclosure of her own identityto the authorities might mean to her, she could not call upon the policefor aid. There was only one way, just one--to go herself, to reach theAdventurer herself before Danglar returned there and had an opportunityof putting his worse than murderous intentions into effect.
Well, she was going there, wasn't she? And if she lost no time sheshould be there easily ahead of them, and her chances would be excellentof releasing the Adventurer with very little risk. From what Danglarhad said, the Adventurer was there alone. Once tied and gagged there hadbeen no need to leave anybody to guard him, save that the watchman wouldordinarily serve to keep any one off the premises, which was all thatwas necessary. But that he had been left at all worried her greatly. Hehad, of course, already refused to talk. What they had done to him shedid not know, but the 'solitary confinement' Danglar had referred towas undoubtedly the first step in their efforts to break his spirit. Herlips tightened as she went along. Surely she could accomplish it! Shehad but to evade the watchman--only, first, the lost revolver, the onesafeguard against an adverse turn of fortune, must be replaced, and thatwas where she was going now. She knew, from her associations with theunderworld as the White Moll in the old days, where such things could bepurchased and no questions asked, if one were known. And she was knownin the establishment to which she was going, for evil days had oncefallen upon its proprietor, one "Daddy" Jacques, in that he had incurredthe enmity of certain of his own ilk in the underworld, and on a certainnight, which he would not be likely to forget, she had stood between himand a manhandling that would probably have cost him his life, and--Yes,this was the place.
She entered a dirty-windowed, small and musty pawnshop. A little oldman, almost dwarf-like in stature, with an unkempt, tawny beard, whowore a greasy and ill-fitting suit, and upon whose bald head was perchedan equally greasy skull cap, gazed at her inquiringly from behind thecounter.
"I want a gun, and a good one, please," she said, after a glance aroundher to assure herself that they were alone.
The other squinted at her through his spectacles, as he shook his head.
"I haven't got any, lady," he answered. "We're not allowed to sell themwithout--"
"Oh, yes, you have, Daddy," she contradicted quietly, as she raised herveil. "And quick, please; I'm in a hurry."
The little old man leaned forward, staring at her for a moment as thoughfascinated; and then his hand, in a fumbling way, removed the skullcap from his bead. There was a curious, almost wistful reverence in hisvoice as he spoke.
"The White Moll!" he said.
"Yes," she smiled. "But the gun, Daddy. Quick! I haven't an instant tolose."
"Yes, yes!" he said eagerly--and shuffled away.
He was back in a moment, an automatic in his hand.
"It's loaded, of course?" she said, as she took the weapon. She slippedit into her pocket as he nodded affirmatively. "How much, Daddy?"
"The White Moll!" He seemed still under the spell of amazement. "It isnothing. There is no charge. It is nothing, of course."
"Thank you, Daddy!" she said softly--and laid a bill upon the counter,and stepped back to the door. "Good-night!" she smiled.
She heard him call to her; but she was already on the street again,and hurrying along. She felt better, somehow, in a mental way, for thatlittle encounter with the shady old pawnbroker. She was not so muchalone, perhaps, as she had thought; there were many, perhaps, even ifthey were of the underworld, who had not swerved from the loyalty theyhad once professed to the White Moll.
It brought a new train of thought, and she paused suddenly in her walk.She might rally around her some of those underworld intimates upon whoseallegiance she felt she could depend, and use them now, to-night, inbehalf of the Adventurer; she would be sure then to be a match forDanglar, no matter what turn affairs took. And then, with an impatientshake of her head, she hurried on again. There was no time for that. Itwould take a great deal of time to find and pick her men; she had evenwasted time herself, where there was no time to spare, in the momentarypause during which she had given the thought consideration.
She reached the nearest subway station, which was her objective, andboarded a Harlem train, satisfied that her heavy veil would protect heragainst recognition. Unobtrusively she took a window seat. No one paidher any attention. Hours passed, it seemed to her impatience, while theblack walls rushed by, punctuated by occasional scintillating signallights, and, at longer intervals, by the fuller glare from the stationplatforms.
In the neighborhood of 125th street she left the train, and, enteringthe first drug store she found, consulted a directory. She did not knowthis section of New York at all; she did not know either the location orthe firm name of the iron plant to which Danglar, assuming naturally, ofcourse, that she was conversant with it, had referred; and she did notcare to ask to be directed to Jake Malley's saloon, which was the onlyclew she had to guide her. The problem, however, did not appear to bea very difficult one. She found the saloon's address, and, asking theclerk to direct her to the street indicated, left the drug store again.
But, after all, it was not so easy; no easier than for one unacquaintedwith any locality to find one's way about. Several times she foundherself at fault, and several times she was obliged to ask directionsagain. She had begun to grow panicky with fear and dread at the time shehad lost, before, finally, she found the saloon. She was quite sure thatit was already more than half an hour since she had left the drug store;and that half an hour might easily mean the difference between safetyand disaster, not only for the Adventurer, but for herself as well.Danglar might have been in no particular hurry, and he would probablyhave gone first to whatever rendezvous he had appointed for those of thegang selected to accompany him, but even to have done so in a leisurelyway would surely not have taken more than that half hour!
Yes, that was Jake Malley's saloon now, across the road from her, butshe could not recall the time that was already lost! They might be therenow--ahead of her.
She quickened her steps almost to a r
un. There should be no difficultyin finding the iron plant now. "Behind Jake Malley's saloon," Danglarhad said. She turned down the cross street, passed the side entrance tothe saloon, and hastened along. The locality was lonely, deserted, andnone too well lighted. The arc lamps, powerful enough in themselves,were so far apart that they left great areas of shadow, almostblackness, between them. And the street too was very narrow, and thebuildings, such as they were, were dark and unlighted--certainly it wasnot a residential district!
And now she became aware that she was close to the river, for the soundof a passing craft caught her attention. Of course! She understood now.The iron plant, for shipping facilities, was undoubtedly on the bank ofthe river itself, and--yes, this was it, wasn't it?--this picket fencethat began to parallel the right-hand side of the street, and enclose,seemingly, a very large area. She halted and stared at it--and suddenlyher heart sank with a miserable sense of impotence and dismay. Yes, thiswas the place beyond question. Through the picket fence she could makeout the looming shadows of many buildings, and spidery iron structuresthat seemed to cobweb the darkness, and--and--Her face mirrored hermisery. She had thought of a single building. Where, inside there,amongst all those rambling structures, with little time, perhaps none atall, to search, was she to find the Adventurer?
She did not try to answer her own question--she was afraid that herdismay would get the better of her if she hesitated for an instant. Shecrossed the street, choosing a spot between two of the arc lamps wherethe shadows were blackest. It was a high fence, but not too high toclimb. She reached up, preparatory to pulling herself to the top--anddrew back with a stifled cry. She was too late, then--already too late!They were here ahead of her--and on guard after all! A man's form,appearing suddenly out of the darkness but a few feet away, was makingquickly toward her. She wrenched her automatic from her pocket. Thetouch of the weapon in her hand restored her self-control.
"Don't come any nearer!" she cried out sharply. "I will fire if you do!"
And then the man spoke.
"It's you, ain't it?" he called in guarded eagerness. "It's the WhiteMoll, ain't it? Thank God, it's you!"
Her extended hand with the automatic fell to her side. She hadrecognized his voice. It wasn't Danglar, it wasn't one of the gang, orthe watchman who was no better than an accomplice; it was Marty Finch,alias the Sparrow.
"Marty!" she exclaimed. "You! What are you doing here?"
"I'm here to keep you from goin' in there!" he answered excitedly."And--and, say, I was afraid I was too late. Don't you go in there! ForGod's sake, don't you go! They're layin' a trap for you! They're goin'to bump you off! I know all about it!"
"You know? What do you mean?" she asked quickly. "How do you know?"
"I quit my job a few days after that fellow you called Danglar triedto murder me that night you saved me," said the Sparrow, with a savagelaugh. "I knew he had it in for you, and I guess I had something comm'to him on my own account too, hadn't I? That's the job I've been onever since--tryin' to find the dirty pup. And I found him! But it wasn'tuntil to-night, though you can believe me there weren't many joints inthe old town where I didn't look for him. My luck turned to-night. Ispotted him comin' out of Italian Joe's bar. See? I followed him. Aftera while he slips into a lane, and from the street I saw him go into ashed there. I worked my way up quiet, and got as near as I dared withoutbein' heard and seen, and I listened. He was talkin' to a woman. Icouldn't hear everything they said, and they quarreled a lot; but Iheard him say something about framin' up a job to get somebody down tothe old iron plant behind Jake Malley's saloon and bump 'em off, and Iheard him say there wouldn't be any White Moll by morning, and I put twoand two together and beat it for here."
Rhoda Gray reached out and caught the Sparrow's hand.
"Thank you, Marty! You haven't got it quite right--though, thank Heaven,you got it the way you did, since you are here now!" she said fervently."It wasn't me, it wasn't the White Moll, they expected to get here; it'sthe man who helped me that night to clear you of the Hayden-Bond robberythat Danglar meant to make you shoulder. He risked his life to do it,Marty. They've got him a prisoner somewhere in there; and they'recoming back to--to torture him into telling them where I am, and--andafterwards to do away with him. That's why I'm here, Marty--to get himaway, if I can, before they come back."
The Sparrow whistled low under his breath.
"Well, then, I guess it's my hunt too," he said coolly. "And I guessthis is where a prison bird horns in with the goods. Ever sinceI've been looking for that Danglar guy, I've been carryin' a fullkit--because I didn't know what might break, or what kind of a messI might want to get out of. Come on! We ain't got no time. There'sa couple of broken pickets down there. We might be seen climbin' thefence. Come on!"
Bread upon the waters! With a sense of warm gratitude upon her, RhodaGray followed the ex-convict. They made their way through the fence.A long, low building, a storage shed evidently, showed a few yards infront of them. It seemed to be quite close to the river, for now shecould see the reflection of lights from here and there playing on theblack, mirror-like surface of the water. Farther on, over beyond theshed, the yard of the plant, dotted with other buildings and thosespidery iron structures which she had previously noticed, stretched awayuntil it was lost in the darkness. Here, however, within the radius ofone of the street arc lamps it was quite light.
Rhoda Gray had paused in almost hopeless indecision as to how or whereto begin her search, when the Sparrow spoke again.
"It looks like we got a long hunt," whispered the Sparrow; "but a fewminutes before you came, a guy with a lantern comes from over across theyard there and nosed around that shed, and acted kind of queer, and Icould see him stick his head up against them side doors there asthough he was listenin' for something inside. Does that wise you up toanything?"
"Yes!" she breathed tensely. "That was the watchman. He's one of them.The man we want is in that shed beyond a doubt. Hurry, Marty--hurry!"
They ran together now, and reached the double side-door. It wasevidently for freight purposes only, and probably barred on the inside,for they found there was no way of opening it from without.
"There must be an entrance," she said feverishly--and led the way towardthe front of the building in the direction away from the river. "Yes,here it is!" she exclaimed, as they rounded the end of the shed.
She tried the door. It was locked. She felt in her pocket for herskeleton keys, for she had not been unprepared for just such anemergency, but the Sparrow brushed her aside.
"Leave it to me!" he said quickly. "I'll pick that lock like oneo'clock! It won't take me more'n a minute."
Rhoda Gray did not stand and watch him. Minutes were priceless things,and she could put the minute he asked for to better advantage than byidling it away. With an added injunction to hurry and that she would beback in an instant, she was already racing around the opposite side ofthe shed. If they were pressed, cornered, by the arrival of Danglar, itmight well mean the difference between life and death to all of them ifshe had an intimate knowledge of the surroundings.
She was running at top speed. Halfway down the length of the shed shetripped and fell over some object. She pushed it aside as she rose. Itwas an old iron casting, more bulky in shape than in weight, thoughshe found it none too light to lift comfortably. She ran on. A wharfprojected out, she found, from this end of the shed. At the edge, shepeered over. It was quite light here again; away from the protectingshadows of the shed, the rays of the arc lamp played without hindranceon the wharf just as they did on the shed's side door. Below, someten or twelve feet below, and at the corner of the wharf, a boat, or,rather, a sort of scow, for it was larger than a boat though oars layalong its thwarts, was moored. It was partly decked over, and she couldsee a small black opening into the forward end of it, though the openingitself was almost hidden by a heap of tarpaulin, or sailcloth, orsomething of the kind, that lay in the bottom of the craft. She noddedher head. They might all of them use that boat t
o advantage!
Rhoda Gray turned and ran back. The Sparrow, with a grunt ofsatisfaction, was just opening the door. She stepped through thedoorway. The Sparrow followed.
"Close it!" said Rhoda Gray, under her breath. She felt her heart beatquicken, the blood flood her face and then recede. Her imagination hadsuddenly become too horribly vivid. Suppose they--they had already gonefarther than...
With an effort she controlled herself--and the round, white ray of herflashlight swept the place. A moment more, and, with a low cry, shewas running forward to where, on the floor near the wall of the shedopposite the side door, she made out the motionless form of a man. Shereached him, and dropped on her knees beside him. It was the Adventurer.She spoke to him. He did not answer. And then she remembered whatDanglar had said, and she saw that he was gagged. But--but she was notsure that was the reason why he did not answer. The flashlight in herhand wavered unsteadily as it played over him. Perhaps the whiteness ofthe ray itself exaggerated it, but his face held a deathly pallor;his eyes were closed; and his hands and feet were twisted cruelly andtightly bound.
"Give me your knife--quick--Sparrow!" she called. "Then go and keepwatch just outside."
The Sparrow handed her his knife, and hurried back to the door.
She worked in the darkness now. She could not use both hands and stillhold the flashlight; and, besides, with the door partially open nowwhere the Sparrow was on guard there was always the chance, if Danglarand those of the gang with him were already in the vicinity, of thelight bringing them all the more quickly to the scene.
Again she spoke to the Adventurer, as she removed the gag--and a fearthat made her sick at heart seized up on her. There was still no answer.And now, as she worked, cutting at the cords on his hands and feet, thelove that she knew for the man, its restraint broken by the sense ofdread and fear at his condition, rose dominant within her, and impulsethat she could not hold in least took possession of her, and in thedarkness, since he would not know, and there was none to see, she benther head, and, half crying, her lips pressed upon his forehead.
She drew back startled, a crimson in her face that the darkness hid.What had she done? Did he know? Had he returned to consciousness, if hereally had been unconscious, in time to know? She could not see; but sheknew his eyes had opened.
She worked frantically with the bonds. He was free now. She cast themoff.
He spoke then--thickly, with great difficulty.
"It's you, the White Moll, isn't it?"
"Yes," she answered.
He raised himself up on his elbow, only to fall back with a suppressedgroan.
"I don't know how you found me, but get away at once--for God's sake,get away!" he cried. "Danglar'll be here at any minute. It's you hewants. He thinks you know where some--some jewels are, and that I--I--"
"I know all about Danglar," she said hurriedly. "And I know all aboutthe jewels, for I've got them myself."
He was up on his knees now, swaying there. She caught at his shoulder tosupport him.
"You!" he cried out incredulously. "You--you've got them? Say thatagain! You--you've--"
"Yes," she said, and with an effort steadied her voice. He--he wasa thief. Cost her what it might, with all its bitter hurt, she mustremember that, even--even if she had forgotten once. "Yes," she said."And I mean to turn them over to the police, and expose every one ofDanglar's gang. I--you are entitled to a chance; you once stood betweenme and the police. I can do no less by you. I couldn't turn the policeloose on the gang without giving you warning, for, you see, I know youare the Pug."
"Good God!" he stammered. "You know that, too?"
"Try and walk," she said breathlessly. "There isn't any time. And onceyou are away from here, remember that when Danglar is in the hands ofthe police he will take the only chance for revenge he has left, andgive the police all the information he can, so that they will get youtoo."
He stumbled pitifully.
"I can't walk much yet." He was striving to speak coolly. "They trussedme up a bit, you know--but I'll be all right in a little while when Iget the cramps out of my joints and the circulation back. And so, MissGray, won't you please go at once? I'm free now, and I'll manage allright, and--"
The Sparrow came running back from the door.
"They're comm'!" he said excitedly. "They're comm' from a different waythan we came in. I saw 'em sway up there across the yard for a secondwhen they showed up under a patch of light from an arc lamp on the otherstreet. There's three of 'em. We got about a couple of minutes, and--"
"Get those side doors open! Quick! And no noise!"' ordered Rhoda Graytersely. And then to the Adventurer: "Try--try and walk! I'll help you."
The Adventurer made a desperate attempt at a few steps. It was miserablyslow. At that rate Danglar would be upon them before they could evencross the shed itself.
"I can crawl faster," laughed the Adventurer with bitter whimsicality."Give me your revolver, Miss Gray, and you two go--and God bless you!"
The Sparrow was opening the side door, but she realized now that evenif they could carry the Adventurer they could not get away in time.Her mind itself seemed stunned for an instant--and then, in a lightningflash, inspiration came. She remembered that iron casting, and thewharf, and the other side of the shed in shadow. It was desperate,perhaps almost hopeless, but it was the only way that gave theAdventurer a chance for his life.
She spoke rapidly. The little margin of time they had must be narrowingperilously.
"Marty, help this gentleman! Crawl to the street, if you have to. Theonly thing is that you are not to make the slightest noise, and--"
"What are you going to do?" demanded the Adventurer hoarsely.
"I'm going to take the only chance there is for all of us," sheanswered.
She started toward the front door of the shed; but he reached out andheld her back.
"You are going to take the only chance there is for me!" he criedbrokenly. "You're going out there--where they are. Oh, my God! I know!You love me! I--I was only half conscious, but I am sure you kissed mea little while ago. And but for this you would never have known that Iknew it, because, please God, whatever else I am, I am not coward enoughto take that advantage of you. But I love you, too! Rhoda! I have theright to speak, the right our love gives me. You are not to go--thatway. Run--run through the side door there--they will not see you."
She was trembling. Repudiate her love? Tell him there could be nothingbetween them because he was a thief? She might never live to see himagain. Her soul was in riot, the blood flaming hot in her cheeks. He wasclinging to her arm. She tore herself forcibly away. The seconds werecounting now. She tried to bid him good-by, but the words choked in herthroat. She found herself running for the front door.
"Sparrow--quick! Do as I told you!" she half sobbed over hershoulder--and opening the door, stepped out and dosed it behind her.
The White Moll Page 19
