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diff --git a/old/51965-8.txt b/old/51965-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 6d57c84..0000000 --- a/old/51965-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8977 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Pawned, by Frank L. Packard - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Pawned - -Author: Frank L. Packard - -Release Date: May 2, 2016 [EBook #51965] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PAWNED *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - - - - -PAWNED - -By Frank L. Packard - -The Copp, Clark Co., Limited Toronto - -1921 - -[Illustration: 0001] - -[Illustration: 0007] - - - - -PAWNED - - - - -BY WAY OF INTRODUCTION - - - - -HER STORY - - -|A HANSOM cab, somewhat woebegone in appearance, threaded its way in a -curiously dejected manner through the heart of New York's East Side. A -fine drizzle fell, through which the street lamps showed as through a -mist; and, with the pavements slippery, the emaciated looking horse, -the shafts jerking and lifting up at intervals around its ears, appeared -hard put to it to preserve its footing. - -The cabman on his perch drove with his coat collar turned up and his -chin on his breast. He held the reins listlessly, permitting the horse -to choose its own gait. At times he lifted the little trap door in the -roof of the cab and peered into the interior; occasionally his hand, -tentatively, hesitantly, edged toward a bulge in his coat pocket-only to -be drawn back again in a sort of panic haste. - -The cab turned into a street where, in spite of the drizzle, hawkers -with their push-carts under flaring, spitting gasoline banjoes were -doing a thriving business. The horse went more slowly. There was very -little room. With the push-carts lining the curbs on both sides, and -the overflow of pedestrians from the sidewalks into the street, it was -perhaps over-taxing the horse's instinct to steer a safe course for the -vehicle it dragged behind it. Halfway along the block a wheel of -the hansom bumped none too gently into one of the push-carts, nearly -upsetting the latter. The hawker, with a frantic grab, saved his wares -from dis-aster-by an uncomfortably narrow margin, and, this done, hurled -an impassioned flood of lurid oratory at the two-wheeler. - -The cabman lifted his chin from his breast, stared stonily at the -hawker, slapped the reins mechanically on the roof of the cab as an -intimation to the horse to proceed, and the cab wended its way along -again. - -At the end of the block, it turned the corner, and drew up before a -small building that was nested in between two tenements. The cabman -climbed down from his perch, and stood for a moment surveying the three -gilded balls that hung over the dingy doorway, and the lettering--"Paul -Veniza. Pawnbroker"--that showed on the dully-lighted windows which -confronted him. - -He drew his hand across his eyes; then, reaching suddenly inside the -cab, lifted a bundle in his arms, and entered the shop. A man behind the -counter stared at him, and uttered a quick ejaculation. The cabman went -on into a rear room. The man from behind the counter followed. In the -rear room, a woman rose from a table where she had been sewing, and took -the bundle quickly from the cabman's arms, as it emitted a querulous -little cry. - -The cabman spoke for the first time. - -"She's dead," he said heavily. - -The woman, buxom, middle-aged, stared at him, white-faced, her eyes -filling suddenly with tears. - -"She died an hour ago," said the cabman, in the same monotonous -voice. "I thought mabbe you'd look after the baby girl for a bit, Mrs. -Veniza--you and Paul." - -"Of course!" said the woman in a choked voice. "I wanted to before, -but--but your wife wouldn't let the wee mite out of her sight." - -"She's dead now," said the cabman. "An hour ago." - -Paul Veniza, the pawnbroker, crossed to the cabman's side, and, placing -his hands on the other's shoulders, drew the man down into a chair. - -"Hawkins," he said slowly, "we're getting on in years, fifty each of us, -and we've known each other for a good many of those fifty." He cleared -his throat. "You've made a mess of things, Hawkins." - -The woman, holding the baby, started suddenly forward, a red flush -dyeing her cheeks. - -"Paul!" she cried out sharply. "How can you be so cruel at such an hour -as this?" - -The pawnbroker shook his head. He had moved to the back of the cabman's -chair. Tall, slight, grave and kindly-faced, with high forehead and the -dark hair beginning to silver at the temples, there seemed something -almost esthetic about the man. - -"It is _the_ hour," he said deliberately; "the one hour in which I must -speak plainly to my old friend, the one hour that has come into his -life which may mean everything to him." His right hand slipped from the -cabman's shoulder and started, tentatively, hesitantly, toward a bulge -in the cabman's coat pocket--but was drawn back again, and found its -place once more on the cabman's shoulder. "I was afraid, Hawkins, when -you married the young wife. I was afraid of your curse." - -The cabman's elbows were on the table; he had sunk his chin in his -hands. His blue eyes, out of a wrinkled face of wind-beaten tan, roved -around the little room, and rested finally on the bundle in the woman's -arms. - -"That's finished now," he said dully. - -"I pray God it is," said Paul Veniza earnestly; "but you said that -before--when you married the young wife." - -"It's finished now--so help me, God!" The cabman's lips scarcely moved. -He stared straight in front of him. - -There was silence in the little, plainly furnished room for a moment; -then the pawnbroker spoke again: - -"I was born here in New York, you know, after my parents came from -Italy. There was no money, nothing--only misery. I remember. It is like -that, Hawkins, isn't it, where you have just come from, and where you -have left the young wife?" - -"Paul!" his wife cried out again. "How can you say such things? It--it -is not like you!" Her lips quivered. She burst into tears, and buried -her face in the little bundle she snuggled to her breast. - -The cabman seemed curiously unmoved--as though dazed, almost detached -from his immediate surroundings. He said nothing. - -The pawnbroker's hands still rested on the cabman's shoulders, a -strange gentleness in his touch that sought somehow, it seemed, to offer -sympathy for his own merciless words. - -"I have been thinking of this for a long time, ever since we knew that -Claire could not get better," he said. "We knew you would bring the -little one here. There was no other place, except an institution. And so -I have been thinking about it. What is the little one's name?" - -The cabman shook his head. - -"She has no name," he said. - -"Shall it be Claire, then?" asked the pawnbroker gently. - -The cabman's fingers, where they rested on his cheeks, gathered a fold -of flesh and tightened until the blood fled, leaving little white spots. -He nodded his head. - -Again the pawnbroker was silent for a little while. - -"My wife and I will take little Claire--on one condition," he said at -last, gravely. "And that condition is that she is to grow up as our -child, and that, though you may come here and see her as often as you -like, she is not to know that you are her father." - -The cabman turned about a haggard face. - -"Not to know that I am her father--ever," he said huskily. - -"I did not say that," said Paul Veniza quietly. He smiled now, leaning -over the cabman. "I am a pawnbroker; this is a pawn-shop. There is a way -in which you may redeem her." - -The cabman pressed a heavy hand over his eyes. - -"What is that way?" He swallowed hard as he spoke. - -"By redeeming yourself." The pawnbroker's voice was low and earnest. -"What have you to offer her to-day, save a past that has brought only -ruin and misery? And for the future, my old friend? There is no home. -There was no home for the young wife. You said when you married Claire, -as you have said to-night, that it was all finished. But it was not -finished. And your curse was the stronger. Well, little Claire is only -a baby, and there would be years, anyhow, before just a man could take -care of her. Do you understand, my old friend? If, at the end of those -years, enough of them to make sure that you are sure of yourself, you -have changed your life and overcome your weakness, then you shall have -little Claire back again, and she shall know you as her father, and be -proud of you. But if you do not do this, then she remains with us, and -we are her parents, and you pledge me your word that it shall be so." - -There was no answer for a long time. The woman was still crying--but -more softly now. The cabman's chin had sunk into his hands again. The -minutes dragged along. Finally the cabman lifted his head, and, pushing -back his chair, stumbled to his feet. - -"God--God bless you both!" he whispered. "It's all finished now for -good, as I told you, but you are right, Paul. I--I ain't fit to have her -yet. I'll stand by the bargain." He moved blindly toward the door. - -The pawnbroker interposed. - -"Wait, Hawkins, old friend," he said. "I'll go with you. You'll need -some help back there in the tenement, some one to look after the things -that are to be done." - -The cabman shook his head. - -"Not to-night," he said in a choked way. "Leave me alone to-night." - -He moved again toward the door, and this time Paul Veniza stepped aside, -but, following, stood bareheaded in the doorway as the other clambered -to his perch on the hansom cab. - -Hawkins slapped his reins on the roof of the cab. The horse started -slowly forward. - -The drizzle had ceased; but the horse, left to his own initiative, was -still wary of the wet pavements and moved at no greater pace than a -walk. Hawkins drove with his coat collar still turned up and his chin on -his breast. - -And horse and man went aimlessly from street to street--and the night -grew late. - -And the cabman's hand reached tentatively, hesitantly, a great many -times, toward a bulge in his coat pocket, and for a great many times -was withdrawn as empty as it had set forth. And then, once, his fingers -touched a glass bottle neck... and then, not his fingers, but his -lips... and for a great many times. - -It had begun to rain again. - -The horse, as if conscious of the futility of its own movements, had -stopped, and, with head hanging, seemed to cower down as though seeking -even the slender protection of the shafts, whose ends now made half -circles above his ears. - -Something slipped from the cabman's fingers and fell with a crash to the -pavement. The cabman leaned out from his perch and stared down at the -shattered glass. - -"Broken," said the cabman vacantly. - - - - -TWENTY YEARS LATER - -|IT was silver light. Inside the reefs the water lay placid and still, -mirroring in a long, shimmering line the reflection of the full tropic -moon; beyond, ever and anon, it splashed against its coral barriers in -little crystal showers. It was a soundless night. No breeze stirred the -palms that, fringing white stretches of beach around the bay, stood out -in serene beauty, their irregular tops etched with divine artistry into -the sky-line of the night. - -Out from the shore, in that harbor which holds no sanctuary in storm, -the mail boat, dark save for her riding lights, swung at her moorings; -shoreward, the perspective altered in the moonlight until it seemed that -Mount Vaea had lowered its sturdy head that it might hover in closer -guardianship over the little town, Apia straggled in white patches along -the road. And from these white patches, which were dwellings and stores, -there issued no light. - -From a point on the shore nearest the mail boat, a figure in cotton -drawers and undershirt slipped silently into the water and disappeared. -Thereafter, at intervals, a slight ripple disturbed the surface as the -man, coming up to breathe, turned upon his back and lay with his face -exposed; for the rest he swam under water. It was as though he were in -his natural element. He swam superbly even where, there in the Islands, -all the natives were born to the sea; but his face, when visible on the -few occasions that it floated above the surface, was the face, not of a -native, but of a white man. - -And now he came up in the shadow of the steamer's hull where, near the -stern, a rope dangled over the side, almost touching the water's edge. -And for a moment he hung to the rope, motionless, listening. Then he -began to swarm upward with fine agility, without a sound, his bare feet -finding silent purchase against the iron plates of the hull. - -Halfway up he paused and listened intently again. Was that a sound as of -some one astir, the soft movement of feet on the deck above? No, there -was nothing now. Why should there be? It was very late, and Nanu, the -man who lisped, was no fool. The rope had hung from exactly that place -where, of all others, one might steal aboard without attracting the -attention of the watch. - -He went on again, and finally raised his head above the rail. The deck, -flooded with moonlight, lay white and deserted below him. He swung -himself over, dropped to the deck--and the next instant reeled back -against the rail as a rope-end, swung with brutal force, lashed across -his face, raising a welt from cheek to cheek. Half stunned, he was -still conscious that a form had sprung suddenly at him from out of the -darkness of the after alleyway, that the form was one of the vessel's -mates, that the form still swung a short rope-end that was a murderous -weapon because it was little more flexible than iron and was an inch in -thickness, and that, behind this form, other forms, big forms, Tongans -of the crew, pressed forward. - -A voice roared out, hoarse, profane, the mate's voice: - -"Thought you'd try it again, did you, you damned beachcomber? I'll teach -you! And when I find the dog that left that rope for you, I'll give -him a leaf out of the same book! You bloody waster! I'll teach you! -I'll----" - -The rope-end hissed as it cut through the air again, aiming for the -swimmer's face. But it missed its mark. Perhaps it was an illusion -of the white moonlight, lending unreality to the scene, exciting the -imagination to exaggerate the details, but the swimmer seemed to move -with incredible speed, with the lithe, terrible swiftness of a panther -in its spring. The rope-end swished through the air, missing a suddenly -lowered head by the barest fraction of an inch, and then, driven home -with lightning-like rapidity, so quick that the blows seemed as one, the -swimmer's fists swung, right and left, crashing with terrific impact to -the point of the mate's jaw. And the mate's head jolted back, quivered -grotesquely on his shoulders for an instant like a tuning fork, sagged, -and the great bulk of the man collapsed and sprawled inertly on the -deck. - -There was a shuffle of feet from the alleyway, cries. The swimmer swung -to face the expected rush, and it halted, hesitant. It gave him time to -spring and stand erect upon the steamer's rail. On the upper deck faces -and forms began to appear. A man in pajamas leaned far out and peered at -the scene. - -There was a shout from out of the dark, grouped throng in the alleyway; -it was chorused. The rush came on again for the rail; and the dripping -figure that stood there, with the first sound that he had made--a laugh, -half bitter, half of cool contempt--turned, and with a clean dive took -the water again and disappeared. - -Presently he reached the shore. There were more than riding lights out -there on the steamer now. He gave one glance in that direction, shrugged -his shoulders, and started off along the road. At times he raised his -hand to brush it across his face where the welt, raw and swollen now, -was a dull red sear. He walked neither fast nor slow. - -The moonlight caught the dripping figure now and then in the open -spaces, and seemed to peer inquisitively at the great breadth of -shoulder, and the rippling play of muscle under the thin cotton drawers -and shirt, which, wet and clinging, almost transparent, scarce hid the -man's nakedness; and at the face, that of a young man, whose square jaw -was locked, whose gray eyes stared steadily along the road, and over -whose forehead, from the drenched, untrimmed mass of fair hair, the -brine trickled in little rivulets as though persistent in its effort -to torture with its salt caress the raw, skin-broken flesh across the -cheeks. - -Then presently a point of land ran out, and, the road ignoring this, the -bay behind was shut out from view. And presently again, farther on, the -road came to a long white stretch of beach on the one hand, and foliage -and trees on the other. And here the dripping figure halted and stood -hesitant as though undecided between the moonlit stretch of sand, and -the darkness of a native hut that was dimly outlined amongst the trees -on the other side of the road. - -After a moment he made his way to the hut and, groping around, secured -some matches and a box of cigarettes. He spoke into the empty blackness. - -"You lose, Nanu," he muttered whimsically. "They wouldn't stand water -and I left them for you. But now, you see, I'm back again, after all." - -He lighted a cigarette, and in the flame of the match stared -speculatively at the small, broken pieces of coral that made the floor -of the hut, and equally, by the addition of a thin piece of native -matting, his bed. - -"The sand is softer," he said with a grim drawl. - -He went out from the hut, crossed the road, flung himself upon his back -on the beach, and clasped his hands behind his head. The smoke from his -cigarette curled languidly upward in wavering spirals, and he stared for -a long time at the moon. - -"Moon madness," he said at last. "They say if you look long enough the -old boy does you in." - -The cigarette finished, he flung the stub away. After a time, he raised -his head and listened. A moment later he lay back again full length on -the sand. The sound of some one's footsteps coming rapidly along the -road from the direction of the town was now unmistakably audible. - -"The jug for mine, I guess," observed the young man to the moon. -"Probably a file of native constabulary in bare feet that you can't hear -bringing up the rear!" - -The footsteps drew nearer, until, still some distance away, the -white-clad figure of a man showed upon the tree-fringed road. The -sprawled figure on the beach made no effort toward flight, and less -toward concealment. With a sort of studied insolence injected into his -challenge, he stuck another cigarette between his lips and deliberately -allowed full play to the flare of the match. - -The footsteps halted abruptly. Then, in another moment, they crunched -upon the sand, and a tall man, with thin, swarthy face, a man of perhaps -forty or forty-five, who picked assiduously at his teeth with a quill -toothpick, stood over the recumbent figure. - -"Found you, have I?" he grunted complacently. - -"If you like to put it that way," said the young man indifferently. He -raised himself on his elbow again, and stared toward the road. "Where's -the army?" he inquired. - -The tall man allowed the point of the quill toothpick to flex and strike -back against his teeth. The sound was distinctive. _Tck!_ He ignored the -question. - -"When the mate came out of dreamland," he said, "he lowered a boat and -came ashore to lay a complaint against you." - -"I can't say I'm surprised," admitted the young man. "I suppose I am -to go with you quietly and make no trouble or it will be the worse for -me--I believe that's the usual formula, isn't it?" - -The man with the quill toothpick sat down on the sand. He appeared to be -absorbed for a moment in a contemplation of his surroundings. - -"These tropic nights are wonderful, aren't they? Kind of get you." -He plied the quill toothpick industriously. "I'm a passenger on the -steamer, and I came ashore with the mate. He's gone back--without laying -the complaint. There's always a way of fixing things--even injured -feelings. One of the native boat's-crew said he knew where you were to -be found. He's over there." He jerked his head in the direction of the -road. - -The young man sat bolt upright. - -"I don't get you," he said slowly, "except that you are evidently not -personifying the majesty of the law. What's the idea?" - -"Well," said the other, "I had three reasons for coming. The first was -that I thought I recognized you yesterday when they threw you off the -steamer, and was sure of it to-night when--I am a light sleeper--I came -out on the upper deck at the sound of the row and saw you take your -departure from the vessel for the second time." - -"I had no idea," said the young man caustically, "that I was so well -known. Are you quite sure you haven't made a mistake?" - -"Quite!" asserted the other composedly. "Of course, I am not prepared -to say what your present name is--you may have considered a change -beneficial--so I will not presume in that respect. But you are, or were, -a resident of San Francisco. You were very nice people there. I have -no knowledge of your mother, except that I understand she died in your -infancy. A few years ago your father died and left you, not a fortune, -but quite a moderate amount of money. I believe the pulpits designate -it as a 'besetting sin.' You had one--gambling. The result was that you -traveled the road a great many other young men have traveled; the only -difference being that, in so far as I am competent to speak, you -hold the belt for speed and all-round proficiency. You went utterly, -completely and whole-heartedly to hell." - -The tall man became absorbed again in his surroundings. "And I take it," -he said presently, "that in spite of the won became absorbed again in -his surroundings. And I take it," he said presently, "that in spite of -the wonders of a tropic night, you are still there." - -The young man shrugged his shoulders. - -"You have put it very delicately," he said, with a grim smile. "I'm -sorry, but I am obliged to confess that the recognition isn't mutual. -Would you mind telling me who you are?" - -"We'll get to that in due course," said the other. "My second reason was -that it appeared to me to be logical to suppose that, having once -been the bona fide article, you could readily disguise yourself as a -gentleman again, and your interpretation of the rôle would be beyond -suspicion or----" - -"By God!" The welt across the young man's face grew suddenly white, as -though the blood had fled from it to suffuse his temples. He half rose, -staring levelly into the other's eyes. - -The tall man apparently was quite undisturbed. - -"And the third reason is that I have been looking for just such a--there -really isn't any other word--gentleman, providing he was possessed -of another and very essential characteristic. You possess that -characteristic in a most marked degree. Your actions tonight are -unmistakable evidence that you have nerve." - -"It strikes me that you've got a little of it yourself," observed the -young man evenly. - -The quill toothpick under the adroit guidance of his tongue traveled -from the left- to the right-hand side of the other's mouth. - -"It is equally as essential to me," he said dryly. "You appear to fill -the bill; but there is always the possibility of a fly in the ointment; -complications--er--unpleasant complications, perhaps, you know, -that might have arisen since you left San Francisco, and that -might--er--complicate matters." - -The young man relapsed into a recumbent position upon the sand, his -hands clasped under his head again, and in his turn appeared to be -absorbed in the beauty of the night. - -"Moon-madness!" he murmured pityingly. - -"A myth!" said the tall man promptly. "Would you mind sketching in -roughly the details of your interesting career since you left the haunts -of the aristocracy?" - -"I don't see any reason why I should." The young man yawned. - -"Do you see any reason why you shouldn't?" inquired the other -composedly. - -"None," said the young man, "except that the steamer sails at daybreak, -and I should never forgive myself if you were left behind." - -"Nor forgive yourself, perhaps, if you failed to sail on her as a -first-class passenger," said the tall man quietly. - -"What?" ejaculated the young man sharply. - -The other shrugged his shoulders. - -"It depends on the story," he said. - -"I--I don't understand." The young man frowned. "There's a chance for me -to get aboard the mail boat?" - -"It depends on the story," said the other again. - -"Moon-mad!" murmured the young man once more, after a moment's silence. -"But it's cheap at the price, for it's not much of a story. Beginning -where you left off in my biography, I ducked when the crash came in San -Francisco, and having arrived in hell, as you so delicately put it, I -started out to explore. Mr. Dante had it right--there's no use stopping -in the suburbs. I lived a while in his last circle. It's too bad he -never knew the 'Frisco water-front; it would have fired his imagination! -I'm not sure, though, but Honolulu's got a little on 'Frisco, at that! -Luck was out. I was flat on my back when I got a chance to work my way -out to Honolulu. One place was as good as another by then." - -The young man lit a cigarette, and stared at the glowing tip -reminiscently with his gray eyes. - -"You said something about gambling," he went on; "but you didn't say -enough. It's a disease, a fever that sets your blood on fire, and makes -your life kind of delirious, I guess--if you get it chronic. I guess I -was born with it. I remember when I was a kid I--but I forgot, pardon -me, the mail boat sails at daybreak." - -"Go as far as you like," said the tall man, picking at his teeth with -the quill toothpick. - -The young man shook his head. - -"Honolulu is the next stopping place," he said. "On the way out I picked -up a few odd dollars from my fellow-members of the crew, and----" - -"Tck!" It was the quill toothpick. - -The young man's eyes narrowed, and his jaw set challengingly. - -"Whatever else I've done," he stated in a significant monotone, "I've -never played crooked. It was on the level." - -"Of course," agreed the tall man hastily. - -"I sat in with the only stakes I had," said the young man, still -monotonously. "A bit of tobacco, a rather good knife that I've got yet, -and a belt that some one took a fancy to as being worth half a dollar." - -"Certainly! Of course!" reiterated the tall man in haste. - -The quill toothpick was silent. - -"A pal of mine, one of the stokers, said he knew of a good place to play -in Honolulu where there was a square deal," continued the young man; -"so, a night or so after we reached there, we got shore leave and -started off. Perhaps you know that part of Honolulu. I don't. I didn't -see much of it. I know there's some queer dumps, and queer doings, and -the scum of every nationality under the sun to run up against. And I -know it was a queer place my mate steered me into. It was faro. The -box was run by an old Chinaman who looked as though he were trying to -impersonate one of his ancestors, he was so old. My mate and I formed -the English-speaking community. There were a Jap or two, and a couple of -pleasant-looking cutthroats who cursed in Spanish, and a Chink lying on -a bunk rolling his pill. Oh, yes, the place stunk! Every once in a while -the door opened and some other Godforsaken piece of refuse drifted in. -By midnight we had a full house of pretty bad stuff. - -"It ended in a row, of course. Some fool of a tout came in chaperoning -a party of three men, who were out to see the sights; they were -passengers, I found out later, from one of the ships in port. I don't -know what started the rumpus; some private feud, I guess. The first -thing I knew one of the Spaniards had a knife out and had jumped for the -tout. It was a free-for-all in a minute. I saw the tout go down, and he -didn't look good, and the place suddenly struck me as a mighty unhealthy -place to be found in on that account. The stoker and I started to fight -our way through the jam to the door. There was a row infernal. I guess -you could have heard it a mile away. Anyway, before we could break from -the clinches, as it were, the police were fighting their way in just as -eagerly as we were fighting our way out. - -"I didn't like the sight of that tout lying on the floor, or the thought -of what might happen in the police court the next morning if I were one -of the crowd to adorn the dock. And things weren't going very well. The -police were streaming in through the doorway. And then I caught sight of -something I hadn't seen before because it had previously been hidden by -a big Chinese screen--one of those iron-shuttered windows they seem so -fond of down there. Things weren't very rosy just at that moment because -about the worst hell-cat scramble on record was being made a little -worse by some cheerful maniac starting a bit of revolver practice, but I -remember that I couldn't help laughing to save my soul. In the mêlée one -of the folding wings of the screen had suddenly doubled up, and, -besides the window, I saw hiding behind there for dear life, his -face pasty-white with terror, a very courageous gentleman--one of the -rubbernecks who had come in with the tout. He was too scared, I imagine, -even to have the thought of tackling such formidable things as iron -shutters enter his head. I yelled to the stoker to get them open, and -tried to form a sort of rear guard for him while he did it. Then I heard -them creak on their hinges, and heard him shout. I made a dash for it, -but I wasn't quite quick enough. One of the policemen grabbed me, but -I was playing in luck then. I got in a fortunate swing and he went down -for the count. I remember toppling the screen and the man behind it -over on the floor as I jumped sideways for the window; and I remember a -glimpse of his terrorized face, his eyes staring at me, his mouth wide -open, as I took a headlong dive over the window sill. The stoker picked -me up, and we started on the run. - -"The police were scrambling through the window after us. I didn't need -to be told that there wouldn't be a happy time ahead if I were caught. -Apart from that tout who, though I had nothing to do with it, gave the -affair a very serious aspect, I was good for the limit on the statute -books for resisting arrest in the first place, and for knocking out an -officer in the second. But the stoker knew his way about. We gave -the police the slip, and a little later on we landed up in a sailors' -boarding-house run by a one-eyed cousin of Satan, known as Lascar Joe. -We lay there hidden while the tout got better, and the Spanish hidalgo -got sent up for a long term for murderous assault. Finally Lascar Joe -slipped the stoker aboard some ship; and a week or so later he slipped -me, the transfer being made in the night, aboard a frowsy tramp, bound -for New Zealand." - -The young man paused, evidently inviting comment. - -"Go on," prompted the man with the quill toothpick softly. - -"There isn't very much more," said the young man. He laughed shortly. -"As far as I know I'm the sole survivor from that tramp. She never got -to New Zealand; and that's how I got here to Samoa. She went down in -a hurricane. I was washed ashore on one of this group of islands about -forty or fifty miles from here. I don't know much about the details; I -was past knowing anything when the bit of wreckage on which I had lashed -myself days before came to port. There weren't any--I was going to say -white people on the island, but I'm wrong about that. The Samoans are -about the whitest people on God's green earth. I found that out. There -were only natives on that island. I lived with them for about two -months, and I got to be pretty friendly with them, especially the old -fellow who originally picked me up half drowned and unconscious on the -beach, and who took me into the bosom of his family. Then the missionary -boat came along, and I came back with it to Apia here." - -The young man laughed again suddenly, a jarring note in his mirth. - -"I don't suppose you've heard that original remark about the world -being such a small place after all! I figured that back here in Apia a -shipwrecked and destitute white man would get the glad hand and at least -a chance to earn his stake. Maybe he would ordinarily; but I didn't. I -hadn't said anything to the missionary about that Honolulu escapade, and -I was keeping it dark when I got here and started to tell the shipwreck -end of my story over again. Queer, isn't it? Lined up in about the first -audience I had was the gentleman with the pasty face that I had toppled -over with the screen in the old Chink's faro dump. He was one of the big -guns here, and had been away on a pleasure trip, and Honolulu had been -on his itinerary. That settled it. The missionary chap spoke up a bit -for me, I'll give him credit for that, though I had a hunch he was going -to use that play as an opening wedge in an effort to reform me later on. -But I had my fingers crossed. The whites here turned their backs on me, -and I turned my back on the missionary. That's about all there was to -it. That was about two weeks ago, and for those two weeks I've lived in -another of Mr. Dante's delightful circles." - -He sat suddenly upright, a clenched fist flung outward. - -"Not a cent! Not a damned sou-marquee! Nothing but this torn shirt, and -what's left of these cotton pants! Hell!" - -He lay back on the sand quite as suddenly again, and fell to laughing -softly. - -"Tck!" It was the quill toothpick. - -"But at that," said the young man, "I'm not sure you could call me -a cynic, though the more I see of my own breed as compared with the -so-called heathen the less I think of--my own breed! I still had a card -up my sleeve. I had a letter of introduction to a real gentleman and -landed proprietor here. His name was Nanu, and he gave me his house to -live in, and made me free of his taro and his breadfruit and all his -worldly possessions; and it was the old native who took care of me on -the other island that gave me the letter. It was a queer sort of letter, -too--but never mind that now. - -"Splendid isolation! That's me for the last two weeks as a cross between -a pariah and a mangy cur! What amazes me most is myself. The gentleman -of the Chinese screen is still in the land of the living and walking -blithely around. Funny, isn't it? That's one reason I was crazy to get -away--before anything happened to him." The tanned fist closed fiercely -over a handful of sand, then opened and allowed the grains to trickle -slowly through the fingers, and its owner laughed softly again. "I've -lived through hell here in those two weeks. I guess we're only built to -stand so much. I was about at the end of my rope when the mail steamer -put in yesterday. I hope I haven't idealized my sojourn here in a way -that would cause you to minimize my necessity for getting away, no -matter to where or by what means! Nanu and I went out to the ship in his -outrigger. Perhaps I would have had better luck if I had run into any -other than the particular mate I did. I don't know. I offered to work my -passage. Perhaps my fame had already gone abroad--or aboard. He invited -me to make another excursion into Dante-land. But when he turned his -back on me I slipped below, and tucked myself in behind some of the -copra sacks they were loading. Once the steamer was away I was away -with her, and I was willing to take what was coming. But I didn't get a -chance. I guess the mate was sharper than I gave him credit for. After -about four hours of heat and stink down there below decks that I had to -grit my teeth to stand, he hauled me out as though he knew I had been -there all the time. I was thrown off the steamer. - -"But I wasn't through. Steamers do not call here every day. I wonder -if you'll know what I mean when I say I was beginning to be afraid of -myself and what might happen if I had to stick it out much longer? That -mangy cur I spoke of had me lashed to the mast from a social standpoint. -I tried it again--to-night. Nanu fixed it for me with one of the crew to -hang that rope over the side, and--well, I believe you said you had seen -what happened. I believe you said, too, that a chance still existed of -my sailing with the mail boat, depending upon my story." He laughed a -little raucously. "I hope it's been interesting enough to bail me out; -anyway, that's all of it." - -The tall man sat for a moment in silence. - -"Yes," he said at last; "I am quite satisfied. Dressed as a gentleman, -with money in your pockets, and such other details as go with the rôle, -you would never be associated with that affair in Honolulu. As a matter -of fact your share in it was not so serious that the police would dog -you all over the world on account of it. In other words, and what really -interests me, is that you are not what is commonly designated as a -'wanted' man. Yes, I may say I am thoroughly satisfied." - -The young man yawned and stretched himself. - -"I'm delighted to hear it. I haven't any packing to do. Shall we stroll -back to the ship?" - -"I hope so." The quill toothpick was busy again. "The decision -rests with you. I am not a philanthropist. I am about to offer you a -situation--to fill which I have been searching a good many years to find -some one who had the necessary qualifications. I am satisfied you are -that man. You do not know me; you do not know my name, and though you -have already asked what it is, I shall still withhold that information -until your decision has been given. If you agree, I will here and now -sign a contract with you to which we will both affix our bona fide -signatures; if you refuse, we will shake hands and part as friends and -strangers who have been--shall we use your expression?--moon-mad under -the influence of the wonders of a tropic night." - -"Something tells me," said the young man softly, "that the situation is -not an ordinary one." - -"And you are right," replied the other quietly. "It is not only not -ordinary, but is, I think I may safely say, absolutely unique and -without its counterpart. I might mention in passing that I am not in -particularly good health, and the sea voyage I was ordered to take -explains my presence here. I am the sole owner of one of the largest, -if not the largest, business enterprises in America; certainly its -turn-over, at least, is beyond question the biggest on the American -continent. I have establishments in every city of any size in both the -United States and Canada--and even in Mexico. The situation I offer you -is that of my confidential representative. No connection whatever will -be known to exist between us; your title will be that of a gentleman of -leisure--but your duties will be more arduous. I regret to say that in -many cases I fear my local managers are not--er--making accurate returns -to me, and they are very hard to check up. I would require you to travel -from place to place as a sort of, say, secret inspector of branches, -and furnish me with the inside information from the lack of which my -business at present, I am afraid, is suffering severely." - -"And that business?" The young man had raised himself to his elbow on -the sand. - -"The one that is nearest to your heart," said the tall man calmly. -"Gambling." - -The young man leaned slowly forward, staring at the other. - -"I wonder if I quite get you?" he said. - -"I am sure you do." The tall man smiled. "My business is a chain of -select and exclusive gambling houses where only high play is indulged -in, and whose clientele is the richest in the land." - -The young man rose to his feet, walked a few steps away along the beach, -and came back again. - -"You're devilishly complimentary!" he flung out, with a short laugh. "As -I understand it, then, the price I am to pay for getting away from here -is the pawning of my soul?" - -"Have you anything else to pawn?" inquired the other--and the quill -toothpick punctuated the remark: "Tck!" - -"No," said the young man, with a twisted smile. "And I'm not sure I've -got that left! I am beginning to have a suspicion that it was in your -'branch' at San Francisco that I lost my money." - -"You did," said the other coolly. "That is how I came to know you. -Though not personally in evidence in the 'house' itself, San Francisco -is my home, and my information as to what goes on there at least is -fairly accurate." - -The young man resumed his pacing up and down the sand. - -"And I might add," said the tall man after a moment, "that from a point -of ethics I see little difference in the moral status between one who -comes to gamble and one who furnishes the other with the opportunity to -do so. You are perhaps hesitating to take the hurdle on that account?" - -"Moral status!" exclaimed the young man sharply. He halted abruptly -before the other. "No--at least I am not a hypocrite! What right have I -to quarrel with moral status?" - -"Very well, then," said the other; "I will go farther. I will give you -everything in life that you desire. You will live as a gentleman of -wealth surrounded by every luxury that money can procure, for that is -your rôle. You may gamble to your heart's content, ten, twenty, fifty -thousand a night--in my houses. You will travel the length and breadth -of America. I will pay every expense. There is nothing that you may not -have, nothing that you may not do." - -The young man was silent for a full minute then, with his hands dug in -his pockets, he fell to whistling under his breath very softly--but very -deliberately. - -An almost sinister smile spread over the tall man's lips as he listened. - -"If I am not mistaken," he observed dryly, "that is the aria from -Faust." - -"Yes," said the young man--and stared the other in the eye. "It is the -aria from Faust." - -The tall man nodded--but now his lips were straight. - -"I accept the rôle of Mephistopheles, then," he said softly. "Doctor -Faustus, you know, signed the bond." - -The young man squatted on the sand again. His face was curiously white; -only the ugly welt, dull red, across his cheeks, like the mark of some -strange branding-iron, held color. - -"Then, draw it!" he said shortly. "And be damned to you!" - -The tall man took a notebook and a fountain pen from his pocket. He -wrote rapidly, tore out the leaf, and on a second leaf made a copy of -the first. This, too, he tore out. - -"I will read it," he said. "You will observe that no names are -mentioned; that I have still reserved the privilege of keeping my -identity in abeyance until the document is signed. This is what I have -written: _For good and valid consideration the second signatory to -this contract hereby enters unreservedly into the employ of the first -signatory for a period which shall include the lifetime of one or -other of the undersigned, or until such time as this agreement may be -dissolved either by mutual consent or at the will of the first signatory -alone. And the first signatory to this contract agrees to maintain -the second signatory in a station in life commensurate with that of a -gentleman of wealth irrespective of expense, and further to pay to the -second signatory as a stated salary the sum of one thousand dollars a -month._" He looked up. "Shall I sign?" - -"Body and soul," murmured the young man. He appeared to be fascinated -with the restless movement of the quill toothpick in the other's -mouth. "Have you another toothpick you could let me have?" he inquired -casually. - -The tall man mechanically thrust his fingers into his vest pocket; and -then, as though but suddenly struck with the irrelevancy, and perhaps -facetiousness, of the request, frowned as he found himself handing over -the article in question. - -"Shall I sign?" His tone was sterner. "It is understood that the -signatures are to be bona fide and----" - -"Yes, sign it. It is quite understood." The young man spoke without -looking up. He seemed to be engrossed in carefully slitting the point of -the quill toothpick he had acquired with his knife. - -The other signed both sheets from the notebook. - -The young man accepted the two slips of paper, but refused the proffered -fountain pen. In the moonlight he read the other's signature: Gilbert -Larmon. His lips tightened a little. It was a big name in San Francisco, -a name of power. Few dreamed perhaps where the sinews of that power came -from! He drew from his pocket a small bottle, uncorked it, dipped in -the quill toothpick, and with his improvised pen wrote with a rasping, -spluttering noise beneath the other's signature on each of the two slips -of paper. One of these slips he returned to the other--but beneath the -tall man's signature there was no mark of any kind whatever. - -Through narrowing eyes the tall man had been watching, and now his face -darkened ominously, and there was something of deadly coolness in his -voice as he spoke. - -"What tomfoolery is this?" he demanded evenly. - -"No; it's quite all right," said the young man placidly. "Just a whim -of mine. I can't seem to get that Doctor Faustus thing out of my head. -According to the story, I think, he signed in a drop of blood--and I -thought I'd carry a sort of analogy along a bit. That stuff's all right. -I got it from my old native friend on that island I was telling you -about. It's what my letter of introduction to Nanu was written with. -And--well, at least, I guess it stands for the drop of blood, all right! -Take it down there to the shore and dip that part of the paper in the -salt water." - -The tall man made no answer. For a moment he remained staring with -grim-set features at the other, then he got up, walked sharply to the -water's edge, and, bending down, moistened the lower portion of the -paper. He held it up to the moonlight. Heavy black letters were slowly -taking form just beneath his own signature. Presently he walked back up -the beach to the young man, and held out his hand. - -"Let us get back to the ship--John Bruce," he said. - - - - -CHAPTER ONE--ALADDIN'S LAMP - -|JOHN BRUCE, stretched at full length on a luxurious divan in the most -sumptuous apartment of the Bayne-Miloy, New York's newest and most -pretentious hostelry, rose suddenly to his feet and switched off the -lights. The same impulse carried him in a few strides to the window. The -night was still, and the moon rode high and full. It was the same moon -that, three months ago, he had stared at from the flat of his back -on the beach at Apia. A smile, curiously tight, and yet curiously -whimsical, touched his lips. If it had been "moon-madness" that had -fallen upon the gambler king and himself that night, it had been a -madness that was strangely free in its development from hallucination! -That diagnosis no longer held. It would be much more apposite to lay it -bluntly to the door of--Mephistopheles! From the moment he had boarded -the mail steamer he had lived as a man possessed of unlimited wealth, -as a man with unlimited funds always in his possession or at his instant -command. - -He whistled softly. It was, though, if not moon-madness, perhaps the -moon, serene and full up there as it had been that other night, which he -had been watching from the divan a few moments before, that had sent his -mind scurrying backward over those intervening months. And yet, perhaps -not; for there would come often enough, as now, moments of mind groping, -yes, even the sense of hallucination, when he was not quite sure but -that a certain bubble, floating at one moment in dazzlingly iridescent -beauty before his eyes, would dissolve the next into blank nothingness, -and---- Well, what would it be then? Another beach at some Apia, until -another Mephistopheles, in some other guise, came to play up against his -rôle of Doctor Faustus again? - -He looked sharply behind him around the darkened room, whose darkness -did not hide its luxury. His shoulder brushed the heavy silken portière -at his side; his fingers touched a roll of banknotes in his pocket, -a generous roll, whose individual units were of denominations more -generous still. These were realities! - -Mephistopheles at play! He had left Larmon at Suva, Fiji. Thereafter, -their ways and their lives lay apart--outwardly. Actually, even here -in New York with the continent between them, for Larmon had resumed -his life in which he played the rôle of a benevolent and retired man of -wealth in San Francisco, they were in constant and extremely intimate -touch with each other. - -A modern Mephistopheles! Two men only in the world knew Gilbert Larmon -for what he was! One other besides himself! And that other was a man -named Maldeck, Peter Maldeck. But only one man knew him, John Bruce, in -his new rôle, and that was Gilbert Larmon. Maldeck was the manager of -the entire ring of gambling houses, and likewise the clearing house -through which the profits flowed into Larmon's coffers; but to Maldeck, -he, John Bruce, was exactly what he appeared to be to the world at -large, and to the local managers of the gambling houses in particular--a -millionaire plunger to whom gambling was as the breath of life. The -"inspector of branches" dealt with Gilbert Larmon alone, and dealt -confidentially and secretively over Maldeck's head--even that invisible -writing fluid supplied by the old Samoan Islander playing its part when -found necessary, for it had been agreed between Larmon and himself that -even the most innocent appearing document received from him, John Bruce, -should be subjected to the salt water test; and he had, indeed, already -used it in several of the especially confidential reports that he had -sent Larmon on some of the branches. - -He shrugged his shoulders. The whole scheme of his changed existence -had all been artfully simple--and superbly efficient. He was under no -necessity to explain the source of his wealth except in his native city, -San Francisco, where he was known--and San Francisco was outside -his jurisdiction. With both Larmon and Maldeck making that their -headquarters, other supervision of the local "branch" was superfluous; -elsewhere, his wealth was inherited--that was all. So, skipping San -Francisco, he had come leisurely eastward, gambling for a week or -two weeks, as the case might be, in the various cities, following as -guidance apparently but the whim of his supposedly roué inclinations, -and he had lost a lot of money--which would eventually find its way -back to its original source in the pockets of Gilbert Larmon, via the -clearing house conducted by Peter Maldeck. It was extremely simple--but, -equally, extremely systematic. The habitues of every branch were -carefully catalogued. He had only--and casually--to make the -acquaintance of one of these in each city, and, in turn, quite -inevitably, would follow an introduction to the local "house"; and, once -introduced, the entrée, then or on any subsequent visit to that city, -was an established fact. - -John Bruce laughed suddenly, softly, out into the night. It had been -a good bargain that he had made with Mephistopheles! Wealth, luxury, -everything he desired in life was his. On the trail behind him in the -cities he had already visited he had nightly lost or won huge sums of -money until he had become known as the millionaire plunger. It was quite -true that, in as much as the money, whether lost or won, but passed from -his right- to his left-hand pocket--the pockets being represented by -one Gilbert Larmon--the gambler craving within him was but ill -served, almost in a sense mocked; but that phase of it had sunk into -insignificance. The whole idea was a gigantic gamble--a gamble with -life. The whole fabric was of texture most precarious. It exhilarated -him. Excitement, adventure, yes, even peril, beckoned alluringly and -always from around the corner just ahead. He stood against the police; -he stood a very excellent chance of being discovered some morning minus -his life if the men he was set to watch, and who now fawned upon him and -treated him with awe and an unholy admiration, should get an inkling of -his real identity and his real purpose in their houses! - -He yawned, and as though glorying in his own strength flexed his great -shoulders, and stretched his arms to their full length above his head. -God, it was life! It made of him a superman. He had no human ties to -bind him; no restraint to know; no desire that could not be satiated. -The past was wiped away. It was like some reincarnation in which he -stood supreme above his fellow men, and they bowed to their god. And he -was their god. And if he but nodded approval they would lie, and cheat, -and steal, and commit murder in their greed of worship, they whose souls -were in pawn to their god! - -He turned suddenly from the window, switched on the lights, drew from -his pocket a great sum of money in banknotes, and stood staring at it. -There were thousands in his hand. Thousands and thousands! Money! The -one universally-orthodox god! For but one of these pieces of paper in -his hand he could command what he would, play upon human passions at his -whim, and like puppets on a stage of his own setting move the followers -of the Great Creed, that were numbered in their millions, at his will! -It was only over the few outcasts, the unbelievers, that he held no -sway. But he could afford to ignore the minority! Was he not indeed a -god? - -And it had cost him nothing. Only the pawning of his soul; and, like -Faustus, the day of settlement was afar off. Only the signing of a bond -that postulated a denial of what he had already beforehand held in light -esteem--a code of canting morals. It was well such things were out of -the way! Life stretched the fuller, the rosier, the more red-blooded -before him on that account. He was well content. The future lured him. -Nor was it money alone. There was the spice of adventure, the battle -of wits, hardly inaugurated yet, between himself and those whose -underground methods were the _raison d'être_ of his own magically -enhanced circumstances. - -John Bruce replaced the money in his pocket abruptly, and frowned. That -was something, from still another standpoint, which he could not afford -to lose sight of. He had to justify his job. Gilbert Larmon had stated -that he was not a philanthropist, and it was written in the bond that -Larmon could terminate the agreement at will. Yes, and that was -queer, tool What kind of a man was Larmon? He knew Larmon, as Larmon -superficially subjected himself to inspection and speculation; but -he was fully aware that he did not know Larmon the man. There seemed -something almost sinister in its inconsistency that Larmon should at one -and the same time reserve the right to terminate that bond at will while -his very signature upon it furnished a weapon which, if he, John Bruce, -chose to use it, placed the other at his mercy. What kind of a man was -Larmon? No fool, no weak-ling--that was certain. And yet at a word he, -John Bruce, could tear the other from the pseudorighteous pedestal upon -which he posed, strip the other naked of the garments that clothed his -criminal activities, and destroy utterly the carefully reared structure -of respectability that Larmon had built up around himself. It might be -very true that he, John Bruce, would never use such a weapon, even under -provocation; but Larmon could not be sure of that. How then did Larmon -reconcile his reservation to terminate the contract at will and yet -furnish his co-signatory with the means of black-mailing him into a -continuance of it? What kind of a man was Larmon? What would he be like -with his back to the wall? What _other_ reservation had been in Larmon's -mind when he had drawn that bond? - -And then a queer and bitter smile came to John Bruce's lips. The god -of money! Was he so sure that he was the god and not the worshiper? Was -that it? Was that what Larmon counted upon?--that only a fool would risk -the sacrifice of the Aladdin's lamp that had been thrust into his -hands, and that only a fool but would devote body and soul to Larmon's -interests under the circumstances! - -The smile grew whimsical. It was complimentary in a sense. It was based -on the premise that he, John Bruce, was not a fool. He shrugged his -shoulders. Well, therein Larmon was right. It would not be his, John -Bruce's, fault if anything short of death terminated the bond which had -originated that tropic night on the moon-lit beach in Samoa three months -ago! - -He looked at his watch. It was nine o'clock. It was still early for -play; but it was not so early that his arrival in the New York "branch," -where he had been a constant visitor for the last four nights, could -possibly arouse any suspicion, and one's opportunities for inside -observation were very much better when the play was desultory and but -few present than in the crowded rooms of the later hours. - -"If I were in England now," said John Bruce, addressing the chandelier, -as he put on a light coat over his evening clothes, "I couldn't get away -with this without a man to valet me--and at times, though he might be -useful, he might be awkward. Damned awkward! But in America you do, or -you don't, as you please--and I don't!" - - - - -CHAPTER TWO--THE MILLIONAIRE PLUNGER - -|JOHN BRUCE left the hotel and entered a taxi. A little later, in -that once most fashionable section of New York, in the neighborhood of -Gramercy Square, he was admitted to a stately mansion by a white-haired -negro butler, who bowed obsequiously. - -Thereafter, for a little while, John Bruce wandered leisurely from room -to room in the magnificently appointed house, where in the rich carpets -the sound of footsteps was lost, where bronzes and paintings, exquisite -in their art, charmed the eye, where soft-toned draperies and portières -were eloquent of refinement and good taste; he paused for a moment at -the threshold of the supper room, whose table was a profusion of every -delicacy to tempt the palate, where wines of a vintage that was almost -priceless were to be had at no greater cost than the effort required -to lift a beckoning finger to the smiling ebony face of old Jake, the -attendant. And here John Bruce extended a five-dollar bill, but shook -his head as the said Jake hastened toward him. Later, perhaps, he might -revisit the room--when a few hours' play had dimmed the recollection of -his recent dinner, and his appetite was again sharpened. - -In the card rooms there were, as yet, scarcely any "guests." He chatted -pleasantly with the "dealers"--John Bruce, the millionaire plunger, -was _persona grata_, almost effusively so, everywhere in the house. -Lavergne, the manager, as Parisian as he was immaculate from the tips of -his patent-leathers to the tips of his waxed mustache, joined him; and -for ten minutes, until the other was called away, John Bruce proceeded -to nourish the already extremely healthy germ of intimacy that, from the -first meeting, he had planted between them. - -With the manager's million apologies for the unpardonable act of tearing -himself away still sounding in his ears, John Bruce placidly resumed -his wanderings. The New York "branch," which being interpreted meant -Monsieur Henri de Lavergne, the exquisite little manager, was heavily -underscored on Gilbert Larmon's black-list! - -The faint, musical whir of the little ivory ball from the roulette table -caught John Bruce's attention, and he strolled in that direction. Here -a "guest" was already at play. The croupier smiled as John Bruce -approached the table. John Bruce smiled pleasantly in return, and sat -down. After a moment, he began to make small five-dollar bets on the -"red." His fellow-player was plunging heavily--and losing. Also, the man -was slightly under the influence of liquor. The croupier's voice droned -through half a dozen plays. John Bruce continued to make five-dollar -bets. The little by-play interested him. He knew the signs. - -His fellow-player descended to the supper room for another drink, it -being against the rules of the house to serve anything in the gambling -rooms. The croupier laughed as he glanced at the retreating figure and -then at another five-dollar bet that John Bruce pushed upon the "red." - -"He'll rob you of your reputation, Mr. Bruce, if you don't look out!" -the croupier smiled quizzically. "Are you finding a thrill in playing -the minimum for a change?" - -"Just feeling my way." John Bruce returned the smile. "It's a bit early -yet, isn't it?" - -The other player returned. He continued to bet heavily. He made another -excursion below stairs. Other "guests" drifted into the room, and the -play became more general. - -John Bruce increased his stakes slightly, quite indifferent naturally as -to whether he lost or won--since he could neither lose nor win. He was -sitting beside the player he had originally joined at the table, and -suddenly his interest in the other became still more enlivened. The man, -after a series of disastrous plays, was palpably broke, for he snatched -off a large diamond ring from his finger and held it out to the -croupier. - -"Give me--hic!--somethin' on that," he hiccoughed. "Might as well make a -clean-up, eh?" - -The croupier took the ring, examined it critically for an instant, and -handed it back. - -"I'm sorry," he said; "but you know the rules of the house. I couldn't -advance anything on it if it were worth a million. But the stone's -valuable, all right. You'd better take a trip to Persia." - -The man replaced the ring with some difficulty upon his finger, and -stared owlishly at the croupier. - -"T' hell with your--hic!--trip to Persia!" he said thickly. "Don't like -Persia! Been--hic!--there before! Guess I'll go home!" - -The man negotiated his way to the door; the game went on. John Bruce -began to increase his stakes materially. A trip to Persia! What, -exactly, did that mean? It both piqued his curiosity and stirred his -suspicions. He smiled as he placed a heavy stake upon the table. It -would probably be a much more expensive trip to this fanciful Persia -than to the Persia of reality, for it seemed that one must go broke -first! Well, he would go broke--though it would require some little -finesse for John Bruce, the millionaire plunger, to attain that envious -situation without exciting suspicion. He was very keenly interested in -this personally conducted tour, obviously inaugurated by that exquisite -little man, Monsieur Paul de Lavergne! - -John Bruce to his inward chagrin--won. He began to play now with a -zest, eagerness and excitement which, heretofore, the juggling of -Mephistopheles' money had deprived him of. Outwardly, however, the calm -impassiveness that, in the few evenings he had been in the house, had -already won him the reputation of being par excellence a cool and nervy -plunger, remained unchanged. - -He continued to win for a while; and then suddenly he began to lose. -This was much better! He lost steadily now. He staked with lavish hand, -playing numerous long chances for the limit at every voyage of the -clicking little ivory ball. Finally, the last of his visible assets were -on the table, and he leaned forward to watch the fall of the ball. He -was already fingering the magnificent jeweled watch-fob that dangled -from the pocket of his evening clothes. - -"Zero!" announced the croupier. - -The "zero" had been one of his selections. The "zero" paid 35 for 1. - -A subdued ripple of excitement went up from around the table. The room -was filling up. The still-early comers, mostly spectators for the time -being, lured to the roulette table at the whisper that the millionaire -plunger was out to-night to break the bank, were whetting their own -appetites in the play of Mr. John Bruce, who had obviously just escaped -being broke himself by a very narrow margin. - -John Bruce smiled. He was in funds again--more so than pleased him! - -"It's a 'zero' night, Mr. Croupier," observed John Bruce pleasantly. -"Roll her again!" - -But now luck was with John Bruce. The "zero" and his other combinations -were as shy and elusive as fawns. At the expiration of another half hour -the net result of John Bruce's play consisted in his having transferred -from his own keeping into the keeping of the New York branch thirty -thousand dollars of Mephistopheles' money. He was to all appearances -flagrantly broke as far as funds in his immediate possession were -concerned. - -"I guess," said John Bruce, with a whimsical smile, "that I didn't bring -enough with me. I don't know where I can get any more to-night, and--oh, -here!" He laughed with easy grace, as he suddenly tossed his jeweled -watch-fob to the croupier. "One more fling anyhow--I've still unbounded -faith in 'zero'! Let me have a thousand on that. It's worth about two." - -The croupier, as on the previous occasion, examined the article, but, as -before, shook his head. - -"I'm awfully sorry, Mr. Bruce, but it's strictly against the rules of -the house," he said apologetically. "I can fix it for you easily enough -though, if you care to take a trip to Persia." - -"A trip to Persia?" inquired John Bruce in a puzzled way. "I think I -heard you suggest that before this evening. What's the idea?" - -Some of those around the table were smiling. - -"It's all right," volunteered a player opposite, with a laugh. "Only -look out for the conductor!" - -"Shoot!" said John Bruce nonchalantly. "That's good enough! You can book -my passage, Mr. Croupier." - -The croupier called an attendant, spoke to him, and the man left the -room. - -"It will take a few minutes, Mr. Bruce--while you are getting your hat -and coat. The doorman will let you know," said the croupier, and with a -bow to John Bruce resumed the interrupted game. - -John Bruce strolled from the room, and descended to the lower floor. He -entered the supper room, and while old Jake plied him with delicacies he -saw the doorman emerge from the telephone booth out in the hall, hurry -away, and presently return, talking earnestly with Monsieur Henri de -Lavergne. The manager, in turn, entered the booth. - -Monsieur Henri de Lavergne came into the supper room after a moment. - -"In just a few minutes, Mr. Bruce--there will be a slight delay," he -said effusively. "Too bad to keep you waiting." - -"Not at all!" responded John Bruce. He held a wine glass up to the -light. "This is very excellent, Monsieur de Lavergne." - -Monsieur Henri de Lavergne accepted the compliment with a gratified bow. - -"Mr. Bruce is very kind to say so," he said--and launched into an -elaborate apology that Mr. Bruce should be put to any inconvenience -to obtain the financial accommodation asked for. The security that Mr. -Bruce offered was unquestioned. It was not that. It was the rule of the -house. Mr. Bruce would understand. - -Mr. Bruce understood perfectly. - -"Quite so!" he said cordially. - -Monsieur Henri de Lavergne excused himself, and left the room. - -"A fishy, clever little crook," confided John Bruce to himself. "I -wonder what's the game?" - -He continued to sip his wine in apparent indifference to the passing -minutes, nor was his indifference altogether assumed. His mind was quite -otherwise occupied. It was rather neat, that--a trip to Persia. The -expression in itself held a lure which had probably not been overlooked -as an asset. It suggested Bagdad, and the Arabian Nights, and a Caliph -and a Grand Vizier who stalked about in disguise. On the other hand, the -inebriated gentleman had evidently had his fill of it on one occasion, -and would have no more of it. And the other gentleman who had, as it -were, indorsed the proceeding, had, at the same time, taken the occasion -to throw out a warning to beware of the conductor. - -John Bruce smiled pleasantly into his wine glass. Not very difficult to -fathom, perhaps, after all! It was probably some shrewd old reprobate -with usurious rates in cahoots with the sleek Monsieur Henri de -Lavergne, who made a side-split on the said rates in return for the -exclusive privilege accorded the other of acting as leech to the guests -of the house when in extremity. - -It had been perhaps twenty minutes since he had left the roulette table. -He looked at his watch now as he saw the doorman coming toward the -supper room with his hat and coat. The night was still early. It was a -quarter to eleven. - -He went out into the hall. - -"Yassuh," said the gray-haired and obsequious old darky, as he assisted -John Bruce into his coat, "if yo'all will just come with me, Mistuh -Bruce, yo'all will be 'commodated right prompt." - -John Bruce followed his guide to the doorstep. - -The darky pointed to a closed motor car at the curb by the corner, a few -houses away. - -"Yo'all just say 'Persia' to the shuffer, Mistuh Bruce, and-------" - -"All right!" John Bruce smiled his interruption, and went down the steps -to the sidewalk. - -John Bruce approached the waiting car leisurely, scrutinizing it the -while; and as he approached, it seemed to take on more and more the -aspect of a venerable and decrepit ark. The body of the car was entirely -without light; the glass front, if there were one, behind the man whom -he discerned sitting in the chauffeur's seat, was evidently closely -curtained; and so, too, he now discovered as he drew nearer, were the -windows and doors of the car as well. - -"The parlor looks a little ominous," said John - -Bruce softly to himself. "I wonder how far it is to the spider's dining -room?" - -He halted as he reached the vehicle. - -"I'm bound for Persia, I believe," he suggested pleasantly to the -chauffeur. - -The chauffeur leaned out, and John Bruce was conscious that he was -undergoing a critical inspection. In turn he looked at the chauffeur, -but there was very little light. The car seemed to have chosen a spot -as little disturbed by the rays of the street lamps as possible, and -he gained but a vague impression of a red, weather-beaten face, clean -shaved, with shaggy brows under grizzled hair, the whole topped by an -equally weather-beaten felt hat of nondescript shape and color. - -The inspection, on the chauffeur's part at least, appeared to be -satisfactory. - -"Yes, sir," said the man. "Step in, sir, please." - -The door swung open--just how, John Bruce could not have explained. -He stepped briskly into the car--only to draw back instinctively as he -found it already occupied. But the door had closed behind him. It was -inky black in the interior now with the door shut. The car was jolting -into motion. - -"Pardon me!" said John Bruce a little grimly, and sat down on the back -seat. - -A woman! He had just been able to make out a woman's form as he had -stepped in. It was clever--damned clever! Of both the exquisite Monsieur -Henri de Lavergne and the money-lending spider at the other end of this -pleasant little jaunt into unexplored Persia! A woman in it--a luring, -painted, fair and winsome damsel, no doubt--to make the usurious pill -of illegal interest a little sweeter I Oh, yes, he quite understood now -that warning to beware of the conductor! - -"I did not anticipate such charming company," said John Bruce -facetiously. "Have we far to go?" - -There was no answer. - -Something like a shadow, deeper than the surrounding blackness, seemed -to pass before John Bruce's eyes, and then he sat bolt upright, startled -and amazed. In front of him, let down from the roof of the car, was a -small table covered with black velvet, and suspended some twelve inches -above the table, throwing the glow downward in a round spot of light -over the velvet surface, was a shaded electric lamp. A small white hand, -bare of any ornament, palm upward, lay upon the velvet table-top under -the play of the light. - -A voice spoke now softly from beside him: - -"You have something to pawn?" - -John Bruce stared. He still could not see her face. "Er--yes," he said. -He frowned in perplexity. "When we get to Persia, alias the pawn-shop." - -"This is the pawn-shop," she answered. "Let me see what you have, -please." - -"Well, I'm da----" John Bruce checked himself. - -There was a delicacy about that white hand resting there under the light -that rebuked him. "Er--pardon me," said John Bruce. - -He felt for his jeweled watch-fob, unfastened it, and laid it in the -extended palm. He laughed a little to himself. On with the game! The -lure was here, all right; the stage setting was masterly--and now the -piper would be paid on a basis, probably, that would relegate Shylock -himself to the kindergarten class of money lenders! - -And then, suddenly, it seemed to John Bruce as though his blood whipping -through his veins was afire. A face in profile, bending forward to -examine the diamonds and the setting of the fob-pendant, came under the -light. He gazed at it fascinated. It was the most beautiful face he had -ever seen. His eyes drank in the rich masses of brown, silken hair, -the perfect throat, the chin and lips that, while modelled in sweet -womanliness, were still eloquent of self-reliance and strength. He had -thought to see a pretty face, a little brazen perhaps, and artfully -powdered and rouged; what he saw was a vision of loveliness that seemed -to personify the unsullied, God-given freshness and purity of youth. - -He spoke involuntarily; no power of his could have kept back the words. - -"My God, you are wonderful!" he exclaimed in a low voice. - -He saw the color swiftly tinge the throat a coral pink, and mount -upwards; but she did not look at him. Her eyes! He wanted to see her -eyes--to look into them! But she did not turn her head. - -"You probably paid two thousand dollars for this," she said quietly, -"and----" - -"Nineteen hundred," corrected John Bruce mechanically. - -"I will allow you seventeen hundred on it, then," she said, still -quietly. "The interest will be at seven per cent. Do you wish to accept -the offer?" - -Seventeen hundred! Seven per cent! It was in consonance with the vision! -His mind was topsy-turvy. - -He did not understand. - -"It is very liberal," said John Bruce, trying to control his voice. "Of -course, I accept." - -The shapely head nodded. - -He watched her spellbound. The watch-fob had vanished, and in its place -now under the little conical shaft of light she was swiftly counting -out a pile of crisp, new, fifty-dollar banknotes. To these she added a -stamped and numbered ticket. - -"You may redeem the pledge at any time by making application to the same -person to whom you originally applied for a loan to-night," she said, as -she handed him the money. "Please count it." - -Her head was in shadow now. He could no longer even see her profile. She -was sitting back in her corner of the car. - -"I--I am quite satisfied," said John Bruce a little helplessly. - -"Please count it," she insisted. - -With a shrug of protest, John Bruce obeyed her. It was not at all the -money that concerned him, nor the touch of it that was quickening his -pulse. - -"It is quite correct," he said, putting money and ticket in his pocket. -He turned toward her. "And now----" - -His words ended in a little gasp. The light was out. In the darkness -that shadow passed again before his eyes, and he was conscious that the -table had vanished--also that the car had stopped. - -The door opened. - -"If you please, sir!" It was the chauffeur, holding the door open. - -John Bruce hesitated. - -"I--er--look here!" he said. "I----" - -"If you please, sir!" There was something of significant finality in the -man's patient and respectful tones. - -John Bruce smiled wryly. - -"Well, at least, I may say good-night," he said, as he backed out of the -car. - -"Certainly, sir--good-night, sir," said the chauffeur calmly--and closed -the door, and touched his hat, and climbed back to his seat. - -John Bruce glared at the man. - -"Well, I'm damned!" said John Bruce fervently. - - - - -CHAPTER THREE--SANCTUARY - - -|THE car started off. It turned the corner. John Bruce looked around -him. He was standing on precisely the same spot from which he had -entered the car. He had been driven around the block, that was all! - -He caught his breath. Was it real? That wondrous face which, almost as -though at the touch of some magician's wand, had risen before him out of -the blackness! His blood afire was leaping through his veins again. That -face! - -He ran to the corner and peered down the street. The car was perhaps -a hundred yards away--and suddenly John Bruce started to run again, -following the car. Madness! His lips had set grim and hard. Who was she -that prowled the night in that bizarre traveling pawn-shop? Where did -she live? Was it actually the Arabian Nights back again? He laughed at -himself--not mirthfully. But still he ran on. - -The car was outdistancing him. Fool! For a woman's face! Even though it -were a divine symphony of beauty! Fool? Love-smitten idiot? Not at -all! It was his job! Nice sound to that word in conjunction with that -haunting memory of loveliness--job! - -The traveling pawn-shop turned into Fourth Avenue, and headed downtown. -John Bruce caught the sound of a street car gong, spurted and swung -breathlessly to the platform of a car going in the same direction. - -Of course, it was his job! The exquisite Monsieur Henri de Lavergne was -mixed up in this. - -"Hell!" - -The street car conductor stared at him. John Bruce scowled. He swore -again--but this time under his breath. It brought a sudden wild, -unreasonable rage and rebellion, the thought that there should be -anything, even of the remotest nature, between the glorious vision in -that car and the mincing, silken-tongued manager of Larmon's gambling -hell. But there was, for all that, wasn't there? How else had she come -there? It was the usual thing, wasn't it? And--beware of the conductor! -The warning now appeared to be very apt! And how well he had profited by -it! A fool chasing a siren's beauty! - -His face grew very white. - -"John Bruce," he whispered to himself, "if I could get at you I'd pound -your face to pulp for that!" - -He leaned out from the platform. The traveling pawn-shop had increased -its speed and was steadily leaving the street car behind. He looked back -in the opposite direction. The street was almost entirely deserted as -far as traffic went. The only vehicle in sight was a taxi bowling along -a block in the rear. He laughed out again harshly. The conductor eyed -him suspiciously. - -John Bruce dropped off the car, and planted himself in the path of the -on-coming taxi. Call it his job, then, if it pleased him! He owed it to -Larmon to get to the bottom of this. How extremely logical he was! The -transaction in the traveling pawn-shop had been so fair-minded as almost -to exonerate Monsieur Henri de Lavergne on the face of it, and if it had -not been for a certain vision therein, and a fire in his own veins, -and a fury at the thought that even her acquaintance with the gambling -manager was profanity, he could have heartily applauded Monsieur Henri -de Lavergne for a unique and original---- - -The taxi bellowed at him, hoarsely indignant. - -John Bruce stepped neatly to one side--and jumped on the footboard. - -"Here, you! What the hell!" shouted the chauffeur. "You----" - -"Push your foot on it a little," said John Bruce calmly. "And don't lose -sight of that closed car ahead." - -"Lose sight of nothin'!" yelled the chauffeur. "I've got a fare, -an'----" - -"I hear him," said John Bruce composedly. He edged in beside the -chauffeur, and one of the crisp, new, fifty-dollar banknotes passed -into the latter's possession. "Keep that car in sight, and don't make it -hopelessly obvious that you are following it. I'll attend to your fare." - -He screwed around in his seat. An elderly, gray-whiskered gentleman, a -patently irate gentleman, was pounding furiously on the glass panel. - -"We should be turnin' down this street we're just passin'," grinned the -chauffeur. - -John Bruce lowered the panel. - -"What's the meaning of this?" thundered the fare. - -"I'm very sorry, sir," said John Bruce respectfully. - -"A little detective business." He coughed. It was really quite true. -His voice became confidential. "The occupants of that car ahead got away -from me. I--I want to arrest one of them. I'm very sorry to put you to -any inconvenience, but it couldn't be helped.. There was no other way -than to commandeer your taxi. It will be only for a matter of a few -minutes." - -"It's preposterous!" spluttered the fare. "Outrageous! I--I'll----" - -"Yes, sir," said John Bruce. "But there was nothing else I could do. You -can report it to headquarters, of course." - -He closed the panel. - -"Fly-cop--not!" said the chauffeur, with his tongue in his cheek. "Any -fly-cop that ever got his mitt on a whole fifty-dollar bill all at one -time couldn't be pried lose from it with a crowbar!" - -"It lets you out, doesn't it?" inquired John Bruce pleasantly. "Now -let's see you earn it." - -"I'll earn it!" said the chauffeur with unction. "You leave it to me, -boss!" - -The quarry, in the shape of the traveling pawn shop, directed its way -into the heart of the East Side. Presently it turned into a hiving, -narrow street, where hawkers with their push-carts in the light of -flaring, spitting gasoline banjoes were doing a thriving business. The -two cars went more slowly now. There was very little room. The -taxi almost upset a fish vendor's wheeled emporium. The vendor was -eloquent--fervently so. But the chauffeur's eyes, after an impersonal -and indifferent glance at the other, returned to the car ahead. The taxi -continued on its way, trailing fifty yards in the rear of the traveling -pawn-shop. - -At the end of the block the car ahead turned the corner. As the taxi, -in turn, rounded the corner, John Bruce saw that the traveling pawn-shop -was drawn up before a small building that was nested in between two -tenements. The blood quickened in his pulse. The girl had alighted, and -was entering the small building. - -"Hit it up a little to the next corner, turn it, and let me off there," -directed John Bruce. - -"I get you!" said the chauffeur. - -The taxi swept past the car at the curb. Another minute and it had swung -the next corner, and was slowing down. John Bruce jumped to the ground -before the taxi stopped. - -"Good-night!" he called to the chauffeur. - -He waved his hand debonairly at the scowling, whiskered visage that was -watching him from the interior of the cab, and hurriedly retraced his -way back around the corner. - -The traveling pawn-shop had turned and was driving away. John Bruce -moderated his pace, and sauntered on along the street. He smiled half -grimly, half contentedly to himself. The "trip to Persia" had led him -a little farther afield than Monsieur Henri de Lavergne had perhaps -counted on--or than he, John Bruce, himself had, either! But he knew now -where the most glorious woman he had ever seen in his life lived, or, at -least, was to be found again. No, it wasn't the _moon!_ To him, she was -exactly that. And he had not seen her for the last time, either! That -was what he was here for, though he wasn't so mad as to risk, or, -rather, invite an affront to begin with by so bald an act as to go to -the front door, say, and ring the bell--which would be tantamount to -informing her that he had--er--played the detective from the moment -he had left her in the car. To-morrow, perhaps, or the next day, or -whenever fate saw fit to be in a kindly mood, a meeting that possessed -all the hall-marks of being quite inadvertent offered him high hopes. -Later, if fate still were kind, he would tell her that he had followed -her, and what she would be thoroughly justified in misconstruing now, -she might then accept as the tribute to her that he meant it to be--when -she knew him better. - -John Bruce was whistling softly to himself. - -He was passing the house now, his scrutiny none the less exhaustive -because it was apparently casual. It was a curious little two-story -place tucked away between the two flanking tenements, the further one of -which alone separated the house from the corner he was approaching. Not -a light showed from the front of the house. Yes, it was quite a curious -place! Although curtains were on the lower front windows, indicating -that it was purely a dwelling, the windows themselves were of abnormal -size, as though, originally perhaps, the ground floor had once been a -shop of some kind. - -John Bruce turned the corner, and from a comparatively deserted street -found himself among the vendors' push-carts and the spluttering gasoline -torches again. He skirted the side of the tenement that made the corner, -discovered the fact that a lane cut in from the street and ran past the -rear of the tenement, which he mentally noted must likewise run past the -rear of the little house that was now so vitally interesting to him--and -halted on the opposite side of the lane to survey his surroundings. Here -a dirty and uninviting café attracted his attention, which, if its dingy -sign were to be believed, was run by one Palasco Ratti, a gentleman of -parts in the choice of wines which he offered to his patrons. John Bruce -surveyed Palasco Ratti's potential clientele--the street was full of it; -the shawled women, the dark-visaged, ear-ringed men. He smiled a little -to himself. No--probably not the half-naked children who sprawled in the -gutter and crawled amongst the push-carts' wheels! How was it that _she_ -should ever have come to live in a neighborhood to which the designation -"foreign," as far as she was concerned, must certainly apply in -particularly full measure? It was strange that she---- - -John Bruce's mental soliloquy came to an abrupt end. Half humorously, -half grimly his eyes were riveted on the push-cart at the curb directly -opposite to him, the proprietor of which dealt in that brand of -confection so much in favor on the East Side--a great slab of candy from -which, as occasion required, he cut slices with a large carving knife. -A brown and grimy fist belonging to a tot of a girl of perhaps eight or -nine years of age, who had crept in under the pushcart, was stealthily -feeling its way upward behind the vendor's back, its objective being, -obviously, a generous piece of candy that reposed on the edge of the -push-cart. There was a certain fascination in watching developments. It -was quite immoral, of course, but his sympathies were with the child. -It was a gamble whether the grimy little hand would close on the coveted -prize and disappear again victorious, or whether the vendor would turn -in time to frustrate the raid. - -The tot's hand crept nearer and nearer its goal. - -No one, save himself of the many about, appeared to notice the little -cameo of primal instinct that was on exhibition before them. The -small and dirty fingers touched the candy, closed on it, and -were withdrawn--but were withdrawn too quickly. The child, at the -psychological moment under stress of excitement, eagerness and probably -a wildly thumping heart, had failed in finesse. Perhaps the paper -that covered the surface of the push-cart and on which the wares were -displayed rattled; perhaps the sudden movement in itself attracted the -vendor's attention. The man whirled and made a vicious dive for the -child as she darted out from between the wheels. And then she screamed. -The man had hit her a brutal clout across the head. - -John Bruce straightened suddenly, a dull red creeping from his set -jaw to his cheeks. Still clutching the candy in her hand the child was -running blindly and in terror straight toward him. The man struck again, -and the child staggered, and, reeling, sought sanctuary between John -Bruce's legs. A bearded, snarling face in pursuit loomed up before -him--and John Bruce struck, struck as he had once struck before on a -white moon-flooded deck when a man, a brute beast, had gone down before -him--and the vendor, screaming shrilly, lay kicking in pain on the -sidewalk. - -It had happened quickly. Not one, probably, of those on the street -had caught the details of the little scene. And now the tiny thief had -wriggled through his legs, and with the magnificent irresponsibility -of childhood had darted away and was lost to sight. It had happened -quickly--but not so quickly as the gathering together of an angry, -surging crowd around John Bruce. - -Some one in the crowd shrieked out above the clamor of voices: - -"He kill-a Pietro! Kill-a da dude!" - -It was a fire-brand. - -John Bruce backed away a little--up against the door of Signor Pascalo -Ratti's wine shop. A glance showed him that, with the blow he had -struck, his light overcoat had become loosened, and that he was -flaunting an immaculate and gleaming shirt-front in the faces of the -crowd. And between their Pietro with a broken jaw and an intruder far -too well dressed to please their fancy, the psychology of the crowd -became the psychology of a mob. - -The fire-brand took. - -"Kill-a da dude!" It was echoed in chorus--and then a rush. - -It flung John Bruce heavily against the wine shop door, and the door -crashed inward--and for a moment he was down, and the crowd, like a -snarling wolf pack, was upon him. And then the massive shoulders heaved, -and he shook them off and was on his feet; and all that was primal, -elemental in the man was dominant, the mad glorying in strife upon him, -and he struck right and left with blows before which, again and again, a -man went down. - -But the rush still bore him backward, and the doorway was black and -jammed with reenforcements constantly pouring in. Tables crashed to the -floor, chairs were overturned. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a -white-mustached Italian leap upon the counter and alternately wave his -arms and wring his hands together frantically. - -"For the mercy of God!" the man screamed--and then his voice added to -the din in a flood of impassioned Italian. - -It was Signor Pascalo Ratti, probably. - -John Bruce was panting now, his breath coming in short, hard gasps. It -was not easy to keep them in front of him, to keep his back free. He -caught the glint of knife blades now. - -He was borne back foot by foot, the space widening as he retreated from -the door, giving room for more to come upon him at the same time. A -knife blade lunged at him. He evaded it--but another glittering in -the ceiling light at the same instant, flashing a murderous arc in its -downward plunge, caught him, and, before he could turn, sank home. - -A yell of triumph went up. He felt no pain. Only a sudden sickening of -his brain, a sudden weakness that robbed his limbs of strength, and he -reeled and staggered, fighting blindly now. - -And then his brain cleared. He flung a quick glance over his shoulder. -Yes, there was one chance. Only one! And in another minute, with another -knife thrust, it would be too late. He whirled suddenly and raced down -the length of the café. In the moment's grace earned through surprise at -his sudden action, he gained a door he had seen there, and threw himself -upon it. It was not fastened, though there was a key in the lock. He -whipped out the key, plunged through, locked the door on the outside -with the fraction of a second to spare before they came battering upon -it--and stumbled and fell headlong out into the open. - -It was as though he were lashing his brain into action and virility. It -kept wobbling and fogging. Didn't the damned thing understand that his -life, was at stake! He lurched to his feet. He was in a lane. - -In front of him, like great looming shadows, shadows that wobbled too, -he saw the shapes of two tenements, and like an inset between them, a -small house with a light gleaming in the lower window. - -That was where the vision lived. Only there was a fence between. -Sanctuary! He lunged toward the fence. He had not meant to--to make a -call to-night--she--she might have misunderstood. But in a second now -_they_ would come sweeping around into the lane after him from the -street. - -He clawed his way to the top of the fence, and because his strength was -almost gone fell from the top of the fence to the ground on the other -side. - -And now he crawled, crawled with what frantic haste he could, because he -heard the uproar from the street. And he laughed. The kid was -probably munching her hunk of candy now. Queer things--kids! Got her -candy--happy---- - -He reached up to the sill of an open window, clawed his way upward, -as he had clawed his way up the fence, straddled the sill unsteadily, -clutched at nothingness to save himself, and toppled inward to the floor -of the room. - -A yell from the head of the lane, a cry from the other end of the room, -spurred him into final effort. He gained his feet, and swept his hand, -wet with blood, across his eyes. That was the vision there running -toward him, wasn't it?--the wonderful, glorious vision! - -"Pardon me!" said John Bruce in a sing-song voice, and with a desperate -effort reached up and pulled down the window shade. He tried to smile -"Queer--queer things--kids--aren't they? She--she just ducked out from -under." - -The girl was staring at him wildly, her hands tightly clasped to her -bosom. - -"Pardon me!" whispered John Bruce thickly. He couldn't see her any more, -just a multitude of objects whirling like a kaleidoscope before his -eyes. "She--she got the candy," said John Bruce, attempting to smile -again--and pitched unconscious to the floor. - - - - -CHAPTER FOUR--A DOCTOR OF MANY DEGREES - -|DEAD! The girl was on her knees beside John Bruce. Dead--he did not -move! It was the man who had pawned his watch-fob hardly half an hour -before! What did it mean? What did those angry shouts, that scurrying -of many feet out there in the lane mean? Hurriedly, her face as deadly -white as the face upturned to her from the floor, she tore open the once -immaculate shirt-front, that was now limp and wet and ugly with a great -crimson stain, and laid bare the wound. - -The sounds from without were receding, the scurrying footsteps were -keeping on along the lane. A quiver ran through the form on the floor. -Dead! No, he was not dead--not--not yet. - -A little cry escaped from her tightly closed lips, and for an instant -she covered her eyes with her hands. The wound was terrible--it -frightened her. It frightened her the more because, intuitively, she -knew that it was beyond any inexperienced aid that she could give. But -she must act, and act quickly. - -She turned and ran into the adjoining room to the telephone, but even as -she reached out to lift the receiver from the hook she hesitated. Doctor -Crang! A little shudder of aversion swept over her--and then resolutely, -even pleading with central to hurry, she asked for the connection. It -was not a matter of choice, or aversion, or any other consideration in -the world save a question of minutes. The life of that man in there on -the floor hung by a thread. Doctor Crang was nearby enough to respond -almost instantly, and there was no one else she knew of who she could -hope would reach the man in time. And--she stared frantically at the -instrument now--was even he unavailable? Why didn't he answer? Why -didn't---- - -A voice reached her. She recognized it. - -"Doctor Crang, this is Claire Veniza," she said, and it did not seem as -though she could speak fast enough. "Come at once--oh, at once--please! -There's a man here frightfully wounded. There isn't a second to lose, -so----" - -"My dear Claire," interrupted the voice suavely, "instead of losing one -you can save several by telling me what kind of a wound it is, and where -the man is wounded." - -"It's a knife wound, a stab, I think," she answered; "and it's in his -side. He is unconscious, and----" - -The receiver at the other end had been replaced on its hook. - -She turned from the telephone, and swiftly, hurrying, but in cool -self-control now, she obtained some cloths and a basin of warm water, -and returned to John Bruce's side. She could not do much, she realized -that--only make what effort she could to staunch the appalling flow of -blood from the wound; that, and place a cushion under the man's head, -for she could not lift him to the couch. - -The minutes passed; and then, thinking she heard a footstep at the front -door, she glanced in that direction, half in relief, and yet, too, in -curious apprehension. She listened. No, there was no one there yet. She -had been mistaken. - -Suddenly she caught her breath in a little gasp, as though startled. -Doctor Crang was clever; but faith in Doctor Crang professionally was -one thing, and faith in him in other respects was quite another. Why -hadn't she thought of it before? It wasn't too late yet, was it? - -She began to search hastily through John Bruce's pockets. Doctor Crang -would almost certainly suggest removing the man from the sitting room -down here and getting him upstairs to a bedroom, and then he would -undress his patient, and--and it was perhaps as well to anticipate -Doctor Crang! This man here should have quite a sum of money on his -person. She had given it to him herself, and--yes, here it was! - -The crisp new fifty-dollar bills, the stamped and numbered ticket that -identified the watch-fob he had pawned, were in her hand. She ran across -the room, opened a little safe in the corner, placed the money and -ticket inside, locked the safe again, and returned to John Bruce's side -once more. - -And suddenly her eyes filled. There was no tremor, no movement in the -man's form now; she could not even feel his heartbeat. Yes, she wanted -Doctor Crang now, passionately, wildly. John Bruce--that was the man's -name. She knew that much. But she had left him miles away--and he was -here now--and she did not understand. How had he got here, why had he -come here, climbing in through that window to fall at her feet like one -dead? - -The front door opened without premonitory ring of bell, and closed -again. A footstep came quickly forward through the outer room--and -paused on the threshold. - -Claire Veniza rose to her feet, and her eyes went swiftly, sharply, -to the figure standing there--a man of perhaps thirty years of age, -of powerful build, and yet whose frame seemed now woefully loose, -disjointed and without virility. Her eyes traveled to the man's clothing -that was dirty, spotted, and in dire need of sponging, to the necktie -that hung awry, to the face that, but for its unhealthy, pasty-yellow -complexion, would have been almost strikingly handsome, to the jet-black -eyes that somehow at the moment seemed to lack fire and life. And with a -little despairing shrug of her shoulders, Claire Veniza turned away her -head, and pointed to the form of John Bruce on the floor. - -"I--I am afraid it is very serious, Doctor Crang," she faltered. - -"That's all right, Claire," he said complacently. "That's all right, my -dear. You can leave it with confidence to Sydney Angus Crang, M.D." - -She drew a little away as he stepped forward, her face hardening into -tight little lines. Hidden, her hands clasped anxiously together. It--it -was what she had feared. Doctor Sydney Angus Crang, gold medalist from -one of the greatest American universities, brilliant far beyond his -fellows, with additional degrees from London, from Vienna, from Heaven -alone knew where else, was just about entering upon, or emerging from, -a groveling debauch with that Thing to which he had pawned his manhood, -his intellect and his soul, that Thing of gray places, of horror, of -forgetfulness, of bliss, of torture--cocaine. - -Halfway from the threshold to where John Bruce lay, Doctor Crang halted -abruptly. - -"Hello!" he exclaimed, and glanced with suddenly darkening face from -Claire Veniza to the form of John Bruce, and back to Claire Veniza -again. - -"Oh, _will_ you hurry!" she implored. "Can't you see that the wound----" - -"I am more interested in the man than in the wound," said Doctor Crang, -and there was a hint of menace in his voice. "Quite a gentleman of -parts! I had expected--let me see what I had expected--well, say, one of -the common knife-sticking breed that curses this neighborhood." - -Claire Veniza stamped her foot. - -"Oh, hurry!" she burst out wildly. "Don't stand there talking while the -man is dying! Do something!" - -Doctor Crang advanced to John Bruce's side, set down the little handbag -he was carrying, and began to examine the wound. - -"Yes, quite a gentleman of parts!" he repeated. His lips had thinned. -"How did he get here?" - -"I do not know," she answered. "He came in through that window there and -fell on the floor." - -"How peculiar!" observed Doctor Crang. "A _gentleman_ down here in this -locality, who is, yes, I will state it as a professional fact, in a very -critical state, climbs in through Miss Claire Veniza's window, and----" - -The telephone in the other room rang. Claire Veniza ran to it. Doctor -Crang's fingers nestled on John Bruce's pulse; he made no other movement -save to cock his head in a listening attitude in the girl's direction; -he made no effort either to examine further or to dress the wound. - -Claire Veniza's voice came distinctly: - -"Yes... No, I do not think he will return to-night"--she was -hesitating--"he--he met with an--an accident-----" - -Doctor Crang had sprung from the other room and had snatched the -receiver from the girl's hand. A wave of insensate fury swept his face -now. He pushed her roughly from the instrument, and clapped his hand -over the transmitter. - -"That's one lie you've told me!" he said hoarsely. "I'll attend to the -rest of this now." He withdrew his hand from the transmitter. "Yes, -hello!" His voice was cool, even suave. "What is it?... Monsieur Henri -de Lavergne speaking--yes... Mister--who?... Mister John Bruce--yes." He -listened for a moment, his lips twitching, his eyes narrowed on Claire -Veniza, who had retreated a few steps away. "No, not to-night," he said, -speaking again into the transmitter. "Yes, a slight accident.... Yes.., -Good-by." - -Doctor Sydney Angus Crang hung up the receiver, and with a placid smile -at variance with the glitter that suddenly brought life into his dulled -eyes, advanced toward the girl. She stepped backward quickly into the -other room, retreating as far as the motionless form that lay upon the -floor. Doctor Crang followed her. - -And then Claire Veniza, her face grown stony, her small hands clenched, -found her voice again. - -"Aren't you going to help him? Aren't you going to do something? Is he -to die there before your eyes?" she cried. - -Doctor Crang shrugged his shoulders. - -"What can I do?" he inquired with velvet softness. "I am helpless. How -can I bring the dead back to life?" - -"Dead!" All color had fled her face; she bent and looked searchingly at -John Bruce. - -"Oh, no; not yet," said Doctor Crang easily. "But very nearly so." - -"And you will do nothing!" She was facing him again. "Then--then I will -try and get some one else." - -She stepped forward abruptly. - -Doctor Crang barred her way. - -"I don't think you will, Claire, my dear!" His voice was monotonous; the -placid smile was vanishing. "You see, having spoken to that dear little -doll of a man, Monsieur Henri de Lavergne, I'm very much interested in -hearing your side of the story." - -"Story!" the girl echoed wildly. "Story--while that man's life is lost! -Are you mad--or a murderer--or----" - -"Another lover," said Doctor Crang, and threw back his head and laughed. - -She shrank away; her hands tight against her bosom. She glanced around -her. If she could only reach the telephone and lock the connecting door! -No! She did not dare leave him _alone_ with the wounded man. - -"What--what are you going to do?" she whispered. - -"Nothing--till I hear the story," he answered. - -"If--if he dies"--her voice rang steadily again--"I'll have you charged -with murder." - -"What nonsense!" said Doctor Crang imperturbably. "Did I stab the -gentleman?" He took from his pocket a little case, produced a hypodermic -syringe, and pushed back his sleeve. "A doctor is not a magician. If he -finds a patient beyond reach of aid what can he be expected to do? My -dear Claire, where are your brains to-night--you who are usually so -amazingly clever?" - -"You are mad--insane with drug!" she cried out piteously. - -He shook his head, and coolly inserted the needle of the hypodermic in -his arm. - -"Not yet," he said. "I am only implacable. Shall we get on with the -story? Monsieur de Lavergne says he sent a gentleman by the name of John -Bruce out in your father's car a little while ago for the purpose of -obtaining a loan in order that the said John Bruce might return to the -gambling joint and continue to play. But Mr. Bruce did not return, -and the doll, for some reason being anxious, telephones here to make -inquiries. Of course"--there was a savage laugh in his voice--"it is -only a suspicion, but could this gentleman on the floor here by any -chance be Mr. John Bruce?" - -"Yes," she said faintly. "He is John Bruce." - -"Thanks!" said Doctor Crang sarcastically. He very carefully replaced -his hypodermic in his pocket. "Now another little matter. I happen to -know that your father is spending the evening uptown, so I wonder who -was in the car with Mr. John Bruce." - -She stared at him with flashing eyes. - -"I was!" she answered passionately. "I don't know what you are driving -at! I never did it before, but father was away, and Monsieur de Lavergne -was terribly insistent. He said it was for a very special guest. -I--I didn't, of course, tell Monsieur de Lavergne that father couldn't -go. I only said that I was afraid it would not be convenient to make any -loan to-night. But he wouldn't listen to a refusal, and so I went--but -Monsieur de Lavergne had no idea that it was any one but father in the -car." - -Doctor Crang's lips parted wickedly. - -"Naturally!" he snarled. "I quite understand that you took good care of -that! Who drove you?" - -"Hawkins." - -"Drunk as usual, I suppose! Brain too fuddled to ask questions!" - -"That's not true!" she cried out sharply. "Hawkins hasn't touched a drop -for a year." - -"All right!" snapped Doctor Crang. "Have it that way, then! Being in his -dotage, he makes a good blind, even sober. And so you went for a little -ride with Mr. John Bruce to-night?" - -Claire Veniza was wringing her hands as she glanced in an agony of -apprehension at the wounded man on the floor. - -"Yes," she said; "but--but won't you----" - -"And where did you first meet Mr. John Bruce, and how long ago?" he -jerked out. - -Claire Veniza's great brown eyes widened. - -"Why, I never saw him in my life until to-night!" she exclaimed. "And he -wasn't in the car ten minutes. Hawkins drove back to the corner just as -he always does with father, and Mr. Bruce got out. Then Hawkins drove me -home and went uptown to get father. I--I wish they were here now!" - -Doctor Crang was gritting his teeth together. A slight unnatural color -was tinging his cheeks. He moved a little closer to the girl. - -"I'm glad to hear you never saw Mr. Bruce before," he said cunningly. -"You must have traveled _fast_ then--metaphorically speaking. Love at -first sight, eh? A cooing exchange of confidences--or was it all on one -side? You told him who you were, and where you lived, and----" - -"I did nothing of the kind!" Claire Veniza interrupted angrily. "I did -not tell him anything!" - -"Just strictly business then, of course!" Doctor Crang moved a step -still nearer to the girl. "In that case he must have pawned something, -and as Lavergne sends nothing but high-priced articles to your father, -we shall probably find quite a sum of money in Mr. Bruce's pockets. -Eh--Claire?" - -She bit her lips. She still did not quite understand--only that she -bitterly regretted now, somehow, that she had removed the money from -John Bruce's person; only that the drug-crazed brain of the man in front -of her was digging, had dug, a trap into which she was falling. What -answer was she to make? What was she to---- - -With a sudden cry she shrank back--but too late to save herself. A face -alight with passion was close to hers now; hands that clamped like a -steel vise, and that hurt, were upon her shoulder and throat. - -"You lie!" Doctor Crang shouted hoarsely. "You've lied from the minute -I came into this room. John Bruce--hell! I know now why you have always -refused to have anything to do with me. That's why!" He loosened one -hand and pointed to the figure on the floor. "How long has this been -going on? How long have you been meeting him? To-night is nothing, -though you worked it well. Hawkins to take you for a little joy ride -with your lover while father's away. Damned clever! You left him on that -corner--and he's here wounded! How did he get wounded? You never saw him -before! You never heard of him! You told him nothing about yourself! He -didn't know where you lived--he could only find the private entrance! -Just knows enough about you to climb in through your back window like a -skewered dog! But, of course, your story is true, because in his pockets -will be the money you gave him for what he pawned! Shall we look and see -how much it was?" - -She tore herself free and caught at her throat, gasping for breath. - -"You--you beast!" she choked. "No; you needn't look! I took it from him, -and put it in the safe over there before _you_ came--to keep it away -from you." - -Doctor Crang swept a hand across his eyes and through his hair with a -savage, jerky movement, and then he laughed immoderately. - -"What a little liar you are! Well, then, two can play at the same game. -I lied to you about your lover there. I said there was nothing could -save him. Yes, yes, Claire, my dear, I lied." He knelt suddenly, and -suddenly intent and professional studied John Bruce's face, and felt -again for the pulse beat at John Bruce's wrist. "Pretty near the limit," -he stated coolly. "Internal bleeding." He threw back his shoulders in -a strangely egotistical way. "Not many men could do anything; but I, -Sydney Angus Crang, could! Ha, ha! In ten minutes he could be on the -road to recovery--but ten minutes, otherwise, is exactly the length of -time he has to live." - -An instant Claire Veniza stared at him. Her mind reeled with chaos, with -terror and dismay. - -"Then do something!" she implored wildly. "If you can save him, do it! -You must! You shall!" - -"Why should I?" he demanded. His teeth were clamped hard together. "Why -should I save your lover? No--damn him!" - -She drew away from him, and, suddenly, on her knees, buried her face in -her hands and burst into sobs. - -"This--this is terrible--terrible!" she cried out. "Has that frightful -stuff transformed you into an absolute fiend? Are you no longer even -human?" Flushed, a curious look of hunger in his eyes, he gazed at her. - -"I'm devilishly human in some respects!" His voice rose, out of control. -"I want you! I have wanted you from the day I saw you." - -She shivered. Her hands felt suddenly icy as she pressed them against -her face. - -"Thank God then," she breathed, "for this, at least--that you will never -get me!" - -"Won't I?" His voice rose higher, trembling with passion. "Won't I? By -God, I will! The one thing in life I will have some way or another! You -understand? I will! And do you think I would let _him_ stand in the way? -You drive me mad, Claire, with those wonderful eyes of yours, with that -hair, those lips, that throat----" - -"Stop!" She was on her feet, and in an instant had reached him, and -with her hands upon his shoulders was shaking him fiercely with all her -strength. "I hated you, despised you, loathed you before, but with that -man dying here, you murderer, I----" - -Her voice trailed off, strangled, choked. He had caught her in his -arms, his lips were upon hers. She struggled like a tigress. And as they -lurched about the room he laughed in mad abandon. She wrenched herself -free at last, and slipped and fell upon the floor. - -"Do you believe me now!" he panted. "I will have you! Neither this man -nor any other will live to get you. His life is a snap of my fingers--so -is any other life. It's you I want, and you I will have. And I'll tame -you! Then I'll show you what love is." - -She was moaning now a little to herself. She crept to John Bruce and -stared into his face. Dying! They were letting this man die. She tried -to readjust the cloths upon the wound. She heard Doctor Crang laugh at -her again. It seemed as though her soul were sinking into some great -bottomless abyss that was black with horror. She did not know this -John Bruce. She had told Doctor Crang so. It was useless to repeat it, -useless to argue with a drug-steeped brain. There was only one thing -that was absolute and final, and that was that a man's life was ebbing -away, and a fiend, an inhuman fiend who could save him, but whom -pleading would not touch, stood callously by, not wholly indifferent, -rather gloating over what took the form of triumph in his diseased mind. -And then suddenly she seemed so tired and weary. And she tried to pray -to God. And tears came, and on her knees she turned and flung out her -arms imploringly to the unkempt figure that stood over her, and who -smiled as no other man she had ever seen had smiled before. - -"For the pity of God, for anything you have ever known in your life that -was pure and sacred," she said brokenly, "save this man." - -He looked at her for a moment, still with that sardonic smile upon his -lips, and then, swift in its transition, his expression changed and -cunning was in his eyes. - -"What would you give?" he purred. - -"Give?" She did not look up. She felt a sudden surge of relief. It -debased the man the more, for it was evidently money now; but her father -would supply that. She had only to ask for it. "What do you want?" she -asked eagerly. - -"Yourself," said Doctor Crang. - -She looked up now, quickly, startled; read the lurking triumph in his -eyes, and with a sudden cry of fear turned away her head. - -"My--myself!" Her lips scarcely moved. - -"Yes, my dear! Yourself--Claire!" Doctor - -Crang shrugged his shoulders. "Edinburgh, London, Vienna, Paris, degrees -from everywhere--ha, ha!--am I a high-priced man? Well, then, why don't -you dismiss me? You called me in! That is my price--or shall we call it -fee? Promise to marry me, Claire, and I'll save that man." - -Her face had lost all vestige of color. She stood and looked at him, but -it did not seem as though she any longer had control over her limbs. -She did not seem able to move them. They were numbed; her brain was -mercifully numbed--there was only a sense of impending horror, without -that horror taking concrete form. A voice came to her as though from -some great distance: - -"Don't take too long to make up your mind. There isn't much time. It's -about touch and go with him now." - -The words, the tone, the voice roused her. Realization, understanding -swept upon her. A faintness came. She closed her eyes, swayed -unsteadily, but recovered herself. Something made her look at the -upturned face on the floor. She did not know this man. He was nothing -to her. Why was he pleading with her to pawn herself for him? What right -had he to ask for worse than death from her that he might live? Her soul -turned sick within her. If she refused, this man would die. Death! It -was a very little thing compared with days and months and years linked, -fettered, bound to a drug fiend, a coward, a foul thing, a potential -murderer, a man only in the sense of physical form, who had abused every -other God-given attribute until it had rotted away! Her hands pressed -to her temples fiercely, in torment. Was this man to live or die? In her -hands was balanced a human life. It seemed as though she must scream -out in her anguish of soul; and then it seemed as though she must fling -herself upon the drug-crazed being who had forced this torture upon her, -fling herself upon him to batter and pommel with her fists at his face -that smiled in hideous contentment at her. What was she to do? The -choice was hers. To let this man here die, or to accept a living -death for herself--no, worse than that--something that was abominable, -revolting, that profaned.... She drew her breath in sharply. She was -staring at the man on the floor. His eyelids fluttered and opened. Gray -eyes were fixed upon her, eyes that did not seem to see for there was a -vacant stare in them--and then suddenly recognition crept into them and -they lighted up, full of a strange, glad wonder. He made an effort to -speak, an effort, more feeble still, to reach out his hand to her--and -then the eyes had closed and he was unconscious again. - -She turned slowly and faced Doctor Crang. - -"You do not know what you are doing." She formed the words with a great -effort. - -"Oh, yes, I do!" he answered with mocking deliberation. "I know that if -I can't get you one way, I can another--and the way doesn't matter." - -"God forgive you, then," she said in a dead voice, "for I never can or -will! I--I agree." - -He took a step toward her. - -"You'll marry me?" His face was fired with passion. - -She retreated a step. - -"Yes," she said. - -He reached out for her with savage eagerness. - -"Claire!" he cried. "Claire!" - -She pushed him back with both hands. - -"Not yet!" she said, and tried to steady her voice. "There is another -side to the bargain. The price is this man's life. If he lives I will -marry you, and in that case, as you well know, I can say nothing of what -you have done to-night; but if he dies, I am not only free, but I will -do my utmost to make you criminally responsible for his death." - -"Ah!" Doctor Crang stared at her. His hands, still reaching out to touch -her, trembled; his face was hectic; his eyes were alight again with -feverish hunger--and then suddenly the man seemed transformed into -another being. He was on his knees beside John Bruce, and had opened his -handbag in an instant, and in another he had forced something from a -vial between John Bruce's lips; then an instrument was in his hands. The -man of a moment before was gone; one Sydney Angus Crang, of many -degrees, professional, deft, immersed in his work, had taken the other's -place. "More water! An extra basin!" he ordered curtly. - -Claire Veniza obeyed him in a mechanical way. Her brain was numbed, -exhausted, possessed of a great weariness. She watched him for a little -while. He flung another order at her. - -"Make that couch up into a bed," he directed. "He can't be moved even -upstairs to-night." - -Again she obeyed him; finally she helped him to lift John Bruce to the -couch. - -She sat down in a chair and waited--she did not know what for. Doctor -Crang had drawn another chair to the couch and sat there watching his -patient. John Bruce, as far as she could tell, showed no sign of life. - -Then Doctor Crang's voice seemed to float out of nothingness: - -"He will live, Claire, my dear! By God, I'd like to have done that piece -of work in a clinic! Some of 'em would sit up! D'ye hear, Claire, he'll -live!" - -She was conscious that he was studying her; she did not look at him, nor -did she answer. - -An eternity seemed to pass. She heard a motor stop outside in front of -the house. That would be her father and Hawkins. - -The front door opened and closed, footsteps entered the room--and -suddenly seemed to quicken and hurry forward. She rose from her chair. - -"What's this? What's the matter? What's happened?" a tall, white-haired -man cried out. - -It was Doctor Crang who answered. - -"Oh--this, Mr. Veniza?" He waved his hand indifferently toward the -couch. "Nothing of any importance." He shrugged his shoulders in cool -imperturbability, and smiled into the grave, serious face of Paul -Veniza. "The really important thing is that Claire has promised to be my -wife." - -For an instant no one moved or spoke--only Doctor Crang still smiled. -And then the silence was broken by a curious half laugh, half curse that -was full of menace. - -"You lie!" Hawkins, the round, red-faced chauffeur, had stepped from -behind Paul Veniza, and now faced Doctor Crang. "You lie! You damned -coke-eater! I'd kill you first!" - -"Drunk--again!" drawled Doctor Crang contemptuously. "And what have you -to do with it?" - -"Steady, Hawkins!" counselled Paul Veniza quietly. He turned to Claire -Veniza. "Claire," he asked, "is--is this true?" - -She nodded--and suddenly, blindly, started toward the door. - -"It is true," she said. - -"Claire!" Paul Veniza stepped after her. "Claire, - -"Not to-night, father," she said in a low voice. "Please let me go." - -He stood aside, allowing her to pass, his face grave and anxious--and -then he turned again to Doctor Crang. - -"She is naturally very upset over what has happened here," said Doctor -Crang easily--and suddenly reaching out grasped Hawkins' arm, and pulled -the old man forward to the couch. "Here, you!" he jerked out. "You've -got so much to say for yourself--take a look at this fellow!" - -The old chauffeur bent over the couch. - -"My God!" he cried out in a startled way. "It's the man we--I--drove -to-night!" - -"Quite so!" observed Doctor Crang. He smiled at Paul Veniza again. -"Apart from the fact that the fellow came in through that window with a -knife stab in his side that's pretty nearly done for him, Hawkins knows -as much about it as either Claire or I do. He's in bad shape. Extremely -serious. I will stay with him to-night. He cannot be moved." He nodded -suggestively toward the door. "Hawkins can tell you as much as I can. -It's got to be quiet in here. As for Claire"--he seemed suddenly to be -greatly disturbed and occupied with the condition of the wounded man on -the couch--"that will have to wait until morning. This man's condition -is critical. I can't put you out of your own room, but-----" Again he -nodded toward the door. - -For a moment Paul Veniza hesitated--but Doctor Crang's back was already -turned, and he was bending over the wounded man, apparently oblivious to -every other consideration. He motioned to Hawkins, and the two left the -room. - -Doctor Crang looked around over his shoulder as the door closed. A -malicious grin spread over his face. He rubbed his hands together. Then -he sat down in his chair again, and began to prepare a solution for his -hypodermic syringe. - -"Yes, yes," said Doctor Crang softly, addressing the unconscious form of -John Bruce, "you'll live, all right, my friend, I'll see to that, though -the odds are still against you. You're too--ha, ha!--valuable to die! -You played in luck when you drew Sydney Angus Crang, M.D., as your -attending physician!" - -And then Doctor Sydney Angus Crang made a little grimace as he punctured -the flesh of his arm with the needle of the hypodermic syringe and -injected into himself another dose of cocaine. - -"Yes," said Doctor Sydney Angus Crang very softly, his eyes lighting, -"too valuable, much too valuable--to die!" - - - - -CHAPTER FIVE--HAWKINS - -|IN the outer room, the door closed behind them, Paul Veniza and -Hawkins stared into each other's eyes. Hawkins' face had lost its ruddy, -weatherbeaten color, and there was a strained, perplexed anxiety in his -expression. - -"D'ye hear what she said?" he mumbled. "D'ye hear what he said? Going -to be married! My little girl, my innocent little girl, and--and that -dope-feeding devil! I--I don't understand, Paul. What's it mean?" - -Paul Veniza laid his hand on the other's shoulder, as much to seek, it -seemed, as to offer sympathy. He shook his head. - -"I don't know," he said blankly. - -Hawkins' watery blue eyes under their shaggy brows traveled miserably in -the direction of the staircase. - -"I--I ain't got the right," he choked. "You go up and talk to her, -Paul." - -Paul Veniza ran his fingers in a troubled way through his white hair; -then, nodding his head, he turned abruptly and began to mount the -stairs. - -Hawkins watched until the other had disappeared from sight, watched -until he heard a door open and close softly above; then he swung sharply -around, and with his old, drooping shoulders suddenly squared, strode -toward the door that shut him off from Doctor Crang and the man he had -recognized as his passenger in the traveling pawn-shop earlier that -night. But at the door itself he hesitated, and after a moment drew -back, and the shoulders drooped again, and he fell to twisting his hands -together in nervous indecision as he retreated to the center of the -room. - -And he stood there again, where Paul Veniza had left him, and stared -with the hurt of a dumb animal in his eyes at the top of the staircase. - -"It's all my fault," the old man whispered, and fell to twisting his -hands together once more. "But--but I thought she'd be safe with me." - -For a long time he seemed to ponder his own words, and gradually they -seemed to bring an added burden upon him, and heavily now he drew his -hand across his eyes. - -"Why ain't I dead?" he whispered. "I ain't never been no good to -her. Twenty years, it is--twenty years. Just old Hawkins--shabby old -Hawkins--that she loves 'cause she's sorry for him." - -Hawkins' eyes roved about the room. - -"I remember the night I brought her here." He was still whispering to -himself. "In there, it was, I took her." He jerked his hand toward the -inner room. "This here room was the pawn-shop then. God, all those years -ago--and--and I ain't never bought her back again, and she ain't known -no father but Paul, and----" His voice trailed off and died away. - -He sank his chin in his hands. - -Occasionally he heard the murmur of voices from above, occasionally the -sound of movement through the closed door that separated him from Doctor -Crang; but he did not move or speak again until Paul Veniza came down -the stairs and stood before him. - -Hawkins searched the other's face. - -"It--it ain't true, is it, what she said?" he questioned almost -fiercely. "She didn't really mean it, did she, Paul?" - -Paul Veniza turned his head away. - -"Yes, she meant it," he answered in a low voice. "I don't understand. -She wouldn't give me any explanation." - -Hawkins clenched his fists suddenly. - -"But didn't you tell her what kind of a man Crang is? Good God, Paul, -didn't you tell her what he is?" - -"She knows it without my telling her," Paul Veniza said in a dull tone. -"But I told her again; I told her it was impossible, incredible. Her -only answer was that it was inevitable." - -"But she doesn't love him! She can't love him!" Hawkins burst out. -"There's never been anything between them before." - -"No, she doesn't love him. Of course, she doesn't!" Paul Veniza said, as -though speaking to himself. He looked at Hawkins suddenly under knitted -brows. "And she says she never saw that other man in her life before -until he stepped into the car. She says she only went out to-night -because they were so urgent about it up at the house, and that she felt -everything would be perfectly safe with you driving the car. I can't -make anything out of it!" - -Hawkins drew the sleeve of his coat across his brow. It was cool in the -room, but little beads of moisture were standing out on his forehead. - -"I ain't brought her nothing but harm all my life," he said brokenly. -"I----" - -"Don't take it that way, old friend!" Paul Veniza's hands sought the -other's shoulders. "I don't see how you are to blame for this. Claire -said that other man treated her with all courtesy, and left the car -after you had gone around the block; and she doesn't know how he -afterwards came here wounded any more than we do--and anyway, it can't -have anything to do with her marrying Doctor Crang." - -"What's she doing now?" demanded Hawkins abruptly. "She's up there -crying her heart out, ain't she?" - -Paul Veniza did not answer. - -Hawkins straightened up. A sudden dignity came to the shabby old figure. - -"What hold has that devil got on my little girl?" he cried out -sharply. "I'll make him pay for it, so help me God! My little girl, my -little------" - -"S-sh!" Paul Veniza caught hurriedly at Hawkins' arm. "Be careful, old -friend!" he warned. "Not so loud! She might hear you." - -Hawkins cast a timorous, startled glance in the direction of the stairs. -He seemed to shrink again, into a stature as shabby as his clothing. His -lips twitched; he twisted his hands together. - -"Yes," he mumbled; "yes, she--she might hear me." He stared around the -room; and then, as though blindly, his hands groping out in front of -him, he started for the street door. "I'm going home," said Hawkins. -"I'm going home to think this out." - -Paul Veniza's voice choked a little. - -"Your hat, old friend," he said, picking up the old man's hat from the -table and following the other to the door. - -"Yes, my hat," said Hawkins--and pulling it far down over his eyes, -crossed the sidewalk, and climbed into the driver's seat of the old, -closed car that stood at the curb. - -He started the car mechanically. He did not look back. He stared -straight ahead of him except when, at the corner, his eyes lifted and -held for a moment on the lighted windows and the swinging doors of a -saloon--and the car went perceptibly slower. Then his hands tightened -fiercely in their hold upon the wheel until the white of the knuckles -showed, and the car passed the saloon and turned the next corner and -went on. - -Halfway down the next block it almost came to a halt again when opposite -a dark and dingy driveway that led in between, and to the rear of, -two poverty-stricken frame houses. Hawkins stared at this uninviting -prospect, and made as though to turn the car into the driveway; then, -shaking his head heavily, he continued on along the street. - -"I can't go in there and sit by myself all alone," said Hawkins -hoarsely. "I--I'd go mad. It's--it's like as though they'd told me -to-night that she'd died--same as they told me about her mother the -night I went to Paul's." - -The car moved slowly onward. It turned the next corner--and the next. It -almost completed the circuit of the block. Hawkins now was wetting his -lips with the tip of his tongue. His hands on the wheel were trembling. -The car had stopped. Hawkins was staring again at the lighted windows -and the swinging doors of the saloon. - -He sat for a long time motionless; then he climbed down from his seat. - -"Just one," Hawkins whispered to himself. "Just one. I--I'd go mad if I -didn't." - -Hawkins pushed the swinging doors open, and sidled up to the bar. - -"Hello, Hawkins!" grinned the barkeeper. "Been out of town? I ain't seen -you the whole afternoon!" - -"You mind your own business!" said Hawkins surlily. - -"Sure!" nodded the barkeeper cheerily. "Same as usual?" He slid a -square-faced bottle and a glass toward the old man. - -Hawkins helped himself and drank moodily. He set his empty glass back -on the bar, jerked down his shabby vest and straightened up, his eyes -resolutely fixed on the door. Then he felt in his pocket for his pipe -and tobacco. His eyes shifted from the door to his pipe. He filled it -slowly. - -"Give me another," said Hawkins presently--without looking at the -barkeeper. - -Again the old man drank, and jerked down his vest, and squared his thin -shoulders. He lighted his pipe, tamping the bowl carefully with his -forefinger. His eyes sought the swinging doors once more. - -"I'm going home," said Hawkins defiantly to himself. "I've got to think -this out." He dug into his vest pocket for money, and produced a few -small bills. He stared at these for a moment, hesitated, started to -replace them in his pocket, hesitated again, and the tip of his tongue -circled his lips; then he pushed the money across the bar. "Take the -drinks out of that, and--and give me a bottle," he said. "I--I don't -like to be without anything in the house, and I got to go home." - -"You said something!" said the barkeeper. "Have one on the house before -you go?" - -"No; I won't." - -"No," said Hawkins with stern determination. - -Hawkins crowded the bottle into the side pocket of his coat, passed out -through the swinging doors, and resumed his seat on the car. And again -the car started forward. But it went faster now. Hawkins' face was -flushed; he seemed nervously and excitedly in haste. At the driveway -he turned in, garaged his car in an old shed at the rear of one of the -houses, locked the shed with a padlock, and, by way of the back door, -entered the house that was in front of the shed. - -It was quite dark inside, but Hawkins had been an inmate of the somewhat -seedy rooming-house too many years either to expect that a light should -be burning at that hour, or, for that matter, to require any light. -He groped his way up a flight of creaking stairs, opened the door of a -room, and stepped inside. He shut the door behind him, locked it, and -struck a match. A gas-jet wheezed asthmatically, and finally flung a -thin and sullen yellow glow about the place. It disclosed a cot bed, a -small strip of carpet long since worn bare of nap, a washstand, an old -trunk, a battered table, and two chairs. - -Hawkins, with some difficulty, extricated the bottle from his pocket, -and lifted the lid of his trunk. He thrust the bottle inside, and in the -act of closing the lid upon it--hesitated. - -"I--I ain't myself to-night, I ain't," said Hawkins tremulously. "It's -shook me, it has--bad. Just one--so help me God!--just one." - -Hawkins sat down at the table with the bottle in front of him. - -And while Hawkins sat there it grew very late. - -At intervals Hawkins talked to himself. At times he stared owlishly -from a half-emptied bottle to the black square of window pane above the -trunk--and once he shook his fist in that direction. - -"Crang--eh--damn you!" he gritted out. "You think you got her, do you? -Some dirty, cunning trick you've played her! But you don't know old -Hawkins. Ha, ha! You think he's only a drunken bum!" - -Hawkins, as it grew later still, became unsteady in his seat. Gradually -his head sank down upon the table. - -"I--hie!--gotta think this--out," said Hawkins earnestly--and fell -asleep. - - - - -CHAPTER SIX--THE ALIBI - -|JOHN BRUCE opened his eyes dreamily, unseeingly; and then his eyelids -fluttered and closed again. There was an exquisite sense of languor -upon him, of cool, comfortable repose; a curious absence of all -material things. It seemed as though he were in some suspended state of -animation. - -It was very strange. It wasn't life--not life as he had ever known it. -Perhaps it was death. He did not understand. - -He tried to think. He was conscious that his mind for some long -indeterminate period had been occupied with the repetition of queer, -vague, broken snatches of things, fantastic things born of illusions, -brain fancies, cobwebby, intangible, which had no meaning, and were -without beginning or end. There was a white beach, very white, and a -full round moon, and the moon winked knowingly while he whittled with a -huge jack-knife at a quill toothpick. And then there was a great chasm -of blackness which separated the beach from some other place that seemed -to have nothing to identify it except this black chasm which was the -passageway to it; and here a man's face, a face that was sinister in -its expression, and both repulsive and unhealthy in its color, was -constantly bending over him, and the man's head was always in the same -posture--cocked a little to one side, as though listening intently -and straining to hear something. And then, in the same place, but less -frequently, there was another face--and this seemed to bring with it -always a shaft of warm, bright sunlight that dispelled the abominable -gloom, and before which the first face vanished--a beautiful, the -wondrously beautiful, face of a girl, one that he had seen somewhere -before, that was haunting in its familiarity and for which it seemed -he had always known a great yearning, but which plagued him miserably -because there seemed to be some unseen barrier between them, and because -he could not recognize her, and she could not speak and tell him who she -was. - -John Bruce opened his eyes again. Dimly, faintly, his mind seemed to be -grasping coherent realities. He began to remember fragments of the past, -but it was very hard to piece those fragments together into a concrete -whole. That white beach--yes, he remembered that. And the quill -toothpick. Only the huge jack-knife was absurd! It was at Apia with -Larmon. But he was in a room somewhere now, and lying on a cot of some -sort. And it was night. How had he come here? - -He moved a little, and suddenly felt a twinge of pain in his side. His -hand groped under the covering, and his fingers came into contact with -bandages that were wrapped tightly around his body. - -And then in a flash memory returned. He remembered the fight in Ratti's -wine shop, the knife stab, and how he had dragged himself along the lane -and climbed in through _her_ window. His eyes now in a startled way were -searching his surroundings. Perhaps this was the room! He could not -be quite sure, but there seemed to be something familiar about it. The -light was very low, like a gas-jet turned down, and he could not make -out where it came from, nor could he see any window through which he -might have climbed in. - -He frowned in a troubled way. It was true that, as he had climbed in -that night, he had not been in a condition to take much note of the -room, but yet it did seem to be the same place. The frown vanished. What -did it matter? He knew now beyond any question whose face it was that -had come to him so often in that shaft of sunlight. Yes, it _did_ -matter! He must have been unconscious, perhaps for only a few hours, -perhaps for days, but if this was the same place, then she was _here_, -not as a figment of the brain, not as one created out of his own -longing, but here in her actual person, a living, breathing reality. It -was the girl of the traveling pawn-shop, and---- - -John Bruce found himself listening with sudden intentness. Was he -drifting back into unconsciousness again, into that realm of unreal -things, where the mind, fevered and broken, wove out of its sick -imagination queer, meaningless fancies? It was strange that unreal -things should seem so real! Wasn't that an animal of some sort -scratching at the wall of the house outside? - -He lifted his head slightly from the pillow--and held it there. A voice -from within the room reached him in an angry, rasping whisper: - -"Damn you, Birdie, why don't you pull the house down and have done with -it? You clumsy hog! Do you want the police on us? Can't you climb three -feet without waking up the whole of New York?" - -John Bruce's lips drew together until they formed a tight, straight -line. This was strange! Very strange! It wasn't a vagary of his brain -this time. His brain was as clear now as it had ever been in his life. -The voice came from beyond the head of his cot. He had seen no one in -the room, but that was natural enough since from the position in which -he was lying his line of vision was decidedly restricted; what seemed -incomprehensible though, taken in conjunction with the words he had -just heard, was that his own presence there appeared to be completely -ignored. - -He twisted his head around cautiously, and found that the head of the -cot was surrounded by a screen. He nodded to himself a little grimly. -That accounted for it! There was a scraping sound now, and heavy, -labored breathing. - -John Bruce silently and stealthily stretched out his arm. He could just -reach the screen. It was made of some soft, silken material, and his -fingers found no difficulty in drawing this back a little from the edge -of that portion of the upright framework which was directly in front of -him. - -He scarcely breathed now. Perhaps he was in so weak a state that his -mind faltered if crowded, for there was so much to see that he could -not seem to grasp it all as a single picture. He gazed fascinated. The -details came slowly--one by one. It _was_ the room where he had crawled -in through the window and had fallen senseless to the floor--whenever -that had been! That was the window there. And, curiously enough, another -man was crawling in through it now! And there was whispering. And two -other men were already standing in the room, but he could not see their -faces because their backs were turned to him. Then one of the two swung -around in the direction of the window, bringing his face into view. John -Bruce closed his eyes for a moment. Yes, it must be that! His mind was -off wandering once more, painting and picturing for itself its fanciful -unrealities, bringing back again the character it had created, the man -with the sinister face whose pallor was unhealthy and repulsive. - -And then he opened his eyes and looked again, and the face was still -there--and it was real. And now the man spoke: - -"Come on, get busy, Birdie! If you take as long to crack the box as you -have taken to climb in through a low window, maybe we'll be invited to -breakfast with the family! You act just like a swell cracksman--not! But -here's the combination--so try and play up to the part!" - -The man addressed was heavy of build, with a pockmarked and forbidding -countenance. He was panting from his exertions, as, inside the room now, -he leaned against the sill. - -"That's all right, Doc!" he grunted. "That's all right! But how about -his nibs over there behind the screen? Ain't he ever comin' out of his -nap?" - -The man addressed as "Doc" rolled up the sleeve of his left arm, and -produced a hypodermic syringe from his pocket. - -"There's the safe over there, Birdie," he drawled, as he pricked his arm -with the needle and pushed home the plunger. "Get busy!" - -The big man shuffled his feet. - -"I know you know your business, Doc," he said uneasily; "but I guess -me an' Pete here 'd feel more comfortable if you'd have put that shot of -coke into the guy I'm speakin' about instead of into yourself. Ain't I -right, Pete?" - -The third man was lounging against the wall, his back still turned to -John Bruce. - -"Sure," he said; "but I guess you can leave it to Doc. A guy that's -been pawin' the air for two days ain't likely to butt in much all of a -sudden." - -The man with the hypodermic, in the act of replacing the syringe in his -pocket, drew it out again. - -"Coming from you, Birdie," he murmured caustically, "that's a -surprisingly bright idea. I've been here for the last three hours -listening to his interesting addresses from the rostrum of delirium, and -I should say he was quite safe. Still, to oblige you, Birdie, and make -you feel more comfortable, we'll act on your suggestion." - -John Bruce's teeth gritted together. How weak he was! His arm ached from -even the slight strain of extending it beyond his head to the screen. - -And then he smiled grimly. But it wasn't a case of strength now, was it? -He was obviously quite helpless in that respect. This man they called -Doc believed him to be still unconscious, and--he drew his arm silently -back, tucked it again under the sheet and blanket that covered him, -and closed his eyes--and even if he could resist, which he couldn't, a -hypodermic injection of morphine, or cocaine, or whatever it was that -the supreme crook of the trio indulged in, could not _instantly_ take -effect. There ought to be time enough to watch at least---- - -John Bruce lay perfectly still. He heard a footstep come quickly around -the screen; he sensed the presence of some one bending over him; then -the coverings were pulled down and his arm was bared. He steeled himself -against the instinctive impulse to wince at the sharp prick of the -needle which he knew was coming--and felt instead a cold and curiously -merciless rage sweep over him as the act was performed. Then the -footstep retreated--and John Bruce quietly twisted his head around on -the pillow, reached out his arm, and his fingers drew the silk panel of -the screen slightly away from the edge of the framework again. - -He could see the safe they had referred to now. It was over at the far -side of the room against the wall, and the three men were standing in -front of it. Presently it was opened. The man called Doc knelt down in -front of it and began to examine its contents. He swung around to his -companions after a moment with a large pile of banknotes in his hands. -From this pile he counted out and handed a small portion to each of the -other two men--and coolly stuffed the bulk of the money into his own -pockets. - -The scene went blurry then for a moment before John Bruce's eyes, and -he lifted his free hand and brushed it across his forehead. He was so -beastly weak, anyhow, and the infernal dope was getting in its work -too fast! He fought with all his mental strength against the impulse -to relax and close his eyes. What was it they were doing now? It looked -like some foolish masquerade. The two companions of the man with the -sinister, pasty face were tying handkerchiefs over their faces and -drawing revolvers from their pockets; and then the big man began to -close the door of the safe. - -The Doc's voice came sharply: - -"Look out you don't lock it, you fool!" - -Once more John Bruce brushed his hand across his eyes. His brain must -be playing him tricks again. A din infernal rose suddenly in the room. -While the big man lounged nonchalantly against the safe, the other two -were scuffling all over the floor and throwing chairs about. And then -from somewhere upstairs, on the floor there too, John Bruce thought he -caught the sound of hurried movements. - -Then for an instant the scuffling in the room ceased, and the -pasty-faced man's voice came in a peremptory whisper: - -"The minute any one shows at the door you swing that safe open as though -you'd been working at it all the time, Birdie, and pretend to shove -everything in sight into your pockets. And you, Joe, you've got me -cornered and covered here--see? And you hold the doorway with your gun -too; and then both of you back away and make your getaway through the -window." The scuffling began again. John Bruce watched the scene, a -sense of drowsiness and apathy creeping upon him. He tried to rouse -himself. He ought to do something. That vicious-faced little crook who -had haunted him with unwelcome visitations, and who at this precise -moment had the bulk of the money from the safe in his own pockets, was -in the act of planting a somewhat crude, but probably none the less -effective, alibi, and---- - -John Bruce heard a door flung open, and then a sudden, startled cry, -first in a woman's and then in a man's voice. But he could not see any -door from the position in which he lay. He turned over with a great -effort, facing the other way, and reached out with his fingers for the -panel of the screen that overlapped the head of the cot. And then John -Bruce lay motionless, the blood pounding fiercely at his temples. - -He was conscious that a tall, white-haired man in scanty attire was -there, because the doorway framed two figures; but he _saw_ only a -beautiful face, pitifully white, only the slim form of a girl whose -great brown eyes were very wide with fear, and who held her dressing -gown tightly clutched around her throat. It was the girl of the -traveling pawn-shop, it was the girl of his dreams in the shaft of -sunlight, it was the girl he had followed here--only--only the picture -seemed to be fading away. It was very strange! It was most curious! She -always seemed to leave that way. This was Larmon now instead, wasn't it? -Larmon... and a jack-knife... and a quill toothpick... and.... - - - - -CHAPTER SEVEN--THE GIRL OF THE TRAVELING PAWN-SHOP - -|JOHN BRUCE abstractedly twirled the tassel of the old and faded -dressing gown which he wore, the temporary possession of which he -owed to Paul Veniza, his host. From the chair in which he sat his eyes -ventured stolen glances at the nape of a dainty neck, and at a great -coiled mass of silken brown hair that shone like burnished copper in the -afternoon sunlight, as Claire Veniza, her back turned toward him, busied -herself about the room. He could walk now across the floor--and a -great deal further, he was sure, if they would only let him. He had not -pressed that point; it might be taking an unfair advantage of an already -over-generous hospitality, but he was not at all anxious to speed his -departure from--well, from where he was at that precise moment. - -And now as he looked at Claire Veniza, his thoughts went back to the -night he had stepped, at old Hawkins' invitation, into the traveling -pawn-shop. That was not so very long ago--two weeks of grave illness, -and then the past week of convalescence--but it seemed to span a great -and almost limitless stretch of time, and to mark a new and entirely -different era in his life; an era that perplexed and troubled and -intrigued him with conditions and surroundings and disturbing elements -that he did not comprehend--but at the same time made the blood in his -veins to course with wild abandon, and the future to hold out glad and -beckoning hands. - -He loved, with a great, overwhelming, masterful love, the girl who stood -there just across the room all unconscious of the worship that he knew -was in his eyes, and which he neither tried nor wished to curb. Of his -own love he was sure. He had loved her from the moment he had first seen -her, and in his heart he knew he held fate kind to have given him the -wound that in its turn had brought the week of convalescence just past. -And yet--and yet---- Here dismay came, and his brain seemed to stumble. -Sometimes he dared to hope; sometimes he was plunged into the depths of -misery and despair. Little things, a touch of the hand as she had nursed -him that had seemed like some God-given tender caress, a glance when -she had thought he had not seen and which he had allowed his heart to -interpret to its advantage with perhaps no other justification than -its own yearning and desire, had buoyed him up; and then, at times, -a strange, almost bitter aloofness, it seemed, in her attitude toward -him--and this had checked, had always checked, the words that were ever -on his lips. - -A faint flush dyed his cheeks. But even so, and for all his boasted -love, did he not in his own soul wrong her sometimes? The questions -_would_ come. What was the meaning of the strange environment in which -she lived? Why should she have driven to a gambling hell late at night, -and quite as though it were the usual thing, to transact business alone -in that car with---- - -God! His hands clenched fiercely. He remembered that night, and how the -same thought had come then, mocking him, jeering him, making sport of -him. He was a cad, a pitiful, vile-minded cad! Thank God that he was at -least still man enough to be ashamed of his own thoughts, even if they -came in spite of him! - -Perhaps it was the strange, unusual characters that surrounded her, that -came and went in this curious place here, that fostered such thoughts; -perhaps he was not strong enough yet to grapple with all these confusing -things. He smiled a little grimly. The robbery of the safe, for -instance--and that reptile whom he now knew to be his own attending -physician, Doctor Crang! He had said nothing about his knowledge of the -robbery--yet. As nearly as he could judge it had occurred two or three -days prior to the time when his actual convalescence had set in, and as -a material witness to the crime he was not at all sure that in law his -testimony would be of much value. They must certainly have found him in -an unconscious state immediately afterward--and Doctor Crang would -as indubitably attack his testimony as being nothing more than the -hallucination of a sick brain. - -The luck of the devil had been with Crang! Why had he, John Bruce, gone -drifting off into unconsciousness just at the psychological moment when, -if the plan had been carried out as arranged and the other two had made -their fake escape, Crang would have been left in the room with Claire -and Paul Veniza--with the money in his pockets! He would have had Doctor -Crang cold then! It was quite different now. He was not quite sure what -he meant to do, except that he fully proposed to have a reckoning with -Doctor Crang. But that reckoning, something, he could not quite define -what, had prompted him to postpone until he had become physically a -little stronger! - -And then there was another curious thing about it all, which too had -influenced him in keeping silent. Hawkins, Paul Veniza, Claire and -Doctor Crang had each, severally and collectively, been here in this -room many times since the robbery, and not once in his presence had the -affair ever been mentioned! And--oh, what did it matter! He shrugged his -shoulders as though to rid himself of some depressing physical weight. -What did anything matter on this wonderful sunlit afternoon--save Claire -there in her white, cool dress, that seemed somehow to typify her own -glorious youth and freshness. - -How dainty and sweet and alluring she looked! His eyes were no longer -contented with stolen glances; they held now masterfully, defiant of any -self-restraint, upon the slim figure that was all grace from the trim -little ankles to the poise of the shapely head. He felt the blood -quicken his pulse. Stronger than he had ever known it before, straining -to burst all barriers, demanding expression as a right that would not be -denied, his love rose dominant within him, and---- - -The tassel he had been twirling dropped from his hand. She had -turned suddenly; and across the room her eyes met his, calm, deep and -unperturbed at first, but wide the next instant with a startled shyness, -and the color sweeping upward from her throat crimsoned her face, and in -confusion she turned away her head. - -John Bruce was on his feet. He stumbled a little as he took a step -forward. His heart was pounding, flinging a red tide into the pallor of -his cheeks that illness had claimed as one of its tolls. - -"I--I did not mean to tell you like that," he said huskily. "But I have -wanted to tell you for so long. It seems as though I have always wanted -to tell you. Claire--I love you." - -She did not answer. - -He was beside her now--only her head was lowered and averted and he -could not look into her face. Her fingers were plucking tremulously at a -fold of her dress. He caught her hand between both his own. - -"Claire--Claire, I love you!" he whispered. - -She disengaged her hand gently; and, still refusing to let him see her -face, shook her head slowly. - -"I--I-----" Her voice was very low. "Oh, don't you know?" - -"I know I love you," he answered passionately. "I know that nothing else -but that matters." - -Again she shook her head. - -"I thought perhaps he would have told you. I--I am going to marry Doctor -Crang." - -John Bruce stepped back involuntarily; and for a moment incredulity and -helpless amazement held sway in his expression--then his lips tightened -in a hurt, half angry way. - -"Is that fair to me, Claire--to give me an answer like that?" he said in -a low tone. "I know it isn't true, of course; it couldn't be--but--but -it isn't much of a joke either, is it?" - -"It is true," she said monotonously. - -He leaned suddenly forward, and taking her face between his hands, made -her lift her head and look at him. The brown eyes were swimming with -tears. The red swept her face in a great wave, and, receding, left it -deathly pale--and in a frenzy of confusion she wrenched herself free -from him and retreated a step. - -"My God!" said John Bruce hoarsely. "You--and Doctor Crang! I don't -understand! It is monstrous! You can't love that----" He checked -himself, biting at his lips. "You can't love Doctor Crang. It is -impossible! You dare not stand there and tell me that you do. Answer me, -Claire--answer me!" - -She seemed to have regained her self-control--or perhaps it was the one -defense she knew. The little figure was drawn up, her head held back. - -"You have no right to ask me that," she said steadily. - -"Right!" John Bruce echoed almost fiercely. His soul itself seemed -suddenly to be in passionate turmoil; it seemed to juggle two figures -before his consciousness, contrasting one with the other in most hideous -fashion--this woman here whom he loved, who struggled to hold herself -bravely, who stood for all that was pure, for all that he reverenced in -a woman; and that sallow, evil-faced degenerate, a drug fiend so lost to -the shame of his vice that he pricked himself with his miserable needle -quite as unconcernedly in public as one would smoke a cigarette--and -worse--a crook--a thief! Was it a coward's act to tell this girl _what_ -the man was whom she proposed to marry? Was it contemptible to pull a -rival such as that down from the pedestal which in some fiendish way he -must have erected for himself? Surely she did not know the man for what -he actually was! She could not know! "Right!" he cried out. "Yes, I have -the right--both for your sake and for my own. I have the right my love -gives me. Do you know how I came here that first night?" - -"Yes," she said with an effort. "You told me. You were in a fight in -Ratti's place, and were wounded." - -He laughed out harshly. - -"And I told you the truth--as far as it went," he said. "But do you know -how I came to be in this locality after leaving you in that motor car? I -followed you. I loved you from the moment I saw you that night. It seems -as though I have always loved you--as I always shall love you. That is -what gives me the right to speak. And I mean to speak. If it were an -honorable man to whom you were to be married it would be quite another -matter; but you cannot know what you are doing, you do not know this man -as he really is, or what he----" - -"Please! Please stop!" she cried out brokenly. "Nothing you could say -would tell me anything I do not already know." - -"I am not so sure!" said John Bruce grimly. "Suppose I told you he was a -criminal?" - -"He is a criminal." Her voice was without inflection. - -"Suppose then he were sent to jail--to serve a sentence?" - -"I would marry him when he came out," she said. "Oh, please do not -say any more! I know far more about him than you do; but--but that has -nothing to do with it." - -For an instant, motionless, John Bruce stared at Claire; then his hands -swept out and caught her wrists in a tight grip and held her prisoner. - -"Claire!" His voice choked. "What does this mean? You do not love him; -you say you know he is even a criminal--and yet you are going to marry -him! What hold has he got on you? What is it? What damnable trap has he -got you in? I am going to know, Claire! I will know! And whatever it is, -whatever the cause of it, I'll crush it, strangle it, sweep it out of -your dear life at any cost! Tell me, Claire!" - -Her face had gone white; she struggled a little to release herself. - -"You--you do not know what you are saying. You----" Her voice broke in a -half sob. - -"Claire, look at me!" He was pleading now with his soul in his eyes and -voice. "Claire, I----" - -"Oh, please let me go!" she cried out frantically. "You cannot say -anything that will make any difference. I--it only makes it harder." -The tears were brimming in her eyes again. "Oh, please let me -go--there's--there's some one coming." - -John Bruce's hands dropped to his sides. The door, already half open, -was pushed wide, and Hawkins, the old chauffeur, stood on the threshold. -And as John Bruce looked in that direction, he was suddenly and -strangely conscious that somehow for the moment the old man dominated -his attention even to the exclusion of Claire. There was something of -curious self-effacement, of humbleness in the bent, stoop-shouldered -figure there, who twisted a shapeless hat awkwardly in his hands; but -also something of trouble and deep anxiety in the faded blue eyes as -they fixed on the girl, and yet without meeting her eyes in return, held -upon her as she walked slowly now toward the door. - -"Dear old Hawkins," she said softly, and laid her hand for an instant on -the other's arm as she passed by him, "you and Mr. Bruce will be able -to entertain each other, won't you? I--I'm going upstairs for a little -while." - -And the old man made no answer; but, turning on the threshold, he -watched her, his attitude, it seemed to John Bruce, one of almost -pathetic wistfulness, as Claire disappeared from view. - - - - -CHAPTER EIGHT--ALLIES - -|CLAIRE'S footsteps, ascending the stairs, died away. John Bruce -returned to his chair. His eyes were still on the old chauffeur. - -Hawkins was no longer twisting his shapeless hat nervously in his -fingers; instead, he held it now in one clenched hand, while with the -other he closed the door behind him as he stepped forward across the -threshold, and with squared shoulders advanced toward John Bruce. And -then, quite as suddenly again, as though alarmed at his own temerity, -the old man paused, and the question on his lips, aggressively enough -framed, became irresolute in tone. - -"What--what's the matter with Claire?" he stammered. "What's this mean?" - -It was a moment before John Bruce answered, while he eyed the other from -head to foot. Hawkins was not the least interesting by any means of the -queer characters that came and went and centered around this one-time -pawn-shop of Paul Veniza; but Hawkins, of them all, was the one he -was least able, from what he had seen of the man, to fathom. And yet, -somehow, he liked Hawkins. - -"That's exactly what I want to know," he said a little brusquely. -"And"--he eyed Hawkins once more with cool appraisal--"I think you are -the man best able to supply the information." - -Hawkins began to fumble with his hat again. - -"I--I--why do you say that?" he faltered, a sudden note of what seemed -almost trepidation in his voice. - -John Bruce shrugged his shoulders. - -"Possibly it is just a hunch," he said calmly. "But you were the one who -was driving that old bus on a certain night--you remember? And you seem -to hang around here about as you please. Therefore you must stand in on -a fairly intimate basis with the family circle. I'd like to know what -hold a rotten crook like Doctor Crang has got on Claire Veniza that she -should be willing to marry him, when she doesn't love him. I'd like to -know why a girl like Claire Veniza drives alone at night to a gambling -hell to----" - -"That's enough!" Hawkins' voice rose abruptly, peremptorily. He advanced -again threateningly oft John Bruce. "Don't you dare to say one word -against my--against--against her. I'll choke the life out of you, if you -do! Who are you, anyway? You are asking a lot of questions. How did you -get here in the first place? You answer that! I've always meant to ask -you. You answer that--and leave Claire out of it!" - -John Bruce whistled softly. - -"I can't very well do that," he said quietly, "because it was Claire who -brought me here." - -"Claire brought you!" The old blue eyes grew very hard and very steady. -"That's a lie! She never saw you after you got out at the corner that -night until you came in through the window here. She didn't tell you -where she lived. She didn't invite you here. She's not that kind, and, -sick though you may be, I'll not keep my hands off you, if----" - -"Steady, Hawkins--steady!" said John Bruce, his voice as quiet as -before. "We seem to possess a common bond. You seem to be pretty fond -of Claire. Well, so am I. That ought to make us allies." He held out his -hand suddenly to the old man. "I had just asked Claire to marry me when -you came to the door." - -Hawkins stared from the outstretched hand into John Bruce's eyes, and -back again at the outstretched hand. Bewilderment, hesitation, a curious -excitement was in his face. - -"You asked Claire to marry you?" He swallowed hard. "You--you want to -marry Claire? I--why?" - -"Why?" John Bruce echoed helplessly. "Good Lord, Hawkins, you _are_ a -queer one! Barring beasts like Crang, why does a man ordinarily ask a -woman to marry him? Because he loves her. Well, I love Claire. I loved -her from the moment I saw her. I followed her, or, rather, that old bus -of yours, here that night. And that is how, after that fight at Ratti's -when I got out the back door and into the lane, I crawled over here for -sanctuary. I said Claire brought me here. You understand now, don't you? -That's how she brought me here--because I loved her that night. But it -is because of Crang"--his voice grew hard--"that I am telling you this. -I love her now--and a great deal too much, whether she could ever care -for me or not, to see her in the clutches of a crook, and her -life wrecked by a degenerate cur. And somehow"--his hand was still -extended--"I thought you seemed to think enough of her to feel the same -way about this marriage--for I imagine you must know about it. Well, -Hawkins, where do you stand? There's something rotten here. Are you for -Claire, or the dope-eater?" - -"Oh, my God!" Hawkins whispered huskily. And then almost blindly he -snatched at John Bruce's hand and wrung it hard. "I--I believe you're -straight," he choked. "I know you are. I can see it in your eyes. I -wouldn't ask anything more in the world for her than a man's honest -love. And she ain't going to marry that devil! You understand?" His -voice was rising in a curious cracked shrillness. "She ain't! Not while -old Hawkins is alive!" - -John Bruce drew his brows together in a puzzled way. - -"I pass you up, Hawkins," he said slowly. "I can't make you out. But if -you mean what you say, and if you trust me----" - -"I'm going to trust you!" There was eagerness, excitement, a tremble in -the old man's voice. "I've got to trust you after what you've said. I -ain't slept for nights on account of this. It looks like God sent you. -You wait! Wait just a second, and I'll show you how much I trust you." - -John Bruce straightened up in his chair. Was the old man simply erratic, -or perhaps a little irresponsible--or what? Hawkins had pattered across -the floor, had cautiously opened the door, and was now peering with -equal caution into the outer room. Apparently satisfied at last, he -closed the door noiselessly, and started back across the room. And -then John Bruce knew suddenly an indefinable remorse at having somehow -misjudged the shabby old chauffeur, whose figure seemed to totter now a -little as it advanced toward him. Hawkins' face was full of misery, and -the old blue eyes were brimming with tears. - -"It--it ain't easy"--Hawkins' voice quavered--"to say--what I got to -say. There ain't no one on earth but Paul Veniza knows it; but you've -got a right to know after what you've said. And I've got to tell you for -Claire's sake too, because it seems to me there ain't nobody going to -help me save her the way you are. She--she's my little girl. I--I'm -Claire's father." John Bruce stared numbly at the other. He could find -no words; he could only stare. - -"Yes, look at me!" burst out the old man finally, and into his voice -there came an infinite bitterness. "Look at my clothes! I'm just what I -look like! I ain't no good--and that's what has kept my little girl and -me apart from the day she was born. Yes, look at me! I don't blame you!" - -John Bruce was on his feet. His hand reached out and rested on the old -man's shoulder. - -"That isn't the way to trust me, Hawkins," he said gently. "What do your -clothes matter? What do your looks matter? What does anything in the -world matter alongside of so wonderful a thing as that which you have -just told me? Straighten those shoulders, Hawkins; throw back that -head of yours. Her father! Why, you're the richest man in New York, and -you've reason to be the proudest!" - -John Bruce was smiling with both lips and eyes into the other's face. He -felt a tremor pass through the old man's frame; he saw a momentary flash -of joy and pride light up the wrinkled, weather-beaten face--and then -Hawkins turned his head away. - -"God bless you," said Hawkins brokenly; "but you don't know. She's all -I've got; she's the only kith and kin I've got in all the world, and -oh, my God, how these old arms have ached just to take her and hold her -tight, and--and----" He lifted his head suddenly, met John Bruce's eyes, -and a flush dyed his cheeks. "She's my little girl; but I lie when I say -I love her. It's drink I love. That's my shame, John Bruce--you've got -it all now. I pawned my soul, and I pawned my little girl for drink." - -"Hawkins," said John Bruce huskily, "I think you're a bigger man than -you've any idea you are." - -"D'ye mean that?" Hawkins spoke eagerly--only to shake his head -miserably the next instant. "You don't understand," he said. "I as -good as killed her mother with drink. She died when Claire was born. I -brought Claire here, and Paul Veniza and his wife took her in. And Paul -Veniza was right about it. He made me promise she wasn't to know I was -her father until--until she would have a man and not a drunken sot to -look after her. That's twenty years ago. I've tried.. God knows I've -tried, but it's beaten me ever since. Paul's wife died when Claire was -sixteen, and Claire's run the house for Paul--and--and I'm Hawkins--just -Hawkins--the old cab driver that's dropping in the harness. Just Hawkins -that shuffers the traveling pawn-shop now that Paul's quit the regular -shop. That's what I am--just old Hawkins, who's always swearing to God -he's going to leave the booze alone." - -John Bruce did not speak for a moment. He returned to his chair and sat -down. Somehow he wanted to think; somehow he felt that he had not quite -grasped the full significance of what he had just heard. He looked at -Hawkins. Hawkins had sunk into a chair by the table, and his face was -buried in his hands. - -And then John Bruce smiled. - -"Look here, Hawkins," he said briskly, "let's talk about something else -for a minute. Tell me about Paul Veniza and this traveling pawn-shop. -It's a bit out of the ordinary, to say the least." - -Hawkins raised his head, and his thoughts for the moment diverted into -other channels, his face brightened, and he scratched at the scanty -fringe of hair behind his ear. - -"It ain't bad, is it?" he said with interest. "I'm kind of proud of it -too, 'cause I guess mabbe, when all's said and done, it was my idea. You -see, when Paul's wife died, Paul went all to pieces. He ain't well now, -for that matter--nowhere near as well as he looks. I'm kind of scared -about Paul. He keeps getting sick turns once every so often. But when -the wife died he was just clean broken up. She'd been his right hand -from the start in his business here, and--I dunno--it just seemed to -affect him that way. He didn't want to go on any more without her. And -as far as money was concerned he didn't have to. Paul ain't rich, but -he's mighty comfortably off. Anyway, he took the three balls down from -over the door, and he took the signs off the windows, and in comes -the carpenters to change things around here, and there ain't any more -pawn-shop." - -Hawkins for the first time smiled broadly. - -"But it didn't work out," said Hawkins. "Paul's got a bigger business -and a more profitable one to-day than he ever had before in his life. -You see, he had been at it a good many years, and he had what you might -call a private connection--swells up on the Avenue, mostly ladies, but -gents too, who needed money sometimes without having it printed in the -papers, and they wouldn't let Paul alone. Paul ain't got a hair in his -head that ain't honest and fair and square and above-board--and they -were the ones that knew it better than anybody else. See?" - -"Yes," said John Bruce. "Go on, Hawkins," he prompted. - -"Well," said Hawkins, "I used to drive an old hansom cab in those days, -and I used to drive Paul out on those private calls to the swell houses. -And then when Mrs. Paul died and Paul closed up the shop here he kind of -drew himself into his shell all round, and mostly he wouldn't go out any -more, though the swells kept telephoning and telephoning him. He'd only -go to just a few people that he'd done business with since almost -the beginning. He said he didn't want to go around ringing people's -doorbells, and being ushered into boudoirs or anywhere else, and he was -settling down to shun everybody and everything. It wasn't good for Paul. -And then a sort of crazy notion struck me, and I chewed it over and over -in my mind, and finally I put it up to Paul. In the mood he was in, it -just caught his fancy; and so I bought a second-hand closed car, and -fitted it up like you saw, and learned to drive it--and that's how there -came to be the traveling pawn-shop. - -"After that, there wasn't anything to it. It caught everybody else's -fancy as well as Paul's, and it began to get him out of himself. The old -bus, as you called it, was running all the time. Lots of the swells -who really didn't want to pawn anything took a ride and did a bit of -business just for the sake of the experience, and the regular customers -just went nutty over it, they were that pleased. - -"And then some one who stood in with that swell gambling joint where -we picked you up must have tipped the manager off about it, and he -saw where he could do a good stroke of business--make it a kind of -advertisement, you know, besides doing away with any lending by the -house itself, and he put up a proposition to Paul where Paul was to -get all the business at regular rates, and a bit of a salary besides on -account of the all-night hours he'd have to keep sometimes. Paul said -he'd do it, and turned the salary over to me; and they doped out that -pass word about a trip to Persia to make it sound mysterious and help -out the advertising end, and--well, I guess that's all." - -John Bruce was twirling the tassel of his dressing gown again -abstractedly; but now he stopped as Hawkins rose abruptly and came -toward him. - -"No--it ain't all," said Hawkins, a curious note almost of challenge -in his voice. "You said something about Claire going to that gambling -joint. It was the first time she had ever been there. That night Paul -was out when they telephoned. You must be one of their big customers, -'cause they wouldn't listen to anything but a trip to Persia right on -the spot. They were so set on it that Claire said it would be all right. -She sent for me. At first I wasn't for it at all, but she said it seemed -to be of such importance, and that there wasn't anything else to do. -Claire knows a bit of jewelry or a stone as well as Paul does, and I -knew Claire could take care of herself; and besides, although she didn't -know it, it--it was her own old father driving the car there with her." - -"Thank you, Hawkins," said John Bruce simply; and after a moment: "It -doesn't make the love I said I had for her show up very creditably to -me, does it--that I should have had any questions?" - -Hawkins shook his head. - -"I didn't mean it that way," he said earnestly. "It would have been a -wonder if you hadn't. Anyway, you had a right to know, and it was only -fair to Claire." - - - - -CHAPTER NINE--THE CONSPIRATORS - -|JOHN BRUCE fumbled in the pocket of his dressing gown and produced a -cigarette; but he was a long time in lighting it. - -"Hawkins," he demanded abruptly, "is Paul Veniza in the house now?" - -"He's upstairs, I think," Hawkins answered. "Do you want him?" - -"Yes--in a moment," said John Bruce slowly. "I've been thinking a good -deal while you were talking. I can only see things one way; and that -is that the time has come when you should take your place as Claire's -father." - -The old man drew back, startled. - -"Tell Claire?" he whispered. Then he shook his head miserably. "No, no! -I--I haven't earned the right. I--I can't break my word to Paul." - -"I do not ask you to break your word to Paul. I want you to earn the -right--now." - -Hawkins was still shaking his head. - -"Earn it now--after all these years! How can I?" - -"By promising that you won't drink any more," said John Bruce quietly. - -Hawkins' eyes went to the floor. - -"Promise!" he said in a shamed way. "I've been promising that for twenty -years. Paul wouldn't believe me. I wouldn't believe myself. I went and -got drunker than I've been in all my life the night that dog said he was -going to marry Claire, and Claire said it was true, and wouldn't listen -to anything Paul could say to her against it." - -"I would believe you," said John Bruce gravely. - -For an instant Hawkins' face glowed, while tears came into the old blue -eyes--and then he turned hurriedly and walked to the window, his back to -John Bruce. - -"It's no use," he said, with a catch in his voice. "You don't know me. -Nobody that knows me would take my word for that--least of all Paul." - -"I know this," said John Bruce steadily, "that you have never been -really put to the test. The test is here now. You'd stop, and stop -forever, wouldn't you, if it meant Claire's happiness, her future, -her salvation from the horror and degradation and misery and utter -hopelessness that a life with a man who is lost to every sense of -decency must bring her? I would believe you if you promised under those -conditions. It seems to me to be the only chance there is left to save -her. It is true she believes Paul is her father and accepts him as -such, and neither his influence nor his arguments will move her from her -determination to marry Crang; but I think there is a chance if she is -told your story, if she is brought to her own father through this very -thing. I think if you are in each other's arms at last after all these -years from just that cause it might succeed where everything else -failed. But this much is sure. It has a chance of success, and you owe -Claire that chance. Will you take it, Hawkins? Will you promise?" - -There was no answer from the window, only the shaking of the old man's -shoulders. - -"Hawkins," said John Bruce softly, "wouldn't it be very wonderful if you -saved her, and saved yourself; and wonderful, too, to know the joy of -your own daughter's love?" - -The old man turned suddenly from the window, his arms stretched out -before him as though in intense yearning; and there was something almost -of nobility in the gray head held high on the bent shoulders, something -of greatness in the old wrinkled face that seemed to exalt the worn and -shabby clothes hanging so formlessly about him. - -"My little girl," he said brokenly. - -"Your promise, Hawkins," said John Bruce in a low voice. "Will you -promise?" - -"Yes," breathed the old man fiercely. "_Yes_--so help me, God! But"--he -faltered suddenly--"but Paul-----" - -"Ask Paul to come down here," said John Bruce. "I have something to say -to both of you--more than I have already said to you. I will answer for -Paul." - -The old cab driver obeyed mechanically. He crossed the room and went -out. John Bruce heard him mounting the stairs. Presently he returned, -followed by the tall, straight, white-haired figure of Paul Veniza. - -Hawkins closed the door behind them. - -Paul Veniza turned sharply at the sound, and glanced gravely from one to -the other. His eyebrows went up as he looked at John Bruce. John Bruce's -face was set. - -"What is the matter?" inquired Paul Veniza anxiously. - -"I want you to listen first to a little story," said John Bruce -seriously--and in a few words he told Paul Veniza, as he had told -Hawkins, of his love for Claire and the events of the night that had -brought him there a wounded man. "And this afternoon," John Bruce ended, -"I asked Claire to marry me, and she told me she was going to marry -Doctor Crang." - -Paul Veniza had listened with growing anxiety, casting troubled and -uncertain glances the while at Hawkins. - -"Yes," he said in a low voice. - -John Bruce spoke abruptly: - -"Hawkins has promised he will never drink again." - -Paul Veniza, with a sudden start, stared at Hawkins, and then a sort of -kindly tolerance dawned in his face. - -"My poor friend!" said Paul Veniza as though he were comforting a -wayward child, and went over and laid his hand affectionately on -Hawkins' arm. - -"I have told Hawkins," went on John Bruce, "that I love Claire, that I -asked her to marry me; and Hawkins in turn has told me he is Claire's -father, and how he brought her to you and Mrs. Veniza when she was a -baby, and of the pledge he made you then. It is because I love Claire -too that I feel I can speak now. You once told Hawkins how he could -redeem his daughter. He wants to redeem her now. He has promised never -to drink again." - -Paul Veniza's face had whitened a little. Half in a startled, half in a -troubled way, he looked once more at John Bruce and then at Hawkins. - -"My poor friend!" he said again. - -John Bruce's hand on the arm of his chair clenched suddenly. - -"You may perhaps feel that he should not have told me of his -relationship to Claire; but it was this damnable situation with Crang -that forced the issue." - -Paul Veniza left Hawkins' side and began to pace the room in an agitated -way. - -"No!" he said heavily. "I do not blame Hawkins. We--we neither of us -know what to do. It is a terrible, an awful thing. Crang is like some -loathsome creature to her, and yet in some way that I cannot discover -he has got her into his power. I have tried everything, used every -argument I can with her, pleaded with her--and it has been useless." -He raised his arms suddenly above his head, partly it seemed in -supplication, partly in menace. "Oh, God!" he cried out. "I, too, love -her, for she has really been my daughter through all these years. But I -do not quite understand." He turned to Hawkins. "Even if you kept your -promise now, my friend, what connection has that with Doctor Crang? -Could that in any way prevent this marriage?" - -It was John Bruce who answered. - -"It is the last ditch," he said evenly; "the one way you have not -tried--to tell her her own and her father's story. I do not say it will -succeed. But it is the great crisis in her life. It is the one thing -in the world that ought to sway her, win her. Her father! After twenty -years--her father!" - -Paul Veniza's hands, trembling, ruffled through his white hair. Hawkins' -fingers fumbled, now with the buttons on his vest, now with the brim of -his hat which He had picked up aimlessly from the table; and his eyes, -lifting from the floor, glanced timorously, almost furtively, at Paul -Veniza, and sought the floor again. - -John Bruce got up from his chair and stepped toward them. - -"I want to tell you something," he said sharply, "that ought to put an -end to any hesitation on your parts at _any_ plan, no matter what, that -offers even the slightest chance of stopping this marriage. Listen! -Devil though you both believe this Crang to be, you do not either of you -even know the man for what he is. While I was lying there"--he flung out -his hand impulsively toward the couch--"the safe here in this room was -opened and robbed one night. You know that. But you do not know that it -was done by Doctor Crang and his confederates. You know what happened. -But you do not know that while the 'burglars' pretended to hold Crang -at bay with a revolver and then made their 'escape,' Crang, with most -of the proceeds of that robbery in his own pockets, was laughing up his -sleeve at you." - -Hawkins' jaw had dropped as he stared at John Bruce. - -"Crang did it! You--you say Crang committed that robbery?" stammered -Paul Veniza. "But you were unconscious! Still you--you seem to know that -the safe was robbed!" - -"Apparently I do!" John Bruce laughed shortly. "Crang too thought I -was unconscious, but to make sure he jabbed me with his needle. It -took effect just at the right time--for Crang--just as you and Claire -appeared in the doorway. And"--his brows knitted together--"it seems a -little strange that none of you have ever mentioned it in my presence; -that not a word has ever been said to me about it." - -Paul Veniza coughed nervously. - -"You were sick," he said; "too sick, we thought, for any excitement." - -Hawkins suddenly leaned forward; his wrinkled face was earnest. - -"That is not true!" he said bluntly. "It might have been at first, -but it wasn't after you got better. It was mostly your money that was -stolen. Claire put it there the night you came here, and----" - -"Hawkins!" Paul Veniza called out sharply in reproof. - -"But he knows now it's gone," said the old cabman a little helplessly. -He blundered on: "Paul felt he was responsible for your money, and he -was afraid you might not want to take it if you knew he had to make it -up out of his own pocket, and----" - -John Bruce took a step forward, and laid his hand on Paul Veniza's -shoulder. He stood silently, looking at the other. - -"It is nothing!" said Paul Veniza, abashed. - -"Perhaps not!" said John Bruce. "But"--he turned abruptly away, his lips -tight--"it just made me think for a minute. In the life I've led men -like you are rare." - -"We were speaking of Doctor Crang," said Paul Veniza a little awkwardly. -"If you know that Doctor Crang is the thief, then that is the way out of -our trouble. Instead of marrying Claire, he will be sent to prison." - -John Bruce shook his head. - -"You said yourself I was unconscious at the time. You certainly must -have found me that way, and Crang would make you testify that for days I -had been raving in delirium. I do not think you could convict him on my -testimony." - -"But even so," said Paul Veniza, "there is Claire. If she knew that -Crang was a criminal, she----" - -"She does know," said John Bruce tersely. - -"Claire knows!" ejaculated Paul Veniza in surprise. "You--you told her, -then?" - -"No," John Bruce answered. "I said to her: 'Suppose I were to tell you -that the man is a criminal?' She answered: 'He is a criminal.' I said -then: 'Suppose he were sent to jail--to serve a sentence?' She answered: -'I would marry him when he came out.'" - -"My God!" mumbled the old cabman miserably. - -"I tell you this," said John Bruce through set teeth, and speaking -directly to Paul Veniza, "because it seems to me to be the final proof -that mere argument with Claire is useless, and that something more is -necessary. I do not ask you to release Hawkins from his pledge; I ask -you to believe his promise this time because back of it he knows it may -save Claire from what would mean worse than death to her. I believe him; -I will vouch for him. Do you agree, Paul Veniza?" - -For an instant the white-haired pawnbroker seemed lost in thought; then -he nodded his head gravely. - -"In the last few days," he said slowly, "I have felt that it was no -longer my province to masquerade as her father. I know that my influence -is powerless. As you have said, it is the crisis, a very terrible -crisis, in her life." He turned toward Hawkins, and held out his hand. -"My old friend"--his voice broke--"I pray Heaven to aid you--to aid us -all." - -Hawkins' blue eyes filled suddenly with tears. - -"You believe me, too, Paul, this time!" he said in a choking voice. -"Listen, Paul! I promise! So help me, God--I promise!" - -A lump had somehow risen in John Bruce's throat. He turned away, and for -a moment there was silence in the room. And then he heard Paul Veniza -speak: - -"She is dear to us all. Let us call her--unless, my old friend, you -would rather be alone." - -"No, no!" Hawkins cried hurriedly. "I--I want you both; but--but -not now, don't call her now." He swept his hands over his shabby, -ill-fitting clothes. "I--not like this. I----" - -"Yes," said Paul Veniza gently, "I understand--and you are right. This -evening then--at eight o'clock. You will come back here, my old friend, -at eight o'clock. And do you remember, it was in this very room, twenty -years ago, that----" He did not complete his sentence; the hot tears -were streaming unashamed down his cheeks. - -John Bruce was staring out of the window, the panes of which seemed -curiously blurred. - -"Come," he heard Paul Veniza say. - -And then, as the two men reached the door, John Bruce looked around. -Hawkins had turned on the threshold. Something seemed to have -transfigured the old cab driver's face. It was illumined. There seemed -something of infinite pathos in the head held high, in the drooped -shoulders resolutely squared. - -"My little girl!" said Hawkins tenderly. "To-night at eight o'clock--my -little girl!" - - - - -CHAPTER TEN--AT FIVE MINUTES TO EIGHT - -|BEFORE the rickety washstand and in front of the cracked glass that -served as a mirror and was suspended from a nail driven into the wall, -Hawkins was shaving himself. Perhaps the light from the wheezing -gas-jet was over-bad that evening, or perhaps it was only in playful -and facetious mood with the mirror acting the rôle of co-conspirator; -Hawkins' chin smarted and was raw; little specks of red showed here and -there through the repeated coats of lather which he kept scraping off -with his razor. But Hawkins appeared willing to sacrifice even the skin -itself to obtain the standard of smoothness which he had evidently set -before himself as his goal. And so over and over again he applied the -lather, and hoed it off, and tested the result by rubbing thumb and -forefinger critically over his face. He made no grimace, nor did he show -any irritation at the none-too-keen blade that played havoc with more -than the lather, nor did he wince at what must at times have been -anything but a painless operation. Hawkins' round, weatherbeaten face -and old watery blue eyes smiled into the mirror. - -On the washstand beside him lay a large, ungainly silver watch, its case -worn smooth with years of service. It had a hunting-case, and it was -open. Hawkins glanced at it. It was twenty minutes to eight. - -"I got to hurry," said Hawkins happily. "Just twenty minutes--after -twenty years." - -Hawkins laid aside the razor, and washed and scrubbed at his face until -it shone; then he went to his trunk and opened it. From underneath the -tray he lifted out an old black suit. Perhaps again it was the gas-jet -in either baleful or facetious mood, for, as he put on the suit, the -cloth in spots seemed to possess, here a rusty, and there a greenish, -tinge, and elsewhere to be woefully shiny. Also, but of this the gas-jet -could not have been held guilty, the coat and trousers, and indeed the -waistcoat, were undeniably most sadly wrinkled. - -And now there seemed to be something peculiarly congruous as between the -feeble gas-jet, the cracked mirror, the wobbly washstand, the threadbare -strip of carpet that lay beside the iron bed, and the old bent-shouldered -figure with wrinkled face in wrinkled finery that stood there knotting -with anxious, awkward fingers a large, frayed, black cravat about his -neck; there seemed to be something strikingly in keeping between the man -and his surroundings, a sort of common intimacy, as it were, with the -twilight of an existence that, indeed, had never known the full sunlight -of high noon. - -It was ten minutes to eight. - -Hawkins put the silver watch in his pocket, extinguished the spluttering -gas-jet, that hissed at him as though in protest at the scant ceremony -with which it was treated, and went down the stairs. He stepped briskly -out on the street. - -"Claire!" said Hawkins radiantly. "My little Claire! I'm her daddy, and -she's going to know it. I'm going to get her to call me that--daddy!" - -Hawkins walked on halfway along the block, erect, with a quick, firm -step, his head high, smiling into every face he met--and turning to -smile again, conscious that people as they passed had turned to look -back at him. And then very gradually Hawkins' pace slackened, and into -his face and eyes there came a dawning anxiety, and the smile was gone. - -"I'm kind of forgetting," said Hawkins presently to himself, "that it -ain't just that I'm getting my little girl. I--I'm kind of forgetting -her 'rouble. There--there's Crang." - -The old man's face was furrowed now deep with storm and care; he walked -still more slowly. He began to mutter to himself. At the corner of the -street he raised an old gnarled fist and shook it, clenched, above his -head, unconscious and oblivious now that people still turned and looked -at him. - -And then a little way ahead of him along the street that he must go to -reach the one-time pawn-shop of Paul Veniza, his eyes caught the patch -of light that filtered out to the sidewalk from under the swinging doors -of the familiar saloon, and from the windows in a more brilliant flood. - -Hawkins drew in a long breath. - -"No, no!" he whispered fiercely. "I will never go in there again--so -help me, God! If I did--and--and she knew it was her daddy, it would -just break her heart like--like Crang 'll break it." - -He went on, but his footsteps seemed to drag the more now as he -approached the saloon. His hand as he raised it trembled; and as he -brushed it across his brow it came away wet with sweat. - -The saloon was just a yard away from him now. - -There was a strange, feverish glitter in the blue eyes. His face was -chalky white. - -"So help me, God!" Hawkins mumbled hoarsely. - -It was five minutes of eight. - -Hawkins had halted in front of the swinging doors. - - - - -CHAPTER ELEVEN--THE RENDEZVOUS - -|PAUL VENIZA, pacing restlessly about the room, glanced surreptitiously -at his watch, and then glanced anxiously at John Bruce. - -John Bruce in turn stole a look at Claire. His lips tightened a little. -Since she had been told nothing, she was quite unconscious, of course, -that it mattered at all because it was already long after eight o'clock; -that Hawkins in particular, or any one else in general, was expected to -join the little evening circle here in what he, John Bruce, had by now -almost come to call his room. His forehead gathered in a frown. What was -it that was keeping Hawkins? - -Claire's face was full in the light, and as she sat there at the table, -busy with some sewing, it seemed to John Bruce that, due perhaps to the -perspective of what he now knew, he detected a weariness in her eyes and -in sharp lines around her mouth, that he had not noticed before. It -was Crang, of course; but perhaps he too--what he had said to her that -afternoon--his love--had not made it any easier for her. - -Paul Veniza continued his restless pacing about the room. - -"Father, do sit down!" said Claire suddenly. "What makes you so nervous -to-night? Is anything the matter?" - -"The matter? No! No, no; of course not!" said Paul Veniza hurriedly. - -"But I'm sure there is," said Claire, with a positive' little nod of her -head. "With both of you, for that matter. Mr. Bruce has done nothing but -fidget with the tassel of that dressing gown for the last half hour." - -John Bruce let the tassel fall as though it had suddenly burned his -fingers. - -"I? Not at all!" he denied stoutly. - -"Oh, dear!" sighed Claire, with mock plaintiveness. "What bores you two -men are, then! I wish I could send out--what do you call it?--a thought -wave, and inspire some one, and most of all Hawkins, to come over here -this evening. He, at least, is never deadly dull." - -Neither of the two men spoke. - -"You don't know Hawkins, do you, Mr. Bruce?" Claire went on. She was -smiling now as she looked at John Bruce. "I mean really know him, of -course. He's a dear, quaint, lovable soul, and I'm so fond of him." - -"I'm sure he is," said John Bruce heartily. "Even from the little I've -seen of him I'd trust him with--well, you know"--John Bruce coughed as -his words stumbled--"I mean, I'd take his word for anything." - -"Of course, you would!" asserted Claire. "You couldn't think of doing -anything else--nobody could. He's just as honest as--as--well, as father -there, and I don't know any one more honest." She smiled at Paul Veniza, -and then her face grew very earnest. "I'm going to tell you something -about Hawkins, and something that even you never knew, father. Ever -since I was old enough to remember any one, I remember Hawkins. And when -I got old enough to understand at all, though I could never get him to -talk about it, I knew his life wasn't a very happy one, and perhaps I -loved him all the more for that reason. Hawkins used to drink a great -deal. Everybody knew it. I--I never felt I had the right to speak to him -about it, though it made me feel terribly, until--until mother died." - -Claire had dropped her sewing in her lap, and now she picked it up again -and fumbled with it nervously. - -"I spoke to him then," she said in a low voice. "I told him how much you -needed him, father; and how glad and happy it would make me. And--and I -remember so well his words: 'I promise, Claire. I promise, so help me, -God, that I will never drink another drop.'" Claire looked up, her face -aglow "And I know, no matter what anybody says, that from that day to -this, he never has." - -Paul Veniza, motionless now in the center of the room, was staring at -her in a sort of numbed fascination. - -John Bruce was staring at the door. He had heard, he thought, a step in -the outer room. - -The door opened. Hawkins stood there. He plucked at his frayed, black -cravat, which was awry. He lurched against the jamb, and in groping -unsteadily for support his hat fell from his other hand and rolled -across the floor. - -Hawkins reeled into the room. - -"Good--hic!--good-evenin'," said Hawkins thickly. - -Claire alone moved. She rose to her feet, but as though her weight were -too heavy for her limbs. Her lips quivered. - -"Oh, Hawkins!" she cried out pitifully--and burst into tears, and ran -from the room. - -It seemed to John Bruce that for a moment the room swirled around before -his eyes; and then over him swept an uncontrollable desire to get his -hands upon this maudlin, lurching creature. Rage, disgust, a bitter -resentment, a mad hunger for reprisal possessed him; Claire's future, -her faith which she had but a moment gone so proudly vaunted, were -all shattered, swept to the winds, by this seedy, dissolute wreck. Her -father! No, her shame! Thank God she did not know! - -"You drunken beast!" he gritted in merciless fury, and stepped suddenly -forward. - -But halfway across the room he halted as though turned to stone. Hawkins -wasn't lurching any more. Hawkins had turned and closed the door; and -Hawkins now, with his face white and drawn, a look in his old blue eyes -that mingled agony and an utter hopelessness, sank into a chair and -buried his face in his hands. - -It was Paul Veniza who moved now. He went and stood behind the old -cabman. - -Hawkins looked up. - -"You are sober. What does this mean?" Paul Veniza asked heavily. - -Hawkins shook his head. - -"I couldn't do it," he said in a broken voice. "And--and I've settled -it once for all now. I got to thinking as I came along to-night, and -I found out that it wasn't any good for me to swear I wasn't going to -touch anything any more. I'm afraid of myself. I--I came near going into -the saloon. It--it taught me something, that did; because the only way -I could get by was to promise myself I'd go back there after I'd been -here." - -Hawkins paused. A flush dyed his cheeks. He turned around and looked at -Paul Veniza again, and then at John Bruce. - -"You don't understand--neither of you understand. Once I promised Claire -that I'd stop, and--and until just now she believed me. And I've -hurt her. But I ain't broken her heart. It was only old Hawkins, just -Hawkins, who promised her then; it would have been her _father_ who -promised her to-night, and--and it ain't any good, I'd have broken that -promise, I know it now--and she ain't ever going to share that shame." - -Hawkins brushed his hands across his eyes. - -"And then," he went on, A sudden fierceness in his voice, "suppose she'd -had that on top of Crang, 'cause it ain't sure that knowing who I am -would have saved her from him! Oh, my God, she'd better be dead! I'd -rather see her dead. You're wrong, John Bruce! It wasn't the way. You -meant right, and God bless you; but it wasn't the way. I saw it all so -clearly after--after I'd got past that saloon; and--and then it was all -right for me to promise myself that I'd go back. It wouldn't hurt her -none then." - -John Bruce cleared his throat. - -"I don't quite understand what you mean by that, Hawkins," he said a -little huskily. - -Hawkins rose slowly to his feet. - -"I dressed all up for this," said Hawkins, with a wan smile; "but -something's snapped here--inside here." His hand felt a little aimlessly -over his heart. "I know now that I ain't ever going to be worthy; and I -know now that she ain't ever to know that I--that I--I'm her old daddy. -And so I--I've fixed it just now like you saw so there ain't no going -back on it. But I ain't throwing my little girl down. It ain't Claire -that's got to be made change her mind--_it's Crang_." He raised a -clenched fist. "And Crang's going to change it! I can swear to _that_ -and know I'll keep it, so--so help me, God! And when she's rid of him, -she ain't going to have no shame and sorrow from me. That's what I -meant." - -"Yes," said John Bruce mechanically. - -"I'm going now," said Hawkins in a low voice. "Around by the other way," -said Paul Veniza softly. "And I'll go with you, old friend." - -For a moment Hawkins hesitated, and then he nodded his head. - -No one spoke. Paul Veniza's arm was around Hawkins' shoulders as they -left the room. The door closed behind them. John Bruce sat down on the -edge of his bed. - - - - -CHAPTER TWELVE--THE FIGHT - -|FOR a long time John Bruce stared at the closed door; first a little -helplessly because the bottom seemed quite to have dropped out of -things, and then with set face as the old cabman's words came back to -him: "Crang--not Claire." And at this, a sort of merciless joy crept -into his eyes, and he nodded his head in savage satisfaction. Yes, -Hawkins had been right in that respect, and--well, it would be easier to -deal with Crang! - -And then suddenly John Bruce's face softened. Hawkins! He remembered -the fury with which the old man had inspired him as the other had reeled -into the room, and Clare, hurt and miserable, had risen from her chair. -But he remembered Hawkins in a different way now. It was Hawkins, not -Claire, who had been hurt. The shabby old figure standing there had paid -a price, and as he believed for Claire's sake, that had put beyond his -reach forever what must have meant, what did mean, all that he cherished -most in life. - -John Bruce smiled a little wistfully. Somehow he envied Hawkins, so -pitifully unstable and so weak--his strength! - -He shook his head in a puzzled way. His thoughts led him on. What a -strange, almost incomprehensible, little world it was into which fate, -if one wished to call it fate, had flung him! It was an alien world to -him. His own life of the past rose up in contrast with it--> not of his -own volition, but because the comparison seemed to insist on thrusting -itself upon him. - -He had never before met men like Hawkins and Paul Veniza. He had met -drunkards and pawnbrokers. Very many of them! He had lived his life, -or, rather, impoverished it with a spendthrift hand, among just such -classes--but he was conscious that it would never have been the poorer -for an intimacy with either Hawkins or Paul Veniza. - -John Bruce raised his head abruptly. The front door had opened. A moment -later a footstep sounded in the outer room, and then upon the stairs. -That would be Paul Veniza returning of course, though he hadn't been -gone very long; or was it that he, John Bruce, had been sitting -here staring at that closed door for a far longer period than he had -imagined? - -He shrugged his shoulders, dismissing the interruption from his mind, -and again the wistful smile flickered on his lips. - -So that was why nothing had been said in his hearing about the robbery! -Queer people--with their traveling pawn-shop, which was bizarre; and -their standards of honesty, and their unaffected hospitality which -verged on the bizarre too, because their genuineness and simplicity were -so unostentatious--and so rare. And somehow, suddenly, as he sat -there with his chin cupped now in his hands, he was not proud of this -contrast--himself on the one hand, a drunkard and a pawnbroker on the -other! - -And then John Bruce raised his head again, sharply this time, almost in -a startled way. Was that a cry--in a woman's voice? It was muffled -by the closed door, and it was perhaps therefore his imagination; but -it---- - -He was on his feet. It had come again. No door could have shut it out -from his ears. It was from Claire upstairs, and the cry seemed most -curiously to mingle terror and a passionate anger. He ran across the -room and threw the door open. It was strange! It would be Paul Veniza -in a new rôle, if the gentle, white-haired old pawnbroker could inspire -terror in any one! - -A rasping, jeering oath--in a man's voice this time--reached him. -John Bruce, a sudden fury whipping his blood into lire, found himself -stumbling up the stairs. It wasn't Veniza! His mind seemed to convert -that phrase into a sing-song refrain: "It wasn't Veniza! It wasn't -Veniza!" - -Claire's voice came to him distinctly now, and there was the same terror -in it, the same passionate anger that he had distinguished in her cry: - -"Keep away from me! I loathe you! It is men like you that prompt a woman -to murder! But--but instead, I have prayed God with all my soul to let -me die before----" Her voice ended in a sharp cry, a scuffle of feet. - -It was Crang in there! John Bruce, now almost at the top of the -stairs, was unconscious that he was panting heavily from his exertions, -unconscious of everything save a new refrain that had taken possession -of his mind: "It was Crang in there! It was Crang in there!" - -It was the door just at the right of the landing. - -Crang's voice came from there; and the voice was high, like the squeal -of an enraged animal: - -"You're mine! I've got a right to those red lips, you vixen, and I'm -going to have them! A man's got the right to take the girl he's going to -marry in his arms! Do you think I'm going to be held off forever? You're -mine, and----" - -The words were lost again in a cry from Claire, and in the sound of a -struggle--a falling chair, the scuffle once more of feet. - -John Bruce flung himself across the hall and against the door, It -yielded without resistance, and the impetus of his own rush carried him, -staggering, far into the room. Two forms were circling there under the -gas light as though in the throes of some mad dance--only the face -of the woman was deathly white, and her small clenched fists beat -frantically at the face of the man whose arms were around her. John -Bruce sprang forward. He laughed aloud, unnaturally. His brain, his -mind, was whirling; but something soft was grasped in his two encircling -hands, and that was why he laughed--because his soul laughed. His -fingers pressed tighter. It was Crang's throat that was soft under his -fingers. - -Suddenly the room swirled around him. A giddiness seemed to seize -upon him--and that soft thing in his grip slipped from his fingers and -escaped him. He brushed his hand across his eyes. It would pass, of -course. It was strange that he should go giddy like that, and that his -limbs should be trembling as though with the ague! Again he brushed his -hand across his eyes. It would pass off. He could see better now. Claire -had somehow fallen to the floor; but she was rising to her knees now, -using the side of the bed for support, and---- - -Her voice rang wildly through the room. - -"Look out! Oh, look out!" she cried. - -To John Bruce it seemed as though something leaped at him out of -space--and struck. The blow, aimed at his side, which was still -bandaged, went home. It brought an agony that racked and tore and -twisted at every nerve in his body. It wrung a moan from his lips, it -brought the sweat beads bursting out upon his forehead--but it cleared -his brain. - -Yes, it was Doctor Crang--but disreputable in appearance as he had never -before seen the man. Crang's clothes were filthy and unkempt, as though -the man had fallen somewhere in the mire and was either unconscious -or callous of the fact; his hair draggled in a matted way over his -forehead, and though his face worked with passion, and the passion -brought a curious hectic rose-color to supplant the customary lifeless -gray of his cheeks, the eyes were most strangely glazed and fixed. - -And again John Bruce laughed--and with a vicious guard swept aside a -second blow aimed at his side, and his left fist, from a full arm swing, -crashed to the point of Doctor Crang's jaw. But the next instant they -had closed, their arms locked around each other's waists, their chins -dug hard into each other's shoulders. And they rocked there, and swayed, -and lurched, a curious impotence in their ferocity--and toppled to the -floor. - -John Bruce's grip tightened as Doctor Crang fought madly now to tear -himself free--and they rolled over and over in the direction of the -door. Hot and cold waves swept over John Bruce. He was weak, pitifully -weak, barely a convalescent. But he was content to call it an equal -fight. He asked for no other odds than Crang himself had offered. The -man for once had over-steeped himself with dope, and was near the point -of collapse. He had read that in the other's eyes, as surely as though -he had been told. And so John Bruce, between his gasping breaths, still -laughed, and rolled over and over--always toward the door. - -From somewhere Claire's voice reached John Bruce, imploringly, in -terror. Of course! That was why he was trying to get to the door, to -get out of her room--through respect for her--to get somewhere where he -could finish this fight between one man who could scarcely stand upon -his feet through weakness, and another whose drug-shattered body was -approaching that state of coma which he, John Bruce, had been made to -suffer on the night the robbery had been committed. And by the same -needle! He remembered that! Weak in body, his mind was very clear. And -so he rolled over and over, always toward the door, because Crang was -heedless of the direction they were taking, and he, John Bruce, was -probably not strong enough in any other way to force the other out of -the room where they could finish this. - -They rolled to the threshold--and out into the hall. John Bruce loosened -his hold suddenly, staggered to his feet, and leaned heavily for an -instant against the jamb of the door. But it was only for an instant. -Crang was the quicker upon his feet. Like a beast there was slaver -on the other's lips, his hands clawed the air, his face was contorted -hideously like the face of one demented, one from whom reason had flown, -and with whom maniacal passion alone remained--and from the banister -railing opposite the door Crang launched himself forward upon John Bruce -again. - -"She's mine!" he screamed. "I've been watching you two! I'll teach you! -She's mine--mine! I'll finish you for this!" - -John Bruce side-stepped the rush, and Crang pitched with his head -against the door jamb, but recovering, whirled again, and rushed again. -The man began to curse steadily now in a low, abominable monotone. It -seemed to John Bruce that he ought to use his fist as a cork and thrust -it into the other's mouth to bottle up the vile flow of epithets that -included Claire, and coupled his name with Claire's. Claire might hear! -The man was raving, insane with jealousy. John Bruce struck. His fist -found its mark on Crang's lips, and found it again; but somehow his arm -seemed to possess but little strength, and to sag back at the elbow from -each impact. He writhed suddenly as Crang reached him with another blow -on his side. - -And then they had grappled and locked together again, and were swaying -like drunken men, now to this side, and now to that, of the narrow hall. - -It could not last. John Bruce felt his knees giving way beneath him. He -had under-estimated Crang's resistance to the over-dose of drug. Crang -was the stronger--and seemed to be growing stronger every instant. Or -was it his own increasing weakness? - -Crang's fist with a short-arm jab smashed at John Bruce's wounded side -once more. The man struck nowhere else--always, with the cunning born -of hell, at the wounded side. John Bruce dug his teeth into his lips. -A wave of nausea swept over him. He felt his senses leaving him, and -he clung now to the other, close, tight-pressed, as the only means of -protecting his side. - -He forced himself then desperately to a last effort. There was one -chance left, just one. In the livid face, in the hot, panting breath -with which the other mouthed his hideous profanity, there was murder. -Over his shoulder, barely a foot away, John Bruce glimpsed the -staircase. He let his weight sag with seeming helplessness upon Crang. -It brought Crang around in a half circle. Crang's back was to the stairs -now. John Bruce let his hands slip slowly from their hold upon the -other, as though the last of his strength was ebbing away. He accepted -a vicious blow on his wounded side as the price that he must pay, a -blow that brought his chin crumpling down upon his breast--and then -with every ounce of remaining strength he hurled himself at Crang, and -Crang's foot stumbled out into space over the topmost stair, and with a -scream of infuriated surprise the man pitched backward. - -John Bruce grasped with both hands at the banister for support. -Something went rolling, rolling, rolling down the stairs with queer, -dull thumps like a sack of meal. His hands slipped from the banister, -and he sat limply down on the topmost step and laughed. He laughed -because that curious looking bundle at the bottom there began a series -of fruitless efforts to roll back up the stairs again. - -And then the front door opened. He could see it from where he sat, and -Paul Veniza--that was Paul Veniza, wasn't it?--stepped into the room -below, and cried out, and ran toward the bundle at the foot of the -stairs. - -John Bruce felt some one suddenly hold him back from pitching down the -stairs himself, but nevertheless he kept on falling and falling into -some great pit that grew darker and darker the farther he went down, and -this in spite of some one who tried to hold him back, and--and who had a -face that looked like Claire's, only it was as--as white as driven snow. -And as he descended into the blackness some one screamed at him: "I'll -finish you for this!" And screamed it again--only the voice kept growing -fainter. And--and then he could neither see nor hear any more. - -***** - -When John Bruce opened his eyes again he was lying on his cot. A little -way from him, their backs turned, Claire and Paul Veniza were whispering -earnestly together. He watched them for a moment, and gradually as his -senses became normally acute again he caught Claire's words: - -"He is not safe here for a moment. Father, we must get him away. I am -afraid. There is not a threat Doctor Crang made to-night but that he is -quite capable of carrying out." - -"But he is safe for to-night," Paul Veniza answered soothingly. "I -got Crang home to bed, and as I told you, he is too badly bruised and -knocked about to move around any before morning at least." - -"And yet I am afraid," Claire insisted anxiously. "Fortunately Mr. -Bruce's wound hasn't opened, and he could be moved. Oh, if Hawkins only -hadn't----" - -She stopped, and twisted her hands together nervously. - -Paul Veniza coughed, averted his head suddenly and in turning met John -Bruce's eyes--and stared in a startled way. - -"Claire!" John Bruce called softly. - -"Oh!" she cried, and ran toward him. "You----" - -"Yes," smiled John Bruce. "And I have been listening. Why isn't it safe -for me to stay here any longer? On account of Crang's wild threats?" - -"Yes," she said in a low voice. - -John Bruce laughed. - -"But you don't believe them, do you?" he asked. "At least, I mean, you -don't take them literally." Claire's lips were trembling. - -"There is no other way to take them." She was making an effort to steady -her voice. "It is not a question of believing them. I know only too well -that he will carry them out if he can. You are not safe here, or even in -New York now--but less safe here in this house than anywhere else." - -John Bruce came up on his elbow. - -"Then, Claire, isn't this the end?" he demanded passionately. "You know -him for what he is. You do not love him, for I distinctly heard you -tell him that you loathed him, as I went up the stairs. Claire, I am not -asking for myself now--only for you. Tell me, tell Paul Veniza here, -to whom it will mean so much, that you have now no further thought of -marriage with that"--John Bruce's voice choked--"with Crang." She shook -her head. - -"I cannot tell you that," she said dully, "for I am going to marry -Doctor Crang." - -John Bruce's face hardened. He looked at Paul Veniza. The old pawnbroker -had his eyes on the floor, and was ruffling his white hair helplessly -with his fingers. - -"Why?" John Bruce asked. - -"Because I promised," Claire said slowly. - -"But a promise like that!" John Bruce burst out. "A promise that you -will regret all your life is----" - -"No!" Her face was half averted; her head was lowered to hide the tears -that suddenly welled into her eyes. "No; it is a promise that I--that I -am glad now I made." - -"_Glad!_" John Bruce sat upright. She had turned her head away from the -cot. He could not see her face. "Glad!" he repeated incredulously. - -"Yes." Her voice was scarcely audible. - -For a moment John Bruce stared at her; then a bitter smile tightened his -lips, and he lay back on the cot, and turned on his side away from both -Claire and Paul Veniza. - -When John Bruce looked around again, only Paul Veniza was in the room. - -"I don't understand," said Paul Veniza--he was still ruffling his hair, -still with his eyes on the floor. - -"I do," said John Bruce grimly. "Claire is right. It isn't safe for me -to stay here, and I'll go to-night. If only Hawkins hadn't----" He -laughed a little harshly. "But I'll go to-night, just the same. A taxi -will do quite as well." - - - - -CHAPTER THIRTEEN--TRAPPINGS OF TINSEL - -|UNDER the shaded light on his table, in his private sitting room in -the Bayne-Miloy Hotel, John Bruce had been writing steadily for half an -hour--but the sheets of paper over which his pen had traveled freely and -swiftly were virgin white. He paused now, remained a moment in thought, -and then added a line to the last sheet. No mark was left, but from the -movement of the pen this appeared to be a signature. - -He gathered the sheets together, folded them neatly, and slipped them -into an envelope. He replaced the cap on the fountain pen he had been -using, placed the pen in his vest pocket, and from another pocket took -out another pen that was apparently identical with the first. With -this second pen, in black ink, he addressed the envelope to one Gilbert -Larmon in San Francisco. He sealed the envelope, stamped it, put it in -his pocket, returned the second fountain pen to his vest pocket, lighted -a cigarette leaned back in his chair, and frowned at the ascending -spirals of smoke from the cigarette's tip. - -The report which he had just written to Larmon, explaining his inaction -during the past weeks, had been an effort--not physical, but mental. He -had somehow, curiously, felt no personal regret for the enforced absence -from his "work," and he now felt no enthusiasm at the prospect of -resuming it. He had had no right to tinge or color his letter to Larmon -with these views; nor had he intended to do so. Perhaps he had not; -perhaps he had. He did not know. The ink originated by the old Samoan -Islander had its disadvantages as well as its advantages. He could not -now read the letter over once it was written! - -He flicked the ash irritably from his cigarette. He had been back here -in the hotel now for two days and that feeling had been constantly -growing upon him. Why? He did not know except that the cause seemed to -insist on associating itself with his recent illness, his life in the -one-time pawn-shop of Paul Veniza. But, logically, that did not hold -water. Why should it? He had met a pawnbroker who roamed the streets at -night in a fantastic motor car, driven by a drunkard; and he had fallen -in love with a girl who was glad she was going to marry a dope-eating -criminal. Good God, it was a spectacle to make---- - -John Bruce's fist crashed suddenly down on the desk beside him, and he -rose from his chair and stood there staring unseeingly before him. -That was not fair! What was uppermost now was the recrudescence of the -bitterness that had possessed him two nights ago when he had returned -from Paul Veniza's to the hotel here. Nor was it any more true than -it was fair! What of the days and nights of nursing, of care, of the -ungrudging and kindly hospitality they had given to an utter stranger? -Yes, he knew! Only--only she had said she was _glad!_ - -He began to pace the room. He had left Veniza's in bitterness. He had -not seen Claire. It was a strange sort of love he boasted, little of -unselfishness in it, much of impatience, and still more of intolerance! -That it was a hopeless love in so far as he was concerned did not place -him before himself in any better light. If he cared for her, if there -was any depth of feeling in this love he claimed to have, then at least -her happiness, her welfare and her future could not be extraneous -and indifferent considerations to him. And on the spur of the moment, -piqued, in spite of Paul Veniza's protestations, he had left that night -without seeing Claire again! - -He had been ashamed of himself. Yesterday, he had telephoned Claire. He -had begged her forgiveness. He had not meant to say more--but he had! -Something in her voice had--no, not invited; he could not say that--but -had brought the passion, pleading almost, back into his own. It had -seemed to him that she was in tears at the other end of the wire; at -least, bravely as she had evidently tried to do so, she had been unable -to keep her voice under control. But she had evaded an answer. There had -been nothing to forgive, she had said. He had told her that he must see -her, that he would see her again. And then almost hysterically, over -and over again, she had begged him to attempt nothing of the sort, but -instead to leave New York because she insisted that it was not safe for -him to stay even in the city. - -John Bruce hurled the butt of his cigarette in the direction of the -cuspidor, and clenched his fist. Crang! Safe from Crang! He laughed -aloud harshly. He asked nothing better than to meet Crang again. He -would not be so weak the next time! And the sooner the better! - -He gnawed at his under lip, as he continued to pace the room. To-day, he -had telephoned Claire again--but he had not spoken to her this time. He -had not been surprised at the news he had received, for he remembered -that Hawkins had once told him that the old pawnbroker was in reality -far from well. Some one, he did not know who, some neighbor probably, -had answered the phone. Paul Veniza had been taken ill. Claire had been -up with him all the previous night, and was then resting. - -John Bruce paused abruptly before the desk at which he had been writing, -and looked at his watch. It was a little after ten o'clock. He was -going back to "work" again to-night. He smiled suddenly, and a little -quizzically, as he caught sight of himself in a mirror. What would they -say--the white-haired negro butler, and the exquisite Monsieur Henri -de Lavergne, for instance--when the millionaire plunger, usually so -immaculate in evening clothes, presented himself at their door in a suit -of business tweeds? - -He shrugged his shoulders. Down at Ratti's that night his apparel--it -was a matter of viewpoint--had been a source of eminent displeasure, and -as such had been very effectively disposed of. He had had no opportunity -to be measured for new clothes. - -The smile faded, and he stood staring at the desk. The millionaire -plunger! It seemed to jar somehow on his sensibilities. Work! That was a -queer way, too, to designate it. He was going to take up his work again -to-night, pick up the threads of his life again where he had dropped -them. A bit ragged those threads, weren't they? Frayed, as it were! - -What the devil was the matter with him, anyway? - -There was money in it, a princely existence. What more could any one -ask? What did Claire, his love for a girl who was glad to marry some -one else infinitely worse than he was, have to do with it? Ah, she _did_ -have something to do with it, then! Nonsense! It was absurd! - -He took a key abruptly from his pocket, and unlocked one of the drawers -of the desk. From the drawer he took out a large roll of bills. The -hotel management had sent to the bank and cashed a check for him that -afternoon. He had not forgotten that he would need money, and plenty of -it, at the tables this evening. Well, he was quite ready to go now, and -it was time; it would be halfpast ten before he got there, and---- - -"The devil!" said John Bruce savagely--and suddenly tossed the money -back into the drawer, and locked the drawer. "If I don't feel like -it to-night, why should I? I guess I'll just drop around for a little -convalescent visit, and let it go at that." - -John Bruce put on a light overcoat, and left the room. In the lobby -downstairs he posted his letter to Gilbert Larmon. He stepped out on the -street, and from the rank in front of the hotel secured a taxi. Twenty -minutes later he entered Gilbert Larmon's New York gambling hell. - -Here he received a sort of rhapsodical welcome from the exquisite -Monsieur Henri de Lavergne, which embraced poignant regret at the -accident that had befallen him, and unspeakable joy at his so-splendid -recovery. It was a delight so great to shake the hand of Mr. Bruce again -that Monsieur Henri de Lavergne complained bitterly at the poverty of -language which prevented an adequate expression of his true and sincere -feelings. Also, Monsieur Henri de Lavergne, if he were not trespassing, -would be flattered indeed with Mr. Bruce's confidence, if Mr. Bruce -should see fit to honor him with an account of how the accident had -happened. He would be desolated if in any way it could be attributable -to any suggestion that he, Monsieur de Lavergne, on behalf of the house -which he had the honor to represent as manager, had made to Mr. Bruce -which might have induced---- - -"Not at all!" John Bruce assured him heartily. He smiled at Monsieur de -Lavergne. The other knew nothing of Claire's presence in the car that -night, and for Claire's sake it was necessary to set the man's mind so -completely at rest that the subject would lack further interest. The -only way to accomplish that was to appear whole-heartedly frank. John -Bruce became egregiously frank. "It was just my own damned curiosity," -he said with a wry smile. "I got out of that ingenious contraption at -the corner after going around the block, and, well, my curiosity, as I -said, got the better of me. I followed the thing, and found out where -Mr. Veniza lived. I started on my way back, but I didn't get very far. -I got into trouble with a rather tough crowd just around the corner, who -didn't like my shirt front, I believe they said. The fight ended by -my being backed into a wine shop where I was stabbed, but from which I -managed to escape into the lane. I was about all in, and the only chance -I could see was a lighted window on the other side of a low fence. I -crawled in the window, and flopped on the floor. It proved to be Mr. -Veniza's house." - -"_Pour l'amour du dieu!_" exclaimed Monsieur Henri de Lavergne -breathlessly. - -"And which also accounts," said John Bruce pleasantly, "for the apology -I must offer you for my appearance this evening in these clothes. The -mob in that respect was quite successful." - -"But that you are back!" Monsieur de Lavergne's hands were raised in -protest. "That is alone what matters. Monsieur Bruce knows that in any -attire it is the same here for monsieur as though he were at home." - -"Thank you!" said John Bruce cordially. "I have only dropped in through -the urge of old habits, I guess. I'm hardly on my feet yet, and I -thought I'd just watch the play for a little while to-night." - -"And that, too," said Monsieur Henri de Lavergne with a bow, as John -Bruce moved toward the staircase, "is entirely as monsieur desires." - -John Bruce mounted the stairs, and began a stroll through the roulette -and card rooms. The croupiers and dealers nodded to him genially; those -of the "guests" Whom he knew did likewise. He was treated with marked -courtesy and consideration by every attendant in the establishment. -Everything was exactly as it had been on his previous visits. There were -the soft mellow lights; the siren pur of the roulette wheel, the musical -_click_ of the ball as it spun around on its little fateful orbit; the -low, quiet voices of the croupiers and dealers; the well-dressed -players grouped around the tables, the hilarious and the grim, the -devil-may-care laugh from one, the thin smile from another. It was -exactly the same, all exactly the same, even to the table in the supper -room, free to all though laden with every wine and delicacy that money -could procure; but somehow, even at the end of half an hour, where he -was wont to be engrossed till daylight, John Bruce became excessively -bored. - -Perhaps it was because he was simply an on-looker, and not playing -himself. He had drawn close to a group around a faro bank. The play was -grim earnest and for high stakes. No, it wasn't that! He did not want -to play. Somehow, rather, he knew a slight sense both of contempt and -disgust at the eager clutch and grasp of hands, the hoarse, short laugh -of victory, the snarl of defeat, the trembling fingers of the more -timorous who staked with Chance and demanded that the god be charitable -in its omnipotence and toss them crumbs! - -Well, what was he caviling about? It was the life he had chosen. It was -his life work. Wasn't he pleased with it? He had certainly liked it well -enough in the old days to squander upon it the fair-sized fortune -his father had left him. He decidedly had not gone into that infernal -compact with Larmon blindfolded. Perhaps it was because in those days -he played when he wanted to; and in these, and hereafter, he would play -because he had to. Perhaps it was only that, to-night, there was upon -him the feeling, which was natural enough, and which was immeasurably -human too, that it was irksome to be a slave, to be fettered and -shackled and bound to anything, even to what one, with one's freedom his -own, was ordinarily out of choice most prone to do and delight in. Well, -maybe! But that was not entirely a satisfactory or conclusive solution -either. - -He looked around him. There seemed to be something hollow to-night in -these trappings of tinsel; and something not only hollow, but sardonic -in his connection with them--that he should act as a monitor over the -honesty of those who in turn acted as the agents of Larmon in an already -illicit traffic. - -"Oh, hell!" said John Bruce suddenly. - -The dealer looked up from the table, surprise mingling with polite -disapproval. Several of the players screwed around their heads. - -"That's what I say!" snarled one of the latter with an added oath, as a -large stack of chips was swept away from him. - -Some one touched John Bruce on the elbow. He turned around. It was one -of the attendants. - -"You are being asked for downstairs, Mr. Bruce," the man informed him. - -John Bruce followed the attendant. In the hall below the white-haired -negro doorkeeper came toward him. - -"I done let him in, Mistuh Bruce, suh," the old darky explained a little -anxiously, "'cause he done say, Mistuh Bruce, that it was a case of -most particular illness, suh, and----" - -John Bruce did not wait for more. It was Veniza probably--a turn for the -worse. He nodded, and passed hurriedly along the hall to where, near the -door, a poorly dressed man, hat in hand and apparently somewhat ill at -ease in his luxurious surroundings, stood waiting. - -"I am Mr. Bruce," he said quickly. "Some one is critically ill, you say? -Is it Mr. Veniza?" - -"No, sir," the man answered. "I don't know anything about Mr. Veniza. -It's Hawkins." - -"Hawkins!" ejaculated John Bruce. - -"Yes, sir," said the man. He shuffled his feet. "I--I guess you know, -sir." - -John Bruce for a moment made no comment. Hawkins! Yes, he knew! Hawkins -had even renounced his pledge, hadn't he? Not, perhaps, that that would -have made any difference! - -"Bad?" he asked tersely. - -"I'm afraid so, sir," the man replied. "I've seen a good bit of Hawkins -off and on in the last two years, sir, because I room in the same house; -but I've never seen him like this. He's been out of his head and clawing -the air, sir, if you know what I mean. He's over that now, but that weak -he had me scared once, sir, that he'd gone." - -"What does the doctor say?" John Bruce bit off his words. - -The man shook his head. - -"He wouldn't have one, sir. It's you he wants. You'll understand, sir, -that he's been alone. I don't know how long ago he started on this -spree. It was only by luck that I walked into his room to-night. I was -for getting a doctor at once, of course, but he wouldn't have it; he -wanted you. At times, sir, he was crying like a baby, only he hadn't -the strength of one left. Knowing I could run her, me being a motortruck -driver, he told me to take that car he drives and go to the hotel for -you, and if you weren't there to try here--which I've done, sir, as -you see, and I hope you'll come back with me. I don't know what to do, -though I'm for picking up a doctor on the way back whether he wants one -or not." - -John Bruce turned abruptly, secured his coat and hat, motioned the man -to lead the way, and followed the other out of the house and down the -steps to the sidewalk. - -The traveling pawn-shop was at the curb. The man opened the door, and -John Bruce stepped inside--and was instantly flung violently down upon a -seat. The door closed. The car started forward. And in a sudden glare of -light John Bruce stared into the muzzle of a revolver, and, behind the -revolver, into a bruised and battered face, which was the face of Doctor -Crang. - - - - -CHAPTER FOURTEEN--THE TWO PENS - -|JOHN BRUCE stared for a moment longer at the revolver that held a -steady bead between his eyes, and at the evil face of Crang that leered -at him from the opposite seat; then he deliberately turned his head and -stared at the face of still another occupant of the car--a man who sat -on the seat beside him. He was trapped--and well trapped! He recognized -the other to be the man known as Birdie, who had participated on a -certain night in the robbery of Paul Veniza's safe. It was quite plain. -The third man in that robbery, whose face he had not seen at the time, -was undoubtedly the man who had brought the "message" a few minutes ago, -and who was now, with almost equal certainty, engaged in driving the -car. Thieving, at least, was in the trio's line! They must somehow or -other have stolen the traveling pawn-shop from Hawkins! - -He smiled grimly. If it had been Birdie now who had brought the message -he would never have fallen into the trap! Crang had played in luck and -won by a very narrow margin, for Crang was naturally in ignorance that -he, John Bruce, had ever seen either of the men before. And then John -Bruce thought of the bulky roll of bills which by an equally narrow -margin was _not_ in his pocket at that moment, and his smile deepened. - -Crang spoke for the first time. - -"Take his gun away from him, if he's got one!" he gnarled tersely. - -"It's in the breast pocket of my coat," said John Bruce imperturbably. - -Birdie, beside John Bruce, reached over and secured the weapon. - -John Bruce leaned back in his seat. The car was speeding rapidly along -now. - -The minutes passed. None of the three men spoke. Crang sat like some -repulsive gargoyle, leering maliciously. - -John Bruce half closed his eyes against the uncanny fascination of that -round black muzzle which never wavered in its direction, and which was -causing him to strain too intently upon it. What was the game? How far -did Crang intend to go with his insane jealousy? How far would Crang -dare to go? The man wasn't doped to-night. Perhaps he was even the -more dangerous on that account. Instead of mouthing threats, there was -something ominous now, it seemed, in the man's silence. John Bruce's -lips drew together. He remembered Claire's insistence that Crang had -meant what he said literally--and Claire had repeated that warning over -the telephone. Well, if she were right, it meant--_murder_. - -From under his half closed lids, John Bruce looked around the car. The -curtains, as they always were, were closely drawn. The interior was -lighted by that same soft central light, only the light was high up now -near the roof of the car. Well, if it was to be murder, why not _now?_ -The little velvet-topped table was not in place, and there was nothing -between himself and that sneering, sallow face. Yes, why not now--and -settle it! - -He straightened almost imperceptibly in his seat, as impulse suddenly -bade him fling himself forward upon Crang. Why not? The sound of a -revolver shot would be heard in the street, and Crang might not even -dare to fire at all. And then John Bruce's glance rested on the man -beside him--and impulse gave way to common sense. He had no intention of -submitting tamely and without a struggle to any fate, no matter what it -might be, that Crang proposed for him, but that struggle would better -come when there was at least a chance. There was no chance here. Birdie, -on the seat beside him, held a deadlier and even more effective weapon -than was Crang's revolver, a silent thing--a black-jack. - -"Wait! Don't play the fool! You'll get a better chance than this!" the -voice of what he took to be common sense whispered to him. - -The car began to go slower. It swerved twice as though making sharp -turns; and then, running still more slowly, began to bump over rough -ground. - -Crang spoke again. - -"You can make all the noise you want to, if you think it will do you any -good," he said viciously; "but if you make a move you are not told to -make you'll be _carried_ the rest of the way! Understand?" - -John Bruce did not answer. - -The car stopped. Birdie opened the door on his side, and stepped to the -ground. He was joined by the man who had driven the car, and who, as -John Bruce now found he had correctly assumed, had acted as the decoy at -the gambling house. - -"Get out!" ordered Doctor Crang curtly. - -John Bruce followed Birdie from the car. It was dark out here, -exceedingly dark, but he could make out that the car had been driven -into a narrow lane, and that they were close to the wall of a building -of some sort. The two men gripped him by his arms. He felt the muzzle of -Crang's revolver pressed into the small of his back. - -"Mind your step!" cautioned Birdie gruffly. - -It was evidently the entrance to a cellar. John Bruce found himself -descending a few short steps; and then, on the level again, he was -guided forward through what was now pitch blackness. A moment more and -they had halted, but not before John Bruce's foot had come into contact -with a wall or partition of some kind in front of him. One of the -men who gripped his arms knocked twice with three short raps in quick -succession. - -A door opened in front of them, and for an instant John Bruce was -blinded by a sudden glare of light; but the next instant, his eyes grown -accustomed to the transition, he saw before him a large basement room, -disreputable and filthy in appearance, where half a dozen men sat at -tables drinking and playing cards. - -A shove from the muzzle of Crang's revolver urged John Bruce forward -into an atmosphere that was foul, hot and fetid, and thick with tobacco -smoke that floated in heavy, sinuous layers in mid-air. He was led down -the length of the room toward another door at the opposite end. The men -at the tables, as he passed them, paid him little attention other than -to leer curiously at him. They greeted Birdie and his companion with -blasphemous familiarity; but their attitude toward Crang, it seemed to -John Bruce, was one of cowed and abject respect. - -John Bruce's teeth closed hard together. This was a nice place, an -ominously nice place--a hidden den of the rats of the underworld, -where Crang was obviously the leader. He was not so sure now that the -promptings of so-called common sense had been common sense at all! His -chances of escaping, practically hopeless as they had been in the car, -would certainly have been worth trying in view of this! He began to -regret his "common sense" bitterly now. - -He was in front of the door toward which they had been heading now. -It was opened by Birdie, and John Bruce was pushed into a small, -dimly-lighted, cave-like place. Crang said something in a low voice to -the two men, and, leaving them outside, entered himself, closing the -door only partially behind him. - -For a moment they faced each other, and then Crang laughed--tauntingly, -in menace. - -John Bruce's eyes, from Crang's sallow face, and from Crang's revolver, -swept coolly over his surroundings. A mattress, a foul thing, lay on the -ground in one corner. There was no flooring here in the cellar. A small -incandescent bulb hung from the roof. There was one chair and a battered -table--nothing else; not even a window. - -"It was like stealing from a child!" sneered Crang suddenly. "You poor -mark!" - -"Quite so!" said John Bruce calmly. "And the more so since I was warned -that you were quite capable of--murder. I suppose that is what I am here -for." - -"Oh, you were warned, were you?" Crang took an abrupt step forward, his -lips working. An angry purple clouded the pallor of his face. "More of -that love stuff, eh? Well, by God, here's the end of it! I'll teach you -with your damned sanctimonious airs to fool around the girl I'm going to -marry! You snivelling hypocrite, you didn't tell her who _you_ were, did -you?" - -John Bruce stared blankly. - -"Who I am?" he repeated. "What do you mean?" - -Crang for the moment was silent. He seemed to be waging a battle with -himself to control his passion. - -"I'm too clever a man to lose my temper, now I've got you!" he rasped -finally. "That's about the size of your mentality! The sweet, naïve, -innocent rôle! Yes, I said a snivelling hypocrite! You don't eat dope, -but perhaps you've heard of a man named Larmon--Mr. Gilbert Larmon, of -San Francisco!" - -To John Bruce it seemed as though Crang's words in their effect were -something like one of those blows the same man had dealt him on his -wounded side in that fight of the other night. They seemed to jar him, -and rob his mind of quick thinking and virility--and yet he was quite -sure that not a muscle of his face had moved. - -"You needn't answer," Crang grinned mockingly. "If you haven't met him, -you'll have the opportunity of doing so in a few hours. Mr. Larmon will -arrive in New York to-night in response to the telegram you sent him." - -"I know you said you were clever," said John Bruce shortly, "and I have -no doubt this is the proof of it! But what is the idea? I did not send a -telegram to any one. - -"Oh, yes, you did!" Crang was chuckling evilly. - -"It was something to the effect that Mr. Larmon's immediate presence in -New York was imperative; that you were in serious difficulties. And in -order that Mr. Larmon might have no suspicions or anxiety aroused as to -his own personal safety, he was to go on his arrival to the Bayne-Miloy -Hotel; but was, at the same time, to register under the name of R. L. -Peters, and to make no effort to communicate with you until you gave -him the cue. The answer to the telegram was to be sent to a--er--quite -different address. And here's the answer." - -His revolver levelled, Crang laid a telegram on the table, and then -backed away a few steps. - -John Bruce picked up the message. It was dated from San Francisco -several days before, and was authentic beyond question. It was addressed -to John Bruce in the care of one William Anderson, at an address which -he took to be somewhere over on the East Side. He read it quickly: - -Leaving at once and will follow instructions. Arrive Wednesday night. Am -exceedingly anxious. - -Gilbert Larmon. - -"This is Wednesday night," sneered Crang. - -John Bruce laid down the telegram. That Crang in some way had discovered -his, John Bruce's connection with Larmon, was obvious. But how--and what -did it mean? He smiled coldly. There was no use in playing the fool by -denying any knowledge of Larmon. It was simply a question of exactly how -_much_ Crang knew. - -"Well?" he inquired indifferently. - -The door was pushed open, and Birdie came in. He carried pen and ink, a -large sheet of paper, and an envelope. - -Crang motioned toward the table. - -"Put them down there--and get out!" he ordered curtly; and then as the -man obeyed, he stared for an instant in malicious silence at John Bruce. -"I guess we're wasting time!" he snapped. "I sent the telegram to Larmon -a few days ago, and I know all about you and Larmon, and his ring -of gambling houses. You talked your fool head off when you were -delirious--understand? And----" - -John Bruce, his face suddenly white, took a step forward--and stopped, -and shrugged his shoulders. Crang's outflung revolver was on a level -with his eyes. And then John Bruce turned his back deliberately, and -walked to the far end of the little room. - -Crang laughed wickedly. - -"I am afraid I committed a breach of medical étiquette," he said. "I -sent to San Francisco and got the dope on the quiet about this Mr. -Larmon. I found out that he is an enormously wealthy man; and I also -found out that he poses as an immaculate pillar of society. It looks -pretty good, doesn't it, Bruce--for me? Two birds with one stone; you -for trying to get between me and Claire; and Larmon coughing up the -dough to save your hide and save himself from being exposed for what he -is!" - -John Bruce made no answer. They were not so fanciful now, not so unreal -and wandering, those dreams when he had been ill, those dreams in -which there had been a man with a quill toothpick, and another with a -sinister, loathsome face, whose head was always cocked in a listening -attitude. - -"Well, I guess you've got it now, all of it, haven't you?" Crang -snarled. "It's lucky for you Larmon's got the coin, or I'd pass you -out for what you did the other night. As it is you're getting out of it -light. There's paper on the table. You write him a letter that will get -him down here with a blank check in his pocket. I'll help you to word -it." Crang smiled unpleasantly. "He will be quite comfortable here while -the check is going through the bank; for it would be most unfortunate, -you know, if he had a chance to stop payment on it. And I might say that -I am not worrying at all about any reprisals through the tracing of the -check afterward, for if Mr. Larmon is paying me to keep my mouth shut -there is no fear of his opening his own." - -John Bruce turned slowly around. - -"And if I don't?" he asked quietly. - -Crang studied the revolver in his hand for a moment. He looked up -finally with a smile that was hideous in its malignancy. - -"I'm not sure that I particularly care," he said. "You are going to get -out of my path in any case, though my personal inclination is to snuff -you out, and"--his voice rose suddenly--"damn you, I'd like to see you -dead; but on the other hand, my business sense tells me that I'd be -better off with, say, a hundred thousand dollars in my pocket. Do you -get the idea, my dear Mr. Bruce? I am sure you do. And as your medical -advisor, for your health is still very much involved, I would strongly -urge you to write the letter. But at the same time I want to be -perfectly frank with you. There is a tail to it as far as you are -concerned. I have a passage in my pocket--a first-class passage, in fact -a stateroom where you can be secured so that I may make certain you -do not leave the ship prematurely at the dock--for South America, on a -steamer sailing to-morrow afternoon. The passage is made out in the name -of John Bruce." - -"You seem to have taken it for granted that I would agree to your -proposal," said John Bruce pleasantly. - -"I have," Crang answered shortly. "I give you credit in some respects -for not being altogether a fool." - -"In other words," said John Bruce, still pleasantly, "if I will trap Mr. -Larmon into coming here so that you will have him in your power, and can -hold him until you have squeezed out of him what you consider the fair -amount he should pay as blackmail, or do away with him perhaps, if he -is obstinate, I am to go free and sail for South America to-morrow -afternoon; failing this, I am to snuff out--I think you called it--at -the hands of either yourself or this gentlemanly looking band of apaches -you have gathered around you." - -"You haven't made any mistake so far!" said Crang evenly. He jerked his -hand toward the table. "It's that piece of paper there, or your hide." - -"Yes," said John Bruce slowly. He stared for an instant, set-faced, into -Crang's eyes. "Well, then, go ahead!" - -Crang's eyes narrowed. - -"You mean," his voice was hoarse with menace, "you mean----" - -"Yes!" said John Bruce tersely. "My hide!" - -Crang did not answer for a moment. The revolver in his hand seemed to -edge a little nearer to John Bruce as though to make more certain of its -aim. Crang's eyes were alight with passion. - -John Bruce did not move. It was over--this second--or the next. Crang's -threats were _literal_. Claire had said so. He knew it. It was in -Crang's eyes--a sort of unholy joy, a madman's frenzy. Well, why didn't -the man fire and have done with it? - -And then suddenly Crang's shoulders lifted in a mocking shrug. - -"Maybe you haven't got this--_straight_," he said between closed teeth. -"I guess I've paid you the compliment of crediting you with a quicker -intelligence than you possess! I'll give you thirty minutes alone to -think it over and figure out where you stand." - -Crang backed to the door. - -The door closed. John Bruce heard the key turn in the lock. He stared -about him at the miserable surroundings. Thirty minutes! He did not need -thirty minutes, or thirty seconds, to realize his position. He was not -even sure that he was thankful for the reprieve. It meant half an hour -more of life, but---- - -Cornered like a rat! To go out at the hands of a degenerate dope -fiend... the man had been cunning enough... Hawkins! - -John Bruce paced his little section of the cellar. His footsteps made -no sound on the soft earth. This was his condemned cell; his warders a -batch of gunmen whose trade was murder. - -Larmon! They had not been able to trick Larmon into their power so -easily, because there wasn't any Hawkins. No, there was--John Bruce. -John Bruce was the bait. Queer! Queer that he had ever met Larmon, and -queer that the end should come like this. - -Faustus hadn't had his fling yet. That quill toothpick with which he had -signed---- - -John Bruce stood stock still--his eyes suddenly fastened on the piece of -paper on the table. - -"My God!" John Bruce whispered hoarsely. - -He ran silently to the door and listened. He could hear nothing. He ran -back to the table, threw himself into the chair, and snatching the sheet -of paper toward him, took out a fountain pen from his pocket. Near the -lower edge of the paper, and in a minutely small hand, he began to write -rapidly. - -At the end of a few minutes John Bruce stood up. There was neither sign -nor mark upon the paper, save an almost invisible impression made by -his thumb nail, which he had set as a sign post, as it were, to indicate -where he had begun to write. It was a large sheet of unruled paper, -foolscap in size, and there was but little likelihood of reaching so far -down with the letter that Crang was so insistent upon having, but he did -not propose in any event to superimpose anything over what he had just -written. He could always turn the sheet and begin at the top on the -other side! Again he began to pace up and down across the soft floor, -but now there was a grim smile on his face. Behind Larmon and his -enormous wealth lay Lar-mon's secret organization, that, once set in -motion, would have little difficulty in laying a dozen Crangs, by the -heels. And Crang was yellow. Let Crang but for an instant realize that -his own skin was at stake, and he would squeal without hesitation--and -what had narrowly escaped being tragedy would dissolve into opera -bouffe. Also, it was very nice indeed of Crang to see that the message -reached Larmon's hands! - -And it was the way out for Claire, too! It was Crang who had mentioned -something about two birds with one stone, wasn't it? Claire! John -Bruce frowned. Was he so sure after all? There seemed to be something -unfathomable between Claire and Crang; the bond between them one that no -ordinary means would break. - -His brain seemed to go around in cycles now--Claire, Larmon, Crang; -Claire, Larmon, Crang.... He lost track of time--until suddenly he heard -a key rattle in the lock. And then, quick and silent as a cat in his -movements, he slipped across the earthen floor, and flung himself face -down upon the mattress. - -A moment more, and some one prodded him roughly. His hair was rumpled, -his face anxious and dejected, as he raised himself on his elbow. Crang -and two of his apaches were standing over him. One of the latter held an -ugly looking stiletto. - -"Stand him up!" ordered Crang. - -John Bruce made no resistance as the two men jerked him unceremoniously -to his feet. - -Crang came and stared into his face. - -"I guess from the look of you," Crang leered, "you've put in those -thirty minutes to good advantage. You're about ready to write that -letter, aren't you?" - -John Bruce looked around him miserably. He shook his head. - -"No--no; I--I can't," he said weakly. "For God's sake, Crang, you--you -know I can't." - -"Sure--I know!" said Crang imperturbably. He nodded to the man with the -stiletto. "He's more used to steel than bullets, and he likes it better. -Don't keep him waiting." - -John Bruce felt the sudden prick of the weapon on his flesh--it went a -little deeper. - -"Wait! Stop!" he screamed out in a well-simulated paroxysm of terror. -"I--I'll write it." - -"I thought so!" said Crang coolly. "Well, go over there to the -table then, and sit down." He turned to the two men. "Beat it!" he -snapped--and the room empty again, save for himself and John Bruce, -he tapped the sheet of paper with the muzzle of his revolver. "I'll -dictate. Pick up that pen!" - -John Bruce obeyed. He circled his lips with his tongue. - -"You--you won't do Larmon any harm, will you?" he questioned abjectly. -"I--my life's worth more than a little money, if it's only that, -and--and, if that's all, I--I'm sure he'd rather pay." - -"Don't apologize!" sneered Crang. "Go on now, and write. Address him as -you always do." - -John Bruce dipped the pen in the ink, and wrote in a small hand: - -"Dear Mr. Larmon:--" - -He looked up in a cowed way. - -"All right!" grunted Crang. "I guess we'll kill another bird, too, while -we're at it." He smiled cryptically. "Go on again, and write!" - -And John Bruce wrote as Crang dictated: - -"I'm here in my rooms in the same hotel with you, but am closely -watched. Our compact is known. I asked a girl to marry me, and in doing -so felt she had the right to my full confidence. She did me in. She----" - -John Bruce's pen had halted. - -"Go on!" prompted Crang sharply. "It's got to sound right for Larmon--so -that he will believe it. He's not a fool, is he?" - -"No," said John Bruce. - -"Well, go on then!" - -And John Bruce wrote: - -"She was all the time engaged to the head of a gang of crooks." Crang's -malicious chuckle interrupted his dictation. - -"I'm not sparing myself, you see. Go on!" - -John Bruce continued his writing: - -"They are after blackmail now, and threaten to expose you. I telegraphed -you to come under an alias because we are up against it and you should -be on the spot; but if they knew you were here they would only attach -the more importance to it, and the price would go up. They believe you -are still in San Francisco, and that I am communicating with you by -mail. They are growing impatient. You can trust the bearer of this -letter absolutely. Go with him. He will take you where we can meet -without arousing any suspicion. I am leaving the hotel now. If possible -we should not risk more than one conference together, so bring a blank -check with you. There is no other way out. It is simply a question of -the amount. I am bitterly sorry that this has happened through me. John -Bruce." - -Crang, with his revolver pressed into the back of John Bruce's neck, -leaned over John Bruce's shoulder and read the letter carefully. - -"Fold it, and put it in that envelope without sealing it, and address -the envelope to Mr. R. L. Peters at the Bayne-Miloy Hotel!" he -instructed. - -John Bruce folded the letter. As he did so, he noted that his signature -was a good two or three inches above the thumb nail mark. He placed the -letter in the envelope, and addressed the latter as Crang had directed. - -Crang moved around to the other side of the table, tucked the envelope -into his pocket, and grinned mockingly. - -And then without a word John Bruce got up from his chair, and flung -himself face down on the mattress again. - - - - -CHAPTER FIFTEEN--THE CLEW - -|PAUL VENIZA, propped up in bed on his pillows, followed Claire with his -eyes as she moved about the room. It was perhaps because he had been too -ill of late to notice anything, that he experienced now a sudden -shock at Claire's appearance. She looked pale and drawn, and even her -movements seemed listless. - -"What's to-night?" he asked abruptly. - -"Wednesday, father," she answered. - -Paul Veniza plucked at the counterpane. It was all too much for Claire. -Besides--besides Crang, she had been up all night for the last two -nights, and since Monday she had not been out of the house. - -"Put on your hat, dear, and run over and tell Hawkins I want to see -him," he smiled. - -Claire stared at the old pawnbroker. - -"Why, father," she protested, "it's rather late, isn't it? And, besides, -you would be all alone in the house." - -"Nonsense!" said Paul Veniza. "I'm all right. Much better. I'll be up -to-morrow. But I particularly want to see Hawkins to-night." He did not -particularly want to see Hawkins or any one else, but if he did not have -some valid excuse she would most certainly refuse to go out and leave -him alone. A little walk and a breath of fresh air would do Claire -a world of good. And as for the lateness of the hour, Claire in that -section of the city was as safe as in her own home. "Please do as I ask -you, Claire," he insisted. - -"Very well, father," she agreed after a moment's hesitation, and went -and put on her hat. - -From downstairs, as she opened the front door, she called up to him a -little anxiously: - -"You are sure you are all right?" - -"Quite sure, dear," Paul Veniza called back. "Don't hurry." - -Claire stepped out on the street. It was not far to go--just around the -first corner and halfway down the next block--and at first she walked -briskly, impelled by an anxiety to get back to the house again as soon -as possible, but insensibly, little by little, her footsteps dragged. - -What was it? Something in the night, the darkness, that promised a -kindly cloak against the breaking of her self-restraint, that bade her -let go of herself and welcome the tears that welled so spontaneously -to her eyes? Would it bring relief? To-day, all evening, more than ever -before, she had felt her endurance almost at an end. She turned her face -upward to the night. It was black; not a star showed anywhere. It seemed -as though something dense and forbidding had been drawn like a somber -mantle over the world. God, even, seemed far away to-night. - -She shivered a little. Could that really be true--that God was turning -His face away from her? She had tried so hard to cling to her faith. -It was all she had; it was all that of late had stood between her and -a despair and misery, a horror so overwhelming that death by contrast -seemed a boon. - -Her lips quivered as she walked along. It almost seemed as though she -did not want to fight any more. And yet there had been a great and -very wonderful reward given to her before she had even made the final -sacrifice that she had pledged herself to make. If her soul revolted -from the association that must come with Doctor Crang, if every instinct -within her rose up in stark horror before the contamination of the man's -wanton moral filth, one strange and wondrous thing sustained her. And -she had no right to mistrust God, for God must have brought her this. -She had bought an unknown life--that had become dearer to her than her -own, or anything that might happen to her. She knew love. It was no -longer a _stranger_ who would live on through the years because she -was soon to pay the price that had been set upon his life--it was John -Bruce. - -Claire caught her hands suddenly to her breast. John Bruce! She was -still afraid--for John Bruce. And to-night, all evening, that fear had -been growing stronger, chilling her with a sense of evil premonition and -foreboding. Was it only premonition? Crang had threatened. She had heard -the threats. And she knew out of her own terrible experience that Crang, -as between human life and his own desires, held human life as naught. -And yet, surely John Bruce was safe from him now--at least his life was -safe. That was how Crang had wrung the promise from her. No, she was -not so sure! There was personal enmity between them now. Besides, -if anything happened she would not be able to bring it to Crang's -door--Crang would take care of that--and her promise would still hold. -And so she was afraid. - -She had not seen Crang since the night that John Bruce had thrown him -down the stairs. She had thanked God for the relief his absence had -brought her--but now, here again, she was not so sure! What had kept him -away? Where was John Bruce? She began to regret that she had told John -Bruce he must not attempt to see her or communicate with her any -more, though she had only done so because she had been afraid for his -sake--that it would but arouse the very worst in Doctor Crang. Perhaps -John Bruce had yielded to her pleading and had left the city. She shook -her head. If she knew the man she loved at all, John Bruce would run -from no one, and---- - -Claire halted abruptly. She had reached the dingy rooming house where -Hawkins lived. She brushed her hand resolutely across her eyes as she -mounted the steps. The tears had come after all, for her lashes were -wet. - -It was not necessary either to ring or knock; the door was always -unfastened; and, besides, she had been here so many, many times that -she knew the house almost as well as her own home. She opened the door, -stepped into a black hallway, and began to feel her way up the creaking -staircase. There was the possibility, of course, that Hawkins was either -out or already in bed; but if he were out she would leave a note in his -room for him so that he would come over to the old pawn-shop when he -returned, and if he were already in bed her message delivered through -the door would soon bring Hawkins out of it again--Hawkins, since he had -been driving that old car which he had created, was well accustomed to -calls at all hours of the night. - -A thin, irregular streak of light, the only sign of light she had -seen anywhere in the house, showed now at the threshold under Hawkins' -ill-fitting door, as she reached the landing. She stepped quickly to -the door and knocked. There was no answer. She knocked again. There was -still no answer. Claire smiled a little whimsically. Hawkins was growing -extravagant--he had gone out and left the light burning. She tried the -door, and, finding it unlocked, opened it, stepped forward into the -room--and with a sudden, low, half-hurt, half-frightened cry, stood -still. Hawkins was neither out, nor was he in bed. Hawkins was sprawled -partly on the floor and partly across a chair in which he had obviously -been unable to preserve his balance. Several bottles, all empty but one, -stood upon the table. There were two dirty glasses beside the bottles, -and another one, broken, on the floor. Hawkins was snoring stertorously. - -It seemed somehow to Claire standing there that this was the last -straw--and yet, too, there was only a world of pity in her heart for -the old man. All the years rolled before her. She remembered as a child -climbing upon his knee and pleading for the _tick-tick_--that great -cumbersome silver watch, which, fallen out of his pocket now, dangled by -its chain and swung in jerky rhythm to his breathing. She remembered the -days when, a little older, she had dressed herself in her best clothes, -and to Hawkins' huge delight had played at princess, while he drove her -about in his old ramshackle hansom cab; and, later still, his gentle -faithfulness to Paul Veniza in his trouble, and to her--and the love, -and a strange, always welcome, tenderness that he had ever shown her. -Poor frail soul! Hawkins had been good to every one--but Hawkins! - -She could not leave him like this, but she was not strong enough alone -to carry him to his bed. She turned and ran hurriedly downstairs. There -was the widow Hedges, of course, the old landlady. - -Back at the end of the lower hall, Claire pounded upon a door. Presently -a woman's voice answered her. A moment later a light appeared as the -door was opened, and with it an apparition in an old gingham wrapper and -curl papers. - -"Oh, it's you, Miss Claire!" the woman exclaimed in surprise. "What's -brought you over here to-night, dear? Is your father worse?" - -"No," Claire answered. "He wanted Hawkins, and----" - -Mrs. Hedges shook her head. - -"Hawkins ain't in," she said; "but I'll see that he gets the message -when he comes back. He went out with the car quite a little while ago -with some men he had with him." - -"With the car?" Claire found herself suddenly a little frightened, she -did not quite know why. "Well, he's back now, Mrs. Hedges." - -"Oh, no," asserted Mrs. Hedges positively. "I might not have heard him -going upstairs, but I would have heard the car coming in. It ain't come -back yet." - -"But Hawkins _is_ upstairs," said Claire a little heavily. "I--I've been -up." - -"You say Hawkins is upstairs?" Mrs. Hedges stared incredulously. "That's -very strange!" She turned and ran back into her room and to a rear -window. "Look, Miss Claire! Come here! You can see!" And as Claire -joined her: "The door of the shed, or the gradge as he calls it, is -open, and you can see for yourself it's empty. If he's upstairs what -could he have done with the car? It ain't out in front of the house, -is it, and--oh!" She caught Claire's arm anxiously. "There's been an -accident, you mean, and he's----" - -"I am sure he never left the house," said Claire, and her voice in -its composed finality sounded strange even in her own ears. She was -thoroughly frightened now, and her fears were beginning to take concrete -form. There were not many who would have any use for that queer old car -that was so intimately associated with Hawkins! She could think of -only one--and of only one reason. She pulled at Mrs. Hedges' arm. "Come -upstairs," she said. - -Mrs. Hedges reached the door of Hawkins' room first. - -"Oh, my God!" Mrs. Hedges cried out wildly. "He ain't dead, is he?" - -"No," said Claire in a strained voice. "He's--he's only had too much to -drink. Help me lift him on the bed." - -It taxed the strength of the two women. - -"And the car's stole!" gasped Mrs. Hedges, fighting for her breath. - -"Yes," said Claire; "I am afraid so." - -"Then we'll get the police at once!" announced Mrs. Hedges. - -Claire looked at her for a moment. - -"No," she said slowly, shaking her head. "You mustn't do that. It--it -will come back." - -"Come back?" Mrs. Hedges stared helplessly. "It ain't a cat! You--you -ain't quite yourself, are you, Miss Claire? Poor dear, this has upset -you. It ain't a fit thing for young eyes like yours to see. Me--I'm used -to it." - -"I am quite myself." Claire forced a calmness she was far from feeling -into her voice. "You mustn't notify the police, or do a thing, except -just look after Hawkins. It--it's father's car, you know; and he'll know -best what to do." - -"Well, maybe that's so," admitted Mrs. Hedges. - -"Do you know who the men were who were here with Hawkins?" Claire asked. - -"No, I don't," Mrs. Hedges answered excitedly. "The thieving devils, -coming here and getting Hawkins off like this! I just knew there were -some men up in his room with him because I heard them talking during the -evening, and then when I heard them go out and get the car I thought, of -course, that Hawkins had gone with them." - -"I--I see," said Claire, striving to speak naturally. "I--I'll go back -to father now. I can't leave him alone very long, anyhow. I'll tell him -what has happened, and--and he'll decide what to do. You'll look after -Hawkins, won't you, Mrs. Hedges?" - -"You run along, dear," said Mrs. Hedges reassuringly. "Who else but me -has looked after him these ten years?" - -Claire ran from the room and down the stairs, and out to the street. -The one thing left for her to do was to reach home and get to the -telephone--get the Bayne-Miloy Hotel--and John Bruce. Perhaps she was -already too late. She ran almost blindly along the street. Her -intuition, the foreboding that had obsessed her so heavily all evening, -was only too likely now to prove itself far from groundless. What -object, save one, could anybody have in obtaining possession of the -traveling pawn-shop, and at the same time of keeping Hawkins temporarily -out of the road? Perhaps her deduction would show flaws if it were -subjected to the test of pure logic, perhaps there were a thousand other -reasons that would account equally well, and even more logically, for -what had happened, but she _knew_ it was Crang--and Crang could have but -one object in view. The man was clever, diabolically clever. In some way -he was using that car and Hawkins' helplessness to trap the man he had -threatened. She must warn John Bruce. There was not an instant to lose! -To lose! How long ago had that car been taken? Was there even a chance -left that it was not already far too late? She had not thought to ask -how long ago it was when Mrs. Hedges had heard the car leave the garage. - -It had never seemed so far--just that little half block and halfway -along another. It seemed as though she had been an hour in coming that -little way when she finally reached her home. Her breath coming in hard, -short gasps, she opened the door, closed it, and, with no thought but -one in her mind, ran across the room to the telephone. She remembered -the number of the Bayne-Miloy. She snatched the telephone receiver from -the hook--and then, as though her arm had suddenly become incapable of -further movement, the receiver remained poised halfway to her ear. - -Doctor Crang was leaning over the banister, and looking down at her. - -With a stifled little cry, Claire replaced the receiver. - -Paul Veniza's voice reached her from above. - -"Is that you, Claire?" he called. - -"Yes, father," she answered. - -Doctor Crang came down the stairs. - -"I just dropped in a minute ago--not professionally"--a snarl crept into -his voice--"for I have never been informed that your father was ill." - -Claire did not look up. - -"It--it wasn't serious," she said. - -"So!" Crang smiled a little wickedly. "I wonder where you get the -_gambling_ spirit from? One of these days you'll find out how serious -these attacks are!" He took a step forward. "Your father tells me you -have been over to Hawkins' room." - -There was a curious hint of both challenge and perverted humor in his -voice. It set at rest any lingering doubt Claire might have had. - -"Yes," she said, and faced him now, her eyes, hard and steady, fixed on -his. - -"Poor Hawkins!" sighed Doctor Crang ironically. "Even the best of us -have our vices! It should teach us to be tolerant with others!" - -Claire's little form was rigidly erect. - -"I wonder if you know how much I hate you?" she said in a tense, low -voice. - -"You've told me often enough!" A savage, hungry look came into Crang's -eyes. "But you're mine, for all that! Mine, Claire! Mine! You understand -that, eh?" - -He advanced toward her. The door of the inner room, that for weeks, -until a few days ago, had been occupied by John Bruce, was just behind -her, and she retreated through it. He followed her. She did not want to -cry out--the sound would reach the sick room above; and, besides, she -dared not show the man that she had any fear. - -"Don't follow me like that!" she breathed fiercely. - -"Why not?" he retorted, as he switched on the light and closed the door. -"I've got the right to, even if I hadn't something that I came over here -particularly to-night to tell you about--quite privately." - -She had put the table between them. That he made no effort to come -nearer for the moment afforded her a certain relief, but there was -something in the smile with which he surveyed her now, a cynical, -gloating triumph, that chilled her. - -"Well, what is it?" she demanded. - -"I trapped that damned lover of yours to-night!" he announced coolly. - -Claire felt her face go white. It _was_ true, then! She fought madly -with herself for self-possession. - -"If you mean Mr. Bruce," she said deliberately, "I was just going to try -to warn him over the phone; though, even then, I was afraid I was too -late." - -"Ah!" he exclaimed sharply. "You knew, then?" - -Claire shrugged her shoulders. - -"Oh, yes!" she said contemptuously. "My faith in you where evil is -concerned is limitless. I heard your threats. I saw Hawkins a few -minutes ago. He was quite--quite helpless. You, or some of your -confederates, traded on his weakness, took the key of the car away from -him, and then stole the car. Ordinary thieves would not have acted like -that." An icy smile came to her lips. "His landlady thought the police -should be notified that the car had been stolen." - -"You always were clever, Claire," Crang grinned admiringly. "You've got -some brains--all there are around here, as far as I can make out. -You've got it straight, all right. Mr. John Bruce, Esquire, came out of -Lavergne's on being informed that Hawkins was in bad shape--no lie about -that!--and walked into the car without a murmur. Too bad to bother the -police, though--the car will have been left in front of Hawkins' door -again by now." - -It was hard to keep her courage; hard to keep her lips from trembling; -hard to keep the tears back; hard to pretend that she was not afraid. - -"What are you going to do with him?" Her voice was very low. "The -promise that I gave you was on the condition that he _lived_--not only -then, but now." Crang laughed outright. - -"Oh, don't worry about that! He'd never let it get that far. He thinks -too much of Mr. Bruce! He has already taken care of himself--at another -man's expense." - -Claire stared numbly. She did not understand. - -"I'll tell you," said Crang, with brutal viciousness. "He's a -professional gambler, this supposedly wealthy gentleman of leisure. He -works for a man in San Francisco named Larmon, who really is wealthy, -but who poses as a pillar of the church, or words to that effect. Never -mind how, but Larmon will be here to-night in New York--just at the -right moment. And Mr. Bruce has very kindly consented to assist in -convincing Mr. Larmon that exposure isn't worth the few dollars that -would buy him immunity." - -Claire did not speak. Still she did not understand. She sat down wearily -in the chair beside the table. - -Crang took a letter from his pocket abruptly, and, opening it, laid it -in front of Claire. - -"I thought perhaps you would like to read it," he said carelessly. - -Claire rested her elbows on the table and cupped her chin in her hands. -She stared at the letter. At first the words ran together, and she could -not make them out. Then a sentence took form, and then another--and she -read them piteously. "... I asked a girl to marry me, and in doing so -felt she had the right to my full confidence. She did me in... She read -on to the end. - -"But it's not true!" she cried out sharply. "I don't believe it!" - -"Of course, it isn't true!" said Crang complacently. "And, of course, -you don't believe it! But Larmon will. I've only shown you the letter to -let you see what kind of a yellow cur this would-be lover of yours is. -Anything to save himself! But so long as he wrote the letter, I had no -quarrel with him if he wanted to fake excuses for himself that gave him -a chance of holding his job with Larmon afterwards." - -It couldn't be true--true that John Bruce had even written the letter, a -miserable Judas thing that baited a trap, for one who trusted him, with -the good name of a woman for whom he had professed to care. It couldn't -be true--but the signature was there, and--and it was genuine: "John -Bruce.... John Bruce.... John Bruce." It seemed to strike at her with -the cruel, stinging blows of a whip-lash: "John Bruce.... John Bruce.... -John----" - -The words became blurred. It was the infinite hopelessness of everything -that crushed her fortitude, and mocked it, and made of it at last a -beaten thing. A tear fell and splashed upon the page--and still another. -She kept looking at the letter, though she could only see it through a -blinding mist. And there was something ominous, and something that -added to her fear, that she should imagine that her tears made _black_ -splashes on the blurred letter as they fell, and----- - -She heard a sudden startled snarl from Crang, and the letter was -snatched up from the table. And then he seemed to laugh wildly, without -reason, as a maniac would laugh--and with the letter clutched in his -hand rushed from the room. Claire crushed her hands against her temples. -Perhaps it was herself who had gone mad. - -The front door banged. - - - - -CHAPTER SIXTEEN--A WOLF LICKS HIS CHOPS - -|OUTSIDE the house Crang continued to run. He was unconscious that he -had forgotten his hat. His face worked in livid fury. Alternately he -burst out into short, ugly gusts of laughter that made of laughter an -evil thing; alternately, racked with unbridled passion, he mouthed a -flood of oaths. - -He ran on for some three blocks, and finally dashed up the steps of a -small, drab-looking, cheap frame house. A brass sign, greenish with mold -from neglect, flanked one side of the door. Under the street light it -could just barely be deciphered: SYDNEY ANGUS CRANG, M.D. - -He tried the door. It was locked. He searched impatiently and hastily in -his pockets for his pass-key, and failing to find it instantly he rang -the bell; and then, without waiting for an answer to the summons, he -immediately began to bang furiously upon the panels. - -An old woman, his housekeeper, whose bare feet had obviously been -thrust hurriedly into slippers, and who clutched at the neck of a woolen -dressing gown that also obviously, and with equal haste, had been flung -around her shoulders over her nightdress, finally opened the door. - -"Get out of the road!" Crang snarled--and brushed his way roughly past -her. - -He stepped forward along an unlighted hall, opened a door, and slammed -it behind him. He switched on the light. He was in his consulting room. -The next instant he was standing beside his desk, and had wrenched -John Bruce's letter from his pocket. He spread this out on the desk and -glared at it. Beyond any doubt whatever, where Claire's tears had fallen -on the paper, traces of writing were faintly discernible. Here, out of -an abortive word, was a well-formed "e"; and there, unmistakably, was a -capital "L." - -Crang burst into a torrent of abuse and oaths; his fists clenched, and -he shook one of them in the air. - -"Double-crossed--eh?--damn him!" he choked. "He tried to double-cross -me--did he?" - -Carrying the letter, he ran now into a little room behind his office, -where he compounded his medicines, and that was fitted up as a sort of -small laboratory. - -"I'm a clever man," Crang mumbled to himself. "We'll see about this!" - -With sudden complacence he began to study the sheet of paper. He nodded -curtly to himself as he noted that the traces of the secret writing were -all on the lower edge of the paper. - -"We'll be very careful, _very_ careful"--Doctor Crang was still -mumbling--"it may be useful in more ways than one." - -He turned on the water faucet, wet a camel's-hair brush, and applied the -brush to the lower edge of the letter. The experiment was productive of -no result. He stared at the paper for a while with wrinkled brow, and -then suddenly he began to laugh ironically. - -"No, of course, not!" He was jeering at himself now. "Clever? You are -not clever, you are a fool! She _cried_ on the paper. Tears! Tears -possess a slight trace of"--he reached quickly for a glass container, -and began to prepare a solution of some sort--"a very slight trace... -that's why the characters that already show are so faint. Now we'll see, -Mr. John Bruce, what you've got to say.... Salt!... A little salt, eh?" - -He dipped the camel's-hair brush in the solution and drew it across the -bottom edge of the paper again. - -"Ha, ha!" exclaimed Doctor Crang in eager excitement. Letters, words and -sentences began to take form under the brush. "Ha, ha! He'd play that -game with me, would he? Damn him!" - -Very carefully Sydney Angus Crang, M.D., worked his brush upward on -the paper line by line, until, still well below the signature that John -Bruce had affixed in his, Crang's, presence, there failed to appear -any further trace of the secret writing. He read as fast as a word -appeared--like a starving beast snatching in ferocious greed at morsels -of food. It made whole and complete sense. His eyes feasted on it now in -its entirety: - -Keep away. This is a trap. Stall till you can turn tables. Information -obtained while I was delirious. Am a prisoner in hands of a gang whose -leader is a doctor named Crang. Veniza will tell you where Crang lives. -Get Veniza's address from Lavergne at the house. The only way to save -either of Us is to trick Crang. Look out for yourself. Bruce. - -He tossed the camel's-hair brush away, returned to his desk, spread the -letter out on a blotter to allow the lower edge to dry, and slumping -down in his desk chair, glued his eyes on the secret message, reading it -over and over again. - -"Trick Crang--eh?--ha, ha!" He began to chuckle low; then suddenly his -fingers, crooked and curved until they looked like claws, reached out -as though to fasten upon some prey at hand. And then he chuckled once -more--and then grew somber, and slumped deeper in his chair, and his -eyes, brooding, were half closed. "Not to-night," he muttered. "One job -of it to-morrow... squeal like a pair of rats that----" - -He sat suddenly bolt upright in his chair. It came again---a low tapping -on the window; two raps, three times repeated. He rose quickly, crossed -the room, opened the door, and stood motionless for a moment peering -out into the hall. It was a purely precautionary measure--he had little -doubt but that his old housekeeper had long since mounted the stairs and -returned to her bed. He stepped rapidly then along the hall, and opened -the front door. - -"That you, Birdie?" he called in a low voice. - -A man's form appeared from the shadow of the stoop. - -"Sure!" the man answered. - -"Come in!" Doctor Crang said tersely. - -He led the way back into the consulting room, and slumped down again in -his chair. - -"Well?" he demanded. - -"Peters arrived all right," Birdie reported. "He registered at the -Bayne-Miloy Hotel, and he's there now." - -"Good!" grunted Crang. - -For a full five minutes he remained silent and without movement in his -chair, apparently utterly oblivious of the other, who stood, shifting a -little awkwardly from foot to foot, on the opposite side of the desk. - -Then Crang spoke--more to himself than to Birdie. - -"He'll be anxious, of course, and growing more so," he said. "He might -make a break of some kind. I'll have to fix that. I'm not ready yet. -What?" - -Birdie, from staring inanely at the wall, came to himself with a sudden -start at what he evidently interpreted as a direct question. - -"Yes--sure!" he said hurriedly. "No--I mean, no, you're not ready." - -Crang glared at the man contemptuously. - -"What the hell do you know about it?" he inquired caustically. - -He picked up the telephone directory, studied it for a moment, then, -reaching for the desk telephone, asked for his connection. Presently the -Bayne-Miloy Hotel answered him, and he asked for Mr. R. L. Peters' room. -A moment more and a voice reached him over the phone. - -"Is that Mr. Peters?" Crang inquired quietly. "Mr. R. L. Peters, of San -Francisco?... Yes? Then I' have a message for you, Mr. Peters, from the -person who sent you a telegram a few days ago... I beg your pardon?... -Yes, I am sure you do... Myself? I'd rather not mention any names over -the phone. You understand, don't you? He told me to tell you that it is -absolutely necessary that no connection is known to exist between you, -and for that reason he does not dare take the chance of getting -into touch with you to-night, but he will manage it somehow by early -afternoon to-morrow... What say?... Yes, it is very serious, otherwise -he would hardly have telegraphed you to come on from San Francisco... -No, personally, I don't know. That was his message; but I was also to -warn you on no account to leave your rooms, or have communication -with anybody until you hear direct from him.... No, I do not know the -particulars. I only know that he is apparently in a hole, and a bad one, -and that he is now afraid that you will get into it too.... Yes. You are -sure you fully understand?... No, not at all I I am only too glad.... -Good-night." - -Crang, with a curious smile on his lips, hung up the receiver. He turned -abruptly to Birdie. - -"You get a taxi to-morrow," he said brusquely. "We'll want it for two or -three hours. Slip the chauffeur whatever is necessary, and change places -with him. See? You'll know where to find one that will fall for that. -Then you come here for me at--let's see--the boat sails at four--you -come here at half past one sharp. Get me?" - -"Sure!" said Birdie, with a grin. "That's a cinch!" - -"All right, then!" Crang waved his hand. "Beat it!" - -Birdie left the room. A moment later the front door closed behind him. - -Crang picked up the letter and examined it critically. The lower three -or four inches of the paper was slightly crinkled, but quite dry now; -the body of the original letter showed no sign whatever of his work upon -the lower portion. - -Doctor Crang nodded contentedly. - -He rose abruptly, secured his surgical bag, and from it selected a -lance. With the aid of a ruler and the keen-bladed little instrument, -he very carefully cut away the lower section of the paper. The slip -containing the erstwhile secret message he tucked away in his inside -pocket; then he examined the letter itself again even more critically -than before. For all evidence that it presented to the contrary, -it might have been the original size of the sheet. There was even a -generous margin of paper still left beneath John Bruce's signature. -He folded the letter, replaced it in its envelope--and now sealed the -envelope. - -"To-morrow!" said Doctor Sydney Angus Crang with a sinister smile, as he -produced a hypodermic syringe from his pocket and rolled up the -sleeve of his left arm. He laughed as the needle pricked his flesh. -"To-morrow--John Bruce!" - -He slumped far down in his chair once more. For half an hour he sat -motionless, his eyes closed. Then he spoke again. - -"Damn you!" he said. - - - - -CHAPTER SEVENTEEN--ALIAS MR. ANDERSON - -DOCTOR Sydney Angus Crang looked at his watch, as he stepped from a taxi -the next afternoon, and entered the Bayne-Miloy Hotel. It was fifteen -minutes of two. He approached the desk and obtained a blank card. "From -J. B.," he wrote upon it. He handed it to the clerk. - -"Please send this up to Mr. R. L. Peters," he requested. - -He leaned nonchalantly against the desk as a bellboy departed with -the card. From where he stood the front windows gave him a view of the -street, and he could see Birdie parking the taxi a little way up past -the entrance. He smiled pleasantly as he waited. - -Presently the bell-boy returned with the information that Mr. Peters -would see him; and, following the boy upstairs, he was ushered into the -sitting room of one of the Bayne-Miloy's luxurious suites. A tall man -with a thin, swarthy face confronted him. Between his fingers the tall -man held the card that he, Crang, had sent up; and between his lips the -tall man sucked assiduously at a quill toothpick. - -"Mr. Peters, of course?" Crang inquired easily, as the door closed -behind the bell-boy. - -Mr. Peters, alias Gilbert Larmon, nodded quietly. "I was rather -expecting Mr. Bruce in person," he said. - -Crang looked cautiously around him. - -"It still isn't safe," he said in a lowered voice. "At least, not here; -so I am going to take you to him. But perhaps you would prefer that I -should explain my own connection with this affair first?" - -Again Larmon nodded. - -"Perhaps it would be just as well," he said. - -Once more Crang looked cautiously around him. - -"We--we are quite alone, I take it?" - -"Quite," said Larmon. - -"My name is Anderson, William Anderson," Crang stated smoothly. "I was -the one who telephoned you last night. I am a friend of John Bruce--the -only one he's got, I guess, except yourself. Bruce and I used to be boys -together in San Francisco. I hadn't seen him for years until we ran into -each other here in New York a few weeks ago and chummed up again. As I -told you over the phone, I don't know the ins and outs of this, but I -know he is in some trouble with a gang that he got mixed up with in the -underworld somehow." - -"_Tck!_" The quill toothpick flexed sharply against one of the -tall man's front teeth. "William Anderson"--he repeated the name -musingly--"yes, I remember. I sent a telegram in your care to Mr. Bruce -a few days ago." - -"Yes," said Crang. - -The quill toothpick appeared to occupy the tall man's full attention for -a period of many seconds. - -"Are you conversant with the contents of that telegram, Mr. Anderson?" -he asked casually at last. - -Crang suppressed a crafty smile. Mr Gilbert Larmon was no fool! Mr. -Gilbert Larmon stood here as Mr. R. L. Peters--the telegram had been -signed: "Gilbert Larmon." The question that Larmon was actually asking -was: How much do you really know? - -"Why, yes," said Crang readily. "I did not actually see the telegram, -but Bruce told me it was from a friend of his, a Mr. Peters, who would -arrive in New York Wednesday night, and whom he seemed to think he -needed pretty badly in his present scrape." Larmon took a turn or two up -and down the room. He halted again before Crang. - -"I am obliged to admit that I am both anxious and considerably at sea," -he said deliberately. "There seems to be an air of mystery surrounding -all this that I neither like nor understand. You did not allay my fears -last night when you telephoned me. Have you no more to tell me?" - -Crang shook his head slowly. - -"No," he said. "You've got everything I know. Bruce has been like a -clam as far as the nature of what is between himself and this gang is -concerned. He will have to tell you himself--if he will. He won't tell -me. Meanwhile, he sent you this." - -Crang reached into his pocket and took out the envelope addressed to Mr. -R. L. Peters, that he had taken pains to seal the night before. - -Larmon took the envelope, stepped over to the window, presumably for -better light, and opening the letter, began to read it. - -Crang watched the other furtively. The quill toothpick, from a series -of violent gyrations, became motionless between Larmon's lips. The thin -face seemed to mold itself into sharp, dogged lines. Again and again -Larmon appeared to read the letter over; and then the hand that held the -sheet of paper dropped to his side, and he stood for a long time staring -out of the window. Finally he turned slowly and came back across the -room. - -"This is bad, Mr. Anderson--far worse than I had imagined," he said in a -hard voice. "I believe you said you would take me to Bruce. This letter -asks me to accompany you, and I see we are to go at once." He motioned -toward a box of cigars on the table. "Help yourself to a cigar, Mr. -Anderson, and take a chair while I change and get ready. I will only be -a few minutes, if you will excuse me for that length of time?" - -Crang's face expressed concern. - -"Why, certainly, Mr. Peters," he agreed readily. He helped himself to a -cigar, and sat down in a chair. "I'm sorry if it's as bad as that." - -Larmon made no answer, save to nod his head gravely as he stepped -quickly toward the door of the apartment's adjoining room. - -Crang struck a match and lighted his cigar. The door of the connecting -room closed behind Larmon. A cloud of blue smoke veiled Crang's -face--and a leer that lighted his suddenly narrowed eyes. - -"So that's it, is it?" grinned Crang to himself. "I wondered how he was -going to work it! Well, I guess he would have got away with it, too--if -I hadn't got away with it first!" - -He sat motionless in his chair--and listened. And suddenly he smiled -maliciously. The sound of running water from a tap turned on somewhere -on the other side of the connecting door reached him faintly. - -"And now a little salt!" murmured Doctor Sydney - -Angus Crang. He blew a smoke ring into the air and watched it dissolve. -"And, presto!--like the smoke ring--nothing!" - -The minutes passed, perhaps five of them, and then the door opened again -and Larmon reappeared. - -"I'm ready now," he announced quietly. "Shall we go?" - -Crang rose from his chair. - -"Yes," he said. He glanced at Larmon, as he tapped the ash from the end -of his cigar. Larmon had _not_ forgotten to change his clothes. "I've -got a taxi waiting." - -"All right," agreed Larmon briskly--and led the way to the elevator. - -Out on the street, Crang led the way in turn--to the taxi. Birdie -reached out from his seat, and flung the door open. Crang motioned -Larmon to enter, and then leaned toward Birdie as though to give the man -the necessary address. He spoke in a low, quiet tone: - -"Keep to the decent streets as long as you can, so that he won't have -a chance to get leery until it won't matter whether he does or not. -Understand?" - -Birdie touched his cap. - -"Yes, sir," he said. - -The taxi jerked forward. - -"It's not very far," said Crang. He smiled engagingly as he settled -back in his seat--and his hand in his coat pocket sought and fondled his -revolver. - -Larmon, apparently immersed in his own thoughts, made no immediate -reply. The taxi traversed a dozen blocks, during which time Crang, quite -contented to let well enough alone, made no effort at conversation. -Larmon chewed at his quill toothpick until, following a savage little -click, he removed it in two pieces from his mouth. He had bitten it in -half. He tossed the pieces on the floor, and produced a fresh one from -his pocket. - -"My word!" observed Crang dryly. "You've got good teeth." - -Larmon turned and looked at him. - -"Yes, Mr. Anderson, I have!" His voice was level. "And I am going to -show them--when I get hold of Bruce." - -Crang's expression was instantly one of innocent bewilderment. - -"Why," he said, "I thought you----" - -"Have you ever met the lady?" Larmon asked abruptly. - -"The--lady?" Crang glanced out of the window. Birdie was making good -time, very good time indeed. Another five minutes at the outside and the -trick was done. - -"The woman in the case," said Larmon. - -"Oh!" Crang whistled low. "I see! No, I've never met her. I didn't know -there was one. I told you he had said nothing to me." - -Larmon was frowning heavily; his face was strained and worried. He -laughed out suddenly, jerkily. - -"I suppose I should give him credit for keeping you at least in the -dark," he said shortly; "though it strikes me as more or less of a case -of locking the stable door after the horse has gone." - -Crang's eyebrows were raised in well-simulated perplexity. - -"I don't quite get you, Mr. Peters," he said politely. - -"It's of no consequence." Larmon's eyes were suddenly fastened on the -window. From an already shabby street where cheap tenements hived a -polyglot nationality, the taxi had swerved into an intersection that -seemed more a lane than anything else, and that was still more shabby -and uninviting. "This is a rather sordid neighborhood, isn't it?" he -observed curiously. - -"It's safe," said Crang significantly. - -The taxi stopped. - -"We get out here, Mr. Peters," Crang announced pleasantly, as Birdie -opened the door. "It's a bit rough, I'll admit; but"--he shrugged his -shoulders and smiled--"you'll have to blame Bruce, not me. Just follow -me, Mr. Peters--it's down these steps." - -He began to descend the steps of a cellar entrance, which was -unprepossessingly black, and which opened from the rear of a seedy -looking building that abutted on the lane. He did not look behind him. -Larmon had made _sure_ that the letter was to be relied upon, hadn't -he?--and it was John Bruce, not anybody else, that Larmon was trusting -now. Certainly, it was much easier to _lead_ Larmon as long as Larmon -could be led; if Larmon hesitated about following, Birdie stood ready to -pitch the other headlong down the steps--the same end would be attained -in either case! - -But Larmon still showed no suspicion of the good faith of one William -Anderson. He was following without question. The daylight streaking down -through the entrance afforded enough light to enable Crang, over his -shoulder, to note that Larmon was always close behind him. At a door -across the cellar Crang gave two raps, three times repeated, and as the -door was opened, entered with Larmon beside him. - -The man who had let them in--one of three, who had evidently been -rolling dice at a table close to the entrance--closed the door behind -them, and resumed his game. - -"If you'll just wait here a minute, Mr. Peters," Crang said breezily, -"I'll find Bruce for you." - -He did not wait for a reply. It mattered very little as to what Larmon -said or did now, anyhow--Larmon's exit was barred by three men! He -walked up the length of the low-ceiled, evil-smelling place, and with a -key which he took from his pocket unlocked a door at the farther end. As -he stepped through the door his revolver was in his hand. - -He laughed in an ugly way, as John Bruce rose from the mattress and -faced him. - -"Salt is a great thing, isn't it?" he jeered. He drew from his pocket -the slip of paper he had cut from the bottom of the letter, and held -it so that John Bruce could see it. Then he put it back in his pocket -again. "Understand? He got the _rest_ of the letter, all right; and so -he has come down to pay you a little visit. He's outside there now." - -John Bruce made no answer. - -Crang laughed again. - -"You thought you'd double-cross me, did you? You poor fool! Well, it's a -showdown now. I'm going to bring him in here--and let you tell him what -he's up against. I guess you can convince him. He's got less than an -hour in which to come across--if you are going to sail on that steamer. -If you don't make yourself useful to that extent, you go out--for keeps; -and Larmon stays here until he antes up--or rots! Is that quite clear?" - -John Bruce's lips scarcely moved. - -"Yes; it is quite clear," he said. - -"I thought it would be!" snarled Crang--and backed out through the door. - - - - -CHAPTER EIGHTEEN--THE HOSTAGE - -|AS Crang disappeared through the doorway, John Bruce stepped -noiselessly forward across the earthen floor. With the door half open -and swung inward, it left a generous aperture at the hinges through -which he could see down the length of the cave-like den outside. - -He was strangely calm. Yes, there was Larmon down there--and Crang was -walking toward him. And Crang had left the door open here. Well, -why not?--with those three apaches at that table yonder! Yes, why -not?--except that Crang had also left open the way to one last move, -left him, John Bruce, one last card to play! - -Strange, the cold, unnatural calmness that possessed him! His mind -seemed instantaneously to have conceived and created a project that -almost subconsciously he was now in the act of putting into effect. -He reached out, and extracting the key from the outside of the door, -inserted it on the inside of the lock. He smiled grimly. So far, it was -quite safe! The door was swung so far inward that the inner edge of it, -and therefore his act, certainly could not be seen by any one out there. - -A last card! His lips tightened. Well, perhaps! But it was more than -that. His unnatural composure had something deeper than that behind -it--a passionate fury smoldering on the verge of flame. Larmon was out -there--trapped! He could not put Larmon in greater jeopardy now, no -matter what he, John Bruce, did personally, because Larmon dead would -not be worth anything to them. But for himself--to stand and take it all -like a sheep at the hands of a damned, cringing---- - -He shook his head in quick, curious self-rebuke. Not yet! He needed that -cold composure a little longer since it was to be a showdown now. That -was what Crang had said--a showdown. And Crang was right! It meant the -end--one way or the other. But with luck, if Crang was as yellow as he -believed the man to be, the idea of the bluff that had leaped into his -mind would work successfully; and if it didn't work--well, then, there -was the end--and at least it would not be a scatheless one for Crang! - -The mind works swiftly. Had Crang had time only to walk down _half_ the -length of that room out there toward Larmon? Yes, he saw Crang halt now, -and heard Crang call out sharply to the three men at the table: - -"See if he's got a gun!" - -John Bruce, through the crack, saw Larmon whirl around suddenly, as -though aware for the first time that he was in danger; saw two of the -men grasp Larmon roughly, while the third searched through his clothes. - -And then Crang laughed out raucously: - -"This way, _Mr. Peters_--please! You three can stay where you are--I'll -call you if I need you!" - -For still another instant John Bruce watched through the crack. Larmon, -though his face was set and stern, advanced calmly to where Crang stood. -Crang, with a prod of his revolver, pushed him onward. They were coming -now--Larmon first, and Crang immediately behind the other. Without a -sound, John Bruce slipped around to the other side of the door; and, -back just far enough so that he would not be seen the instant the -threshold was reached, crouched down close against the wall. - -A second passed. - -"Go on in there!" he heard Crang order. - -Larmon's form crossed the threshold; and then Crang's--and John Bruce -hurled himself forward, striking, even while his hands flew upward to -lock like a vise around Crang's throat, a lightning blow at Crang's -wrist that sent the revolver to the soft earthen floor without a -sound--and a low, strangling, gurgling noise was alone the result of -Crang's effort at a shout of alarm. - -"Shut the door--_quietly!_ And lock it, Larmon!" John Bruce flung out. - -It was an impotent thing. It struck at the air blindly, its fists going -like disjointed flails. Strong! He had not just risen from a sick bed -this time! John Bruce and the soul within him seemed to chuckle In -unison together at this wriggling thing that he held up by the neck with -its feet off the ground. But he saw Larmon, though for the fraction of a -second held spellbound in amazement, spring and lock the door. - -"If you make a sound that reaches out there"--John Bruce was whispering -now with panting, labored breath, as he swung Crang over to the corner -and forced him down upon the mattress--"it will take too long to break -that door in to be of any use to you! Understand?" - -"Bruce!" - -It was Larmon standing over them. John Bruce scarcely turned his head. -His hands were still on Crang's throat, though the man lay cowed and -passive now. - -"His inside coat pocket!" John Bruce jerked out. "It will save a lot of -explanation." - -Larmon leaned over and thrust his hand into Crang's pocket. He produced -several envelopes and the slip of paper cut from John Bruce's letter. - -"Read the slip!" said John Bruce grimly. "He showed it to me a minute -ago when he came in to tell me you were here. It was written in our -invisible ink at the bottom of the letter he brought you." He laughed -shortly. "When you've read it, I'll introduce you." - -Larmon read the slip hurriedly. - -"Good God!" he cried out. - -"This is Crang," said John Bruce evenly. - -"But"--Larmon's face was tense and strained--"how------" - -"How did he discover there was anything there to begin with, and then -hit on the salt solution?" John Bruce interrupted. "I don't know. We'll -find out." He relaxed his hold a little on Crang's throat, and taking -the slip of paper from Larmon, thrust it into his own pocket. "Go on, -Crang! Tell us!" - -Crang's eyes roved from John Bruce to Larmon and back to John Bruce -again. His face was ashen. He shook his head. - -"You'll _talk!_" said John Bruce with ominous quiet. - -"And the less urging"--his grip began to tighten again--"the better for -you." - -"Wait!" Crang choked. "Yes--I--I'll tell you. I showed the letter to -Claire. She--she cried on it. A tear splash--black letter began to -appear. I took the letter home, and--trace of salt in tears--and----" - -Crang's voice died away in a strangling cry. Claire! John Bruce had -barely caught any other word but that. Claire! The face beneath him -began to grow livid. Claire! So the devil had brought Claire into this, -too. _Too!_ Yes, there was something else. Something else! He remembered -now. There was a reckoning to come that was beyond all other reckonings, -wasn't there? He would know now what hold this thing, that was beast, -not man, had upon her. He would know now--or it would end now! - -"Claire! D'ye hear?" John Bruce whispered hoarsely. "You know what I -mean! What trick of hell did you play to make her promise to marry you? -Answer me!" - -The thing on the mattress moaned. - -"Bruce! For God's sake, Bruce, what are you doing?" Larmon cried out -sharply. - -John Bruce raised his head and snarled at Larmon. Neither Larmon, nor -any other man, would rob him of this now! - -"You stand aside, Larmon!" he rasped out. "This is between me and Crang. -Keep out of the way!" - -He shook at Crang again. He laughed. The man's head bobbed limply. - -"Answer me!" He loosened his grip suddenly. Queer, he had forgotten -that--Crang couldn't speak, of course, if he wouldn't let him! - -The man gasped, and gasped again, for his breath. - -"I give you one second." John Bruce's lips did not move as he spoke. - -Twice Crang tried to speak. - -"Quick!" John Bruce planted his knees on the other's chest. - -"Yes--yes, yes, yes!" Crang gurgled out. "It's you--the night you--you -were stabbed. You were--were nearly gone. I--I gave her the--the -choice--to marry me, or--or I'd let you--go out." - -John Bruce felt his shoulders surge forward, felt his muscles grow taut -as steel, and he shook at something flabby that made no resistance, -and his knees rocked upon something soft where they were bedded. -_him_--Claire had faced that inhuman choice, born in this monster's -brain--to save _his_ life! Madness seized upon him. The room, everything -before him whirled around in great, red, pulsing circles. A fury that -shook at the roots of his soul took possession of him. He knew nothing, -saw nothing, was moved by nothing save an overwhelming lust for -vengeance that seemed to give him superhuman strength, that enabled him -to crush between his two bare hands this nauseous thing that----- - -He heard a voice. It seemed to come from some infinite distance: - -"You are killing the man! In the name of God, John Bruce, come away!" - -It was Larmon's voice. He looked up. He was vaguely conscious that it -was Larmon who was pulling at his shoulders, wrenching madly at his -hands, but he could not see Larmon--only a blurred red figure that -danced insanely up and down. Killing the man! Of course! What an inane -thing to say! Then he felt his hands suddenly torn away from a hold they -had had upon something, and he felt himself pulled to his feet. And -then for a little he stood swaying unsteadily, and he shuddered, then he -groped his way over to the chair by the table and dropped into it. - -He stared in front of him. Something on the floor near the door -glittered and reflected the light from the single, dim incandescent. He -lurched up from the chair, and going toward the object, snatched it up. -It was Crang's revolver--but Larmon was upon him _in_ an instant. - -"Not that way, either!" said Larmon hoarsely. - -John Bruce brushed his hand across his eyes. - -"No, not that way, either," he repeated like a child. - -He went back to the chair and sat down. He was aware that Larmon was -kneeling beside the mattress, but he paid no attention to the other. - -"The man's unconscious," Larmon said. - -John Bruce did not turn his head. - -The minutes passed. - -John Bruce's brain began to clear; but the unbalanced fury that had -possessed him was giving place now only to one more implacable in its -considered phase. He looked around him. Crang, evidently recovered, was -sitting up on the mattress. The letters Larmon had taken from Crang's -pocket lay on the table. John Bruce picked them up idly. From one -of them a steamer ticket fell out. He stared at this for a moment. A -passage for John Bruce to South America! Then low, an ugly sound, his -laugh echoed around the place. - -South America! It recalled him to his actual surroundings--that on the -other side of the door were Crang's apaches. There was still time -to catch the steamer, wasn't there--for South America? "If the bluff -worked"--he remembered his thoughts, the plan that had actuated him when -he had crouched there at the door, waiting for Crang to enter. Strange! -It wouldn't be a _bluff_ any more! All that was gone. What he would do -now, and carry it through to its end, was what he had intended to bluff -Crang into believing he would do. And Crang, too, would understand now -how little of bluff there was--or, misunderstanding, pay for it with his -life. - -He thrust the ticket suddenly into his pocket, stepped from his chair, -the revolver in his hand, and confronted Crang. The man shrank back, -trembling, his face gray with fear. - -"Stand up!" John Bruce commanded. - -Crang, groveling against the wall, got upon his feet. - -It was a full minute before John Bruce spoke again, and then the words -came choking hot from his lips. - -"You damned cur!" he cried. "That's what you did, was it? The price -Claire paid was for my life. Well, it's hers, then; it's no longer mine. -Can you understand that, and understand that I am going to pay it back, -if necessary, to rid her of you? We are going to walk out of here. You -will lead the way. We are going down to that steamer, and you are going -on John Bruce's ticket where you proposed to send me--to South America. -Either that--or you are going on a longer journey. I shall carry this -revolver in the pocket of my coat, and walk beside you. It is your -affair how we pass those men out there. If you make any attempt at -trickery in getting out of here, or later in the street attempt to -escape, I will fire instantly. It does not matter in the slightest -degree what happens to me at the hands of your men, or at the hands of -a thousand people in the most crowded street. You will have gone out -_first_. The only consideration that exists is that Claire shall be free -of you." - -"Tck!" It was the quill toothpick flexing against one of Larmon's teeth. - -John Bruce turned. - -"I did not understand," said Larmon in a low, grim way. "If I had, I am -not sure I should have stopped you from throttling him when I did." - -John Bruce nodded curtly. He spoke again to Crang. - -"I am not asking you whether you agree to this or not," he said with -level emphasis. "You have your choice at any moment to do as you -like--you know the consequences." He slipped his hand with his revolver -into the right-hand side pocket of his coat, and took his place at -Crang's left side. "Now, go ahead and open that door, and lead the way -out! Mr. Larmon, you follow close behind me." - -"Yes," Crang stammered, "yes--for God's sake--I--I'll do it--I---" - -"Open that door!" said John Bruce monotonously. "I didn't ask you to -talk about it!" - -Crang opened the door. The little procession stepped out into the long, -low cellar, and started down toward the lower end. The three men, from -playing dice at the table near the door, rose uncertainly to their feet. -John Bruce's revolver in his pocket pressed suggestively against Crang's -side. - -"It's all right, boys," Crang called out. "Open the door. I've got -Birdie outside." - -They passed the table, passed through the doorway, and the door closed -behind them. In the semi-darkness here, as they headed for the exit to -the lane, Larmon touched John Bruce's elbow. - -"He brought me down here in a taxi," Larmon whispered. "I suppose now it -was one of his men who drove it." - -"Birdie, he just told those rats," said John Bruce tersely. "Do you -hear, Crang? If he's still out there, send him away!" - -They emerged into the lane. A taxi-cab stood opposite the exit; Birdie -lounged in the driver's seat. - -John Bruce's revolver bored into Crang's side. - -"Beat it!" said Crang surlily to the man. "I won't want you any more." - -"You won't--what?" Birdie leaned out from his seat. He stared for a -moment in bewilderment, and then started to climb out of the taxi. - -The pressure of John Bruce's revolver increased steadily. - -"Damn it, you fool!" Crang screamed out wildly. "Beat it! Do you hear? -Beat it!" - -Birdie's face darkened. - -"Oh--sure!" he muttered, with a disgruntled oath. He shot the gears into -place with a vicious snap. "Sure--anything _you_ say!" The taxi -roared down the lane, and disappeared around the corner in a volley of -exhausts. - -"Go on!" John Bruce ordered. - -At the corner of the lane John Bruce turned to Larmon. - -"You are safe, and out of it now," he said. "I am going to ask you to -step into the first store we pass and get me some good light rope, but -after that I think you had better leave us. If anything happened between -here and the steamer, or on the steamer, you would be implicated." - -"Tck!" It was the quill toothpick again. "I'll get the rope with -pleasure," Larmon said calmly; "but I never lay down a good hand. I am -going to the steamer." - -John Bruce shrugged his shoulders. Larmon somehow seemed an abstract -consideration at the moment--but Larmon had had his chance. - -"What time does the steamer sail, Crang?" John Bruce bit off his words, -as he looked at his watch. - -"Four o'clock," Crang mumbled. - -"Walk faster!" - -They stopped for a moment in front of a store. Larmon entered, and came -out again almost immediately with a package under his arm. - -A block farther on John Bruce hailed a passing taxi. - -Fifteen minutes later, pushing through the throng on the dock, John -Bruce produced the ticket, they mounted the gangway, and a steward led -them to a stateroom on one of the lower decks. - -John Bruce closed the door and locked it. His revolver was in his hand -now. - -"There isn't much time left," he said coldly. "About ten minutes." - -At the end of five, Crang, bound hand and foot, and gagged, lay lashed -into his bunk. - -A bugle sounded the "All Ashore!" - -John Bruce tossed the ticket on the couch. - -"There's your ticket!" he said sternly. "I wouldn't advise you to come -back--nor worry any further about exposing Mr. Larmon, unless you -want to force a showdown that will place some very interesting details -connected with the life of Doctor Crang in the hands of the police!" - -The bugle rang out again. - -John Bruce, without a further glance in Crang's direction, opened the -cabin window slightly, then unlocking the door, he motioned Larmon to -pass out. He locked the door on the outside, stepped to the deck, tossed -the key through the window to the floor of Crang's cabin, and drew the -window shut again. A minute more, and with Larmon beside him, he was -standing on the dock. - -Neither John Bruce nor Larmon spoke. - -And presently the tugs caught hold of the big liner and warped her out -of her berth. - -"John Bruce" had sailed for South America. - - - - -CHAPTER NINETEEN--CABIN H-14 - -|FOR a time, Crang lay passive. Fear was dominant. He could move his -head a little, and he kept screwing it around to cast furtive glances -at the cabin door. He was sure that Bruce was still outside there, or -somewhere near--Bruce wouldn't leave the ship until the last moment, -and.... - -The craven soul of the man shrivelled within him. Bruce's eyes! Damn -Bruce's eyes, and that hideous touch of Bruce's pocketed revolver! The -fool would even have killed him back there in the cellar if it hadn't -been for Larmon! He could still feel those strangling fingers at his -throat. - -Mechanically he made to lift his hand to touch the bruised and swollen -flesh--but he could not move his hands because they were bound behind -his back and beneath him. The fool! The fool had _wanted_ to shoot. -Perhaps with Larmon out of the road, and just at the last minute, that -was what he still meant to do--to open the door there, and--and _kill_. -Terror swept upon him. He tried to scream--but a gag was in his mouth. - -What was that? He felt a slight jar, another, and another. He -listened intently. He heard a steady throbbing sound. The ship was -moving--moving! That meant that Bruce was ashore--that he need not fear -that door there. He snarled to himself, suddenly arrogant with courage. -To the devil's pit with John Bruce! - -He began to work at his bonds now--at first with a measure of contained -persistence; and then, as he made no progress, angry impatience came, -and he began to struggle. He tossed now, and twisted himself about on -the bunk, and strained with all his might. The gag choked him. The bonds -but grew the tighter and cut into his wrists. He became a madman in his -frenzy. Passion and fury lashed him on and on. He flogged himself into -effort beyond physical endurance--and finally collapsed through utter -exhaustion, a limp thing bathed in sweat. - -Then he began the struggle again, and after that again. The periods came -in cycles... the insensate fury... exhaustion... recuperation... - -After a time he no longer heard the throbbing of the engines or the -movement of the ship during those moments when he lay passive in -weakness, nor did the desire for freedom, for merely freedom's sake, any -longer actuate him; instead, beneath him, in his pocket, he had felt -the little case that held his hypodermic syringe, and it had brought -the craving for the drug. And the craving grew. It grew until it became -torture, and to satisfy it became the one incentive that possessed -him. It tormented, it mocked him. He could feel it there in his -pocket, always there in his pocket. Hell could not keep him from it. -He blasphemed at the ropes that kept it from his fingers' reach, and -he wrenched and tore at them, and sobbed and snarled--and after long -minutes of maniacal struggle would again lie trembling, drained of the -power either to move or think. - -It grew dark in the cabin. - -And now, in one of his series of struggles, something snapped beneath -him--a cord! One of the cords around his wrists had given away. He tore -one hand free. Yes, yes--he could reach his pocket! Ha, ha--his pocket! -And now his other hand was free. He snatched at the hypodermic syringe -with feverish greed--and the plunger went home as the needle pricked its -way beneath the skin of his forearm. - -He reached up then, unloosened the knots at the back of his head, and -spat the gag from his mouth. His penknife freed his legs. He stood -up--tottered--and sat down on the edge of his bunk. He remained -motionless for a few minutes. The drug steadied him. - -He looked around him. It was dark. The ship was very still; there was no -sense of movement, none of vibration from the engines. It seemed to him -that in a hazy, vague way he had noticed that fact a long time ago. But, -nevertheless, it was very curious! - -He stood up again. This was better! He felt secure enough now on his -feet. It was only as though a great fatigue were upon him, and that he -seemed to be weighted down with lead--nothing more than that. He crossed -to the window, drew the shade, and opened the window itself. - -And then, for a long time, puzzled, his brows drawn together, he stood -there staring out. Close at hand, though but faintly outlined in the -darkness, he could see the shore. And it was not imagination, for beyond -the shore line, he could see innumerable little lights twinkling. - -It was strange! He rubbed his eyes. Here was something else! The window -opened on a narrow, dimly lighted and deserted deck--one of the lower -decks, he remembered. Below this deck, and evidently alongside of the -steamer's hull, he could make out the upper-structure of some small -vessel. - -A figure came along the deck now from the forward end--one of the crew, -Crang could see from the other's dress, as the man drew nearer. Crang -thrust his head out of the window. - -"I say, look here!" he called, as the other came opposite to him. -"What's all this about? Where are we?" - -"Down the bay a bit, that's all, sir," the man answered. "We've had some -engine trouble." - -Crang pointed to the small vessel alongside. A sudden, wild elation -surged upon him. - -"That's a tug down there, isn't it?" he said. "They're going to tow us -back, I suppose?" - -"Oh, no, sir," the man replied. "It's the company's tug, all right, -that they sent down to us, but she'll be going back as soon as we're off -again. It's nothin' serious, and we won't be more'n another hour, sir." - -Crang snarled under his breath. - -"I beg your pardon, sir?" inquired the man. - -"Nothing!" said Crang. "I'm much obliged to you." - -"Thank you, sir," said the man, and went on along the deck. - -Crang returned to his bunk and sat down again on its edge. He could -still see the reflection of the shore lights. This seemed to obsess -him. He kept staring out through the window. Suddenly he chuckled -hoarsely--and then, as suddenly, his fist clenched and he shook it in -the air. - -"Another hour, eh?" he muttered. "Then, I'll get you yet, Bruce--ha, ha, -I'll get you yet! But I'll make sure of Claire _first_ this time! That's -where I made the mistake--but Doctor Sydney Angus Crang doesn't make two -mistakes alike!" - -He relapsed into silent meditation. At the end of five minutes he spoke -again. - -"I'm a clever man," said Doctor Crang between his teeth. "First -Claire--then you, Bruce. And I'll take good care that you know nothing, -Mr. John Bruce--not this time--not until it is too late--both ways! I'll -show you! I'll teach you to pit your clumsy wits against me!" - -He got up from the bunk and turned on a single incandescent light. Bruce -had thrown the key in through the window, he remembered. Yes, there it -was on the floor! He picked it up; and quickly and methodically he began -to work now. He gathered together the pieces of rope with which he -had been bound, tucked them under his coat, and running to the window, -thrust his head outside again. The deck was clear, there was not a soul -in sight. He unlocked the door now, stepped noiselessly out on the deck, -dropped the pieces of rope overboard, and then, returning to the cabin, -smiled ironically as he made a mental note of the number on the cabin -door. - -"H-14," observed Doctor Crang grimly. "Quite so--H-14!" - -He halted before the mirror and removed the more flagrant traces of his -dishevelled appearance; then he took off his coat, flung it on a chair, -pushed the electric button, and returned to his bunk. - -He was sitting up on the edge of the bunk, and yawning, as the steward -answered his summons. - -"Hello, steward!" said Crang somewhat thickly. "I guess I've overslept -myself. Overdid the send-off a little, I'm afraid. What are we stopping -for?" - -"A little engine trouble, sir," the steward answered. "It was right -after we started. We're only a little way down the bay. But it's all -right, sir. Nothing serious. We'll be off again shortly." - -"Humph!" Crang dismissed the subject with a grunt. "I suppose I've -missed my dinner, eh?" - -"Oh, no, sir," replied the steward. "It's only just a little after seven -now, sir." - -"That's better!" smiled Crang. "Well, get my traps right up here, like a -good fellow, and I'll clean up a bit. And hurry, will you?" - -The steward looked a little blank. - -"Your traps, sir?" - -"Luggage--traps--baggage," defined Crang with facetious terseness. - -"Oh, I knew what you meant, sir," said the steward. "It's where your -traps are, sir? I--I thought it a bit strange you didn't have anything -with you when you came aboard this afternoon." - -"Did you, now?" inquired Crang sweetly. "Well, then, the sooner you get -them here the less strange it will seem. Beat it!" - -"But where are they, sir?" persisted the man. "Where are they? Good God, -how do I know!" ejaculated Crang sarcastically. "I sent them down to the -ship early this morning to be put aboard--in your baggage room. You've -got a baggage room aboard, haven't you?" - -"Yes, sir; but----" - -"I would suggest the baggage room, then!" interrupted Crang crisply. -"And if they are not there, ask the captain to let you have any of the -crew who aren't too busy on this engine trouble, and get them to help -you search the ship!" - -The steward grinned. - -"Very good, sir. Would you mind describing the pieces?" - -"There are four," said Crang with exaggerated patience, as he created -the non-existent baggage out of his imagination. "And they have all got -your 'wanted on the voyage' labels, with my name and cabin written on -them--Mr. John Bruce; Cabin H-14. There is a steamer trunk, and two -brown alligator-leather--which I do not guarantee to be genuine in spite -of the price--suit-cases, and a hat box." - -"Very good, sir," said the steward again--and hurried from the cabin. - -Crang got up and went to the window. The tug alongside seemed to furnish -him with engrossing reflections, for he stood there, smiling queerly, -until he swung around in answer to a knock upon his door. - -A man in ship's uniform entered ahead of the steward. - -"The steward here, sir," said the man, "was speaking about your -baggage." - -"_Speaking_ about it!" murmured Crang helplessly. "I told him to get -it." - -"Yes, sir," said the man; "but I am sorry to say that no such baggage as -you describe has come aboard the ship. There has been no baggage at all -for Mr. Bruce, sir." - -"Not aboard!" gasped Crang. "Then--then where is it?" - -"I can't say, sir, of course," said the other sympathetically. "I am -only stating a fact to you." - -"But--but I sent it down to the dock early this morning." Crang's voice -was rising in well-affected excitement. "It must be here! I tell you, it -must be here!" - -The man shook his head. - -"It's my job, sir. I'm sorry, Mr. Bruce, but I know positively your -baggage is not aboard this ship." - -"Then what's to be done?" Crang's voice rose louder. "You've left it on -the dock, that's what--fools, thundering idiots!" - -The man with the baggage job looked uncomfortable. - -Crang danced up and down on the floor of the cabin. - -"On the way to South America to stay six months," he yelled insanely, -"and my baggage left behind! I can't go on without my baggage, do you -hear?" - -There was a whispered conference between the two men. The steward -vanished through the doorway. - -"I've sent for the purser, sir," volunteered the other. - -Crang stormed up and down the floor. - -Presently the purser appeared. Crang swung on him on the instant. - -"You've left my baggage behind!" he shouted. "My papers, plans, -everything! I can't go on without them!" He shook his fist. "You'll -either get that baggage here, or get me ashore!" - -The purser eyed Crang's fist, and stiffened perceptibly. - -"I'm not a magician, Mr. Bruce," he said quietly. "I am very sorry -indeed that this should have happened; but it is quite impossible, of -course, to get your baggage here." - -"Then get me ashore!" Crang snatched up his coat and put it on. "There's -a tug, or something, out there, isn't there?" - -"Yes," said the purser, "that's the company's tug, and I suppose you -could go back on her, if you think you----" - -"Think!" howled Crang. "I don't _think_ anything about it! I know -that----" His eye suddenly caught the envelope on the couch containing -the ticket. "And what about this?" He picked it up, jerked out the -ticket, and waved it in the purser's face. - -The purser refused the document. - -"You'll have to see the New York office, sir, about that," he said. - -"I will, will I?" snapped Crang. "Well, that isn't all I'll see them -about!" - -"I am sure they will do what they can, sir, to make things right--if -they are to blame," said the purser a little sharply. "But it might -have been your teamer, you know, who made the mistake." He turned to the -door. "I will arrange about your going ashore, Mr. Bruce." - -"Yes!" growled Crang savagely--and five minutes later, swearing volubly -for the benefit of those within hearing, he wriggled his way down a rope -ladder to the tug's deck. - -A deck hand led him to the pilot house. - -"The captain 'll be along as soon as we start," the man informed him. - -Crang made himself comfortable in a cushioned chair. He sat chuckling -maliciously, as he stared up at the towering hull that twinkled with -lights above him--and then the chuckle died away, and little red spots -came and burned in his sallow cheeks, and his lips worked, and his hands -curled until the nails bit into the palms. - -He lost track of time. - -A man came into the pilot house, and gave the wheel a spin. - -"We're off!" said the man heartily. "You've had tough luck, I hear." - -Crang's fingers caressed his bruised and swollen throat. - -"Yes," said Crang with a thin smile; "but I think somebody is going to -pay the bill--in full." - -The tug was heading toward New York. - - - - -CHAPTER TWENTY--OUTSIDE THE DOOR - -|HAWKINS very cautiously got out of bed, and consulted his watch. It was -five minutes after nine. He stole to the door and listened. There was no -sound from below. Mrs. Hedges, who had been his jailor all day, had now, -he was fairly certain, finally retired for the night. - -The old blue eyes blinked in perplexity and he scratched at the -fringe of hair behind his ear in a perturbed way, as he began, still -cautiously, to dress. It had been a very dreary day, during which he -had suffered not a little physical discomfort. Mrs. Hedges had been -assiduous in her attentions; more than that, even--motherly. - -"God bless her!" said Hawkins to one of his boots, as he laced it up. -"Only she wouldn't let me out." - -He stopped lacing the boot suddenly, and sat staring in front of him. -Mrs. Hedges had been more than even motherly; she had been--been--yes, -that was it--been puzzling. If she had said Paul Veniza wanted to see -him, why had she insisted that Paul Veniza didn't want to see him? -Hawkins' gaze at the blank wall in front of him became a little more -bewildered. He tried to reconstruct certain fragments of conversation -that had taken place between Mrs. Hedges and himself. - -"Now, you just lie still," Mrs. Hedges had insisted during the -afternoon, when he had wanted to get up. "Claire told me----" - -He remembered the sinking of his heart as he had interrupted her. - -"Claire," he had said anxiously, "Claire ain't--she don't know about -this, does she?" - -"Certainly _not!_" Mrs. Hedges had assured him. - -"But you said she told you something"--Hawkins continued to reconstruct -the conversation--"so she must have been here." - -"Law!" Mrs. Hedges had returned. "I nearly put my foot in it, didn't -I--I--I mean starting you in to worry. Certainly she don't know anything -about it. She just came over to say her father wanted to see you, and I -says to her you ain't feeling very well, and she says it's all right." - -Hawkins resumed his dressing. His mind continued to mull over the -afternoon. Later on he had made another attempt to get up. He was -feeling quite well enough to go over and find out what Paul Veniza -wanted. And then Mrs. Hedges, as though she had quite forgotten what she -had said before, said that Paul Veniza didn't want to see him, or else -he'd send word. - -Hawkins scratched behind his ear again. His head wasn't quite clear. -Maybe he had not got it all quite straight. Suddenly he smiled. Of -course! There wasn't anything to be bewildered about. Mrs. Hedges was -just simply determined that he would not go out--and he was equally -determined that he would. Paul Veniza or not, he had been long enough in -bed! - -"Yes," said Hawkins; "God bless her, that's it!" - -Hawkins completed his toilet, and picking up his old felt hat, -reconnoitered the hallway. Thereafter he descended the stairs with -amazing stealth. - -"God bless her!" said Hawkins softly again, as he gained the front door -without raising any alarm and stepped outside--and then Hawkins halted -as though his feet had been suddenly rooted to the spot. - -At the curb in front of the house was an old closed motor car. Hawkins -stared at it. Then he rubbed his eyes. Then he stared at it again. He -stared for a long time. No; there was no doubt about it--it was the -traveling pawn-shop. - -Hawkins' mind harked back to the preceding evening. He had met two men -in the saloon around the corner, whom he had seen there once or twice -before. He had had several drinks with them, and then at some one's -suggestion, he could not recollect whose. There had followed the -purchase of a few bottles, and an adjournment to his room for a -convivial evening. After that his mind was quite blank. He could not -even remember having taken out the car. - -"I--I must have been bad," said Hawkins to himself, with a rueful -countenance. - -He descended the steps, and approached the car with the intention of -running it into the shed that served as garage behind the house. But -again he halted. - -"No," said Hawkins, with a furtive glance over his shoulder at the front -door; "if I started it up, Mrs. Hedges would hear me. I guess I'll wait -till I come back." - -Hawkins went on down the street and turned the corner. He had grown a -little dejected. - -"I'm just an old bum," said Hawkins, "who ain't ever going to swear off -any more 'cause it don't do any good." - -He spoke aloud to himself again, as he approached the door of Paul -Veniza's house. - -"But I _am_ her daddy," whispered the old man fiercely; "and she is my -little girl. It don't change nothing her not knowing, except--except -she ain't hiding her face in shame, and"--Hawkins' voice broke a -little--"and that I ain't never had her in these arms like I'd ought to -have." A gleam of anger came suddenly into the watery blue eyes under -the shaggy brows. "But he ain't going to have her in _his!_ That -devil from the pit of hell ain't going to kill the soul of my little -girl--somehow he ain't--that's all I got to live for--old Hawkins--ha, -ha!--somehow old Haw-kins 'll----" - -Hawkins' soliloquy ended abruptly. He was startled to find himself in -the act of opening the front door of the one-time pawn-shop. He even -hesitated, holding the door ajar--and then suddenly he pushed the door -wider open and stepped softly inside, as the sound of a voice, angry and -threatening in its tones, though strangely low and muffled, reached him. -He knew that voice. It was Doctor Crang's. - -It was dark here in the room that had once been the office of the -pawn-shop, and upon which the front door opened directly; but from under -the door leading into the rear room there showed a thread of light, and -it was from there that Hawkins now placed the voice. - -He stood irresolute. He stared around him. Upstairs it was dark. -Paul Veniza, because he had not been well, had probably gone to bed -early--unless it was Paul in there with Crang. No! He caught the sound -of Claire's voice now, and it seemed to come to him brokenly, in a -strangely tired, dreary way. And then Crang's voice again, and an ugly -laugh. - -The wrinkled skin of Hawkins' old weather-beaten hands grew taut and -white across the knuckles as his fists clenched. He tiptoed toward the -door. He could hear distinctly now. It was Crang speaking: - -"... I'm not a fool! I did not speak about it to make you lie again. I -don't care where you met him, or how long you had been lovers before he -crawled in here. That's nothing to do with it. It's enough that I know -you were lovers before that night. But you belong to me now. Understand? -I spoke of it because the sooner you realize that _you_ are the one who -is the cause of the trouble between Bruce and me, the better--_for him!_ -I wasn't crowding you before, but I'm through fooling with it now for -keeps. I let you go too long as it is. To-day, for just a little while, -he won out--yes, by God, if you want the truth, he nearly killed me. He -got me tied in a cabin of a ship that sailed this afternoon for South -America; but the engines broke down in the harbor, and, damn him, I'm -back! You know what for. I've told you. There's one way to save him. -I've told you what that is, too. I'm waiting for your answer." - -"Why should it be me?" Claire's voice was dull and colorless. "Why -cannot you leave me alone--I, who hate and loathe you? Do you look for -happiness with me? There will be none." - -"Why should it be you?" Crang's voice was suddenly hoarse with passion. -"Because you have set my brain on fire, because you have filled me with -a madness that would mock God Himself if He stood between us. Do you -understand--Claire? Claire! Do you understand? Because I want you, -because I'm going to have you, because I'm going to own you--yes, -_own_ you, one way or another--by marriage, or----" - -A low cry came from Claire. It tore at Hawkins' heart in its bitter -shame and anguish. His face blanched. - -"Well, you asked for it, and you got it!" Crang snarled. "Now, I'm -waiting for your answer." - -There was a long pause, then Claire spoke with an obvious effort to -steady her voice: - -"Have I got to buy him _twice?"_ - -"You haven't bought him _once_ yet," Crang answered swiftly. "I -performed my part of the bargain. I haven't been paid." - -And Hawkins, standing there, listening, heard nothing for a long time; -and then he distinguished Claire's voice, but it was so low that he -could not catch the words. But he heard Crang's reply because it was -loud with what seemed like passionate savagery and triumph: - -"You're wise, my dear! At eight o'clock to-morrow morning, then. And -since Mr. John Bruce's skin is involved in this, you quite understand -that he is not to be communicated with in any way?" - -"I understand." Hawkins this time caught the almost inaudible reply. - -"All right!" Crang said. "There's a padre I know, who's down on Staten -Island now. We'll go down there and be married without any fuss. I'll be -here at eight o'clock. Your father isn't fit to ride in that rattle-trap -old bus of yours. I'll have a comfortable limousine for him, and you can -go with him. Hawkins can drive me, and"--he was laughing softly--"and be -my best man. I'll see that he knows about it in time to----" - -Like a blind man, Hawkins was groping his way toward the front door. -Married! They were to be married to-morrow morning! - -He found himself on the street. He hurried. Impulse drove him along. He -did not reason. His mind was a tortured thing. And yet he laughed as he -scurried around the corner, laughed in an unhinged way, and raised both -hands above his head and pounded at the air with his doubled fists. They -were to be married to-morrow morning, and he--he was to be _best man_. -And as he laughed, his once ruddy, weather-beaten face was white as a -winding-sheet, and in the whiteness there was stamped a look that it was -good on no man's face to see. - -And then suddenly two great tears rolled down his cheeks, opening the -flood gates of his soul. - -"My little girl!" he sobbed. "Daddy's little girl!" - -And reason and a strange calmness came. - -"John Bruce," he said. "He loves her too." - -And in front of Mrs. Hedges' rooming-house he climbed into the driver's -seat of the old traveling pawn-shop. - -It didn't matter now how much noise he made. - - - - -CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE--THE LAST CHANCE - -|JOHN BRUCE closed the door of Larmon's suite, and, taking the elevator, -went up to his own room in the Bayne-Miloy Hotel, two floors above. -Here, he flung himself almost wearily into a chair. Larmon had gone to -bed; but bed offered no appeal to him, John Bruce, in spite of the fact -that he was conscious of great mental fatigue. Bed without sleep was -a horror, and his spirits were too depressed to make sleep even a -possibility. - -From a purely selfish standpoint, and he admitted to utter selfishness -now, it had been a hollow victory. Crang was gone, disposed of, and as -far as Larmon was concerned the man no longer existed, for if Crang had -held certain intimate knowledge of Larmon's life over Larmon's head, -Larmon was now in exactly the same position in respect to Crang. And -Crang, too, for the time being at least, was no longer a factor in -Claire's life. - -He smiled grimly to himself. Hollow! The victory had been sweeping, -complete, conclusive--for every one but himself! He had not even waited -to leave the dock before he had telephoned Claire. And Claire had---- He -rose suddenly and began to walk feverishly up and down the room. Hollow! -He laughed out shortly. She had curtly refused to talk to him. - -He had only meant to telephone to say that he was on the way up to -her house, and he had managed to say that much--and she had coldly, -contemptuously informed him that she would not be at home, and had hung -up the receiver. She had given him no opportunity to say any more. - -It was not like Claire. It had been so unexpected that he had left the -dock mentally dazed. The sight of the liner out in the stream had seemed -to mock him ironically. After that, until now, he had followed the line -of least resistance. He had come back here to the hotel, and dined with -Larmon. - -He stood still in the middle of the room. Larmon! It had been a singular -evening that he had just spent with Larmon. He had got a new viewpoint -on Larmon--a strange, grave, sympathetic Larmon. He had given Larmon the -details of everything that had happened; and Larmon had led him on to -talk--of everything, and anything, it seemed now, as he looked back upon -it. And somehow, he could not tell why, even while he felt that Larmon -was drawing him out, urging him even to speak of Claire and the most -intimate things of the last few weeks, he had been glad to respond. It -was only when Larmon for a little while had discussed his great chain of -gambling houses that he, John Bruce, had felt curiously detached from it -all and estranged from the other, as though he were masquerading as -some one else, as some one whom Larmon believed to be John Bruce, and as -though he in his true self had no interest in these matters any -longer in a personal sense, as though his connection with them had -automatically ceased with the climax of Crang's removal. It was queer! -But then his mind had been obsessed, elsewhere. And yet here, too, he -had been frank with Larmon--frank enough to admit the feelings that -had prompted him to refrain from actual play only two nights before. He -remembered the quick little tattoo of Larmon's quill toothpick at this -admission, and Larmon's tight little smile. - -Yes, it had been a singular evening! In those few hours he seemed to -have grown to know Larmon as though he had known the man all his life, -to be drawn to Larmon in a personal way, to admire Larmon as a man. -There was something of debonair sang-froid about Larmon. He had made -no fuss over his escape that day, and much less been effusive in any -thanks. Larmon's philosophy of life was apparently definitely fixed and -settled; and, in so far as Larmon was concerned, satisfactorily so. The -whole world to Larmon was a gamble--and, consistently enough, his own -activities in that respect were on as vast a scale as possible. - -Larmon with his unemotional face and his quill toothpick! No; not -unemotional! When Larmon had finally pleaded fatigue and a desire to -go to bed, there had been something in Larmon's face and Larmon's -"good-night," that still lingered with him, John Bruce, and which even -now he could not define. - -John Bruce's brows gathered into tight furrows. His mind had flown off -at a tangent. There was Claire! It had not been like Claire. Nor had he -meant, nor did he intend now to accept her dismissal as final. But -what was it that had happened? What was it? He could think of only one -thing--the letter he had written to Larmon, and which, on that account, -he had asked for and received back from the other. - -It was a certainty that Crang's hand was in this somewhere, and Crang -had said that he had shown the letter to Claire, but---- - -The telephone rang. - -John Bruce stepped to the desk, and picked up the instrument. - -"Yes? Hello!" he said. - -The clerk's voice from the office answered him: - -"There's a man down here, Mr. Bruce, who insists on seeing you. He's -pretty seedy, and looks as though he had been on a bat for a week. I'm -sorry to bother you, but we can't get rid of him. He says his name is -Hawkins." - -"Send him up at once!" said John Bruce sharply. - -"Yes, sir." The clerk coughed deprecatingly. "Very well, Mr. Bruce. -Thank you." - -Hawkins! John Bruce walked to the door of his suite, and opened it. He -looked at his watch. It was getting on now to eleven o'clock. What on -earth had brought Hawkins up here to the Bayne-Miloy at this hour? He -smiled a little grimly as he stood waiting on the threshold, and the -recollection of the night before last came back to him. Well, at least, -he was safe to-night from any kidnaping through the medium of Hawkins! - -The elevator door clanged a little way down the corridor, and Hawkins, -followed by a bell boy, stepped out. - -"This way, Hawkins!" John Bruce called--and dismissed the bell boy with -a wave of his hand. - -And then, as Hawkins reached the door, John Bruce stared in amazement, -and for a moment absolved the clerk for his diagnosis. Hawkins' face -was like parchment, devoid of color; his hands, twisting at the old felt -hat, trembled as with the ague; and the blue eyes, fever-burned they -seemed, stared out in a fixed way from under the shaggy brows. - -John Bruce pulled the old man inside the apartment, and closed the door. - -"Good Lord, Hawkins!" he exclaimed anxiously. "What's the matter with -you?" - -Hawkins caught at John Bruce's arm. - -"It's to-morrow morning," he said hoarsely. "Tomorrow morning at eight -o'clock." - -"What is?" inquired John Bruce. He forced the old cabman gently into a -chair. "You're upset, Hawkins. Here--wait! I'll get you something." - -But Hawkins held him back. - -"I don't want a drink." There was misery, bitterness, in Hawkins' voice. -"I don't want a drink--for once. It's come! It--it's come to the end -now. Crang and--and my little girl are going to be married to-morrow -morning." - -And then John Bruce laughed quietly, and laid his hand reassuringly on -the old cabman's shoulder. - -"No, Hawkins," he said. "I don't know where you got that idea; but -it won't be to-morrow morning, nor for a good many to-morrow mornings -either. Crang at the present moment is on board a ship on his way to -South America." - -"I know," said Hawkins dully. "But half an hour ago I left him with -Claire in Paul Veniza's house." - -John Bruce's hand tightened on Hawkins' shoulder until the old man -winced. - -"You what?" John Bruce cried out. - -"Yes," said Hawkins. "I heard him talking about it in the back room. -They didn't know I was there. He said there was something the matter -with the engines." - -Crang back! John Bruce's face was set as chiselled marble. - -"Do you know what you are saying, Hawkins?" he demanded fiercely, as -though to trample down and sweep aside by the brute force of his own -incredulity the other's assertion. "Do you know what you are saying--_do -you?"'_ - -"Yes, I know," said Hawkins helplessly. "He said you nearly killed him -to-day, and----" - -John Bruce's laugh, with a savagery that had him now at its mercy and in -its grip, rang suddenly through the room. - -"Then, for once, he told the truth!" he cried. "He tricked me cold with -that old bus last night, and trapped me in the rats' hole where his gang -holds out, but----" - -Hawkins stumbled to his feet. His face seemed to have grown grayer -still, more haggard and full of abject misery. - -"That's it, then!" he whispered. "I--I understand now. I was drunk last -night. Oh, my God, I'm to blame for this, too!" - -John Bruce pushed Hawkins almost roughly back into his chair. Last night -was gone. It was of no significance any more. - -"Never mind about that!" he said between his teeth. "It doesn't matter -now. Nothing matters now except Claire. Go on, tell me! What does -it mean? To-morrow morning, you said. Why this sudden decision about -to-morrow morning?" - -Hawkins' lips seemed dry. He circled them again and again with his -tongue. - -"He said you nearly killed him to-day, as I--I told you," said Hawkins, -fumbling for his words. "And he said that you had been lovers before -that night when you were stabbed, and that he wasn't going to stand for -it any longer, and--and"--Hawkins' voice broke--"and that she belonged -to him. And he said she was the only one who could stop this trouble -between you and him before it was too late, and that was by marrying him -at once. And--and Claire said she would." - -Hawkins stopped. His old felt hat was on his knees, and he twisted at it -aimlessly with shaking fingers. - -John Bruce stood motionless. - -"Go on!" he bit off his words. - -"That's all," said Hawkins, "except he made her promise not to let -you know anything about it. They're going to leave the house to-morrow -morning, and are going down to Staten Island to get married because -there's some minister down there he knows, Crang said. And I'm to take -Crang, and--and"--the old man turned away his face--"I--I'm to be best -man. That--that's what he said--best man." - -John Bruce walked abruptly to the window, and stared blindly out into -the night. His brain seemed afire. - -For a time neither man spoke. - -"You said you loved her," said Hawkins at last. "I came to you. There -wasn't any other place to go. Paul Veniza can't do anything." - -John Bruce turned from the window, and walking to - -Hawkins, laid his two hands on the other's shoulders. He was calmer now. - -"Yes, I love her," he said huskily. "And I think--I am not sure--but I -think now there is a chance that she can be made to change her mind even -here at the last minute. But that means I must see her; or, rather, that -she must see me." - -Hawkins paused in the twisting of his felt hat to raise bewildered eyes. - -"I've got the car here," he said. "I'll take you down." - -"The car!" exclaimed John Bruce quickly. "Yes, I never thought of that! -Listen, Hawkins! Claire refused to see me this afternoon, or even to -talk to me over the telephone. I am not quite sure why. But no matter -what her reason was, I must see her now at once. I have something to -tell her that I hope will persuade her not to go on with this to-morrow -morning--or ever." His voice was growing grave and hard. "I hope you -understand, Hawkins. I believe it may succeed. If it fails, then neither -you nor I, nor any soul on earth can alter her decision. That's all that -I can tell you now." - -Hawkins nodded his head. A little color, eagerness, hope, had come into -his face. - -"That's enough," he said tremulously, "as long as you--you think there -is a chance even yet. And--and you do, don't you?" - -"Yes," said John Bruce, "I think there is more than a chance--if I can -see her alone and make her listen to me. The car will be just the thing. -But she would refuse to come out, if she knew I were in it. I depend -on you for that. We'll drive down there, and you will have to make some -excuse to get her to come with you. After that you can keep on driving -us around the block until I either win or lose." - -Hawkins rose hurriedly to his feet. - -"Let us go, John Bruce! For God's sake, let us go!" he cried eagerly. -"I'll--I'll tell her Mrs. Hedges--that's my landlady--has got to see her -at once. She'll come quick enough." - -John Bruce put on his hat and coat, and without a word led the way -to the door--but at the door he paused for an instant. There was -Larmon--and Crang was back. And then he shook his head in quick -decision. There was time enough later. It would serve no purpose to tell -Larmon now, other than the thankless one of giving Larmon a restless -night. - -John Bruce went on. He did not speak again until, outside the hotel, he -stepped into the traveling pawnshop as Hawkins opened the car door for -him. - -"You will have to make sure that Crang has gone," he said quietly. -"Don't stop in front of the house, Hawkins." - -"I'll make sure," whispered Hawkins, as he climbed to his seat. "Oh, my -God, my little girl!" - -The old car jolted forward. John Bruce's face was set again in hard, -chiselled lines. He tried to think--but now his brain seemed curiously -impotent, as though it groped through chaos and through turmoil only to -stagger back bewildered, defeated, a wounded thing. And for a time it -was like that, as he sat there swaying with the lurch of the speeding -car, one thought impinging fast upon another only to be swallowed up so -quickly in turn by still another that he could correlate-no one of them. - -And then, after a little time again, out of this strange mental strife -images began to take form, as sharply defined and distinct one from -the other as before they had been mingled in hopeless confusion--and he -cried out aloud in sudden agony of soul. It was to save his life that -this had happened. He had wrung that knowledge from Crang. That was the -lever he meant to use with Claire now, and it _must_ succeed. He must -make it succeed! It seemed to drive him mad now, that thought--that -to-morrow morning she should die for him. Not physical death--worse than -that! God! It was unthinkable, horrible, abominable. It seemed to flaunt -and mock with ruthless, hell-born sacrilege what was holiest in his -heart. It stirred him to a fury that brought him to his feet, his fists -clenched. Claire in her purity--at the mercy of a degenerate beast! - -He dropped back on the seat. He battled for calmness. In a little while -Claire would be here beside him--_for a little while_. He shook his -head. This was not real, nothing of his life had been real since that -moon-mad night on the sands of Apia. No; that was not true! Soul, -mind and body rose up in fierce denial. His love was real, a living, -breathing, actual reality, Claire---- - -John Bruce sank his face in his hands. Hours seemed to pass. And then he -was conscious that the car had stopped. He roused himself, and drawing -the window curtain slightly, looked out. Hawkins had stopped a few -houses down past the one-time pawnshop. - -John Bruce rose suddenly and changed his seat to the one in the far -opposite corner, his back to the front of the car. The time seemed -interminable. Then he heard a light footstep ring on the pavement, and -he heard Hawkins' voice. The car door was opened, a dark form entered, -sat down, the door closed, and the car started forward. - -It was strange! It was like that, here in this car, that he had stepped -in one night and found Claire--as she would now find him. That was -so long ago! And it seemed so long too since even he had last seen -her--since that night when, piqued so unwarrantably, he had left Paul -Veniza's house. He felt his hands tremble. He steadied himself. He did -not want to frighten or startle her now. - -"Claire!" he said softly. - -He heard a slight, quick rustle of garments--and then the light in the -car was flashed on. - -She was leaning tensely forward, a little figure with loose cloak flung -over her shoulders, without hat, a wondrous sheen from the light on the -dark, silken hair, her eyes wide, her finger still on the electric-light -button. - -"You!" she cried sharply. "And Hawkins, too, in this!" - -She reached for the door handle; but John Bruce caught her hand. - -"Claire!" he pleaded hoarsely. "Wait! If it is a trick, at least you -know that with Hawkins and me you will come to no harm. What else could -I do? You would not speak to me this afternoon, you would not let me see -you, and I must talk to you to-night." - -She looked at him steadily. - -_"Must?"_ she repeated coldly. "And to-night? Why to-night?" - -"Because," John Bruce answered quickly, "to-morrow would be too late. I -know about to-morrow morning. Hawkins told me. He was outside the door -of that room when Crang was talking to you to-night." She sank back -in her seat with a little cry. Her face had gone white--but again she -steadied herself. - -"And--and do you think that is any reason why you should have inveigled -me into this car?" she asked dully. "Do you think that anything you can -say will alter--to-morrow morning?" - -"Yes; I do!" said John Bruce earnestly. "But"--he smiled a little -bitterly--"I am afraid, too, that it will be hopeless enough if first -you will not tell me what has so suddenly come between us. Claire, what -is it?" - -The dark eyes lighted with a glint, half angry, half ironical. - -"Is _that_ what you brought me here for?" - -"No," he said quietly. - -"Then," she said coolly, "if you do not know, I will tell you. I read -a letter that you wrote to a certain Mr. Larmon." - -It was a long minute before he spoke. - -"I--I thought it might be that," he said slowly. "I knew you had -seen it. Crang told me so. And--and I was afraid you might believe -it--Claire." - -"Believe it!" she returned monotonously. "Had I any choice? Have I any -now? I knew you were in danger. I knew it was written to save your life. -I knew it was your handwriting. I knew you wrote it." She turned away -her head. "It was so miserable a lie, so cowardly a betrayal--to save -your life." - -"But so hard to believe, and so bitter a thing to believe"--there was a -sudden eager thrill in John Bruce's voice--"that you wept upon it. Look, -Claire!" he cried. "I have that letter here--and this, that I took from -Crang to-day when I turned the tables on him. See! Read them both!" He -took from his pocket the letter and the slip cut from the bottom of the -sheet, and laid them in her lap. "The bottom was written in invisible -ink--the way always communicated privately with Larmon. Salt brings it -out. I knew Larmon would subject it to the test, so I was willing to -write anything that Crang dictated. I wrote that secret message on the -bottom of the paper while Crang was out of the room where he had me a -prisoner. Oh, don't you see now, Claire? When your tears fell on the -paper faint traces of the secret writing began to appear. That gave -Crang the clew, and he worked at it until he had brought out the -message, and then he cut off the bottom before delivering the letter to -Larmon, and----" - -John Bruce stopped. Claire's face was buried in the cushions, and, -huddled in the corner of the car, she was sobbing bitterly. - -"Don't! Don't cry, Claire!" John Bruce whispered, and laid his hand over -hers where it crushed the letter in her lap. - -"I believed it," she said. "I did you that wrong. There is no -forgiveness for such meanness of soul as that." - -"No," John Bruce answered gently, "there is no forgiveness--because -there is nothing to forgive. It was only another piece of that miserable -hound's cunning that tricked us both. I did not appreciate what he was -after in that reference to you; I thought he was only trying to make the -letter bullet-proof in its plausibility for Larmon's benefit--I never -thought that he would show it to you." - -She had not drawn her hand away, but her face was still hidden; and for -a moment there was silence between them. - -"Claire," John Bruce said in a low voice, "the night I left your house -you said that, rather than regretting your promise to marry Crang, you -had come to be glad you had made it. Can you still say that?" - -She lifted her face now, tear-stained, the brown eyes strangely radiant -through the wet lashes. - -"Yes," she said. "I am glad. So glad--because I know now that it was -worth it all so many, many times over." - -"Claire"--his voice was lower still--"I left your house that night, -angry, jealous, misjudging you because you had said that. You asked for -forgiveness a minute ago when there was nothing to forgive; I asked for -forgiveness from you after that night, but even then I did not know how -far beyond the right to forgiveness I had gone." - -She stared at him in a startled way. - -"What--what do you mean?" she breathed. - -And now John Bruce's face was alight. - -"You have confessed your love, Claire!" he cried passionately. "It was -not fair, perhaps, but I am past all that now--and you would not have -confessed it in any other way. Glad! I was a stranger that night when -you bought my life--and to-night you are glad, not because my life is -now or ever could be worth such a sacrifice as yours, but because love -has come to make you think so, sweetheart, and you care--you care for -me." - -"You know!" Her face was deathly white. "You know about--about that -night?" she faltered. - -John Bruce had both her hands imprisoned now. - -"Yes; I know!" He laughed with a strange buoyancy; passion, triumph, -were vibrant in his voice. "Did Crang not tell you how near to death he -came to-day? I choked the truth out of him. Yes; I know! I know that it -was to save my life you made that promise, that you sold everything you -held dear in life for me--but it is over now!" - -He was beside her. He raised her two hands to draw her arms around his -neck. - -She struggled back. - -"No, no!" she cried wildly. "Oh, you must not--you must not!" - -"Must not!" His voice rang his challenge to the world. The blood was -pounding in mad abandon through his veins. His soul itself seemed -aflame. Closer, closer he drew her to him. "Must not! There is only you -and me--and our love--on all the earth!" - -But still she struggled---and then suddenly the tears came. - -"Oh, you are so strong--so strong," she sobbed--and like some weary -child finding rest her head dropped upon his shoulder and lay hidden -there. - -"Claire! Claire!" It was his soul that spoke. - -He kissed the silken hair, and fondled it; and kissed the tear-wet eyes; -and his cheek lay against hers; and she was in his arms, and he held her -there tight-clasped so that she might never go again. - -And after a time she sobbed no more; and her hand, lifting, found his -face and touched it gently, and creeping upward, brushed the hair back -from his forehead--and then suddenly she clung to him with all her -strength and drew his head down until her lips met his. - -And there was no world about them, and time was non-existent, and only -they two lived. - -It was Claire at last who put his arms from her in a wistful, lingering -way. - -"We have been mad for a little while," she whispered. "Take me back home -now, John--and--and you must never try to see me again." - -And something seemed to grow chill and cold within John Bruce's heart. - -"Not that, Claire!" he cried out. "You do not mean that--that, after -this, you will go on with--with tomorrow morning!" - -A brave little effort at a smile quivered on her lips. - -"We have had our hour, John," she said; "yours and mine. It can never be -taken from us, and I shall live in it all my life; but it is over now. -Yes; I shall go through with it to-morrow morning. There is no other -way. I must keep my promise." - -"No!" he cried out again. "It shall never be! Claire, you cannot -mean what you are saying! A promise like that! It was forced upon you -inhumanly, horribly. He would have murdered me." - -"But to-night you are alive," she answered quietly. - -"Alive! Yes!" he said fiercely. "I am alive, and----" - -"It is because you are alive that I promised," she broke in gently. "He -kept his word. I cannot break mine." - -"Alive!" John Bruce laughed now in sudden, bitter agony. "Alive--yes! -And do you think that I can walk about the streets, and talk, and -smile, and suck the honey out of life, while you have paid for it with a -tortured soul? Claire, you shall not! That man is---- No, wait! There is -myself. He called me a snivelling hypocrite. You shall know the worst of -me before you know the worst of him. There is not much to tell--because -he has told you. I am a gambler. All my life I've gambled. As far back -as I can remember I've been a rolling stone. My life has been useless, -utterly worthless. But I was never ashamed of it; I never saw any reason -to be ashamed until you came into my life. It hasn't been the same since -then '--and it will never be the same again. You have given me something -to live for now, Claire." - -She shook her head. "You do not argue well," she said softly. "If I have -brought this to you, John, I am so glad--so glad for this, too. Oh, I -cannot tell you how glad I am, for, because I loved you, the knowledge -of what your life was hurt me. But I had faith in you, John, as I always -shall have. So don't you see"--the brave little smile came again--"that -this is a reward, something tangible and great, to make still more worth -while the promise that I made?" - -He stared at her. He swept his hand across his eyes. She seemed--she -seemed to be slipping away from him--beyond--beyond his reach. - -"That man!" he said desperately. "You said you knew him--but you do not -know him. He is the head and front and brains of a gang of crooks. -I know! He held me a prisoner in their dirty lair, a hidden place, a -cellar over in the slums--like rats they were. He is a criminal, and a -dangerous one--while he masquerades with his medicine. God alone knows -the crimes, if there are any, that he has not committed. He is a foul, -unclean and filthy thing, debauched and dissolute, a moral leper. -Claire, do you understand all this--that his life is pollution and -defilement, that love to him is lust, that your innocence----" - -With a broken, piteous cry, Claire stopped him. - -And again he stared at her. She did not speak, but in her eyes he read -the torment of a far greater and fuller appreciation of the price than -he, he knew, though it turned his soul sick within him, could ever have. - -And suddenly he covered his face with his hands. - -"Bought!" he said brokenly in his agony. "Oh, my God, this has bought -me!" - -He felt his hands drawn away, and her two palms laid upon his cheeks. He -looked at her. How white she was! - -"Help me, John," she said steadily. "Don't--don't make it harder." - -She reached out and touched the bell button beside the seat. In a -subconscious way he remembered that was the signal for Hawkins to bring -the traveling pawn-shop to the end of its circuit around the block in -its old-time trips to Persia. He made no effort to stop her. There -was something of ultimate finality in her face and eyes that answered, -before it was uttered, the question that stumbled on his lips. - -"Claire! Claire!" he pleaded wildly. "Will nothing change you?" - -"There is no other way," she said. - -He stretched out his arms to draw her to him again, to lay her head once -more upon his shoulder--but now she held him back. - -"No!" she whispered. "Be merciful now, John--my strength is almost -gone." - -And there was something in her voice that held him from the act. - -The car stopped. - -And then, as the door was opened and she stood up, suddenly she leaned -swiftly forward and pressed her lips to his--and springing from the car, -was gone. - -John Bruce groped his way out of the car. Across the sidewalk the -door of Paul Veniza's house closed. Hawkins, standing by the car door, -clutched at his arm. And Hawkins' hand was trembling violently. Slowly -his eyes met Hawkins'. - -He shook his head. - -The old lined face seemed to gray even in the murky light of a distant -street lamp. - -"I'd rather see her dead," said the old cab driver brokenly. - -John Bruce made no answer. - -Then Hawkins, gulping his words, spoke again: - -"I--where'll I drive you?" - -John Bruce started blindly on past Hawkins down the street. - -"Nowhere," he said. - - - - -CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO--THROUGH THE NIGHT - -|A GAUNT and haggard figure stalked through the night; around him only -shuttered windows, darkened houses, and deserted streets. The pavements -rang hollow to the impact of his boot-heels. Where the way lay open -he went. But always he walked, walked incessantly, without pause, -hurrying--nowhere. - -There was a raw, biting chill in the air, and his hands, ungloved, as -they swung at his sides, were blue with cold. But sweat in great beads -stood out upon his forehead. At times his lips moved and he spoke aloud. -It was a hoarse sound. - -"Or him!" he said. "Or him!" - -On! Always on! There was no rest. It was ceaseless. The gray came into -the East. - -And then at last the figure halted. - -There was a large window with wire grating, and a light burned within. -In the window was a plate mirror, and a time-piece. It was a jeweler's -window. - -The man looked at the time-piece. It was five o'clock. He looked at the -mirror. It reflected the face of a young man grown old. The eyes burned -deep in their sockets; the lines were hard, without softness; the skin -was tightly drawn across the cheek bones, and was colorless. And he -stared at the face, stared for a time without recognition. And then -as he smiled and the face in the mirror smiled with him in a distorted -movement of the lips, he swept his hand across his eyes. - -"John Bruce," he said. - -It seemed to arouse him from some mental absorption in which his -physical entity had been lost. It was five o'clock, and he was John -Bruce. At eleven o'clock--or was it twelve?--last night he had left -Hawkins standing by the door of the traveling pawn-shop, and since -then---- - -He stared around him. He was somewhere downtown. He did not know where. -He began to walk in an uptown direction. - -Something had been born in those hours. Something cataclysmic. What was -it? - -"Or him!" The words came again--aloud--without apparent volition. - -What did that mean? It had something to do with Hawkins; with what -Hawkins had said, standing there by the traveling pawn-shop. What was it -Hawkins had said? Yes; he remembered: "I'd rather see her dead." - -"Or him!" - -With cold judicial precision now the hours unrolled themselves before -him. - -"Or him!" - -He was going to kill Crang. - -The hours of mental strife, of torment through which he had just passed, -were as the memory of some rack upon which his soul had been put to -torture. They came back vividly now, those hours--every minute of them a -living eternity. His soul had shrunk back aghast at first, and called it -murder; but it was not murder, or, if it was, it was imperative. It was -the life of a foul viper--or Claire's. It was the life of an unclean -thing that mocked and desecrated all decency, that flung its sordid -challenge at every law, both human and divine--or the life of a pure, -clean soul made the plaything of this beast, and dragged into a mire -of unutterable abomination to suffocate and strangle in its noxious -surroundings and die. - -And that soul was in jeopardy because at this moment he, John Bruce, had -the power of movement in his limbs, the sense of sight, the ability to -stretch out his hand and feel it touch that lamp-post there, and, if -he would, to speak aloud and designate that object for what it was--a -lamp-post. She had bought him these things with her life. Should she -die--and he live? - -And he remembered back through those hours since midnight, when his soul -had still faltered before the taking of human life, how it had sought -some other way, some alternative, _any_ alternative. A jail sentence -for Crang. There was enough, more than enough now with the evidence of -Crang's double life, to convict the man for the robbery of that safe. -But Claire had answered that in the long ago: "I will marry him when he -comes out." Or, then, to get Crang away again like this afternoon--no, -_yesterday_ afternoon. It was _this_ morning, in a few hours, that they -were to be married. There was no time left in which to attempt anything -like that; but, even if there were, he knew now, that it but postponed -the day of reckoning. Claire would wait. Crang would come back. - -He was going to kill Crang. - -If he didn't, Crang would kill him. He knew that, too. But his -decision was not actuated, or even swayed, by any consideration of -self-preservation. He had no thought of his future or his safety. That -was already settled. With his decision was irrevocably coupled the -forfeiting of his own life. Not his own life! It belonged to Claire. -Claire had bought it. He was only giving it back that the abysmal price -she had agreed to pay should not be extorted from her. Once he had -accomplished his purpose, he would give himself up to the police. - -He was going to kill Crang. - -That was what had been born out of the travail of those hours of the -night. But there were other things to do first. He walked briskly now. -The decision in itself no longer occupied his thoughts. The decision -was absolute; it was final. It was those "other things" that he must -consider now. There was Larmon. He could not tell Larmon what he, John -Bruce, was going to do, but he must warn Larmon to be on his guard -against any past or present connection with John Bruce coming to light. -Fortunately Larmon had come to New York and registered as Peters. He -must make Larmon understand that Larmon and John Bruce had never met, -even if he could not give Larmon any specific reason or explanation. -Larmon would probably refuse at first, and attribute it as an attempt to -break, for some ulterior reason, the bond they had signed together that -night on the beach at Apia. - -John Bruce smiled gravely. The bond would be broken in any case. -Faustus was at the end of the play. A few months in prison, the electric -chair--how apt had been his whistling of that aria _in his youth!_ - -Youth! Yes, he was old now; he had been young that night on the beach at -Apia. - -He took off his hat and let the sharp air sweep his head. He was not -thinking clearly. All this did not express what he meant. There was -Larmon's safety. He must take care of that; see to it, first of all, -that Larmon could not be implicated, held by law as an accomplice -through foreknowledge of what was to happen; then, almost of as great -importance for Larmon's sake and future, the intimacy between them, -their business relations of the past, must never be subjected to the -probe of the trial that was to come. - -John Bruce nodded his head sharply. Yes, that was better! But there was -still something else--that bond. He knew to-night, even if prison -walls and a death penalty were not about to nullify that bond far more -effectively than either he or Larmon ever could, that the one thing -he wanted now, while yet he was a free agent, while yet it was not -arbitrarily his choice, was to cancel that agreement which was so -typical of what his life up to the present time had always stood for; -and in its cancellation, for what little time was left, to have it -typify, instead, a finer manhood. The future, premonitive, grim in its -promise, seemed to hold up before him as in a mirror where no lines were -softened, where only the blunt, brutal truth was reflected, the waste -and worthlessness of the past. He had no wish to evade it, or temporize -with it, or seek to palliate it. He knew only a vain and bitter regret; -knew only the desire now at the end, in so far as he could, to face -death a changed man. - -He walked on and on. He was getting into the uptown section now. How -many miles he must have covered since he had left Hawkins, and since -the door of the one-time pawn-shop had closed on that little bare-headed -figure with the loose cloak clutched about her throat--the last sight -he had had of Claire! How many miles? He did not know. It must have been -many, very many. But he felt no weariness. It was strange! It was -as though his vitality and energy flowed into him from some wholly -extraneous source; and as though physically he were non-existent. - -He wondered what Larmon would say. Larmon alone had the right to cancel -the bond. That was the way it had been written. Would Larmon refuse? He -hoped not, because he wanted to part with Larmon as a friend. He hoped -not, though in the final analysis, in a practical way, Larmon's refusal -must be so futile a thing. Would Larmon laugh at him, and, not knowing, -call him a fool? He shook his head. He did not know. At least Larmon -would not be surprised. The conversation of last evening---- - -John Bruce looked up. He was at the entrance to the Bayne-Miloy Hotel. -He entered, nodded mechanically to the night clerk, stepped into the -elevator, and went up to his room. There was his revolver to be got. -Afterward he would go down to Larmon's room. Somehow, even in the face -of that other thing which he was to do, this interview which was to -come with Larmon obsessed him. It seemed to signify some vital line of -demarcation between the old life and the new. - -The new I He smiled grimly, without mirth, as, entering his room, -he switched on the light, stepped quickly to his desk, pulled open a -drawer, and took out his revolver. The new! There would be very little -of the new! He laughed now in a low, raucous way, as he slipped the -weapon into his pocket. The new! A few weeks, a few months of a prison -cell, and then---- His laugh died away, and a half startled, half -perplexed look settled on his face. For the first time he noticed that -a letter, most obviously placed to attract his attention, lay on the -center of the desk pad. Strange, he had not seen it instantly! - -He stared at it now. It was a plain envelope, unstamped, and addressed -to him. The writing was familiar too! Larmon's! He picked it up, opened -it--and from the folds of the letter, as he drew it from the envelope, -four torn pieces of paper fluttered to the desk. And for a long time, -in a dazed way, he gazed at them. The letter dropped from his hand. -Then mechanically he pieced the four scraps together. It was one of the -leaves torn from Larmon's notebook that night in Apia--and here was the -heavy scrawl where he, John Bruce, had signed with the quill toothpick. -It was Larmon's copy of the bond. - -And again for a long time he stared at it, then he picked up the letter -again. He read it slowly, for somehow his brain seemed only able to -absorb the words in a stunned way. Then he read it again: - -Dear Bruce:--11 P. M. - -Something has come into your life that was not there on a night you will -remember in the Southern Seas, and I know of no other way to repay you -for what you did for me to-day than to hand you this. I knew from what -you said to-night, or, rather perhaps, from what you did not say, that -this was in your heart. And if I were young again, and the love of a -good woman had come to me, I too should try--and fail, I fear, where you -will succeed--to play a man's part in life. - -And so I bid you good-by, for when you read this I shall be on my way -back West. What I lose another will gain. Amongst even my friends are -men of honorable callings and wide interests who need a John Bruce. You -will hear from one of them. Godspeed to you, for you are too good and -clean a man to end your days as I shall end mine--a gambler. - -Yours, - -Gilbert Larmon. - -The love of a good woman--and young again! John Bruce's face was white. -A thousand conflicting emotions seemed to surge upon him. There was -something fine and big in what Larmon had done, like the Larmon whose -real self he had come to glimpse for the first time last night; and -something that was almost ghastly in the unconscious irony that lay -behind it all. And for a little while he stood there motionless, holding -the letter in his hand; then with a quick, abrupt return to action, he -began to tear the letter into little shreds, and from his pocket he -took his own copy of the bond and tore that up, and the four pieces of -Larmon's copy he tore into still smaller fragments, and gathering all -these up in his hands, he walked to the window and let them flutter out -into the night. - -The way was clear. There was nothing to connect Gilbert Larmon with the -man who to-morrow--no, _to-day_--would be in the hands of the police -charged with murder. Nothing to bring to light Larmon's private affairs, -for nothing bearing Larmon's signature had ever been kept; it was always -destroyed. Larmon was safe--for, at least, they could never make John -Bruce _talk_. - -There was a strange relief upon him, a strange uplift; not only for -Larmon's sake, but for his own. The link that had bound him to the past -was gone, broken, dissolved. He stood free--for the little time that was -left; he stood free--to make a fresh start in the narrow confines of a -prison cell. He smiled grimly. There was no irony here where it seemed -all of irony. It meant everything--all. It was the only atonement he -could make. - -He switched off the light, left his room, and went down to the desk. -Here he consulted the directory. He requested the clerk to procure a -taxi for him. - -It was five minutes after six by the clock over the desk. - -He entered the taxi and gave the chauffeur the address. He was -unconscious of emotion now. He knew only a cold, fixed, merciless -purpose. - -He was going to kill Crang. - -The taxi stopped in front of a frame house that bore a dirty brass -name-plate. He dismissed the taxi, and mounted the steps. His right -hand was in the pocket of his coat. He rang the bell, and obtaining no -response, rang again--and after that insistently. - -The door was finally opened by an old woman, evidently aroused from bed, -for she clutched tightly at a dressing gown that was flung around her -shoulders. - -"I want to see Doctor Crang," said John Bruce. - -She shook her head. - -"The doctor isn't in," she answered. - -"I will wait for him," said John Bruce. - -Again she shook her head. - -"I don't know when he will be back. He hasn't been here since yesterday -morning." - -"I will wait for him," said John Bruce monotonously. - -"But----" - -John Bruce brushed his way past her into the hall. - -"I will wait for him," he repeated. - -A door was open off the hallway. John Bruce looked in. It was obviously -Crang's office. He went in and sat down by the window. - -The woman stood for a long time in the doorway watching him. Finally she -went away. - -John Bruce's mind was coldly logical. Crang was not aware that his -escape was known to any one except Claire, and he had been cunning -enough to keep under cover. That was why he had not been home. But he -would be home before he went out to be married. Even a man like Crang -would have a few preparations to make. - -John Bruce sat by the window. Occasionally the old woman came and stood -in the doorway--and went away again. - -There was no sign of Crang. - -At fifteen minutes of eight John Bruce rose from his chair and left the -house. - -"He was to be at Paul Veniza's at eight," said John Bruce to himself -with cool precision. - - - - -CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE--THE BEST MAN - -|HAWKINS sat at the table in his room, and twined and twined one old -storm-beaten hand over the other. For hours he had sat like that. It was -light in the room now, for it was long after seven o'clock. His bed had -not been slept in. He was dressed in his shiny best suit; he wore his -frayed black cravat. He had been dressed like that since midnight; since -he had returned home after Claire had fled into her house, and John -Bruce had strode by him on the sidewalk with set, stony face and -unseeing eyes; since, on reaching his room here, he had found a note -whose signature was false because it read "Paul Veniza," when he knew -that it came from Crang. Crang was taking precautions that his return -should not leak out! The note only corroborated what he had heard -through the door. He was to be at Paul Veniza's at eight o'clock with -the traveling pawn-shop.. - -The note had said nothing about any marriage; but, then, he knew! He -was to be the best man. And so he had dressed himself. After that he had -waited. He was waiting now. - -"The first," said Hawkins, with grave confidence to the cracked mirror. -"Yes, that's it--the first in line, because I _am_ her old father, and -there ain't nothing can change that." - -His own voice seemed to arouse him. He stared around the shabby room -that was his home, his eyes lingering with strange wistfulness on -each old battered, and long familiar object--and then suddenly, with a -choking cry, his head went down, buried in his arms outflung across the -table. - -"Pawned!" the old man cried brokenly. "It's twenty years ago, I pawned -her--twenty years ago. And it's come to this because--because I -ain't never redeemed her--but, oh God, I love her--I love my little -girl--and--and she ain't never going to know how much." - -His voice died away. In its place the asthmatic gas-jet spat venomous -defiance at the daylight that was so contumaciously deriding its puny -flame. - -And after a little while, Hawkins raised his head. He looked at his -watch. - -"It's time to go," said Hawkins--and cleared his throat. - -Hawkins picked up his hat and brushed it carefully with his coat sleeve; -his shoulders, and such of his attire as he could reach, he brushed -with his hands; he readjusted his frayed black cravat before the cracked -mirror. - -"I'm the best man," said Hawkins. - -Oblivious to the chattering gas-jet, he descended the stairs, and went -out to the shed in the rear that housed the traveling pawn-shop. - -"The first in line," said the old cab driver, as he climbed into the -seat. - -Five minutes later, he drew up in front of the onetime pawn-shop. He -consulted his watch as he got down from his seat and entered the house. -It was twenty-five minutes of eight. - -He twisted his hat awkwardly in his hands, as he entered the rear room. -He felt a sudden, wild rush of hope spring up within him because -there was no sign of Crang. And then the hope died. He was early; and, -besides, Claire had her hat on and was dressed to go out. Paul Veniza, -also dressed, lay on the cot. - -No one spoke. - -Then Paul Veniza's frame was racked with a fit of coughing, and out of a -face ashen in pallor his eyes met Hawkins' in silent agony--and then he -turned his head away. - -Hawkins twisted at his hat. - -"I came a little early;" he said wistfully, "because I thought mabbe -you might--that mabbe there might be some change--that mabbe you might -not----" - -He stopped. He was looking at Claire. Her face was very white too. Her -smile seemed to cut at his heart like a knife. - -"No, Hawkins," she said in a low voice; "there is no change. We -are going to Staten Island. You will drive Doctor Crang. There is a -limousine coming for father and me, that will be more comfortable for -father." - -Hawkins' eyes went to the floor. - -"I--I didn't mean that kind of a change," he said. - -"I know you didn't, Hawkins. But--but I am trying to be practical." Her -voice broke a little in spite of herself. "Doctor Crang doesn't know -that you overheard anything last night, or that you know anything about -the arrangements, so--so I am explaining them to you now." - -Hawkins' eyes were still on the floor. - -"Ain't there nothing"--his voice was thick and husky--"ain't there -nothing in all the world that any of us can do to make you change your -mind? Claire, ain't there nothing, nothing at all? John Bruce said there -wasn't, and you love John Bruce, but----" - -"Don't, Hawkins!" she cried out pitifully. - -The old shoulders came slowly up, and the old head; and the old blue -eyes were of a sudden strangely flints like. - -"I've got to know," said Hawkins, in a dead, stubborn way. - -"There is nothing," she answered. - -Hawkins' eyes reverted to the floor. He spoke now without lifting them. - -"Then--then it's--it's like saying good-by," he said, and the broken -note was back again in his voice. "It's--it's so many years that mabbe -you've forgotten, but when you were a little girl, and before you grew -up, and--and were too big for that, I--I used to hold you in my arms, -and you used to put your little arms around my neck, and kiss me, -and--and you used to say that--Hawkins would never let the bugaboos get -you, and--and I wonder if--if----" - -"Oh, Hawkins!" Claire's eyes were full of tears. "I remember. Dear, dear -Hawkins! And I used to call you Daddy Hawkins. Do _you_ remember?" - -A tear found a furrow and trickled down the old weather-beaten face -unchecked, as Hawkins raised his head. - -"Claire! Claire!" His voice trembled in its yearning. "Will--will you -say that again, Claire?" - -"Dear Daddy Hawkins," she whispered. - -His arms stretched out to her, and she came to them smiling through her -tears. - -"You've been so good to me," she whispered again. "You _are_ so good to -me--dear, dear Daddy Hawkins." - -A wondrous light was in the old cabman's face. He held the slight form -to him, trying to be so tenderly careful that he should not hurt her -in his strength. He kissed her, and patted her head, and his fingers -lingered as they smoothed the hair back from where it made a tiny curl -about her ear. - -And then he felt her drawing him toward the couch--and he became -conscious that Paul Veniza was holding out his hands to them both. - -And Claire knelt at the side of the couch and took one of Paul Veniza's -hands, and Hawkins took the other. And no one of them looked into the -other's face. - -The outer door opened, and Doctor Crang came in. He stood for an instant -surveying the scene, a half angry, half sarcastic smile spreading over -his sallow face, and then he shrugged his shoulders. - -"Ah, you're here, like me, ahead of time, Hawkins, I see!" he said -shortly. "You're going to drive me to Staten Island where----" - -Claire rose to her feet. - -"I have told Hawkins," she said quietly. - -Hawkins' hand tightened over Paul Veniza's for a moment, and then he -turned away. - -"I--I'll wait outside," said Hawkins--and brushed has hand across his -eyes as he went through the doorway. - -Paul Veniza was racked with a sudden fit of cough ing again. Doctor -Crang walked quickly to the couch and looked at the other sharply. After -a moment he turned to Claire. - -"Are you ready to go?" he asked crisply. - -"Yes; I am ready," she answered steadily. - -"Very well, then," said Crang, "you had better go out and get into the -old bus. You can go with Hawkins and me." - -"But"--Claire looked in a bewildered way at Paul Veniza--"but you -said----" - -"I know I did," Crang interrupted brusquely, "but we're all here a -little early and there's lots of time to countermand the other car." He -indicated Paul Veniza with a jerk of his head. "He's far from as well as -he was last night. At least you'll admit that I'm a _good_ doctor, and -when I tell you he is not fit to go this morning that ought to be enough -for both of you. I'll phone and tell them not to send the limousine." - -Still Claire hesitated. Paul Veniza had closed his eyes. - -Crang shrugged his shoulders. - -"You can do as you like, but I don't imagine"--a snarl crept into his -voice--"that it will give him any joy to witness the ceremony, or you to -have him. Suit yourselves; but I won't answer for the consequences." - -"I'll go," said Claire simply--and as Paul Veniza lifted himself up -suddenly in protest, she forced him gently back upon the couch again. -"It's better that way," she said, and for a moment talked to him in low, -earnest tones, then kissed him, and rose, and walked out from the room. - -Crang, with a grunt of approval, started toward the telephone. - -"Wait!" Paul Veniza had raised himself on his elbow. - -Crang turned and faced the other with darkened face. - -"It is not too late even now at the last moment!" Paul Veniza's face was -drawn with agony. "I know you for what you are, and in the name of God -I charge you not to do this thing. It is foul and loathsome, the basest -passion--and whatever crimes lay at your door, even if murder be among -them, no one of them is comparable with this, for you do more than take -a human life, you desecrate a soul pure as the day God gave it life, -and----" - -The red surged into Crang's face, and changed to mottled purple. - -"Damn you!" he flung out hoarsely. "Hold your cackling tongue! This is -my wedding morning--understand?" He laughed out raucously. "My wedding -morning--and I'm in a hurry!" - -Paul Veniza raised himself a little higher. White his face was--white as -death. - -"Then God have mercy on your soul!" he cried. - -And Crang stared for a moment, then turned on his heel--and laughed. - - - - -CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR--THE RIDE - -|JOHN BRUCE turned the corner, and, on the opposite side of the street, -drew back under the shelter of a door porch where he could command -a view of the entrance to Paul Veniza's house. And now he stood -motionless, waiting with cold patience, his eyes fixed on the doorway -across the street. He was there because Crang was either at the present -moment within the house, or presently would come to the house. It was -nearly eight o'clock. The old traveling pawn-shop was drawn up before -the door. - -He had no definite plan now. No plan was needed. He was simply waiting -for Crang. - -His eyes had not left the doorway. Suddenly, tense, he leaned a little -forward. The door opened. No; it was only Hawkins! He relaxed again. - -Only Hawkins! John Bruce's face grew a little sterner, his lips a little -more tightly compressed. Only Hawkins--only an old man who swayed there -outside the door, and whose face was covered with his hands. - -He watched Hawkins. The old cabman moved blindly along the sidewalk for -the few steps that took him to the corner, and turning the corner, out -of sight of the house, sat down on the edge of the curb, and with his -shoulders sunk forward, buried his face in his hands again. - -And John Bruce understood; and his fingers, in his pocket, snuggled -curiously around the revolver that was hidden there. He wanted to go to -that old bent figure there in its misery and despair, who was fighting -now so obviously to get a grip upon himself. But he did not move. He -could not tell Hawkins what he meant to do. - -Were they minutes or were they hours that passed? Again the front door -of Paul Veniza's house opened, and again John Bruce leaned tensely -forward. But this time he did not relax. Claire! His eyes drank in the -slim, little, dark-garbed figure, greedy that no smallest gesture, -no movement, no single line of face or form should escape him. It was -perhaps the last time that he would see her. He would not see her in his -prison cell--he would not let her go there. - -A queer sound issued from his throat, a strange and broken little cry. -She was gone now. She had crossed the sidewalk and entered the traveling -pawn-shop. The curtains were down, and she was hidden from sight. And -for a moment there seemed a blur and mist before John Bruce's eyes--then -Hawkins, still around the corner, still with crouched shoulders, still -with his face hidden in his hands, took form and grew distinct again. -And then after a little while, Hawkins rose slowly, and came back -along the street, and climbed into the driver's seat of the traveling -pawnshop, and sat fumbling at the wheel with his hands. - -The door of Paul Veniza's house opened for the third time--and now John -Bruce laughed in a low, grim 'way, and his hand, hugging the revolver in -his pocket, tightened and grew vise-like in its grip upon the weapon. It -was Crang at last! - -And then John Bruce's hand came out from his pocket--empty. - -_Not in front of Claire!_ - -He swept his hand across his forehead. It was as though a sudden shock -had aroused him to some stark reality to which he had been strangely -oblivious. Not in front of Claire! Claire was in the car there. He felt -himself bewildered for a moment. Hawkins had said nothing about driving -Claire too. - -Crang's voice reached him from across the street: - -"All right, Hawkins! Go ahead!" - -Where was Paul Veniza? Crang had got into the car, and the car was -moving forward. Wasn't Paul Veniza going too? - -Well, it did not matter, did it? Crang was there. And it was a long way -to Staten Island, and before then a chance would come, _must_ come; he -would make one somehow, and----- - -John Bruce ran swiftly out into the street, and, as the car turned the -corner, swung himself lightly and silently in beside Hawkins. Crang -would not know. The curtained panel at the back of the driver's seat hid -the interior of the car from view. - -Hawkins turned his head, stared into John Bruce's face for an instant, -half in a startled, half in a curiously perplexed way, made as though to -speak--and then, without a word, gave his attention to the wheel again. - -The car rattled on down the block. - -John Bruce, as silent as Hawkins, stared ahead. On the ferry! Yes, that -was it! It was a long way to Staten Island. Claire would not stay cooped -up in a closed car below; she would go up on deck to get the air. And -even if Crang accompanied her, it would not prove very difficult to -separate them. - -He looked around suddenly and intercepted a furtive, puzzled glance cast -at him by Hawkins. - -And then Hawkins spoke for the first time. - -"You'd better get off, John Bruce," he said in a choked voice. "You've -done all you could, and God bless you over and over again for it, but -you can't do anything more now, and it won't do you any good to come any -further." - -"No," said John Bruce, "I'm going all the way, Hawkins." - -Hawkins relapsed into silence. They were near the Battery when he spoke -again. - -"All the way," Hawkins repeated then, as though it were but a moment -gone since John Bruce had spoken. "All the way. Yes, that's it--after -twenty years. That's when I pawned her--twenty years ago. And I couldn't -never redeem her the way Paul Veniza said. And she ain't never known, -and thank God she ain't never going to know, that I--that I----" -A tear trickled down the old face, and splashed upon the wrinkled skin -of the hand upon the wheel. And then old Hawkins smiled suddenly, and -nodded toward the clock on the cowl-board--and the speed of the car -increased. "I looked up the ferry time," said Hawkins. - -They swung out in front of the ferry house, and the car stopped. A -ferry, just berthing, was beginning to disgorge its stream of motors and -pedestrians. - -"We're first in line," said Hawkins, nodding his head. "We'll have to -wait a minute or two." - -John Bruce nodded back indifferently. His eyes were fixed on the ferry -that he could just see through the ferry house. Certainly, Claire would -not stay down in the confined space of the ferry's run-way all the trip; -or if she did, Crang wouldn't. His face set. Quite unconsciously his -hand had gone to his pocket, and he found his fingers now snuggling -again around the weapon that lay there. - -And then he looked at Hawkins--and stared again at the other, startled. -Strange, he had not noticed it before! The smile on Hawkins' face did -not hide it. The man seemed to have aged a thousand years; the old face -was pinched and worn, and deep in the faded, watery blue eyes were hurt -and agony. And a great sympathy for the man surged upon John Bruce. He -could not tell Hawkins, but---- He reached out, and laid his hand on the -other's arm. - -"Don't take it too hard, Hawkins," he said gently. "I--perhaps--perhaps, -well, there's always a last chance that something may happen." - -"Me?" said Hawkins, and bent down over his gears as he got the signal to -move forward. "Do I look like that? I--I thought it all out last night, -and I don't feel that way. I'll tell you what I was thinking about. I -was just thinking that I did something to-day when I left my room that I -haven't done before--in twenty years. I've left the light burning." - -John Bruce stared a little helplessly. - -"Yes," said Hawkins. He smiled at John Bruce. "Don't you worry about -me. Mabbe you don't understand, but that's all I've been thinking about -since we've been waiting here. I've left the light burning." - -Sick at heart, John Bruce turned his head away. He made no response. - -Hawkins paid the fare, ran the car through the ferry house, and aboard -the ferry itself. He was fumbling with a catch of some kind behind his -seat, as he proceeded slowly up the run-way. - -"He'll want a little air in there," said Hawkins, "because it's close -down here. It opens back, you know--the whole panel. I had it made that -way when the car was turned into a traveling pawn-shop--didn't know what -tough kind of a customer Paul might run into sometime, and I'd want to -get in beside him quick to help, and I----" The old cabman straightened -up. - -The car was at the extreme forward end of the ferry--and suddenly it -leaped forward. "Jump, John Bruce! Jump clear!" old Hawkins cried. -"There's only two of us going all the way--and that's Crang and me! -Claire and Paul 'll be along in another car--tell them it was an -accident, and----" - -John Bruce was on his feet--too late. There was a crash, and the -collapsible steel gates went down before the plunging car, and the guard -chain beyond was swept from its sockets. He reeled and lost his balance -as something, a piece of wreckage from the gates or chain posts, struck -him. He felt the hot blood spurt from shoulder and arm. And then, as the -car shot out in mid-air, diving madly for the water below, and he -was thrown from his feet, he found himself clinging to the footboard, -fighting wildly to reach the door handle. Claire was in there! Claire -was in there! - -There was a terrific splash. A mighty rush of water closed over him. -Horror, fear, madness possessed his soul. Claire was in there! Claire -was in there--and somehow Hawkins had not known! Yes, he had the door -handle now! He wrenched and tore at the door. The pressure of the water -seemed to pit itself against his strength. He worked like a maniac. It -opened. He had it now! It opened. He could scarcely see in the murky -water--only the indistinct outlines of two forms undulating grotesquely, -the hands of one gripped around the throat of the other--only that, and -floating within his reach a woman's dress. He snatched at the dress. His -lungs were bursting. Claire! It was Claire! She was in his arms--then -blackness--then sunlight again--and then, faintly, he heard a cheer. - -He held her head above the water. She was motionless, inert. - -"Claire! Claire!" he cried. Fear, cold, horrible, seized upon him. He -swam in mad haste for the iron ladder rungs at the side of the slip. - -Faces, a multitude of them, seemed to peer at him from above, from the -brink of this abyss in which he was struggling. He heard a cheer again. -Why were they cheering? Were they cheering because two men were locked -in a death grip deep down there in the water below? - -"Claire!" he cried out again. - -And then, as his hand grasped the lower rung, she opened her eyes -slowly, and a tremor ran through her frame. - -She lived! Was he weak with the sudden revulsion that swept upon him -now? Was that it? He tried to carry her up--and found that it was beyond -his strength. And he could only cling there and wait for assistance from -above, thankful even for the support the water gave his weight. It was -strange! What were those red stains that spread out and tinged the water -around him? His arm! Yes, he remembered now! His shoulder and arm! It -was the loss of blood that must have sapped his strength, that must be -sapping it now so that--- - -"John!" Claire whispered. "You--John!" - -He buried his face in the great wet masses of hair that fell around her. -Weak? No, he was not weak! He could hold her here always--always. - -He felt her clutch spasmodically at his arm. - -"And--and Hawkins, John?" she faltered. - -He lifted his head and stared at the water. Little waves rippled across -its surface, gamboling inconsequentially--at play. There wasn't anything -else there. There never would be. He made no answer. - -A sob shook her shoulders. - -"How--how did it happen?" she whispered again. - -"I think a--a gear jammed, or something," he said huskily. - -He heard her speak again, but her voice was very low. He bent his head -until it rested upon hers to catch the words. - -She was crying softly. - -"Dear, dear Hawkins--dear Daddy Hawkins," she said. - -A great mist seemed to gather before John Bruce's eyes. A voice seemed -to come again, Hawkins' voice; and words that he understood now, -Hawkins' words: - -"I've left the light burning." - -THE END. - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Pawned, by Frank L. 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