CHAPTER XIII.
A CRY IN THE DARK.
One more scene in this night's fateful masquerade remains to bedescribed, and then the seemingly separate threads of our plot unite,and twine about our central figures a chain of Fate.
While Van Vernet is setting snares for the feet of his rival, and whilethat young man of many resources is actively engaged in disentanglinghimself therefrom,--while Leslie Warburton, tortured by a secret whichshe cannot reveal, and dominated by a power she dare not disobey, stealsaway from her stately home--and while Alan Warburton, soured bysuspicion, made unjust by his own false pride, follows like a shadowbehind her--a cloud is descending upon the house of Warburton.
Sitting apart from the mirthful crowd, quite unobserved and seeminglywholly engrossed in themselves, are little Daisy Warburton and thequaintly-attired Mother Goose, before mentioned.
It is long past the child's latest bedtime, but her step-mamma has beenso entirely preoccupied, and Millie so carelessly absorbed in watchingthe gayeties of the evening, that the little one has been overlooked,and feels now quite like her own mistress.
"Ha! ha!" she laughs merrily, leaning, much at her ease, upon the kneeof Mother Goose; "ha! ha! what nice funny stories you tell; almost asnice as my new mamma's stories. Only," looking up with exquisitefrankness, "your voice is not half so nice as my new mamma's."
"Because I'm an old woman, dearie," replies Mother Goose, a shade ofsomething like disapproval in her tone. "Do you really want to seeMother Hubbard's dog, little girl?"
"Old Mother Hubbard--she went to the cupboard," sings Daisy gleefully."Of course I do, Mrs. Goose. Does Mother Hubbard look like you?"
"A little."
"And--you said Cinderella's coach was down near my papa's gate?"
"So it is, dearie." Then looking cautiously about her, and lowering hervoice to a whisper: "How would you like to ride to see Mother Hubbard inCinderella's coach, and come right back, you know, before it turns intoa pumpkin again?"
The fair child clasps two tiny hands, and utters a cry of delight.
"Oh! _could_ we?" she asks, breathlessly.
"Of course we can, if you are very quiet and do as I bid you, and if youdon't get afraid."
"I don't get afraid--not often," replies the child, drawing still closerto Mother Goose, and speaking with hushed gravity. "When I used to beafraid at night, my mamma, my new mamma, you know, taught me to say likethis."
Clasping her hands, she sinks upon her knees and lifts her face to thatwhich, behind its grotesque mask, is distorted by some unpleasantemotion. And then the childish voice lisps reverently:
"Dear God, please take care of a little girl whose mamma has gone toHeaven. Keep her from sin, and sickness, and danger. Make the dark assafe as the day, and don't let her be afraid, for Jesus' sake. Amen."
Something like a smothered imprecation dies away in the throat of thelistener, and then she says, in honeyed accents:
"That's a very nice little prayer, and your new mamma is a very finelady. When you come back from your ride in Cinderella's carriage, youcan tell your new mamma all about it."
"Oh! how nice!"
"It will be charming. Come into the conservatory, dearie. I think we cansee Cinderella's lamps from there."
With the confidence born of childish innocence, the little one placesher hand in that of Mother Goose, and is led away.
The conservatory is all aglow with light and color and rich perfume, andit is almost tenantless. The broad low windows are open, and a narrowbalcony, adorned with tall vases and hung with drooping vines, projectsfrom them scarce three feet from the ground.
Out upon this balcony, and close to the railing, the child follows theold woman confidently. Then, as she peers out into the night, she drawsback.
"It's--very--dark," she whispers.
"It's the light inside that makes it seem so dark, dearie. Ah! I see aglimmer of Cinderella's lamp now; look, child!"
Stooping quickly, she lifts the little one and seats her upon therailing of the balcony. Then, as the child, shading her eyes with a tinyhand, attempts to peer out into the darkness, something damp andsickening is pressed to her face; there is an odor in the air not bornof the flowers within, and Daisy Warburton, limp and unconscious, liesback in the arms of her enemy.
In another moment, the woman in the garb of Mother Goose has droppedfrom the balcony to the ground beneath, and, bearing her still burden inher arms, disappeared in the darkness.
And as her form vanishes from the balcony, a city clock, far away, tollsout the hour: _midnight_.
* * * * *
At this same hour, with the same strokes sounding in their ears, aparty of men sally forth from the X--street Police station, and taketheir way toward the river.
They are policemen, mostly dressed in plain clothes, and heavily armed,every man. They move away silently like men obeying the will of onemaster, and presently they separate, dropping off by twos and threesinto different by-ways and obscure streets, to meet again at a certainrendezvous.
It is the Raiding Party on its way to the slums, and, contrary to thehopes of the Chief of the detectives and the Captain of the police, itis led, not by Dick Stanhope, but by Van Vernet.
Contrary to all precedent, and greatly to the surprise of all saveVernet, Richard Stanhope has failed to appear at the time appointed; andso, after many doubts, much hesitation, and some delay, Van Vernet ismade leader of the expedition.
"I shall send Stanhope as soon as he reports here," the Chief had saidas a last word to Vernet. "His absence to-night is most reprehensible,but his assistance is too valuable to be dispensed with."
Mentally hoping that Stanhope's coming may be delayed indefinitely, VanVernet bites his lip and goes on his way, while the Chief sits down tospeculate as to Stanhope's absence, and to await his coming.
But he waits in vain. The long night passes, and day dawns, and RichardStanhope does not appear.
Meanwhile, Van Vernet and the two men who accompany him, arrive first ofthe party at their rendezvous.
It is at the mouth or entrance to a dark, narrow street, the beginningof that labyrinth of crooked by-ways, and blind alleys, from the maze ofwhich Richard Stanhope had rescued himself and the wounded convict, onthe night previous.
Halting here Van Vernet waits the arrival of his men, and meditates. Heis tolerably familiar with this labyrinth; knows it as well, perhaps, asmost men on such a mission would deem necessary, but he has not giventhe locality and its denizens the close study and keen investigationthat Stanhope has considered essential to success. And now, as he peersdown the dark street, thinking of the maze beyond, and the desperatecharacter of the people who inhabit it, he involuntarily wishes for thatcloser knowledge that only Stanhope possesses.
He knows that Stanhope, in various disguises, has passed days and nightsamong these haunts of iniquity; that he can thread these intricatealleys in the darkest night, and identify every rogue by name andprofession.
He thinks of these things, and then shrugs his shoulder withcharacteristic inconsequence. He has, and with good reason, unboundedconfidence in himself. He has tact, skill, courage; what man may do,_he_ can do.
What are these miserable outlaws that they should baffle Van Vernet theskillful, the successful, the daring?
Some one is coming toward them from out the dark alley. They hear thefragment of an idiotic street song, trolled out in a maudlin voice, andthen feet running, skipping, seeming now and then to prance andpirouette absurdly.
"What the--"
The exclamation of the policeman is cut short by the sudden collision ofhis stationary figure with a rapidly moving body. Then he grapples withhis unintentional assailant only to release him suddenly, as Van Vernetthrows up the slide of his dark lantern and turns its rays upon thenew-comer.
Involuntarily all three utter sharp exclamations as they gather aroundthe apparition.
What a figure! Ragged, unkempt, fantastic; the same which a s
hort timeago we saw descending from a carriage only a few rods distant from thisvery spot.
It is the same figure; the same rags and tinsel and dirt; the samedisfigured face, with its black patch and its fringe of frowzy hair; thesame, yet worse to look upon; for now the under jaw is dropped, themouth drivels, the eye not concealed by the patch leers stupidly.
Unmistakably, it is the face of an idiot.
"How!" ejaculates this being, peering curiously at the three. "How do?Where ye goin'?"
Van Vernet gazes curiously for a moment, then utters a sound expressiveof satisfaction. He has heard of a fool that inhabits these alleys;Stanhope has mentioned him on one or two occasions. "A modernizedBarnaby Rudge," Stanhope had called him. Surely this must be him.
Turning to one of his men he says, in an undertone:
"If I'm not mistaken this fellow is a fool who grew up in these slums,and knows them by heart. 'Silly Charlie,' I think, they call him. Ibelieve we can make him useful."
Then turning to the intruder he says suavely:
"How are you, my man? How are you?"
But a change has come over the mood of the seeming idiot. Striking hisbreast majestically, and pointing to a huge tin star which decorates it,he waves his hand toward them, and says with absurd dignity:
"G'way--_g'way!_ Charlie big p'liceman. Gittin' late; _g'way_."
"G'way--_g'way!_ Charlie big p'liceman. Gittin' late;_g'way_!"--page 110.]
"We must humor him, boys," says Vernet aside. Then to Charlie--"Soyou're a policeman? Well, so am I; look."
And turning back the lapel of his coat he displays, on the inner side,the badge of an officer.
Silly Charlie comes close, peers eagerly at the badge, fingers itcuriously, then, grasping it firmly, gives a tug at the lapel, saying:
"Gimme it. Gimme it."
Van Vernet laughs good-naturedly.
"Don't pull so hard, Charlie, or you'll have off my entire uniform. Doyou want to do a little police duty to-night?"
Silly Charlie nods violently.
"And you want my star, or one like it?"
"_Um hum!_" with sudden emphasis.
Van Vernet lays a hand on the shoulder of the idiot, and then says:
"Listen, Charlie. I want you to help me to-night. Wait," for Charlie hasdoubled himself up in a convulsion of laughter. "Now, if you'll standright by me, and tell me what I want to know, you and I will do somesplendid work, and both get promoted. You will get a new star, big andbright, and a uniform all covered with bright buttons. Hold on," forCharlie is dancing in an ecstasy of delight. "What do you say? Will youcome with me, and work for your star and uniform?"
Charlie's enthusiastic gestures testify to his delight at thisproposition.
"Um hum," he cries gleefully; "Charlie go; Charlie be big p'liceman."
And as if suddenly realizing the dignity of his new employment, heceases his antics and struts sedately up and down before Vernet and hisassistants. Then turning to the detective, with a doleful whine, heextends his hand, saying;
"Gimme star _now_."
"Not now, Charlie; you must earn it first. I had to earn mine. Do youknow the way to Devil's alley?"
"Um hum!"
"Good: do you know where Black Nathan lives!"
"Um hum!"
"Can you take me to Nancy Kaiser's lushing ken?"
"Um hum; Charlie knows."
"Then, Charlie, you shall have that star soon."
And Vernet turns to his men. "I will take this fellow for guide, andlook up these places: they are most important," he says rapidly. "Ishall be less noticed in company with this fellow than if alone. Riley,I leave you in command until I return. Remain here, and keep the fellowsall together; some of them are coming now."
Riley's quick ear detects the approach of stealthy feet, and as Vernetshuts his lantern, and utters a low "Come, Charlie," the firstinstallment of the Raiders appears, a few paces away.
Seizing Vernet by the arm, Silly Charlie lowers his head and glides downthe alley, as stealthily as an Indian.
"Charlie," whispers Vernet, imperatively, "you must be very cautious. Iwant you to take me first to where Black Nathan lives."
"Hoop la!" replies Charlie in subdued staccato; "I'm takin' ye;commalong."
Cautiously they wend their way down the dark, narrow street, into afilthy alley, and through it to an open space laid bare by some recentfire.
Here they halt for a moment, Charlie peering curiously around him, andstooping to search for something among the loose stones.
Suddenly a shriek pierces the silence about them--a woman's shriek,thrice repeated, its tones fraught with agony and terror!
Silly Charlie lifts himself suddenly erect, and turns his face toward adark building just across the open space. Then, as the third cry soundsupon the air, both men, as by one humane instinct, bound across thewaste regardless of stones and bruises, Silly Charlie flying on before,as if acquainted with every inch of the ground, straight toward the darkand isolated building.
Dangerous Ground; or, The Rival Detectives Page 14
