VI--A MIDNIGHT VISITOR
Keeping in the shadows and avoiding the passers-by as on his way toMarco's, Billy Kane hurried even more now on his return to the Rat's. Ina moment or so, when Mrs. Clancy reached the front street with herprisoner, there was likely to be an uproar, and he wanted to be housedand under cover if possible before that broke loose. Mrs. Clancy's storycould hardly omit reference to the man in the mask, and the police, tosay nothing of the on-lookers, might evince a most unpleasant degree ofpractical curiosity--and he, Billy Kane, was in no condition, eithermental, or, above all, physical, to play hare to the hounds of the lawagain that night. He was conscious now, as he made his way swiftlyalong, that his shoulder was paining him intensely again, and that,though through nerve force, his feet moved quickly enough under him, hisknees were wobbly and weak.
He turned a corner, and still another--and drew a deep breath of relief.He was out of range of the second-hand shop now, and the Rat's den wasjust ahead up the street, and there was no one in sight.
Billy Kane swept his hand heavily across his eyes. It was strange! Therewas not far from being a very close analogy between himself and Mrs.Clancy's son to-night. Mrs. Clancy's son had been selected as the victimof a "plant" much like himself--only there had been no murder, and the"plant" had failed. It was curious, very curious, that the two shouldhave been so much alike, and that though he had been able to save theother, he himself was being searched for at that moment in every cornerof New York, and that the human drag-net was spread for him, and thatthe wires all over the country were hot with his description, and thatinto every newspaper office in every state was pouring the story thatwould make of him an abominable and an abandoned thing!
His head was singing. He stumbled a little, as he made his way down thestairs, and fumbled with Whitie Jack's key in the lock of the Rat'sdoor. Well, if the Rat, who was away, did not return too soon, andif--he shook his head, as he opened the door, and stepped inside, andlocked it behind him--no, he was too tired, and too near the breakingpoint to think any more. He had a chance to rest now until morning.Whitie Jack had said that no one would dare disturb the Rat, and thatwas enough--he did not want to think any more--until morning.
He groped his way forward to the electric light, reached up to turn iton--and, with his arm poised in mid-air, stood suddenly tense and rigid.He listened. It came again--as though some one were knocking cautiouslyon the wall--and it seemed to come from the far end of the room near thebureau.
Billy Kane's hand shot into his pocket and closed on his revolver; and,quick and silent in every movement now, he tiptoed across the room inthe darkness, slipped in behind the cretonne hanging and waited, peeringthrough a corner of the hanging.
And now it was absolutely silent again. Perhaps a half minute passed,and then, grotesquely, as though it came through the wall itself, thewhite ray of a flashlight streamed into the room, and circled it slowlyand deliberately. And then a form moved forward--a woman's form--andcrossed the room to the table. There was a slight sound as of therustling of paper, and, with the ray now flooding the top of the table,Billy Kane could see that she was writing; but her back was turned, andhe could not see her face. For a moment more she stood there bendingover the table, and then, turning, she retreated again to the rear ofthe room.
The flashlight now was full on the rear wall--but there was no openingthere. Billy Kane leaned tensely forward, watching through the corner ofthe hanging. This den of the Rat's that he, or fate for him, hadappropriated, promised much more than appeared on the surface! It wasobvious that there was another entrance than that from the street, andto obtain its secret now was a matter upon which his life, sooner orlater, might very easily depend.
She was stooping now slightly, and her hand in the glare of theflashlight was moving in a slow, tentative way up and down one of thewall boards--and then her hand for an instant remained motionless. BillyKane drew in his breath softly. It was ingenious, clever, cunning--and acraftsman's work. A small door swung open into the room--a most curiousdoor! Its top was of an absurd zigzag shape--due to the fact that itfollowed the natural joints of the wall boards. And the whole, threeboards in width, in no part therefore, to casual or even criticalexamination, would show any signs of an opening, since it opened onlywhere boards joined one another, and since everywhere in the room allthe wall boards were more or less warped and ill-fitting!
The light was suddenly shaded, obliterated almost, as she passed throughthe opening--and then was blotted out. The door had closed without asound. She was gone.
Billy Kane did not move. His eyes, as though fascinated, as thoughfearful that he might lose it, were fixed through the darkness on theparticular spot on the wall where this strange midnight visitor had runher hand up and down. A minute, two, three, passed. Wherever thatopening led to, she must be far enough away now to make it safe for himto act. But he dared not turn on the electric light. It might throw aglimmer to the street. He was none too sure of either the sill or panelsof that front door! Whitie Jack had passed the word around of the Rat'sreturn--was this woman one to whom that word had come? In any case, shehad thought the room empty, the Rat away, and therefore he could not runthe risk of exposing the fact that he had been _hidden_ there--he knewtoo little--and perhaps already too much!
He stepped silently over to the wall now. If he only had a match! But hehad lost his match-safe with his coat--no, there were matches here, abox of them--his fingers had been mechanically searching his pockets--hehad forgotten--it was not even the coat Whitie Jack had given him at thesecond-hand shop, it was the Rat's coat now he was wearing!
He struck a match, located the board, pressed his hand up and down itslength, and felt something give slightly. The door began to swing open.He blew out the match instantly, and, crouched there, listened. He couldhear nothing. He lighted another match, and this time held it above hishead. A short, tunnel-like passage through the ground, strongly bracedand stayed, and trending gently upward, confronted him.
He stepped forward into the opening, and, bending head and shoulders,for the roof was scarcely four feet in height, followed the passage forsome five or six yards to where it ended abruptly in a blank wall ofearth, but where, above his head, a third match disclosed a trap-door.Again Billy Kane listened, and then cautiously raised the door. It waspitch black now. He drew himself up, and once more listened. There wasno sound. He lighted another match--the stub of the one before beingcarefully consigned to his pocket--and nodded his head in understanding.The passage had led him into a shed, evidently little used, for it waslittered and stored with odds and ends that, judging from theaccumulated dust and dirt, had been untouched for a long time; and theshed itself--yes, he was right--he had pushed the back door open alittle--the shed gave directly on a lane.
Billy Kane closed the shed door; and, noting with grim appreciation thatthe trap-door, as he closed it above his head, was an ingeniousarrangement of the floor planking similar to the construction of thedoor within the Rat's quarters, and was moreover, as an addedprecaution, surrounded by an apparently careless stowage of the shed'slitter, he made his way back along the passage again. The room door heexamined as he passed through. It was manipulated from the _inside_ ofthe passage by an ordinary and frankly obvious spring lock. He closedit, and stood for a moment staring at it speculatively. There seemed noway of locking it here in the room, of protecting himself from anintrusion through the night that might not be either as instructive oras harmless as this first one had been. There might be a way, and thereprobably was a way of fastening it, the Rat would surely have seen tothat, but he, Billy Kane, was too far gone, too weak, too tired, toonearly all in to hunt or search for it now--and there _was_ a way ofobviating the possibility of the door being opened without firstarousing him and putting him on his guard. He went to the table, pickedup a chair, and, carrying it back, tilted it against the door in thewall.
And now he swayed a little, and his hand sought his eyes. He wasconscious again of his aching shoulder, and that hi
s head was swimmingdizzily--but he seemed to have forgotten something--yes, he rememberednow--that paper--that paper on which she had written something. Helaughed in a strained, almost delirious way. He must be worse than heimagined, if he had, even for an instant, forgotten that! Or was it justsimply the reaction coming now?
He stumbled toward the table, and, feeling with his hand, secured thepaper--but there was no chair here now, and he stumbled across the room,and sat down on the edge of the bed. He lighted another match, held itclose to the paper, and read the pencilled lines.
So you are back, are you? Well, so am I! _Remember!_
The match burned down to his fingers, and he dropped it on the floor.What did it mean? Who was she? He shook his head. And then, with aqueer, twisted smile, he folded the paper, thrust it into hispocket--and, stretching himself out fully dressed upon the bed, laythere staring into the darkness.