III--INTO THE UNDERWORLD
It had been dark before the opening of the door had thrown a dim glowalong the rear of the passage, and Jackson, in his onslaught, had missedwhat was evidently intended for a throathold, and his hands, slippingdown, had caught at and bunched the shoulders of Billy Kane's coat. Butnow Billy Kane was in action. His arms, straightened, shot back behindhim--and the coat alone was in Jackson's hands.
With an oath, the man dropped the coat to the floor, and wrenched arevolver from his pocket. But there was light enough to see now--to seethe murder in the other's eyes--and to see something there as well thatbrought a surging fury whipping through Billy Kane's veins.
"You devil! I understand it now!" he gritted, as he snatched and grippedat the other's wrist.
Jackson was twisting, squirming, fighting like a maniac.
"Help!" he shrieked. "Help! Here he is!"
Cries and shouts answered the man. There came the sound of racing feet.Then a blinding flash--a wild scream. And Jackson, the revolver goingoff in his hands as they struggled, sagged limply, and, with therevolver clattering against the wall, slid to the floor--and Billy Kane,with a bound, was through the back door, and leaping down the steps tothe courtyard.
There was no question in his mind now as to whether he should run forit, or not. Jackson was one of the murderers ... there must ... beothers.... Jackson could hardly have staged it all alone ... but toremain there and be caught was but to play into their hands! His brainwas working in flashes swift beyond any measure of time. If there couldstill have remained a lingering doubt favorable to him in any jury'smind, fate had played him an ironic trick that would dispel any suchdoubt instantly. _He had two thousand dollars of the money from thatvault in his vest pocket at that moment!_ And to be caught there, havingpresumably gained entrance stealthily by the rear door, would condemnhim out of hand. To run, too, was to condemn him, that was their hell'ssnare that they had laid for him ... but there was a chance this way! Arage that was merciless was upon him now. There was a chance this way... one chance ... the only chance, not alone of saving his own life andclearing his own name, but of bringing to justice the inhuman fiends whohad taken David Ellsworth's life ... there was a chance ... one chance... this way ... that someone would pay ... if he, Billy Kane, lived,that someone _would_ pay!
There came a short, curt shout from behind him, an imperative order tohalt. He had gained the courtyard now, and was running along the garagedriveway, heading for the street. He glanced back over his shoulder. Inthe darkness he could just make out a number of shadowy forms rushingdown the steps.
The order came again. Then the tongue-flame of a revolver split throughthe black. And as though a red hot iron had been laid suddenly acrosshis left shoulder, Billy Kane gritted his teeth together in pain--andstumbled--and recovered himself--and plunged out through the drivewaygates to the street.
Halfway down the block, he remembered, was an alleyway; and, runninglike a deer now, Billy Kane again glanced behind him. Forms, a greatmany of them, though perhaps his fancy exaggerated the number, werepouring out into the street in pursuit. The men servants had evidentlyjoined forces with the detectives; and yelling hoarsely, a pack of humanhounds in cry, with the blood-scent in their nostrils, were sometwenty-five to thirty yards behind.
How curiously warm his shoulder was! He clapped his right hand upon it,and drew his hand away, red and dripping wet. He began to feel strangelygiddy. The shots were coming now in a fusillade--but they missed him. Hewas even gaining a little, and if it were not for that queer giddiness,that sense of nausea that seemed to be creeping steadily upon him, hecould have outdistanced them all, and laughed at them--except that theentire district would soon be aroused, and speed and lightness of footwould therefore ultimately avail him little.
He laughed out harshly in grim, mirthless facetiousness. Logically then,it made small difference whether he had been hit, or not! It was hishead, and not his feet, that must be depended upon to save him! If hecould only get out of the immediate neighborhood ... yes, that was it... and his head must find the way ... only, and he was not very logicalafter all, his head seemed possessed with that sick, swimming, impotentsensation.
He reeled again. Then his teeth clamped hard, and the sheer nerve of theman asserted itself, and fought back the purely physical weakness. Therewas a way, at least a chance, perhaps a desperate chance, but still achance--if the alleyway, that was just ahead now, was dark enough, andif----
A yell, chorused wildly, went up from behind him, and a bullet struckthe pavement with an angry _spat_, as Billy Kane swerved into thealleyway. And again he laughed, gasping out the laugh in a sort ofdesperate relief. Yes, the alleyway was black enough, he could notdistinguish an object twenty yards ahead; and that other "if," somethingthat would furnish temporary sanctuary, was here, too, at his right--andfive yards in from the street, he sprang for the top of a board fence,flung himself over, dropped down on the other side, and lay motionlessupon the ground.
It was a matter of seconds--no more. The pursuers swept into thealleyway, and tearing down its length, shouting as they went, rushed bythat spot, so _innocently close_ to the street, where their quarry lay.
And now Billy Kane was on his feet again, and cautiously, silently,raised himself to the top of the fence once more. He had counted on justthis exactly, it was simply what was naturally to be expected, and heknew no elation on that score. The chance, the one chance he had, stilllay ahead of him, and was still to be taken--and to be taken without aninstant's loss of time before the neighborhood became aroused to theextent of pouring curiously out-of-doors. Across the intervening streetthe alleyway extended in the opposite direction, and if he could gainthe other side, double on his tracks, he would, for the time being atleast, be safe.
The sound of the pursuit came from well down the alleyway now, and thepursuers were lost to sight in the blackness. He swung himself over thefence, dropped without a sound into the alleyway, and keeping closeagainst the fence, crept forward to the edge of the street.
And then Billy Kane's lips moved in a silent prayer of ferventthankfulness for that quiet and sedate neighborhood that had notinstantly responded to the disturbance. It had seemed hours, of course,since that shot had been fired at him in the courtyard of DavidEllsworth's home, but in reality he knew that it could scarcely havebeen much more than a minute ago. The street, to all appearances, wasdeserted; and Billy Kane, quick now, running again, darted out from thelane; and, mindful that if he crossed the street in a direct line, hewould be in the light, and that any one of those in the alleyway behindwho might chance to look back would see him, made a slight detour, and amoment later gained the alleyway again where it continued on from theopposite side of the street.
He ran on now breathlessly. It had been raining hard that morning, andthe ground under foot was soft and slippery. He reeled once, andfell--and rose splattered with grime and mud. He laughed again, but hislaugh was desperate now. It had been bad enough before--coatless, andwith a blood-soaked shirt--but his appearance must be disreputablebeyond description now, so disreputable that he would attract instantsuspicion the moment he were seen by anyone, and this quite apart evenfrom the fact that before very long the net spread for the "murderer" ofDavid Ellsworth would widen, and every man and woman abroad in thatgreat city to-night would automatically become allies of the police inapprehending him.
He stopped. He was at the end of the alleyway, and it did not seem toextend again on the other side of the next street. But he must goon--somehow. He brushed his hand across his eyes. His shoulder painedhim, and those dizzy flashes kept recurring, though perhaps not now withsuch great frequency. He must go on--somehow. That was essential. Hemust put as great an immediate distance between himself and theEllsworth mansion as possible; later, if by some means he could getthere, if luck broke for him just a little, his chances would be better,thanks to those three months of intimacy with the underworld, if hecould get somewhere into the maze of the East Side.
> He peered out into the street, waited for some pedestrians who were nearat hand to pass further on, and then, moving quickly forward, croucheddown in the shadows made by the flight of front door steps of thenearest house.
If he only had a coat! He could walk boldly then along the streetwithout the blood showing on his white shirt, and it would cover upenough of the mud so that no one would pay any particular attention tohim. If he only had a coat! He had two thousand dollars in his vestpocket--but it was not worth a coat. Anybody would sell him a coat fortwo thousand dollars, but---- His hands went to his eyes, and thenpressed against his throbbing temples. Yes, certainly, his brain wasverging on delirium! Why should he think of Marco's? Yes, yes, heremembered now! Somebody was going to break into Marco's to-night ...and Marco was a second-hand clothing dealer ... and the back door hadits lock broken ... and the way was open. He could steal too ... a coat... at Marco's ... and that was the only way he could get a coat ... tosteal it ... he dared not make any attempt to buy one ... and he musthave a coat.
His brain cleared again, and he smiled a little ironically at himself.But the thought of Marco's now stuck persistently. It was possible, ofcourse--if he could get to Marco's! But Marco's was a long way off.Marco's was a long way downtown on the East Side. He shook his head,smiling ironically again. Yes, he would very much like to be there now!That was where he wanted to be--in the East Side, instead of here!
Billy Kane peered up and down the street again, and again movedstealthily forward. He repeated these tactics over and over, sometimescovering only a few yards at a time, sometimes making as much as half ablock, and sometimes even more when a friendly lane or alleyway offeredhim the opportunity. And at the expiration of half an hour he hadcovered a distance that surprised even himself, for, though stilluptown, he had succeeded in getting entirely away from the more wealthyneighborhood.
Another ten minutes passed, and hidden again in the shadows of a porch,he was staring now with feverish eagerness at a great, covered motortruck, a furniture van, that was drawn up in front of what appeared tobe a truck-man's office across the street. The driver had gone into theoffice, but there was the street to cross--and two men were comingleisurely in his direction along the sidewalk. He clenched his handsfiercely at his sides. Here was the chance flaunting him in the face andtantalizing him, the chance that was a far greater chance even than hehad dared hope for, and he was powerless to avail himself of it unlessthose two men passed by before the driver came out again. He could readthe name and address in the huge letters on the side of the van. Itbelonged down on the East Side. This was probably only a small uptownbranch office, and the odds were a hundred to one that the van would begoing home now. And if the driver took a direct route he was bound touse a cross street that would intersect that lane in the rear ofMarco's, and intersect it within at least a few blocks of thesecond-hand dealer's shop. Billy Kane's hands clenched tighter, and hisface was strained and drawn, as from his hiding place he alternatelywatched the van and the two men. Those few blocks through a lane wouldbe nothing! God, if he could only reach Marco's--and a coat! A coat! Itseemed an absurd thing to be of such moment--a coat! But it meant lifeor death. A coat would cover his blood-stained shirt, and he would beable to move with freedom enough to give him at least a fighting chance,and----
The two men had passed by; there was no one else in sight. He waitedanother moment until they were still further away--and then, in a flash,Billy Kane was across the road, and had swung himself over thetail-board into the van. It seemed like some vast cavernous place hereinside, for the van was empty, save for what appeared to be, as nearlyas he could make out in the gloom, some large pieces of crated furniturepiled at the front end just behind the driver's seat. Billy Kane's eyesswept the interior anxiously--and the drawn, strained look in BillyKane's face relaxed. By lying flat on the floor of the van the driverwould hardly be likely to notice him in any case; but, to make assurancedoubly sure, some bits of sacking, evidently used to wrap around andprotect furniture from being scratched and marred, were strewn about onthe floor. Billy Kane pulled off his slouch hat, that had been jammeddown over his eyes, drew a piece of the sacking over him, and lay still.
And then presently he heard the driver come out from the office. The manclimbed to his seat. The van jolted forward. Billy Kane's hand, underthe sacking, felt tentatively over his shoulder. It was paining himbrutally, and was burning and hot, but it seemed to have stoppedbleeding, and the sense of nausea and giddiness had passed away. It wasa flesh wound only, probably; or, at least, the bullet had not fracturedany bone, for he could move both shoulder and arm readily.
And now, safe for the moment, Billy Kane's mind was back on the eventsof the evening; and for a time grief for the man he loved had its sway;and then came fury, pitiless and remorseless, and a cry in his soul forvengeance; and then a quiet, measured analysis of every detail, ananalysis that was deadly in its cold, unnatural calm. Jackson's acts inthat back passageway, Jackson's possession of a revolver, and Jackson'swords at the end stamped the footman irrevocably as being one of the menin the murder plot. And with Jackson's guilt established as a premise,the rest unravelled itself step by step, clearly, logically,irrefutably.
David Ellsworth's deductions had proved themselves in ghastly truth. Theletter had been written as the initiatory step toward incriminating him,Billy Kane, in the robbery that was to follow; and this demanded, evenas he had argued before, that the vault and safe combinations should beknown to a third party. Who knew them? The answer came now quickly andemphatically enough--someone within the house--Jackson. He rememberednow, though he had paid no attention to it before, that Jackson had beenin the library on several occasions when he, Billy Kane, was opening thevault. It had probably taken the man a month or two, perhaps more,watching both David Ellsworth and himself at every opportunity and withinfinite patience, to pick up little by little, possibly but a singlenumber or turn at a time, the combinations--but he had undoubtedlyaccomplished it finally.
The original plan had certainly not contemplated the murder of DavidEllsworth, for the letter was primarily intended to make the oldmillionaire one of the first to accuse him, Billy Kane, of thecrime--there having been left on the scene of the crime, of course, inthat case, as David Ellsworth had also reasoned, some further damningevidence of his, Billy Kane's, supposed guilt. But the changing of thecombinations had completely upset that original plan. Who was it, then,who knew that the combinations _had_ been changed? Again the questionanswered itself almost automatically. It must have been someone in thehouse at the time, and someone who was both listening andwatching--Jackson. True, David Ellsworth had looked out into the hall,and had opened the door and looked into the unlighted stenographer'sroom, but he had done it only cursorily, and Jackson all the time mightwell have been hiding in that room--in fact, must have been hidingthere.
The rest was self-evident. Without the combinations they were helpless,but the new combinations were on a card in David Ellsworth's pocket. Ithad been necessary, then, only to add _murder_ to the theft, employingas accessories the card, the letter, the button and the black silk loop,in order to seize the opportunity of the moment; for, the card bearingthe combinations once destroyed or out of reach, the months of work thathad been put in to secure the old combinations would have to be repeatedto obtain the new--and with very little likelihood of success, sinceJackson would know that David Ellsworth's suspicions were thoroughlyaroused.
The van rolled rapidly downtown. Billy Kane, peering out from under thesacking, kept watch on the streets through which he passed. But his mindwas still busy with its problem.
Jackson's act in accosting him on the corner, and afterwards luring himby suggestion to the rear of the house, had puzzled him at first, butthat, too, was clear enough now. There was a grain of truth in what theman had said about giving him a chance, though Jackson would care littleenough whether he ultimately got away, or not. Jackson's idea, orperhaps the idea of a keener brain behind Jackson, was to prevent him,Bill
y Kane, from entering the house at all, and so, by inducing him torun for it, to corroborate the evidence of guilt against him, in whichcase, being a self-elected fugitive, he would be doubly condemned ifeventually caught. On the other hand, if he refused to listen andinsisted on entering the house, as they were afraid he might do, theymeant to see to it that his entrance was made by apparent stealth, andhere again he but added the final touch to the evidence against him, anddiscredited himself beyond any hope or possibility of recovery. Jacksonhad taken no personal risk or chance in doing this, as far as the policewere concerned; and it was evident now that Jackson had meant to _kill_him there in that back passageway should he, Billy Kane, persist inrefusing to run. The case and all investigation would have endedautomatically if he, Billy Kane were killed under such circumstances. Itwas all simplicity itself! Jackson had only to call for help, as he haddone when the issue was forced by that approaching footstep, pretendthat he had discovered him, Billy Kane, creeping into the house, and hadrushed upon him--that he, Billy Kane, had drawn the revolver, but thatin the struggle had been shot himself. With the evidence as it stood,with his, Billy Kane's guilt so apparently obvious, Jackson would notonly have been believed, but would have been rewarded and lauded as ahero.
Still the van rolled on--mostly through deserted streets, for thetraffic was light at that time of night. Perhaps another twenty minutespassed. Then Billy Kane began to edge toward the rear end of the truck.He was in the East Side now, and approaching the neighborhood of Marco'ssecond-hand clothing store.
Was Jackson dead? Billy Kane shook his head. He did not know. A grimsmile twisted his lips. He hoped not--not from any sympathy for the man,for the man's punishment in that case had been almost too merciful aretribution, but because in Jackson was embodied the clue that wouldlead, if he, Billy Kane, escaped, to that day of reckoning that, costwhat it might, he meant should come.
The van was in a narrow and ill-lighted street now. Marco's was stilltwo streets further downtown, but in the block ahead was the lane that,running north and south, passed the rear of Marco's place.
Billy Kane sat suddenly upright on the tail-board of the van, the pieceof sacking thrown now around his shoulders. If the driver happened tolook around and see him, the supposition would be that he had hopped onto steal a ride; and if the driver ordered him off it mattered verylittle, since, in another yard or so anyhow, the van, as far as he wasconcerned, would have lost its usefulness. He leaned out, and glancedahead of him up the street. There were a few people about, but not many,and none in the immediate vicinity of the lane that was now just athand; but even if he were seen for an instant as he left the van, hewould not be running any very great risk for he would be out of sightagain before any particular attention could be riveted upon him; and,besides, in that miserable and sordid quarter a man might do many thingsout of the ordinary, for instance, dive suddenly into a lane anddisappear, without exciting even passing curiosity or notice.
He jerked his slouch hat over his eyes, flung off the sacking, droppedto the ground, and slipped across the sidewalk into the lane. And now hewas running again. He reached the next intersecting street, and wasforced to draw back under cover to wait for an opportunity to crossunnoticed. And then the chance came, and he continued on down the laneon the opposite side of the street again.
Marco's was the second store in from the next corner on the street thatparalleled the lane, and halfway down he stopped running and began tomove forward cautiously. It was very black in here, and he wished nowthat he had looked at his watch when he had had the opportunity; but itmust be somewhere around ten o'clock. It was two hours, then, since hehad overheard that telephone conversation in which Laverto had said thatall he cared was that the man to whom he was telephoning should be awayfrom Marco's before a quarter of eleven.
Billy Kane was crouched now in the darkness against the back door of thesecond-hand shop. The chances were that whoever Laverto had beentelephoning to had already been here and gone. Certainly two hours wouldhave given any one ample time, and as Laverto had said that Marco didnot keep open in the evening there would have been no cause for delay onthat score.
He placed his ear to the panel of the door, and listened. There was nosound, and he tried the door. It stuck a little in spite of its brokenlock, and gave with a slight squeak. Billy Kane drew in his breathsharply, and listened again. There was still no sound. He closed thedoor behind him, and crept forward, feeling his way with his hands alongthe wall in the pitch blackness. The flooring was old, and once itcreaked under his foot, causing his lips to tighten rigidly, and hisface to set in a hard, dogged way. He had no matches--they, in thematch-safe that he usually carried in the ticket-pocket of his coat,were gone with the coat. A coat! All sense of absurdity in the length towhich he was going to obtain so common-place an article as a coat hadvanished. It was the one, final, ultimate, essential thing that he mustand would have if he was to know a single chance for life. Without it hemight as well throw up the sponge at once, but if his luck still held hewould get one now. Marco's stock of clothing would naturally be in theshop in front, and----
His hand dove suddenly forward into space, and he halted for an instant.He had come to an open doorway on his right. He felt around him in alldirections. The passage seemed to end a foot or so ahead, and to leadnowhere but into what was probably the back room here at his side. Theentrance, then, to the shop proper would be through the back room.
Again he moved forward, crossed the threshold, and again halted. It wasdark, intensely dark, and he could see nothing; and it was still andsilent, and there was no sound. But suddenly he found himself standingin a tense, strained attitude, his head thrown a little forward, hiseyes striving to pierce the darkness. He could hear nothing, seenothing--but the sense of _presence_ was strong upon him.
A minute passed, the seconds dragging out interminably--and he did notmove. And then it seemed that close to him he caught a faint stirringsound. But he was not sure. It might have been his imagination. Thesilence, so heavy and prolonged, had taken on strange little noises ofits own. Billy Kane's lips thinned. He was bare-handed, wounded andunarmed, but he had a stake that he would fight for with a beast'sferocity. And that stake was a coat! If there was anyone here, if it wasmore than his excited and wrought-up fancy playing tricks upon him, itwas certain at least that it was not the police, for the police wouldhave no incentive to play at cat-and-mouse, and therefore it wasprobably the man, not yet through with his work, to whom Laverto hadtelephoned; it was probably a _fellow_ thief, fellow since he, BillyKane, had also come to steal--a coat. Well, he would at least end thesuspense! He turned in the direction from which he thought the sound,imaginary or real, had come, took a step forward--and stood still, handsclenched at his sides, as he blinked, through the ray of a flashlightthat was suddenly thrown full in his face, at the round, ugly muzzle ofa revolver that held a steady bead upon him on a level with his eyes.
A voice came through the silence in a savage, guttural snarl:
"Throw up yer mitts, youse----" The words ended in an amazed andstartled oath. The revolver muzzle sagged downward, as though the handthat held it had become suddenly powerless. "Well, fer Gawd's sake, ifit ain't de Rat!" gasped the voice in a hoarse whisper. "When did youseget back? I thought youse was hobnobbin' wid some of de swells youseused to know, an' was givin' Noo Yoik de icy paw until next month!"