XIV
STRATAGEMS AND SPOILS
Prepared as he had been for the shock, Kirkwood was able to pick himself upquickly, uninjured, Mulready's revolver in his grasp.
On his feet, straddling Mulready's insentient body, he confronted Calendarand Stryker. The face of the latter was a sickly green, the gift of hisfright. The former seemed coldly composed, already recovering from hissurprise and bringing his wits to bear upon the new factor which had beenso unceremoniously injected into the situation.
Straddling Mulready's body, he confronted Calendar andStryker.]
Standing, but leaning heavily upon a hand that rested flat on the table,in the other he likewise held a revolver, which he had apparently drawn inself-defense, at the crisis of Mulready's frenzy. Its muzzle was deflected.He looked Kirkwood over with a cool gray eye, the color gradually returningto his fat, clean-shaven cheeks, replacing the pardonable pallor which hadmomentarily rested thereon.
As for Kirkwood, he had covered the fat adventurer before he knew it.Stryker, who had been standing immediately in the rear of Calendar,immediately cowered and cringed to find himself in the line of fire.
Of the three conscious men in the brigantine's cabin, Calendar was probablythe least confused or excited. Stryker was palpably unmanned. Kirkwood wastingling with a sense of mastery, but collected and rapidly revolving thecombinations for the reversed conditions which had been brought about byMulready's drunken folly. His elation was apparent in his shining, boyisheyes, as well as in the bright color that glowed in his cheeks. When hedecided to speak it was with rapid enunciation, but clearly and concisely.
"Calendar," he began, "if a single shot is fired about this vessel theriver police will be buzzing round your ears in a brace of shakes."
The fat adventurer nodded assent, his eyes contracting.
"Very well!" continued Kirkwood brusquely. "You must know that I havepersonally nothing to fear from the police; if arrested, I wouldn't bedetained a day. On the other hand, you ... Hand me that pistol, Calendar,butt first, please. Look sharp, my man! If you don't..."
He left the ellipsis to be filled in by the corpulent blackguard'sintelligence. The latter, gray eyes still intent on the younger man's face,wavered, plainly impressed, but still wondering.
"Quick! I'm not patient to-night..."
No longer was Calendar of two minds. In the face of Kirkwood's attitudethere was but one course to be followed: that of obedience. Calendarsurrendered an untenable position as gracefully as could be wished.
"I guess you know what you mean by this," he said, tendering the weapon asper instructions; "I'm doggoned if I do.... You'll allow a certainlatitude in consideration of my relief; I can't say we were anticipatingthis--ah--Heaven-sent visitation."
Accepting the revolver with his left hand and settling his forefinger onthe trigger, Kirkwood beamed with pure enjoyment. He found the deferenceof the older man, tempered though it was by his indomitable swagger,refreshing in the extreme.
"A little appreciation isn't exactly out of place, come to think of it,"he commented, adding, with an eye for the captain: "Stryker, you bold, badbutterfly, have you got a gun concealed about your unclean person?"
The captain shook visibly with contrition. "No, Mr. Kirkwood," he managedto reply in a voice singularly lacking in his wonted bluster.
"Say 'sir'!" suggested Kirkwood.
"No, Mr. Kirkwood, sir," amended Stryker eagerly.
"Now come round here and let's have a look at you. Please stay where youare, Calendar.... Why, Captain, you're shivering from head to foot! Not illare you, you wag? Step over to the table there, Stryker, and turn out yourpockets; turn 'em inside out and let's see what you carry in the way ofoffensive artillery. And, Stryker, don't be rash; don't do anything you'dbe sorry for afterwards."
"No fear of that," mumbled the captain, meekly shambling toward the table,and, in his anxiety to give no cause for unpleasantness, beginning to emptyhis pockets on the way.
"Don't forget the 'sir,' Stryker. And, Stryker, if you happen to think ofanything in the line of one of your merry quips or jests, don't strainyourself holding in; get it right off your chest, and you'll feel better."
Kirkwood chuckled, in high conceit with himself, watching Calendar out ofthe corner of his eye, but with his attention centered on the infinitelydiverting spectacle afforded by Stryker, whose predacious hands weretrembling violently as, one by one, they brought to light the articles ofwhich he had despoiled his erstwhile victim.
"Come, come, Stryker! Surely you can think of something witty, surely youhaven't exhausted the possibilities of that almanac joke! Couldn't youring another variation on the lunatic wheeze? Don't hesitate out ofconsideration for me, Captain; I'm joke proof--perhaps you've noticed?"
Stryker turned upon him an expression at once ludicrous, piteous andhateful. "That's all, sir," he snarled, displaying his empty palms in tokenof his absolute tractability.
"Good enough. Now right about face--quick! Your back's prettier than yourface, and besides, I want to know whether your hip-pockets are empty. I'veheard it's the habit of you gentry to pack guns in your clothes.... None?That's all right, then. Now roost on the transom, over there in the corner,Stryker, and don't move. Don't let me hear a word from you. Understand?"
Submissively the captain retired to the indicated spot. Kirkwood turnedto Calendar; of whose attitude, however, he had not been for an instantunmindful.
"Won't you sit down, Mr. Calendar?" he suggested pleasantly. "Forgive mefor keeping you waiting."
For his own part, as the adventurer dropped passively into his chair,Kirkwood stepped over Mulready and advanced to the middle of the cabin, atthe same time thrusting Calendar's revolver into his own coat pocket. Theother, Mulready's, he nursed significantly with both hands, while he stoodtemporarily quiet, surveying the fleshy face of the prime factor in theintrigue.
A quaint, grim smile played about the American's lips, a smile a littlecontemptuous, more than a little inscrutable. In its light Calendar grewrestive and lost something of his assurance. His feet shifted uneasilybeneath the table and his dark eyes wavered, evading Kirkwood's. At lengthhe seemed to find the suspense unendurable.
"Well?" he demanded testily. "What d'you want of me?"
"I was just wondering at you, Calendar. In the last few days you've givenme enough cause to wonder, as you'll admit."
The adventurer plucked up spirit, deluded by Kirkwood's pacific tone. "Iwonder at you, Mr. Kirkwood," he retorted. "It was good of you to save mylife and--"
"I'm not so sure of that! Perhaps it had been more humane--"
Calendar owned the touch with a wry grimace. "But I'm damned if Iunderstand this high-handed attitude of yours!" he concluded heatedly.
"Don't you?" Kirkwood's humor became less apparent, the smile sobering."You will," he told the man, adding abruptly: "Calendar, where's yourdaughter?"
The restless eyes sought the companionway.
"Dorothy," the man lied spontaneously, without a tremor, "is with friendsin England. Why? Did you want to see her?"
"I rather expected to."
"Well, I thought it best to leave her home, after all."
"I'm glad to hear she's in safe hands," commented Kirkwood.
The adventurer's glance analyzed his face. "Ah," he said slowly, "I see.You followed me on Dorothy's account, Mr. Kirkwood?"
"Partly; partly on my own. Let me put it to you fairly. When you forcedyourself upon me, back there in London, you offered me some sort ofemployment; when I rejected it, you used me to your advantage for thefurtherance of your purposes (which I confess I don't understand), and mademe miss my steamer. Naturally, when I found myself penniless and friendlessin a strange country, I thought again of your offer; and tried to find you,to accept it."
"Despite the fact that you're an honest man, Kirkwood?" The fat lipstwitched with premature enjoyment.
"I'm a desperate man to-night, whatever I may have been yesterday." Theyoung man's tone was both e
arnest and convincing. "I think I've shown thatby my pertinacity in hunting you down."
"Well--yes." Calendar's thick fingers caressed his lips, trying to hide thedawning smile.
"Is that offer still open?"
His nonchalance completely restored by the very naivete of the proposition,Calendar laughed openly and with a trace of irony. The episode seemed to beturning out better than he had anticipated. Gently his mottled fat fingersplayed about his mouth and chins as he looked Kirkwood up and down.
"I'm sorry," he replied, "that it isn't--now. You're too late, Kirkwood;I've made other arrangements."
"Too bad." Kirkwood's eyes narrowed. "You force me to harsher measures,Calendar."
Genuinely diverted, the adventurer laughed a second time, tipping backin his chair, his huge frame shaking with ponderous enjoyment. "Don't doanything you'd be sorry for," he parroted, sarcastical, the young man'srecent admonition to the captain.
"No fear, Calendar. I'm just going to use my advantage, which you won'tdispute,"--the pistol described an eloquent circle, gleaming in thelamplight--"to levy on you a little legitimate blackmail. Don't be alarmed;I shan't hit you any harder than I have to."
"What?" stammered Calendar, astonished. "What in hell _are_ you drivingat?"
"Recompense for my time and trouble. You've cost me a pretty penny, firstand last, with your nasty little conspiracy--whatever it's all about. Now,needing the money, I purpose getting some of it back. I shan't preciselyrob you, but this is a hold-up, all right.... Stryker," reproachfully, "Idon't see my pearl pin."
"I got it 'ere," responded the sailor hastily, fumbling with his tie.
"Give it me, then." Kirkwood held out his hand and received the trinket.Then, moving over to the table, the young man, while abating nothing ofhis watchfulness, sorted out his belongings from the mass of odds and endsStryker had disgorged. The tale of them was complete; the captain hadobeyed him faithfully. Kirkwood looked up, pleased.
"Now see here, Calendar; this collection of truck that I was robbed of bythis resurrected Joe Miller here, cost me upwards of a hundred and fifty.I'm going to sell it to you at a bargain--say fifty dollars, two hundredand fifty francs."
"The juice you are!" Calendar's eyes opened wide, partly in admiration."D'you realize that this is next door to highway robbery, my young friend?"
"High-seas piracy, if you prefer," assented Kirkwood with entireequanimity. "I'm going to have the money, and you're going to give it up.The transaction by any name would smell no sweeter, Calendar. Come--forkover!"
"And if I refuse?"
"I wouldn't refuse, if I were you."
"Why not?"
"The consequences would be too painful."
"You mean you'd puncture me with that gun?"
"Not unless you attack or attempt to follow me. I mean to say that theBelgian police are notoriously a most efficient body, and that I'll makeit my duty and pleasure to introduce 'em to you, if you refuse. But youwon't," Kirkwood added soothingly, "will you, Calendar?"
"No." The adventurer had become suddenly thoughtful. "No, I won't. 'Glad tooblige you."
He tilted his chair still farther back, straightening out his elephantinelegs, inserted one fat hand into his trouser pocket and with somedifficulty extracted a combined bill-fold and coin-purse, at once heavywith gold and bulky with notes. Moistening thumb and forefinger, "How'llyou have it?" he inquired with a lift of his cunning eyes; and whenKirkwood had advised him, slowly counted out four fifty-franc notes, placedthem near the edge of the table, and weighted them with five ten-francpieces. And, "'That all?" he asked, replacing the pocket-book.
"That will be about all. I leave you presently to your unholy devices, youand that gay dog, over there." The captain squirmed, reddening. "Just byway of precaution, however, I'll ask you to wait in here till I'm off."Kirkwood stepped backwards to the door of the captain's room, opened it andremoved the key from the inside. "Please take Mulready in with you," hecontinued. "By the time you get out, I'll be clear of Antwerp. Please don'tthink of refusing me,--I really mean it!"
The latter clause came sharply as Calendar seemed to hesitate, his weary,wary eyes glimmering with doubt. Kirkwood, watching him as a cat her prey,intercepted a lightning-swift sidelong glance that shifted from his faceto the port lockers, forward. But the fat adventurer was evidently to aconsiderable degree deluded by the very child-like simplicity of Kirkwood'sattitude. If the possibility that his altercation with Mulready had beenoverheard, crossed his mind, Calendar had little choice other than toaccept the chance. Either way he moved, the risk was great; if he refusedto be locked in the captain's room, there was the danger of the police,to which Kirkwood had convincingly drawn attention; if he accepted thetemporary imprisonment, he took a risk with the gladstone bag. On the otherhand, he had estimated Kirkwood's honesty as thorough-going, from theirfirst interview; he had appraised him as a gentleman and a man of honor.And he did not believe the young man knew, after all ... Perplexed, atlength he chose the smoother way, and with an indulgent lifting of eyebrowsand fat shoulders, rose and waddled over to Mulready.
"Oh, all right," he conceded with deep toleration in his tone for theidiosyncrasies of youth. "It's all the same to me, beau." He laughed anervous laugh. "Come along and lend us a hand, Stryker."
The latter glanced timidly at Kirkwood, his eyes pleading for leave tomove; which Kirkwood accorded with an imperative nod and a fine flourish ofthe revolver. Promptly the captain, sprang to Calendar's assistance; andbetween the two of them, the one taking Mulready's head, the other hisfeet, they lugged him quickly into the stuffy little state-room. Kirkwood,watching and following to the threshold, inserted the key.
"One word more," he counseled, a hand on the knob. "Don't forget I'vewarned you what'll happen if you try to break even with me."
"Never fear, little one!" Calendar's laugh was nervously cheerful. "TheLord knows you're welcome."
"Thank you 'most to death," responded Kirkwood politely. "Good-by--andgood-by to you, Stryker. 'Glad to have humored your desire to meet me soonagain."
Kirkwood, turning the key in the lock, withdrew it and dropped it on thecabin table; at the same time he swept into his pocket the money he hadextorted of Calendar. Then he paused an instant, listening; from thecaptain's room came a sound of murmurs and scuffling. He debated what theywere about in there--but time pressed. Not improbably they, were crowdingfor place at the keyhole, he reflected, as he crossed to the port lockerforward.
He had its lid up in a twinkling, and in another had lifted out thewell-remembered black gladstone bag.
This seems to have been his first compound larceny.
As if stimulated by some such reflection he sprang for the companionway,dropping the lid of the locker with a bang which must have beenexcruciatingly edifying to the men in the captain's room. Whatever theiremotions, the bang was mocked by a mighty kick, shaking the door; which,Kirkwood reflected, opened outward and was held only by the frailest kindof a lock: it would not hold long.
Spurred onward by a storm of curses, Stryker's voice chanting infuriatedcacophony with Calendar's, Kirkwood leapt up the companionway even as thesecond tremendous kick threatened to shatter the panels. Heart in mouth, achill shiver of guilt running up and down his spine, he gained the deck,cast loose the painter, drew in his rowboat, and dropped over the side;then, the gladstone bag nestling between his feet, sat down and bent to theoars.
And doubts assailed him, pressing close upon the ebb of hisexcitement--doubts and fears innumerable.
There was no longer a distinction to be drawn between himself and Calendar;no more could he esteem himself a better and more honest man than thataccomplished swindler. He was not advised as to the Belgian code, butEnglish law, he understood, made no allowance for the good intent of thosecaught in possession of stolen property; though he was acting with the mosthonorable motives in the world, the law, if he came within its cognizance,would undoubtedly place him on Calendar's plane and judge him by the samestandard. To
all intents and purposes he was a thief, and thief he wouldremain until the gladstone bag with its contents should be restored to itsrightful owner.
Voluntarily, then, he had stepped from the ranks of the hunters to those ofthe hunted. He now feared police interference as abjectly as did Calendarand his set of rogues; and Kirkwood felt wholly warranted in assuming thatthe adventurer, with his keen intelligence, would not handicap himself byignoring this point. Indeed, if he were to be judged by what Kirkwood hadinferred of his character, Calendar would let nothing whatever hinder him,neither fear of bodily hurt nor danger of apprehension at the hands of thepolice, from making a determined and savage play to regain possession ofhis booty.
Well! (Kirkwood set his mouth savagely) Calendar should have a run for hismoney!
For the present he could compliment himself with the knowledge that he hadoutwitted the rogues, had lifted the jewels and probably two-thirds oftheir armament; he had also the start, the knowledge of their criminalguilt and intent, and his own plans, to comfort him. As for the latter, hedid not believe that Calendar would immediately fathom them; so he tookheart of grace and tugged at the oars with a will, pulling directly for thecity and permitting the current to drift him down-stream at its pleasure.There could be no more inexcusable folly than to return to the _Quai Steen_landing and (possibly) the arms of the despoiled boat-owner.
At first he could hear crash after splintering crash sounding dully muffledfrom the cabin of the _Alethea_: a veritable devil's tattoo beaten out bythe feet of the prisoners. Evidently the fastening was serving him betterthan he had dared hope. But as the black rushing waters widened betweenboat and brigantine, the clamor aboard the latter subsided, indicatingthat Calendar and Stryker had broken out or been released by the crew. Inignorance as to whether he were seen or being pursued, Kirkwood pulled on,winning in under the shadow of the quais and permitting the boat to driftdown to a lonely landing on the edge of the dockyard quarter of Antwerp.
Here alighting, he made the boat fast and, soothing his conscience with asurmise that its owner would find it there in the morning, strode swiftlyover to the train line that runs along the embankment, swung aboard anadventitious car and broke his first ten-franc piece in order to pay hisfare.
The car made a leisurely progress up past the old Steen castle and the Quailanding, Kirkwood sitting quietly, the gladstone bag under his hand, asearching gaze sweeping the waterside. No sign of the adventurers rewardedhim, but it was now all chance, all hazard. He had no more heart forconfidence.
They passed the Hotel du Commerce. Kirkwood stared up at its windows,wondering....
A little farther on, a disengaged fiacre, its driver alert for possiblefares, turned a corner into the esplanade. At sight of it Kirkwood,inspired, hopped nimbly off the tram-car and signaled the cabby. The latterpulled up and Kirkwood started to charge him with instructions; somethingwhich he did haltingly, hampered by a slight haziness of purpose. Whilethus engaged, and at rest in the stark glare of the street-lamps, withno chance of concealing himself, he was aware of a rising tumult in thedirection of the landing, and glancing round, discovered a number of peoplerunning toward him. With no time to wonder whether or no he was really theobject of the hue-and-cry, he tossed the driver three silver francs.
"Gare Centrale!" he cried. "And drive like the devil!"
Diving into the fiacre he shut the door and stuck his head out of thewindow, taking observations. A ragged fringe of silly rabble was bearingdown upon them, with one or two gendarmes in the forefront, and a giant,who might or might not be Stryker, a close second. Furthermore, anothercab seemed to have been requisitioned for the chase. His heart misgave himmomentarily; but his driver had taken him at his word and generosity,and in a breath the fiacre had turned the corner on two wheels, and theglittering reaches of the embankment, drive and promenade, were blottedout, as if smudged with lamp-black, by the obscurity of a narrow andtortuous side street.
He drew in his head the better to preserve his brains against furtheremergencies.
After a block or two Kirkwood picked up the gladstone bag, gently openedthe door, and put a foot on the step, pausing to look back. The other cabwas pelting after him with all the enthusiasm of a hound on a freshtrail. He reflected that this mad progress through the thoroughfares of acivilized city would not long endure without police intervention. So hewaited, watching his opportunity. The fiacre hurtled onward, the driverleaning forward from his box to urge the horse with lash of whip andtongue, entirely unconscious of his fare's intentions.
Between two streets the mouth of a narrow and darksome byway flashed intoview. Kirkwood threw wide the door, and leaped, trusting to the night tohide his stratagem, to luck to save his limbs. Neither failed him; in atwinkling he was on all fours in the mouth of the alley, and as he pickedhimself up, the second fiacre passed, Calendar himself poking a round baldpoll out of the window to incite his driver's cupidity with promises ofredoubled fare.
Kirkwood mopped his dripping forehead and whistled low with dismay; itseemed that from that instant on it was to be a vendetta with a vengeance.Calendar, as he had foreseen, was stopping at nothing.
At a dog trot he sped down the alley to the next street, on which he turnedback--more sedately--toward the river, debouching on the esplanade just oneblock from the Hotel du Commerce. As he swung past the serried tables of acafe, whatever fears he had harbored were banished by the discovery thatthe excitement occasioned by the chase had already subsided. Beneath thegarish awnings the crowd was laughing and chattering, eating and sippingits bock with complete unconcern, heedless altogether of the haggard andshabby young man carrying a black hand-bag, with the black Shade of Carefor company and a blacker threat of disaster dogging his footsteps. Withoutattracting any attention whatever, indeed, he mingled with the strollingcrowds, making his way toward the Hotel du Commerce. Yet he was not at allat ease; his uneasy conscience invested the gladstone bag with a magneticattraction for the public eye. To carry it unconcealed in his handfurnished him with a sensation as disturbing as though its worn black sideshad been stenciled STOLEN! in letters of flame. He felt it rendered him acynosure of public interest, an object of suspicion to the wide cold world,that the gaze which lit upon the bag traveled to his face only to espythereon the brand of guilt.
For ease of mind, presently, he turned into a convenient shop and spent teninvaluable francs for a hand satchel big enough to hold the gladstone bag.
With more courage, now that he had the hateful thing under cover, he foundand entered the Hotel du Commerce.
In the little closet which served for an office, over a desk visiblygroaning with the weight of an enormous and grimy registry book, a sleepy,fat, bland and good-natured woman of the Belgian _bourgeoisie_ presided,a benign and drowsy divinity of even-tempered courtesy. To his misleadinginquiry for Monsieur Calendar she returned a cheerful permission to seekthat gentleman for himself.
"Three flights, M'sieu', in the front; suite seventeen it is. M'sieu' doesnot mind walking up?" she inquired.
M'sieu' did not in the least, though by no strain of the imagination couldit, be truthfully said that he walked up those steep and redolent stairwaysof the Hotel du Commerce d'Anvers. More literally, he flew with wingedfeet, spurning each third padded step with a force that raised a tiny cloudof fine white dust from the carpeting.
Breathless, at last he paused at the top of the third flight. His heartwas hammering, his pulses drumming like wild things; there was a queerconstriction in his throat, a fire of hope in his heart alternating withthe ice of doubt. Suppose she were not there! What if he were mistaken,what if he had misunderstood, what if Mulready and Calendar had referred toanother lodging-house?
Pausing, he gripped the balustrade fiercely, forcing his self-control,forcing himself to reflect that the girl (presuming, for the sake ofargument, he were presently to find her) could not be expected tounderstand how ardently he had discounted this moment of meeting, or howstrangely it affected him. Indeed, he himself was more th
an a littledisturbed by the latter phenomenon, though he was no longer blind to itscause. But he was not to let her see the evidences of his agitation, lestshe be frightened.
Slowly schooling himself to assume a masque of illuding self-possession andcomposure, he passed down the corridor to the door whose panels wore thepainted legend, 17; and there knocked.
Believing that he overheard from within a sudden startled exclamation, hesmiled patiently, tolerant of her surprise.
Burning with impatience as with a fever, he endured a long minute's wait.
Misgivings were prompting him to knock again and summon her by name, whenhe heard footfalls on the other side of the door, followed by a click ofthe lock. The door was opened grudgingly, a bare six inches.
Of the alarmed expression in the eyes that stared into his, he took noaccount. His face lengthened a little as he stood there, dumb, panting,staring; and his heart sank, down, deep down into a gulf of disappointment,weighted sorely with chagrin.
Then, of the two the first to recover countenance, he doffed his cap andbowed.
"Good evening, Mrs. Hallam," he said with a rueful smile.
The Black Bag Page 14
