The Big-Town Round-Up

by William MacLeod Raine

  CHAPTER XX

  THE CAUTIOUS GUY SLIPS UP

  Over their good-night smoke Clay gave a warning. "Keep yore eyes open,Johnnie. I was trailed to the house to-day by one of the fellows withDurand the night I called on him. It spells trouble. I reckon the'Paches are going to leave the reservation again."

  "Do you allow that skunk is aimin' to bushwhack you?"

  "He's got some such notion. It's a cinch he ain't through with me yet."

  "Say, Clay, ain't you gettin' homesick for the whinin' of a rawhide?Wha's the matter with us hittin' the dust for good old Tucson? I'dsure like to chase cowtails again."

  "You can go, Johnnie. I'm not ready yet--quite. And when I go itwon't be because of any rattlesnake in the grass."

  "Whadyou mean I can go?" demanded his friend indignantly. "I don't aimto go and leave you here alone."

  "Perhaps I'll be along, too, after a little. I'm about fed up on NewYork."

  "Well, I'll stick around till you come. If this Jerry Durand's tryingto get you I'll be right there followin' yore dust, old scout."

  "There's more than one way to skin a cat. Mebbe the fellow means tostrike at me through you or Kitty. I've a mind to put you both on atrain for the B-in-a-Box Ranch."

  "You can put the li'l' girl on a train. You can't put me on noneless'n you go too," answered his shadow stoutly.

  "Then see you don't get drawn into any quarrels while you and Kitty areaway from the house. Stick to the lighted streets. I think I'll speakto her about not lettin' any strange man talk to her."

  "She wouldn't talk to no strange man. She ain't that kind," snortedJohnnie.

  "Keep yore shirt on," advised Clay, smiling. "What I mean is that shemustn't let herself believe the first story some one pulls on her. Ithink she had better not go out unless one of us is with her."

  "Suits me."

  "I thought that might suit you. Well, stick to main-traveled roads anddon't take any chances. If you get into trouble, yell bloody murder_poco pronto_."

  "And don't you take any, old-timer. That goes double. I'm thecautious guy in this outfit, not you."

  Within twenty-four hours Clay heard some one pounding wildly on theouter door of the apartment and the voice of the cautious guy imploringhaste.

  "Lemme in, Clay. Hurry! Hurry!" he shouted.

  Lindsay was at the door in four strides, but he did not need to see thestricken woe of his friend's face to guess what had occurred. ForJohnnie and Kitty had started together to see a picture play two hoursearlier.

  "They done took Kitty--in an auto," he gasped. "Right before my eyes.Claimed a lady had fainted."

  "Who took her?"

  "I dunno. Some men. Turned the trick slick, me never liftin' a hand.Ain't I a heluva man?"

  "Hold yore hawsses, son. Don't get excited. Begin at the beginnin'and tell me all about it," Clay told him quietly.

  Already he was kicking off his house slippers and was reaching for hisshoes.

  "We was comin' home an' I took Kitty into that Red Star drug-store forto get her some ice cream. Well, right after that I heerd a man sayhow the lady had fainted--"

  "What lady?"

  "The lady in the machine."

  "Were you in the drug-store?"

  "No. We'd jes' come out when this here automobile drew up an' a manjumped out hollerin' the lady had fainted and would I bring a glass o'water from the drugstore. 'Course I got a jump on me and Kitty shemoved up closeter to the car to he'p if she could. When I got back tothe walk with the water the man was hoppin' into the car. It wasalready movin'. He' slammed the door shut and it went up the streetlike greased lightnin'."

  "Was it a closed car?"

  "Uh-huh."

  "Can you describe it?"

  "Why, I dunno--"

  "Was it black, brown, white?"

  "Kinda roan-colored, looked like."

  "Get the number?"

  "No, I--I plumb forgot to look."

  Clay realized that Johnnie's powers of observation were not to betrusted.

  "Sure the car wasn't tan-colored?" he asked to test him.

  "It might 'a' been tan, come to think of it."

  "You're right certain Kitty was in it?"

  "I heerd her holler from inside. She called my name. I run after thecar, but I couldn't catch it."

  Clay slipped a revolver under his belt. He slid into a street coat.Then he got police headquarters on the wire and notified the office ofwhat had taken place. He knew that the word would be flashed in alldirections and that a cordon would be stretched across the city tointercept any suspicious car. Over the telephone the desk man atheadquarters fired questions at him, most of which he was unable toanswer. He promised fuller particulars as soon as possible.

  It had come on to rain and beneath the street lights the asphalt shonelike a river. The storm had driven most people indoors, but as theWesterner drew near the drugstore Clay saw with relief a taxicab drawup outside. Its driver, crouched in his seat behind the waterproofapron as far back as possible from the rain, promptly accepted Lindsayas a fare.

  "Back in a minute," Clay told him, and passed into the drug-store.

  The abduction was still being discussed. There was a disagreement asto whether the girl had stepped voluntarily into the car or been liftedin by the man outside. This struck the cattleman as unimportant. Hepushed home questions as to identification. One of the men in thedrug-store had caught a flash of the car number. He was sure the firstfour figures were 3967. The fifth he did not remember. The car wasdark blue and it looked like a taxi. This information Clay got theowner of the car to forward to the police.

  He did not wait to give it personally, but joined Johnnie in the cab.The address he gave to the driver with the waterproof hat pulled downover his head was that of a certain place of amusement known as Heath'sPalace of Wonders. A young woman he wanted to consult was wont to sitbehind a window there at the receipt of customs.

  "It's worth a fiver extra if you make good time," Lindsay told thedriver.

  "You're on, boss," answered the man gruffly.

  Johnnie, in a fever of anxiety, had trotted along beside his chief tothe drug-store in silence. Now, as they rushed across the city, he puta timid question with a touch of bluff bravado he did not feel.

  "We'll get her back sure, don't you reckon?"

  "We'll do our best. Don't you worry. That won't buy us anything."

  "No--no, I ain't a-worryin' none, but--Clay, I'd hate a heap for anyharm to come to that li'l' girl." His voice quavered.

  "Sho! We're right on their heels, Johnnie. So are the cops. We'llmake a gather and get Kitty back all right."

  Miss Annie Millikan's pert smile beamed through the window at Clay whenhe stepped up.

  "Hello, Mr. Flat-Worker," she sang out. "How many?"

  "I'm not going in to see the show to-night. I want to talk with you ifyou can get some one to take yore place here."

  "Say, whatta you think I am--one o' these here Fift' Avenoo societydames? I'm earnin' my hot dogs and coffee right at this window. . . .Did you say two, lady?" She shoved two tickets through the window inexchange for dimes.

  Clay explained that his business was serious. "I've got to see youalone--now," he added.

  "If you gotta you gotta." The girl called an usher, who found a secondusher to take her place.

  Annie walked down the street a few steps beside Clay. The littlepuncher followed them dejectedly. His confidence had gone down tochill zero.

  "What's the big idea in callin' me from me job in the rush hours?"asked Miss Millikan. "And who's this gumshoe guy from the bush leaguetailin' us? Breeze on and wise Annie if this here business is soimportant."

  Clay told his story.

  "Some of Jerry's strong-arm work," she commented.

  "Must be. Can you help me?"

  Annie looked straight at him, a humorous little quirk to her mouth."Say, what're you askin' me to do--t'row down my steady?"
/>   Which remark carries us back a few days to one sunny afternoon afterClay's midnight call when he had dropped round to see Miss Annie. Theyhad walked over to Gramercy Park and sat down on a bench as theytalked. Most men and all women trusted Clay. He had in him somequality of unspoken sympathy that drew confidences. Before she knew itAnnie found herself telling him the story of her life.

  Her father had been a riveter in a shipyard and had been killed whileshe was a baby. Later her mother had married unhappily a man whofollowed the night paths of the criminal underworld. Afterward he haddone time at Sing Sing. Through him Annie had been brought for yearsinto contact with the miserable types that make an illicit living bypreying upon the unsuspecting in big cities. Always in the littleIrish girl there had been a yearning for things clean and decent, butit is almost impossible for the poor in a great city to escape from theenvironment that presses upon them.

  She was pretty, and inevitably she had lovers. One of these was "Slim"Jim Collins, a confidential follower of Jerry Durand. He was a crook,and she knew it. But some quality in him--his good looks, perhaps, orhis gameness--fascinated her in spite of herself. She avoided him,even while she found herself pleased to go to Coney with an escort sowell dressed and so glibly confident. Another of her admirers was apoliceman, Tim Muldoon by name, the same one that had rescued Clay fromthe savagery of Durand outside the Sea Siren. Tim she liked. But forall his Irish ardor he was wary. He had never asked her to marry him.She thought she knew the reason. He did not want for a wife a womanwho had been "Slim" Jim's girl. And Annie--because she was Irish tooand perverse--held her head high and went with Collins openly beforethe eyes of the pained and jealous patrolman.

  Clay had come to Annie Millikan now because of what she had told himabout "Slim" Jim. This man was one of Durand's stand-bys. If therewas any underground work to be done it was an odds-on chance that hewould be in charge of it.

  "I'm askin' you to stand by a poor girl that's in trouble," he said inanswer to her question.

  "You've soitainly got a nerve with you. I'll say you have. You wantme to throw the hooks into Jim for a goil I never set me peepers on. Iwisht I had your crust."

  "You wouldn't let Durand spoil her life if you could stop it."

  "Wouldn't I? Hmp! Soft-soap stuff. Well, what's my cue? Where do Icome in on this rescue-the-be-eutiful heroine act?"

  "When did you see 'Slim' Jim last?"

  "I might 'a' seen him this afternoon an' I might not," she saidcautiously, looking at him from under a broad hat-brim.

  "When?"

  "I didn't see him after I got behind that 'How Many?' sign. If I seenhim must 'a' been before two."

  "Did he give you any hint of what was in the air?"

  "Say, what's the lay-out? Are you framin' Jim for up the river?"

  "I'm tryin' to save Kitty."

  "Because she's your goil. Where do I come in at? What's there in itfor me to go rappin' me friend?" demanded Annie sharply.

  "She's not my girl," explained Clay. Then, with that sure instinctthat sometimes guided him, he added, "The young lady I--I'm in lovewith has just become engaged to another man."

  Miss Millikan looked at him, frankly incredulous. "For the love o'Mike, where's her eyes? Don't she know a real man when she sees one?I'll say she don't."

  "I'm standin' by Kitty because she's shy of friends. Any man would dothat, wouldn't he? I came to you for help because--oh, because I knowyou're white clear through."

  A flush beat into Annie's cheeks. She went off swiftly at a tangent."Wouldn't it give a fellow a jar? This guy Jim Collins slips it to meconfidential that he's off the crooked stuff. Nothin' doin' a-tall ingorilla work. He kids me that he's quit goin' out on the spud andporch-climbin' don't look good to him no more. A four-room flat, alittle wifie, an' the straight road for 'Slim' Jim. I fall for it,though I'd orta be hep to men. An' he dates me up to-night for thechauffeurs' ball."

  "But you didn't go?"

  "No; he sidesteps it this aft with a fairy tale about drivin' a richold dame out to Yonkers. All the time he' was figurin' on pinchin'this goil for Jerry. He's a rotten crook."

  "Why don't you break with him, Annie? You're too good for that sort ofthing. He'll spoil your life if you don't."

  "Listens fine," the girl retorted bitterly. "I take Jim like somefolks do booze or dope. He's a habit."

  "Tim's worth a dozen of him."

  "Sure he is, but Tim's got a notion I'm not on the level. I dunno ashe needs to pull that stuff on me. I'm not strong for a harness bullanyhow." She laughed, a little off the key.

  "What color is 'Slim' Jim's car?"

  "A dirty blue. Why?"

  "That was the car."

  Annie lifted her hands in a little gesture of despair. "I'm dead sickof this game. What's there in it? I live straight and eat in abeanery. No lobster palaces in mine. Look at me cheap duds. And Timgives me the over like I was a street cat. What sort of a chance did Iever have, with toughs and gunmen for me friends?"

  "You've got yore chance now, Annie. Tim will hop off that fence he'son and light a-runnin' straight for you if he thinks you've ditched'Slim' Jim."

  She shook her head slowly. "No, I'll not t'row Jim down. I'm throughwith him. He lied to me right while he knew this was all framed up.But I wouldn't snitch on him, even if he'd told me anything. And hedidn't peep about what he was up to."

  "Forget Jim while you're thinkin' about this. You don't owe JerryDurand anything, anyhow. Where would he have Kitty taken? You cangive a guess."

  She had made her decision before she spoke. "Gimme paper and a pencil."

  On Clay's notebook she scrawled hurriedly an address.

  "Jim'd croak me if he knew I'd given this," she said, looking straightat the cattleman.

  "He'll never know--and I'll never forget it, Annie."

  Clay left her and turned to the driver. From the slip of paper in hishand he read aloud an address. "Another five if you break the speedlimit," he said.

  As Clay slammed the door shut and the car moved forward he had animpression of something gone wrong, of a cog in his plans slippedsomewhere. For Annie, standing in the rain under a sputtering mistystreet light, showed a face stricken with fear.

  Her dilated eyes were fixed on the driver of the taxi-cab.