Half A Chance

by Frederic Stewart Isham

  CHAPTER XVIII

  THROUGH THE FOG

  The dense veil overhanging the city, while favorable to John Steele insome respects, lessening for the time his own danger, made moredifficult the task to which he now set himself. He dared not too closelyapproach the figure before him, lest he should be seen and his purposedivined; once or twice Dandy Joe looked around, more, perhaps, fromhabit than any suspicion that he was followed. Then the other,slackening his steps, sometimes held back too far and through cautionimperiled his plan by nearly losing sight of Dandy Joe altogether. Asthey went on with varying pace, the shuffling form ahead seemed to findthe way by instinct; crossed unhesitatingly many intersectingthoroughfares; paused only on the verge of a great one.

  Here, where opposing currents had met and become congested, utterconfusion reigned; from the masses of vehicles of all kinds,constituting a seemingly inextricable blockade, arose the din of hoarsevoices. With the fellow's figure a vague swaying shadow before him, JohnSteele, too, stopped; stared at the dim blotches of light; listened tothe anathemas, the angry snapping of whips. Would Dandy Joe plunge intothe melee; attempt to pass through that tangle of horses and men?Apparently he found discretion the better part of valor and moving backso quickly he almost touched John Steele, he walked down theintersecting avenue.

  Several blocks farther on, the turmoil seemed less marked, and here heessayed to cross; by dint of dodging and darting between restless horseshe reached the other side. A sudden closing in of cabs and carts midwaybetween curbs held John Steele back; he caught quickly at the bridle ofthe nearest horse and forced it aside. An expostulating shout, ahalf-scream from somewhere greeted the action; a whip snapped, stung hischeek. An instant he paused as if to leap up and drag the aggressor fromhis seat, but instead with closed hands and set face he pushed on; to beblocked again by an importunate cab.

  "Turn back; get out of this somehow, cabby!" He heard familiar tones,saw the speaker, Sir Charles, and, by his side--yes, through the curtainof fog, so near he could almost reach out and touch her, he saw as in aflash, Jocelyn Wray!

  She, too, saw him, the man in the street, his pale face lifted up,ghost-like, from the mist. A cry fell from her lips, was lost amid othersounds. An instant eyes looked into eyes; hers, dilated; his,unnaturally bright, burning! Then as in a daze the beautiful head benttoward him; the daintily clad figure leaned forward, the sensitive andtrembling lips half parted.

  John Steele sprang back, to get free, to get out of there at once! Didshe call? he did not know; it might be she had given voice to hersurprise, but now only the clatter and uproar could be heard. In thefog, however, her face seemed still to follow; confused, for a moment,he did not heed his way. Something struck him--a wheel? He half fell,recovered himself, managed to reach the curb.

  He was conscious now of louder shoutings; of the sting on his cheek; ofthe traffic, drifting on--slowly. Then he, too, started to walk away, inthe opposite direction; it mattered little whither he bent his footstepsnow. Dandy Joe had disappeared; the hope of attaining his end throughhim, of being led to the retreat of one he had so long desired to find,had proved illusive. The last moment's halt had enabled him to escape,to fade from view like a will-o'-the-wisp.

  John Steele did not go far in mere aimless fashion; leaning against awall he strove once more to plan, but ever as he did so, through histhought the girl's fair face, looking out from enshrouding lace,intruded. Again he felt the light of her eyes, all the bitterness ofspirit their surprise, consternation, had once more awakened in him.

  He looked out at the wagons, the carts, the nondescript vehicles ofevery description; but a moment before she had been there,--so near; hehad caught beneath filmy white the glitter of gold,--her hair, the onlybright thing in that murk and gloom. He recalled how he had once satbeside her at the opera. How different was this babel, this grinding andcrunching of London's thundering wheels!

  But around her had always been dreams that had led him into strangebyways, through dangerous, though flowery paths! To what end? To see herstart, her eyes wide with involuntary dread, shrinking? Could he notthus interpret that look he had seen by the flare of a carriage lamp,when she had caught sight of him?

  Dread of him? It seemed the crowning mockery; his blood surged faster;he forgot his purpose, when a figure coming out of a public house,through one of the doors near which he had halted, caught his attention.Dandy Joe, a prodigal with unexpected riches, wiped his lips as hesauntered past John Steele and continued his way, lurching a little.

  How long did Steele walk after him? The distance across the city wasfar; groping, occasionally stumbling, it seemed interminable now. Onceor twice Dandy Joe lost his way, and jocularly accosted passers-by toinquire. At Seven Dials he experienced difficulty in determining whichone of the miserable streets radiating as from a common hub, would leadhim in the desired direction; but, after looking hastily at variousobjects--a barber's post, a metal plate on a wall--he selected hisstreet. Narrow, dark, it wormed its way through a cankered andlittle-traversed part of old London.

  For a time they two seemed the only pedestrians that had ventured forththat night in a locality so uninviting. On either side the housespressed closer upon them. Touching a wall here and there, John Steeleexperienced the vague sensation that he had walked that way on otheroccasions, long, long ago. Or was it only a bad dream that again stirredhim? Through the gulch-like passage swept a cold draft of air; it madelittle rifts in the fog; showed an entrance, a dim light. At the sametime the sound of the footsteps in front abruptly ceased.

  For a few minutes Steele waited; he looked toward the place Dandy Joehad entered. It was well-known to him, and, what seemed more important,to Mr. Gillett; the latter would remember it in connection with the'Frisco Pet; presumably turn to it as a likely spot to search for himwho had been forced to leave Captain Forsythe's home. Thatcontingency--nay, probability--had to be considered; the one person hemost needed to find had taken refuge in one of the places he would havepreferred not to enter. But no time must be lost hesitating; he had tochoose. Dismissing all thought of danger from without, thinking only ofwhat lay before him within, he moved quickly forward and tried the door.

  It yielded; had Dandy Joe left it unfastened purposely to lure himwithin, or had his potations made him unmindful? The man outside neitherknew nor cared; the mocking consciousness that he had turned that knobbefore, knew how to proceed, held him. He entered, felt his way in thedarkness through winding passages, downward, avoiding a bad step--did heremember even that?

  How paltry details stood out! The earthen floor still drowned the soundof footsteps; the narrow hall took the same turns; led on and on indevious fashion until he could hear, like the faint hum of bees, thedistant rumble from the great thoroughfares, somewhere above, thatparalleled the course of the river. At the same time a slant of lightlike a sword, from the crack of a door, gleamed on the dark floor beforehim; he stepped toward it; the low sound of men's tones could beheard--Joe's; a strange voice! no, a familiar one!--that caused thelistener's every fiber to vibrate.

  "And what did you say, when he pumped you for the cote?"

  "That you would rather call on him."

  "And then he cared nought for the job? You're sure"--anxiously--"hewasn't playing to find out?"

  The other answered jocosely and walked away; a door closed behind him.For a time the stillness remained unbroken; then a low rattle, as ofdice on a table, caused John Steele to glance through a crevice. What hesaw seemed to decide him to act quickly; he lifted a latch and steppedin. As he did so a huge man with red hair sprang to his feet; from onegreat hand the dice fell to the floor; his shaggy jowl drooped. Castingover his shoulder the swift glance of an entrapped animal, he seemedabout to leap backward to escape by a rear entrance when the voice ofthe intruder arrested his purpose, momentarily held him.

  "Oh, I'm alone! There are no police outside." He spoke in the dialect ofthe pick-purse and magsman. To prove it, John Steele stooped and lockedthe door.

  T
he small bloodshot eyes lighted with wonder; the heavy brutish jawsbegan to harden. "Alone?"

  The other tossed the key; it fell at the man's feet; John Steele walkedover to the opposite door and shot a heavy bolt there. "Looks as if itwould hold," he said in thieves' argot as he turned around.

  "Are ye a gaby?" The red-headed giant stared ominously at him.

  "On the contrary," coolly, "I know very well what I am doing."

  A question interlarded with oaths burst from the other's throat; JohnSteele regarded the man quietly. "I should think it apparent what Iwant!" he answered. As he spoke, he sat down. "It is you," bending hisbright, resolute eyes on the other.

  "And you've come alone?" He drew up his ponderous form.

  John Steele smiled. "I assure you I welcomed the opportunity."

  "You won't long." The great fists closed. "Do you know what I am goingto do to you?"

  "I haven't any curiosity," still clinging to thieves' jargon or St.Giles Greek. "But I'm sure you won't play me the trick you did the lasttime I saw you."

  The fellow shot his head near; in his look shone a gleam of recognition."You're the swell cove who wanted to palaver that night when--"

  "You tried to rob me of my purse?"

  John Steele laughed; his glance lingered on his bulky adversary withodd, persistent exhilaration, as if after all that had gone before, thiscontest royal, which promised to become one of sheer brute strength,awoke to its utmost a primal fighting force in him. "Do you know thepenalty for attempting that game, Tom Rogers, alias Tom-o'-the-Road;alias---"

  The man fell back, in his eyes a look of ferocious wonderment. "Who areyou? By---!" he said.

  "John Steele."

  "John Steele?" The bloodshot eyes became slightly vacuous. "The--? Thenyou used him," indicating savagely the entrance at the back, "for a duckto uncover?" Steele nodded. "And you're the one who's been so long at myheels?" Rage caused the hot blood to suffuse the man's face. "I'll burkeyou for that."

  John Steele did not stir; for an instant his look, confident, assured,seemed to keep the other back. "How? With the lead, or--"

  The fellow lifted his hairy fists. "Those are all I--"

  "In that case--" Steele took the weapon, on which his hand had rested,from his pocket; rising with alacrity he placed it on a rickety standbehind him. "You have me a little outclassed; about seventeen stone, Ishould take it; barely turn thirteen, myself. However," tossing his coatin the corner, "you look a little soft; hardly up to what you were whenyou got the belt for the heavy-weight championship. Do you remember? The'Frisco Pet went against you; but he was only a low, ignorant sailor andhad let himself get out of form. You beat him, beat him," John Steele'seyes glittered; he touched the other on the arm, "though he foughtseventeen good rounds! You stamped the heart out of him, Tom."

  The red-headed giant's arms fell to his side. "How do you--"

  "I was there!" An odd smile crossed Steele's determined lips. "Lost alittle money on that battle. Recall the fourteenth round? He nearly hadyou; but you played safe in the fifteenth, and then--you sent himdown--down," John Steele's voice died away. "It was a long time beforehe got up," he added, almost absently.

  The listener's face had become a study; perplexity mingled with otherconflicting emotions. "You know all that--?"

  "And all the rest! How for you the fascination of the road becamegreater than that of the ring; how the old wildness would crop out; howthe highway drew you, until--"

  "See here, what's your little game? Straight now; quick! You come here,without the police, why?"

  John Steele's reply was to the point; he stated exactly what he wantedand what he meant that the other should give him. As the fellow heard,he breathed harder; he held himself in with difficulty.

  "And so that's what you've come for, Mister?" he said, a hoarse guffawfalling from the coarse lips. John Steele answered quietly. "And youthink there is any chance of your getting it? May I be asking," with anevil grin, "how you expect to make me, Tom Rogers," bringing down hisgreat fist, "do your bidding?"

  "In the first place by assuring you no harm shall come to you. It is inmy power to avert that, in case you comply. In the second place, youwill be given enough sovereigns to--"

  "Quids, eh? Let me have sight of them, Mister. We might talk better."

  "Do you think I'd bring them here, Tom-o'-the-Road? No, no!" bruskly.

  "That settles it." The other made a gesture, contemptuous, dissenting.

  John Steele's manner changed; he turned suddenly on the fellow likelightning. "In the next place by giving you your choice of doing what Iask, or of being turned over to the traps."

  "The traps!" The other fellow's face became contorted. "You mean thatyou--"

  "Will give you up for that little job, unless--"

  For answer the man launched his huge body forward, with fierce swingingfists.

  What happened thereafter was at once brutish, terrible, Homeric; thefellow's reserves of strength seemed immense; sheer animal rage drovehim; he ran amuck with lust to kill. He beat, rushed, strove to close.His opponent's lithe body evaded a clutch that might have ended thecontest. John Steele fought without sign of anger, like a machine,wonderfully trained; missing no point, regardless of punishment. He knewthat if he went down once, all rules of battle would be discarded; apowerful blow sent him staggering to the wall; he leaned against it aninstant; waited, with the strong, impelling look people had noticed onhis face when he was fighting in a different way, in the courts.

  The other came at him, muttering; the mill had unduly prolonged itself;he would end it. His fist struck at that face so elusive; but crashedagainst the wall; like a flash Steele's arm lifted. The great formstaggered, fell.

  Quickly, however, it rose and the battle was resumed. Now, despite JohnSteele's vigilance, the two came together. Tom Rogers' arm wound roundhim with suffocating power; strove, strained, to hurl him to earth. Butthe other's perfect training, his orderly living, saved him at thatcrucial moment; his strength of endurance lasted; with a great effort hemanaged to tear himself loose and at the same time with a powerful upperstroke to send Rogers once more to the floor. Again, however, he got tohis feet; John Steele's every muscle ached; his shoulder was bleedinganew. The need for acting quickly, if he should hope to conquer, pressedon him; fortunately Rogers in his blind rage was fighting wildly. JohnSteele endured blow after blow; then, as through a mist, he found atlength the opening he sought; an instant's opportunity on which alldepended.

  Every fiber of his physical being responded; he threw himself forward,the weight of his body, the force of a culminating impetus, went intohis fist; it hit heavily; full on the point of the chin beneath thebrutal mouth. Tom Rogers' head shot back as if he had received the blowof a hammer; he threw up his arms; this time he lay where he struck theground.

  John Steele swayed; with an effort he sustained himself. Was it over?Still Rogers did not move; Steele stooped, felt his heart; it beatslowly. Mechanically, as if hardly knowing what he did, John Steelebegan to count; "Time!" Rogers continued to lie like a log; his mouthgaped; the blow, in the parlance of the ring, had been a "knock-out";or, in this case, a _quid pro quo_. Yes, the last, but without refereeor spectators! The prostrate man did stir now; he groaned; John Steeletouched him with his foot.

  "Get up," he said.

  The other half-raised himself and regarded the speaker with dazed eyes."What for?"

  John Steele went to the stand, picked up his revolver, and then sat downat a table. "You're as foul a fighter as you ever were," he saidcontemptuously.

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