Within the Law: From the Play of Bayard Veiller

by Marvin Dana and Bayard Veiller

  CHAPTER XVII. OUTSIDE THE LAW.

  Gilder scrupulously followed the directions of the Police Inspector.Uneasily, he had remained in the library until the allotted time waselapsed. He fidgeted from place to place, his mind heavy with distressunder the shadow that threatened to blight the life of his cherishedson. Finally, with a sense of relief he put out the lights and went tohis chamber. But he did not follow the further directions given him, forhe was not minded to go to bed. Instead, he drew the curtains closelyto make sure that no gleam of light could pass them, and then sat with acigar between his lips, which he did not smoke, though from time to timehe was at pains to light it. His thoughts were most with his son, andever as he thought of Dick, his fury waxed against the woman who hadenmeshed the boy in her plotting for vengeance on himself. And into histhoughts now crept a doubt, one that alarmed his sense of justice. Itoccurred to him that this woman could not have thus nourished a plan forretribution through the years unless, indeed, she had been insane, evenas he had claimed--or innocent! The idea was appalling. He could notbear to admit the possibility of having been the involuntary inflicterof such wrong as to send the girl to prison for an offense she had notcommitted. He rejected the suggestion, but it persisted. He knew theclean, wholesome nature of his son. It seemed to him incredible thatthe boy could have thus given his heart to one altogether undeserving.A horrible suspicion that he had misjudged Mary Turner crept into hisbrain, and would not out. He fought it with all the strength of him,and that was much, but ever it abode there. He turned for comfort to thethings Burke had said. The woman was a crook, and there was an endof it. Her ruse of spoliation within the law was evidence of hershrewdness, nothing more.

  Mary Turner herself, too, was in a condition utterly wretched, and forthe same cause--Dick Gilder. That source of the father's suffering washers as well. She had won her ambition of years, revenge on the man whohad sent her to prison. And now the joy of it was a torture, for thepuppet of her plans, the son, had suddenly become the chief thing in herlife. She had taken it for granted that he would leave her after he cameto know that her marriage to him was only a device to bring shame onhis father. Instead, he loved her. That fact seemed the secret of herdistress. He loved her. More, he dared believe, and to assert boldly,that she loved him. Had he acted otherwise, the matter would have beensimple enough.... But he loved her, loved her still, though he knew theshame that had clouded her life, knew the motive that had led her toaccept him as a husband. More--by a sublime audacity, he declared thatshe loved him.

  There came a thrill in her heart each time she thought of that--thatshe loved him. The idea was monstrous, of course, and yet---- Here,as always, she broke off, a hot flush blazing in her cheeks....Nevertheless, such curious fancies pursued her through the hours. Shestrove her mightiest to rid herself of them, but in vain. Ever theypersisted. She sought to oust them by thinking of any one else, ofAggie, of Joe. There at last was satisfaction. Her interference betweenthe man who had saved her life and the temptation of the English crookhad prevented a dangerous venture, which might have meant ruin to theone whom she esteemed for his devotion to her, if for no other reason.At least, she had kept him from the outrageous folly of an ordinaryburglary.

  Mary Turner was just ready for bed after her evening at the theater,when she was rudely startled out of this belief. A note came by amessenger who waited for no answer, as he told the yawning maid. As Maryread the roughly scrawled message, she was caught in the grip of terror.Some instinct warned her that this danger was even worse than it seemed.The man who had saved her from death had yielded to temptation. Evennow, he was engaged in committing that crime which she had forbiddenhim. As he had saved her, so she must save him. She hurried into thegown she had just put off. Then she went to the telephone-book andsearched for the number of Gilder's house.

  * * * * *

  It was just a few moments before Mary Turner received the note from thehands of the sleepy maid that one of the leaves of the octagonal windowin the library of Richard Gilder's town house swung open, under thepersuasive influence of a thin rod of steel, cunningly used, and JoeGarson stepped confidently into the dark room.

  A faint radiance of moonlight from without showed him for a second as hepassed between the heavy draperies. Then these fell into place, and hewas invisible, and soundless as well. For a space, he rested motionless,listening intently. Reassured, he drew out an electric torch and set itglowing. A little disc of light touched here and there about the room,traveling very swiftly, and in methodical circles. Satisfied by thesurvey, Garson crossed to the hall door. He moved with alert assurance,lithely balanced on the balls of his feet, noiselessly. At the hall doorhe listened for any sound of life without, and found none. The door intothe passage that led to the store-room where the detectives waited nextengaged his business-like attention. And here, again, there was naughtto provoke his suspicion.

  These preliminaries taken as measures of precaution, Garson went boldlyto the small table that stood behind the couch, turned the button,and the soft glow of an electric lamp illumined the apartment. Theextinguished torch was thrust back into his pocket. Afterward he carriedone of the heavy chairs to the door of the passage and propped itagainst the panel in such wise that its fall must give warning as to theopening of the door. His every action was performed with the maximum ofspeed, with no least trace of flurry or of nervous haste. It was evidentthat he followed a definite program, the fruit of precise thought guidedby experience.

  It seemed to him that now everything was in readiness for the coming ofhis associates in the commission of the crime. There remained only togive them the signal in the room around the corner where they waited ata telephone. He seated himself in Gilder's chair at the desk, and drewthe telephone to him.

  "Give me 999 Bryant," he said. His tone was hardly louder than awhisper, but spoken with great distinctness.

  There was a little wait. Then an answer in a voice he knew came over thewire.

  But Garson said nothing more. Instead, he picked up a penholder fromthe tray on the desk, and began tapping lightly on the rim of thetransmitter. It was a code message in Morse. In the room around thecorner, the tapping sounded clearly, ticking out the message that theway was free for the thieves' coming.

  When Garson had made an end of the telegraphing, there came a briefanswer in like Morse, to which he returned a short direction.

  For a final safeguard, Garson searched for and found the telephonebell-box on the surbase below the octagonal window. It was the work ofonly a few seconds to unscrew the bells, which he placed on the desk.So simply he made provision against any alarm from this source. He thentook his pistol from his hip-pocket, examined it to make sure thatthe silencer was properly adjusted, and then thrust it into the rightside-pocket of his coat, ready for instant use in desperate emergency.Once again, now, he produced the electric torch, and lighted it as heextinguished the lamp on the table.

  Forthwith, Garson went to the door into the hall, opened it, and,leaving it ajar, made his way in silence to the outer doorway.Presently, the doors there were freed of their bolts under his skilledfingers, and one of them swung wide. He had put out the torch now, lestits gleam might catch the gaze of some casual passer-by. So nicely hadthe affair been timed that hardly was the door open before the threemen slipped in, and stood mute and motionless in the hall, while Garsonrefastened the doors. Then, a pencil of light traced the length of thehallway and Garson walked quickly back to the library. Behind him withsteps as noiseless as his own came the three men to whom he had justgiven the message.

  When all were gathered in the library, Garson shut the hall door,touched the button in the wall beside it, and the chandelier threw itsradiant light on the group.

  Griggs was in evening clothes, seeming a very elegant young gentlemanindeed, but his two companions were of grosser type, as far asappearances went: one, Dacey, thin and wiry, with a ferret face; theother, Chicago Red, a brawny ruffian, whose stolid features neverthelessexhibited something of ha
lf-sullen good nature.

  "Everything all right so far," Garson said rapidly. He turned to Griggsand pointed toward the heavy hangings that shrouded the octagonalwindow. "Are those the things we want?" he demanded.

  "Yes," was the answer of English Eddie.

  "Well, then, we've got to get busy," Garson went on. His alert,strong face was set in lines of eagerness that had in it something offierceness now.

  But, before he could add a direction, he was halted by a soft buzzingfrom the telephone, which, though bell-less, still gave this faintwarning of a call. For an instant, he hesitated while the othersregarded him doubtfully. The situation offered perplexities. To give noattention to the summons might be perilous, and failure to respond mightprovoke investigation in some urgent matter; to answer it might easilyprovide a larger danger.

  "We've got to take a chance." Garson spoke his decision curtly. He wentto the desk and put the receiver to his ear.

  There came again the faint tapping of some one at the other end of theline, signaling a message in the Morse code. An expression of blankamazement, which grew in a flash to deep concern, showed on Garson'sface as he listened tensely.

  "Why, this is Mary calling," he muttered.

  "Mary!" Griggs cried. His usual vacuity of expression was cast off likea mask and alarm twisted his features. Then, in the next instant, acrafty triumph gleamed from his eyes.

  "Yes, she's on," Garson interpreted, a moment later, as the tappingceased for a little. He translated in a loud whisper as the irregularticking noise sounded again.

  "I shall be there at the house almost at once. I am sending this messagefrom the drug store around the corner. Have some one open the door forme immediately."

  "She's coming over," Griggs cried incredulously.

  "No, I'll stop her," Garson declared firmly.

  "Right! Stop her," Chicago Red vouchsafed.

  But, when, after tapping a few words, the forger paused for the reply,no sound came.

  "She don't answer," he exclaimed, greatly disconcerted. He tried again,still without result. At that, he hung up the receiver with a groan."She's gone----"

  "On her way already," Griggs suggested, and there was none to doubt thatit was so.

  "What's she coming here for?" Garson exclaimed harshly. "This ain't noplace for her! Why, if anything should go wrong now----"

  But Griggs interrupted him with his usual breezy cheerfulness of manner.

  "Oh, nothing can go wrong now, old top. I'll let her in." He drew asmall torch from the skirt-pocket of his coat and crossed to the halldoor, as Garson nodded assent.

  "God! Why did she have to come?" Garson muttered, filled withforebodings. "If anything should go wrong now!"

  He turned back toward the door just as it opened, and Mary darted intothe room with Griggs following. "What do you want here?" he demanded,with peremptory savageness in his voice, which was a tone he had neverhitherto used in addressing her.

  Mary went swiftly to face Garson where he stood by the desk, whileGriggs joined the other two men who stood shuffling about uneasily bythe fireplace, at a loss over this intrusion on their scheme. Mary movedwith a lissome grace like that of some wild creature, but as she haltedopposite the man who had given her back the life she would have thrownaway, there was only tender pleading in her voice, though her words werean arraignment.

  "Joe, you lied to me."

  "That can be settled later," the man snapped. His jaw was thrust forwardobstinately, and his clear eyes sparkled defiantly.

  "You are fools, all of you!" Mary cried. Her eyes darkened and distendedwith fear. They darted from Garson to the other three men, and backagain in rebuke. "Yes, fools! This is burglary. I can't protect you ifyou are caught. How can I? Oh, come!" She held out her hands pleadinglytoward Garson, and her voice dropped to beseeching. "Joe, Joe, you mustget away from this house at once, all of you. Joe, make them go."

  "It's too late," was the stern answer. There was no least relaxation inthe stubborn lines of his face. "We're here now, and we'll stay till thebusiness is done."

  Mary went a step forward. The cloak she was wearing was thrown back byher gesture of appeal so that those watching saw the snowy slope of theshoulders and the quick rise and fall of the gently curving bosom. Thebeautiful face within the framing scarf was colorless with a great fear,save only the crimson lips, of which the bow was bent tremulously as shespoke her prayer.

  "Joe, for my sake!"

  But the man was inexorable. He had set himself to this thing, and eventhe urging of the one person in the world for whom he most cared waspowerless against his resolve.

  "I can't quit now until we've got what we came here after," he declaredroughly.

  Of a sudden, the girl made shift to employ another sort of supplication.

  "But there are reasons," she said, faltering. A certain embarrassmentswept her, and the ivory of her cheeks bloomed rosily. "I--I can't haveyou rob this house, this particular house of all the world." Her eyesleaped from the still obdurate face of the forger to the group of threeback of him. Her voice was shaken with a great dread as she called outto them.

  "Boys, let's get away! Please, oh, please! Joe, for God's sake!" Hertone was a sob.

  Her anguish of fear did not swerve Garson from his purpose.

  "I'm going to see this through," he said, doggedly.

  "But, Joe----"

  "It's settled, I tell you."

  In the man's emphasis the girl realized at last the inefficacy of herefforts to combat his will. She seemed to droop visibly before theireyes. Her head sank on her breast. Her voice was husky as she tried tospeak.

  "Then----" She broke off with a gesture of despair, and turned awaytoward the door by which she had entered.

  But, with a movement of great swiftness, Garson got in front of her,and barred her going. For a few seconds the two stared at each othersearchingly as if learning new and strange things, each of the other. Inthe girl's expression was an outraged wonder and a great terror. In theman's was a half-shamed pride, as if he exulted in the strength withwhich he had been able to maintain his will against her supreme effortto overthrow it.

  "You can't go," Garson said sharply. "You might be caught."

  "And if I were," Mary demanded in a flash of indignation, "do you thinkI'd tell?"

  There came an abrupt change in the hard face of the man. Into thepiercing eyes flamed a softer fire of tenderness. The firm mouth grewstrangely gentle as he replied, and his voice was overtoned with faith.

  "Of course not, Mary," he said. "I know you. You would go up for lifefirst."

  Then again his expression became resolute, and he spoke imperiously.

  "Just the same, you can't take any chances. We'll all get away in aminute, and you'll come with us." He turned to the men and spoke withswift authority.

  "Come," he said to Dacey, "you get to the light switch there by the halldoor. If you hear me snap my fingers, turn 'em off. Understand?"

  With instant obedience, the man addressed went to his station by thehall door, and stood ready to control the electric current.

  The distracted girl essayed one last plea. The momentary softening ofGarson had given her new courage.

  "Joe, don't do this."

  "You can't stop it now, Mary," came the brisk retort. "Too late. You'reonly wasting time, making it dangerous for all of us."

  Again he gave his attention to carrying on the robbery.

  "Red," he ordered, "you get to that door." He pointed to the one thatgave on the passageway against which he had set the chair tilted. As theman obeyed, Garson gave further instructions.

  "If any one comes in that way, get him and get him quick. Youunderstand? Don't let him cry out."

  Chicago Red grinned with cheerful acceptance of the issue in such anencounter. He held up his huge hand, widely open.

  "Not a chance," he declared, proudly, "with that over his mug." To avoidpossible interruption of his movements in an emergency, he removed thechair Garson had placed and set i
t to one side, out of the way.

  "Now, let's get to work," Garson continued eagerly. Mary spoke with thebitterness of defeat.

  "Listen, Joe! If you do this, I'm through with you. I quit."

  Garson was undismayed by the threat.

  "If this goes through," he countered, "we'll all quit. That's why I'mdoing it. I'm sick of the game."

  He turned to the work in hand with increased energy.

  "Come, you, Griggs and Red, and push that desk down a bit so that I canstand on it." The two men bent to the task, heedless of Mary's franticprotest.

  "No! no! no! no! no, Joe!"

  Red, however, suddenly straightened from the desk and stood motionless,listening. He made a slight hissing noise that arrested the attention ofthe others and held them in moveless silence.

  "I hear something," he whispered. He went to the keyhole of the doorleading into the passage. Then he whispered again, "And it's coming thisway."

  At the words, Garson snapped his fingers. The room was plunged indarkness.