CHAPTER XVII.
A PROMISE TO THE DEAD.
Guided by Silly Charlie, Alan Warburton finds himself hurrying throughcrooked streets and dismal alleys, for what seems to him an interminabledistance. Now they run forward swiftly; now halt suddenly, while Charliecreeps ahead to reconnoiter the ground over which they must go. At lastthey have passed the Rubicon, and halting at the corner of a widerstreet than any they have as yet traversed, Alan's strange guide says,
"You are tolerably safe now, Mr. Warburton; at least you are not likelyto be overtaken by Vernet or his men. You are still a long distance fromhome, however, and possibly the way is unfamiliar. I would pilot youfurther, but must hurry back to see how Vernet is coming out."
"Vernet's foot has pressed the yielding carpet; heclutches the air wildly, and disappears."--page 137.]
For the first time Alan Warburton, the self-possessed, polished man ofsociety, is at a loss for words. Society has given him no training,taught him no lessons applicable to such emergencies as this.
"Of one thing you must be warned," continues the guide. "Van Vernet is asleuth-hound on a criminal secret, and he considers you a criminal. Hehas seen you standing above that dead man with a bar of iron in yourhand--did you know that bar of iron was smeared with blood, and thatwisps of human hair clung to its surface? Never mind; _I_ do not accuseyou. I do not ask you to explain your presence there. You have escapedfrom Van Vernet, and he will never forgive you for it. He will hunt youdown, if possible. You know the man?"
"I never saw his face until to-night."
"What! and yet, two hours ago, he was at your brother's house, a guest!"
"True. My dear sir, I am deeply indebted to you, but just now mygratitude is swallowed up in amazement. In Heaven's name, who are you,that you know so much?"
"'Silly Charlie' is what they call me in these alleys, and I pass for anidiot."
"But you are anything but what you 'pass for.' You have puzzled me, andoutwitted Van Vernet. Tell me who you are. Tell me how I can reward yourservices."
"In serving you to-night, Mr. Warburton, I have also served myself. Asto who I am, it cannot matter to you."
"That must be as you will,"--Alan is beginning to recover hisconventional courtesy--"but at least tell me how I may discharge myobligations to you. _That_ does concern me."
Alan's companion ponders a moment, and then says:
"Perhaps we had better be frank, Mr. Warburton. You are a gentleman,and, I trust, so am I. If you owe me anything, you can discharge yourdebt by answering a single question."
"Ask it."
"Van Vernet was a guest at your masquerade--why was he there?"
The question startles Alan Warburton, but he answers after a moment'sreflection:
"He came at my invitation, and on a matter of business."
"And yet you say that you never saw his face before?"
"True; our business was arranged through third parties, and bycorrespondence. He came into my presence, for the first time, masked.Until I saw his face in that hovel yonder, I had never seen it."
"And you?"
"A kind fortune has favored me. This dress I wore as a masqueradecostume; over it I threw a black and scarlet domino. Van Vernet saw mein that domino, and with a mask before my face."
"You may thank your stars for that, and for your silence at the hovel.If you had opened your lips then, your voice might have betrayed you."
"It would have betrayed the fact that I was no seaman, at the least, andthat is why I had resolved upon silence as the safest course."
"You have come out of this night's business most fortunately. But youstill have reason to fear Vernet. Your very silence may cause him tosuspect you of playing a part. Your features are photographed upon hismemory; alter the cut of your whiskers or, better still, give your facea clean shave; crop your hair, and above all leave the city until thisaffair blows over."
"Thank you," Alan replies; "I feel that your advice is good." Then,after a struggle with his pride, he adds:
"I could easily clear myself of so monstrous a charge as that whichVernet would prefer against me, but, for certain reasons, I would prefernot to make a statement of the case."
"I comprehend."
Again Alan is startled out of his dignity. "You were the first to arrivein response to that cry for help to-night?" he begins.
"The first, after you."
"You saw those who fled?"
"I saw only one fugitive. Mr. Warburton, I know what you would ask. Isaw and recognized your brother's wife. I understood your actions; youwere guarding her retreat at the risk of your own life or honor. You area brave man!"
Alan's tone is a trifle haughty as he answers:
"In knowing Mrs. Warburton and myself, you have us at a disadvantage. Inhaving seen us as you saw us to-night, we are absolutely in your power,should you choose to be unscrupulous. Under these circumstances, I havea right to demand the name of a man who knows _me_ so intimately. I havea right to know why you followed us, or me, to that house to-night?"
His companion laughs good-naturedly.
"In spite of your airs, Mr. Warburton," he says candidly, "you would bea fine fellow if you were not--such a prig. So you demand anexplanation. Well, here it is, at least as much as you will need toenlighten you. Who am I? I am a friend to all honest men. Why did Ifollow you? Neither Vernet nor myself followed you or the lady. Vernetwas there as the leader of an organized Raid. I was there--ahem! as apilot for Vernet. _You_ were there as a spy upon the lady. Mrs.Warburton's presence remains to be accounted for. And now, Mr.Warburton, adieu. You are out of present danger; if I find that Mrs.Warburton has not fared so well, you will hear from me again. Ifotherwise, you look your last upon Silly Charlie."
With a mocking laugh he turns, and pausing at the corner to wave hishand in farewell, he darts away in the direction whence he came.
Puzzled, chagrined, his brain teeming with strange thoughts, AlanWarburton turns homeward.
What is it that has come upon him this night? Less than two hours ago,an aristocrat, proud to a fault, with an unblemished name, and withnothing to fear or to conceal. Now, stealing through the dark streetslike an outcast, his pride humbled to the dust, his breast burdened witha double secret, accused of murder, creeping from the police, a huntedman! To-morrow the town will be flooded with descriptions of thisescaped sailor. To-morrow he must change his appearance, must flee thecity.
And all because of his zeal for the family honor; all because of hisbrother's wife, and her horrible secret! To-night charity hath no placein Alan Warburton's heart.
* * * * *
Meanwhile, Van Vernet, covered with rags and dust, sickened by the foulsmell of the vault into which he has been precipitated, and boiling overwith wrath, is being rescued from his absurd and uncomfortable positionby three policemen, who, being sent forward to ascertain if possible thecause of their leader's prolonged absence, have stumbled upon him inthe very nick of time.
As he emerges from the trap, by the aid of the same rope with which notlong before he had secured Alan Warburton's feet, he presents a mostludicrous appearance. His hat has been lost in the darkness of thecellar, and his head is plentifully decorated with rags and feathers,which have adhered tenaciously to his disarranged locks. He is smearedwith dirt, pallid from the stench, nauseated, chagrined, wrathful.
Instinctively he comprehends the situation. The simpleton has played himfalse, the prisoner has escaped.
On the floor lie the handcuffs which Alan Warburton has shaken off as hefled. He picks them up and examines them eagerly. Then an imprecationbreaks from his lips. They have been _unlocked_! And by whom? Not by theman who wore them; that was impossible.
Suddenly, flinging down the handcuffs, he turns to the policemen.
"Two men have escaped from this house, after throwing me into thatcellar," he says rapidly. "They must be overtaken--a sailor and apretended simpleton tricked out in rags and tinsel. After them, boys;out b
y that door. They can't be far away. Capture them _alive or dead_!"
The door by which Alan and his rescuer made their exit stands invitinglyopen, and the three officers, promptly obeying their leader, set off inpursuit of the sailor and the simpleton.
Left alone, Van Vernet plucks the extempore adornments from his head andperson, and meditates ruefully, almost forgetting the original Raid inthe chagrin of his present failure.
He goes to the side of the murdered man, who still lies as he hadfallen, and looks down upon him.
"Ah, my fine fellow," he mutters, "you give me a chance to redeemmyself. If I have been outwitted to-night by a sailor and a fool, youand I will have fine revenge. A sailor! Ah, it was no common sailor, ifI may trust my eyes and my senses. The hands were too white and soft;the feet too small and daintily clad; the face, in spite of thelow-drawn cap and the tattooing, was too aristocratic and too _clean_.And the fool! Ah, it is no common fool who carries keys that unlock ournew patent handcuffs, and who managed this rescue so cleverly. For once,Van Vernet has found his match! But the scales shall turn. The man whokilled _you_, my lad, and the man who outwitted _me_, shall be found andpunished, or Van Vernet will have lost his skill!"
Dangerous Ground; or, The Rival Detectives Page 18
