“Hello!” he exclaimed, “what are you two doing here?”
“They are waiting for you to bump them off,” replied Sadie with a sneer.
“Why, what do you mean?” Perkins gazed breathlessly around the room.
“Just what I said. You are going to stop their mouths for good—and do it right now. We’ve been shilly-shallying over this business long enough!”
Perkins’ glance took in the others seated at the table.
“Has she gone nuts?” he asked.
“We have decided that you are to do what my daughter has just mentioned,” said the Doctor smoothly.
“And I,” retorted Perkins angrily, “tell you here and now that I will be no party to murder!”
Sadie drew her revolver.
“Well—if he won’t, I will!” she began when her wrist was caught in a grip of steel, then twisted up and backward.
“Drop it, little one—drop it—or I’ll break your arm,” said Mike.
Sadie shrieked with pain, but she dropt her revolver and Mike pocketed it.
“I’ll get you for that!” she screamed.
Her father leaned forward in his chair. “Shut up, you idiot!” he said coldly and deliberately slapped her across the mouth with his open hand. “We’ve had enough from you for one evening. Mike was perfectly right to stop you. Perkins is going to do this job, and you know why he is going to do it. I’ll have no more argument from you. Keep still now, until you have my permission to speak.”
“But I tell you I’ll have nothing to do with it,” repeated Perkins, and attempted to light with trembling fingers the half-burned cigar he was chewing.
Doctor Martinelli swung round in his chair. “You’ll do as you’re told,” he said through clenched teeth. “A little persuasion of the kind I have in mind has been known to make braver men than you change their opinions, Mr. Harry Perkins!” He glared at the cashier, who dropped his eyes—and the cigar—at one and the same moment.
“That’s the way, Doc,” applauded Mike, getting to his feet. “We’ve been sittin’ round this table so long we’re all getting stale. What we need’s a little excitement.”
He pointed to Dorothy and Bill.
“I’ll take these two down stairs and stick them in the old wine cellar. They’ll keep fine and dandy down there. Later, when Mr. Perkins sees reason he can run down and finish them off. While I’m gone, Johnny, you beat it out to the woodshed and fetch in a length of garden hose.” He guffawed. “I guess you know that trick—the bulls have made it pretty popular?”
The lame man smiled and nodded.
“O.K. Doc?”
“It’s a good plan, Mike. Go ahead with it.”
Mike took a flashlight from his pocket and beckoned to the prisoners.
Sadie pushed back her chair and jumped up. “Tie that girl or she’ll get away!” she ordered.
“Pipe down!” thundered the gangster and there was an ugly gleam in his eyes as he glared at her. “Give me any more of your lip, Sadie, and you’ll take a trip downstairs yourself. Some day when you ain’t got a thing to do fer a couple of weeks, try gettin’ outa that place with the door locked. Run along now—murder yourself, if you have to—you red-headed bag of hot wind!”
He turned his back on the furious woman and motioned Bill and Dorothy to walk before him into the kitchen.
“Well, of all the nerve—” Dorothy heard Sadie cry sharply as Harry Perkins broke in with, “Look here, Doctor Martinelli, do you really mean to—”
Mike shut the door, cutting the argument in the front room to a mere mumble of voices.
“Down those stairs to the right and then straight ahead, you two,” he directed, pointing the way with his flashlight—“No tricks, either, unless you want your buddie hurt worse than he is now, Miss Wildcat!”
Dorothy, with her arm about Bill’s shoulders, stopped at the head of the cellar stairs.
“I think you told me you were getting two thousand dollars for your share in the New Canaan robbery,” she murmured.
“That’s right—a coupla grand,” he acknowledged. “Not much, but when I made the deal, I wasn’t as strong with Doc as I am now.”
“If you let us go, my father will pay you ten thousand!”
“Nothing doing!”
“And I promise you he’ll use his influence in your behalf, as well. It seems to me a mighty easy way to make a lot of money—”
Mike shrugged his shoulders.
“Maybe it is,” he admitted. “But then you see, I’ve never double-crossed a pal yet, and I’m not going to start at this late day. Cut the chatter now—there’s nothing doing.”
“You won’t regret it, Mike.”
The door behind them opened slowly, revealing Doctor Martinelli’s slight figure.
“My judgment of human nature is rarely at fault,” the little man went on rather pompously. “I believed I could trust you—now I know it. There’s a full share coming to you on this deal, Mike. Cut along now, but hurry back. As soon as you’ve locked them up, I’ll need your help with Perkins.”
The door closed once more and Mike waved toward the gaping black of the cellar stairs.
“You heard what Doc said—down you go!”
“Over there to the left,” he directed when his two prisoners reached the bottom and Dorothy helped Billy to hobble across the damp, earthern floor, in the shifting rays of Mike’s torch.
Ahead in the wall of native stone that formed the foundation of the house, they could see a door of heavy wood, at least six inches thick. Mike pushed it fully open. For a moment Dorothy thought of jumping him, but now she saw he carried a revolver in his free hand.
“In you go!” he said roughly, elbowing them over the threshold. But instead of locking them in, he stepped over the sill and gently pulled the door shut behind him.
Bill, anticipating the end, stepped between Dorothy and their captor.
“Let her go, Mike. Her father and mine will give you anything you ask. Shoot me if you must—but let her go. Use two shots, and the others will think—tell them—”
“Quiet, please,” whispered Mike fiercely, and Dorothy started, for he spoke now with the voice of a well bred Englishman.
“Neither of you will be shot tonight, if you do as I tell you. Here—take this automatic, Miss Dixon. And listen carefully, both of you. I’ve only a minute. You’ll find a few useful articles under the pile of sacking in that far corner,” he went on, pointing into the gloom behind them. “Then, get out of the window as quickly as you can—the bars are sawn through. Your car is still parked where you left it. Go straight home. That, I think, will be all at present.”
Bill and Dorothy stared at him in wide-eyed amazement.
“Who are you, anyway?” the girl whispered, peering up at him.
“To ease your minds,” he smiled, “I’m not exactly what I pretend to be. And I want to apologize to you, Miss Dixon, for the exceedingly crude game I was forced to play with you. The Doctor had his suspicions of me, until just a few moments ago, I believe, and he has had us watched ever since I brought you here. But now he has proved his judgment to be sound—” he chuckled to himself—“and has ceased his strict surveillance.”
He paused a moment then went on, more seriously. “My name is Michael Conway. I am a detective-inspector in the Criminal Investigation Department of New Scotland Yard. I’ve trailed certain members of the Martinelli gang all the way from London. My plans seem to have miscarried this evening; otherwise, you need not have been put to all this inconvenience. Remember that the house has ears, and be as quiet as possible. Good night—and good luck!”
The door swung shut behind him. They heard him turn the key in the lock and he was gone.
“Gee Whiz!” muttered Bill, “and I thought—”
“Sh—Bill!” cautioned Dorothy. “Never mind now. Stand where you are, or you’ll break your neck in this darkness.”
Her voice came from farther off now. He knew she was feeling her way across the
room toward the corner.
Presently a light appeared and she spoke again.
“I’ve found the things,” she told Bill. “Besides this flash, there’s another automatic, a small ax, and a chisel.”
“Thank heaven for that,” said Bill. “Now I’ve a chance of getting these handcuffs off!”
“But we can’t do it in here,” Dorothy objected. “Remember what Mike said about making a noise. We’ll have to wait till we get outside. There’s the window. It’s going to be a tight squeeze.”
Her light showed them they were standing in a narrow room, walled like the cellar in native stone. Along the sides, piled one on top of the other were wine casks, which proved to be empty. The damp air was heavy with the fumes of evaporating lees. High to one side was a small barred window.
“Lean against this barrel, so it won’t slip,” whispered Dorothy, and clambered up to the window. “Yes, the bars are loose!”
She removed the short lengths of rusty iron from the open frame and carefully laid them on the ground outside.
“Now the paraphernalia—” She placed ax, chisel and revolver beside the bars on the grass and descended to Bill’s side.
“Guess I’ll have to go first,” observed Bill. “We’ll never make it, otherwise. Give me a boost, will you?”
They were both breathless and nearly exhausted by the time Bill had been pushed up and out of the window. Dorothy was so tired it took every ounce of her waning strength to drag herself through the narrow aperture after him. They rested for some minutes in the long, dewy grass, gathering strength and courage for the waiting ordeal.
As soon as they began to move away from the house, Dorothy realized that Bill was near collapse. Even with her supporting arm, he lurched and stumbled through the tangled undergrowth.
“It’s that old hole in my leg,” he grumbled in answer to her question. “It’s opened up again—been bleeding pretty freely. You’d better leave me here.”
He sank wearily to the ground behind a cluster of elder bushes, about two hundred yards from the house, the weight of his body pulling Dorothy to her knees beside him.
“I’ll do nothing of the kind!” she whispered fiercely.
“But you must—I can’t go any further,” his voice trailed off weakly.
With a quick movement she felt for his wound in the darkness and tightened the bandage.
“We’ll wait here till you’re strong enough to walk, that’s all. If I try to run the car up here, they’ll hear it from the house. There’s no use to try to cut off your handcuffs, either. The least sound will bring that gang down on us.”
“Not the car—” he mumbled. “The amphibian—beat it for the Loening—and bring help.”
Dorothy bit her lip. With Bill delirious there was nothing she could do but remain with him.
“That’s all right,” she said, trying to calm him—“We’ll stay here till you feel stronger, Bill. Then I’ll help you down to the car.”
Bill had been lying on his side, his head pillowed on her knees. Now he wriggled into a sitting position.
“I’m pretty well all in,” he admitted, “but I’m not off my head—not yet—if that’s what you’re thinking.—Didn’t I tell you about the amphibian?”
“You certainly did not—” Dorothy’s tone was relieved, yet excited.
“Well, here’s the dope, then. She’s parked in the next valley—over that hill behind the house. You’ll find her under the trees at the edge of a wood lot. I flew up here several nights ago. Wanted a means of quick getaway, if it became necessary. Frank met me over there and drove me home. It’s a rotten landing place. You’ll find it worse for the take off. You’ll be taking an awful chance to do it.”
Dorothy got to her feet. “You certainly are the one and only life-saver,” she breathed joyfully. “Every time we get really up against it—you’ve a plane up your sleeve or something. Don’t worry—I’ll fly it all right!”
“Hop it for Danbury, then. When you get there, land in the fair grounds. Phone the police and tell them to run down in a car and that you’ll fly them back here. You can land on the lake. The bus has a searchlight—”
He broke off as the sharp detonation of an automatic came from the direction of the house. This was followed by shouts and the sound of a scuffle. Presently all was quiet once more.
“Something’s up!” said Dorothy.
Bill nodded gravely. “I wonder if they haven’t found we’re not in the wine cellar—if they’ve charged Mike Conway with our escape?”
“Well, I’m going over to see.”
“No, you’re not—I’ll go.”
But by the time Bill had struggled to his feet, Dorothy had run to the house and was peering between the shutters of the side window. She stood there for a moment, then ran back to him.
“The Doctor has been shot,” she gasped. “Not badly hurt, I think—evidently took it in the shoulder. But they’ve got Mike. He’s tied hand and foot and bound to a chair!”
“That’s bad,” said Bill slowly.
“It’s awful! They’ll surely shoot him before I can get the police here!”
Bill hobbled back toward the shelter of the bushes with Dorothy’s arm about his waist.
“Some break!” he said disgustedly, as he sank to the ground. “I’m out of the running and you can’t hold up that bunch single handed—”
“I can try it though, Bill.”
“Not if I have anything to say, you won’t. There are too many of ’em—it’s impossible. But what we’re going to do now, I haven’t the slightest idea!”
CHAPTER XVII
THE LOENING
“One thing is clear—” said Dorothy firmly—“and that is, we can’t let Michael Conway be butchered by that band of cut-throats. He saved our lives—we’ve got to save his.”
Bill, his head in his hands, did not reply.
“If you were only in better shape so I could get those handcuffs off—and if there weren’t so many of them in the house,” she went on, speaking her thoughts aloud, “one of us might be able to hold them up from the window while the other went round through the door and took their guns away. But we can’t afford to wait till you can walk alone and I can free your hands. What’s to become of Mr. Conway, in the meantime? Oh, Bill, you’re generally so fertile with ideas—can’t you think of any thing?”
Bill lay motionless, and still did not answer.
Dorothy stooped over him.
“Bill! Bill!” she called in a tense whisper. Then, daring greatly, she flashed her light on his face, held it there for an instant, then snapped it off.
“Down and out, poor chap,” was her summing up after a glimpse of his closed eyes and dead white features. “Loss of blood, probably. He’ll come round after while—but when?”
Her heart sank. For several minutes she knelt beside his quiet form, lost in thought. Then she began to act.
“Sorry, Bill, old thing, but I’ve got to leave you. It’s the only way.” Her murmured tones were muffled by the sweater she pulled over her head. Stripping free her arms, she rolled it in a ball and placed the soft pillow beneath Bill’s head. She gave him a little pat, then started off toward the hill back of the house.
Dorothy crossed the field beyond the farm’s overgrown orchard in darkness. It was not until she reached the woods at the foot of the hill that she dared to snap on her flashlight.
Even with its help the climb was no sinecure. The hillside, steep as a church roof and densely wooded, was, moreover, thick with underbrush, which hindered her progress. Rocky outcroppings and huge boulders made frequent detours necessary.
By the time she struggled to the top she was winded and pretty well done up. Her vitality had suffered considerably from strain and worry and violent exercise during the course of the evening. She was quite ready to drop down and have a good cry, and to admit to herself right then that she was beaten. Only the knowledge that a life, possibly two, hung upon her efforts, kept her going. Stopping only
long enough to tie a broken shoelace, she hurried over the crest of the hill and plunged down the farther side.
Here, her progress became even more difficult, for she floundered into a berry patch whose thorns tore her clothing and badly scratched her face and hands. Determinedly, she pushed her way through, gritting her teeth in pain.
Presently, after several bad falls over hidden rocks and tree stumps, she found herself on a narrow, grass-grown wood road at the foot of the hill. So far as she could see, the trail wound along the middle of the valley. But she hadn’t the faintest idea in which direction lay the field (Bill had called it a wood lot) where the Loening was hidden.
Dorothy was totally at a loss. Why hadn’t she taken more precise directions before tramping over here? This trail must lead to the wood lot or near it. Bill said Frank had driven there in the car.…
“What a fool I am!” she exclaimed suddenly to the night at large and pointed her flashlight toward the ground at her feet.
There were the tire marks of a car, plain enough. Brewster and Danbury lay far to the left beyond the mouth of this valley which paralleled that of the gang’s headquarters. Therefore, Bill’s car must have come up the trail from the left. The tracks kept on up the road to her left—the wood lot must be in that direction.
As she trudged on, watching carefully for any deviation of the tire marks, she forgot her weariness for the time being. The winding road ended and she saw an open space ahead. It must be the wood lot. Hadn’t Bill said it was the only possible landing place in the valley!
Dorothy hurried across the field, through a tangle of knee-high grasses and wild flowers. She pointed her light higher now and tried to pierce the black of the night for a glimpse of the plane. Then she saw it parked at the forest’s edge, directly ahead, and sprang forward with a delighted cry.
As she came close, she saw that it faced the open lot, and silently thanked Bill for his foresight. With a plane the size of the amphibian it would have been impossible to swing round the tail unassisted.
Her preparations for this flight would probably not have met with her instructor’s approval. But knowing that time was more important than detail, she cut them to a minimum.
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