VIII. STRANGE DOINGS FOR GEORGE
That evening George sat so long over the newspapers that in spite of myabsorbing interest in the topic engrossing me, I fell asleep in my cozylittle rocking chair. I was awakened by what seemed like a kiss fallingvery softly on my forehead, though, to be sure, it may have been onlythe flap of George's coat sleeve as he stooped over me.
"Wake up, little woman," I heard, "and trot away to bed. I'm going outand may not be in till daybreak."
"You! going out! at ten o'clock at night, tired as you are--as we bothare! What has happened--Oh!"
This broken exclamation escaped me as I perceived in the dim backgroundby the sitting-room door, the figure of a man who called up recent, butvery thrilling experiences.
"Mr. Sweetwater," explained George. "We are going out together. It isnecessary, or you may be sure I should not leave you."
I was quite wide awake enough by now to understand. "Oh, I know. You aregoing to hunt up the man. How I wish--"
But George did not wait for me to express my wishes. He gave me a littlegood advice as to how I had better employ my time in his absence, andwas off before I could find words to answer.
This ends all I have to say about myself; but the events of thatnight carefully related to me by George are important enough for me todescribe them, with all the detail which is their rightful due. I shalltell the story as I have already been led to do in other portions ofthis narrative, as though I were present and shared the adventure.
As soon as the two were in the street, the detective turned towardsGeorge and said:
"Mr. Anderson, I have a great deal to ask of you. The business before usis not a simple one, and I fear that I shall have to subject you to moreinconvenience than is customary in matters like this. Mr. Brotherson hasvanished; that is, in his own proper person, but I have an idea thatI am on the track of one who will lead us very directly to him if wemanage the affair carefully. What I want of you, of course, is mereidentification. You saw the face of the man who washed his hands in thesnow, and would know it again, you say. Do you think you could be quitesure of yourself, if the man were differently dressed and differentlyoccupied?"
"I think so. There's his height and a certain strong look in his face. Icannot describe it."
"You don't need to. Come! we're all right. You don't mind making a nightof it?"
"Not if it is necessary."
"That we can't tell yet." And with a characteristic shrug and smile, thedetective led the way to a taxicab which stood in waiting at the corner.
A quarter of an hour of rather fast riding brought them into a tangle ofstreets on the East side. As George noticed the swarming sidewalks andlistened to the noises incident to an over-populated quarter, he couldnot forbear, despite the injunction he had received, to express hissurprise at the direction of their search.
"Surely," said he, "the gentleman I have described can have no friendshere." Then, bethinking himself, he added: "But if he has reasons tofear the law, naturally he would seek to lose himself in a place asdifferent as possible from his usual haunts."
"Yes, that would be some men's way," was the curt, almost indifferent,answer he received. Sweetwater was looking this way and that from thewindow beside him, and now, leaning out gave some directions to thedriver which altered their course.
When they stopped, which was in a few minutes, he said to George:
"We shall have to walk now for a block or two. I'm anxious to attractno attention, nor is it desirable for you to do so. If you can manageto act as if you were accustomed to the place and just leave all thetalking to me, we ought to get along first-rate. Don't be astonished atanything you see, and trust me for the rest; that's all."
They alighted, and he dismissed the taxicab. Some clock in theneighbourhood struck the hour of ten. "Good! we shall be in time,"muttered the detective, and led the way down the street and round acorner or so, till they came to a block darker than the rest, and muchless noisy.
It had a sinister look, and George, who is brave enough under allordinary circumstances, was glad that his companion wore a badge andcarried a whistle. He was also relieved when he caught sight of theburly form of a policeman in the shadow of one of the doorways. Yet thehouses he saw before him were not so very different from those they hadalready passed. His uneasiness could not have sprung from them. Theyhad even an air of positive respectability, as though inhabitedby industrious workmen. Then, what was it which made the closecompanionship of a member of the police so uncommonly welcome? Was it acertain aspect of solitariness which clung to the block, or was it thesudden appearance here and there of strangely gliding figures, which nosooner loomed up against the snowy perspective, than they disappearedagain in some unseen doorway?
"There's a meeting on to-night, of the Associated Brotherhood of theAwl, the Plane and the Trowel (whatever that means), and it is thespeaker we want to see; the man who is to address them promptly at teno'clock. Do you object to meetings?"
"Is this a secret one?"
"It wasn't advertised."
"Are we carpenters or masons that we can count on admittance?"
"I am a carpenter. Don't you think you can be a mason for the occasion?"
"I doubt it, but--"
"Hush! I must speak to this man."
George stood back, and a few words passed between Sweetwater and ashadowy figure which seemed to have sprung up out of the sidewalk.
"Balked at the outset," were the encouraging words with which thedetective rejoined George. "It seems that a pass-word is necessary,and my friend has been unable to get it. Will the speaker pass out thisway?" he inquired of the shadowy figure still lingering in their rear.
"He didn't go in by it; yet I believe he's safe enough inside," was themuttered answer.
Sweetwater had no relish for disappointments of this character, but itwas not long before he straightened up and allowed himself to exchangea few more words with this mysterious person. These appeared to be ofa more encouraging nature than the last, for it was not long before thedetective returned with renewed alacrity to George, and, wheeling himabout, began to retrace his steps to the corner.
"Are we going back? Are you going to give up the job?" George asked.
"No; we're going to take him from the rear. There's a break in thefence--Oh, we'll do very well. Trust me."
George laughed. He was growing excited, but not altogether agreeablyso. He says that he has seen moments of more pleasant anticipation.Evidently, my good husband is not cut out for detective work.
Where they went under this officer's guidance, he cannot tell. Thetortuous tangle of alleys through which he now felt himself led was darkas the nether regions to his unaccustomed eyes. There was snow underhis feet and now and then he brushed against some obtruding object, orstumbled against a low fence; but beyond these slight miscalculations onhis own part, he was a mere automaton in the hands of his eager guide,and only became his own man again when they suddenly stepped into anopen yard and he could discern plainly before him the dark walls of abuilding pointed out by Sweetwater as their probable destination. Yeteven here they encountered some impediment which prohibited a closeapproach. A wall or shed cut off their view of the building's lowerstorey; and though somewhat startled at being left unceremoniouslyalone after just a whispered word of encouragement from the ever readydetective, George could quite understand the necessity which that personmust feel for a quiet reconnoitering of the surroundings before thetwo of them ventured further forward in their possibly hazardousundertaking. Yet the experience was none too pleasing to George, and hewas very glad to hear Sweetwater's whisper again at his ear, and tofeel himself rescued from the pool of slush in which he had been left tostand.
"The approach is not all that can be desired," remarked the detective asthey entered what appeared to be a low shed. "The broken board hasbeen put back and securely nailed in place, and if I am not very muchmistaken there is a fellow stationed in the yard who will want thepass-word too. Looks shady to me
. I'll have something to tell the chiefwhen I get back."
"But we! What are we going to do if we cannot get in front or rear?"
"We're going to wait right here in the hopes of catching a glimpse ofour man as he comes out," returned the detective, drawing George towardsa low window overlooking the yard he had described as sentinelled. "Hewill have to pass directly under this window on his way to the alley,"Sweetwater went on to explain, "and if I can only raise it--but thenoise would give us away. I can't do that."
"Perhaps it swings on hinges," suggested George. "It looks like thatsort of a window."
"If it should--well! it does. We're in great luck, sir. But before Ipull it open, remember that from the moment I unlatch it, everythingsaid or done here can be heard in the adjoining yard. So no whispers andno unnecessary movements. When you hear him coming, as sooner or lateryou certainly will, fall carefully to your knees and lean out just farenough to catch a glimpse of him before he steps down from the porch. Ifhe stops to light his cigar or to pass a few words with some of the menhe will leave behind, you may get a plain enough view of his face orfigure to identify him. The light is burning low in that rear hall, butit will do. If it does not,--if you can't see him or if you do, don'thang out of the window more than a second. Duck after your first look.I don't want to be caught at this job with no better opportunity forescape than we have here. Can you remember all that?"
George pinched his arm encouragingly, and Sweetwater, with an amusedgrunt, softly unlatched the window and pulled it wide open.
A fine sleet flew in, imperceptible save for the sensation of damp itgave, and the slight haze it diffused through the air. Enlarged by thishaze, the building they were set to watch rose in magnified proportionsat their left. The yard between, piled high in the centre withsnow-heaps or other heaps covered with snow, could not have been morethan forty feet square. The window from which they peered, was half-waydown this yard, so that a comparatively short distance separated themfrom the porch where George had been told to look for the man he wasexpected to identify. All was dark there at present, but he could hearfrom time to time some sounds of restless movement, as the guard postedinside shifted in his narrow quarters, or struck his benumbed feetsoftly together.
But what came to them from above was more interesting than anything tobe heard or seen below. A man's voice, raised to a wonderful pitch bythe passion of oratory, had burst the barriers of the closed hall inthat towering third storey and was carrying its tale to other ears thanthose within. Had it been summer and the windows open, both George andSweetwater might have heard every word; for the tones were exceptionallyrich and penetrating, and the speaker intent only on the impression hewas endeavouring to make upon his audience. That he had not mistaken hispower in this direction was evinced by the applause which rose fromtime to time from innumerable hands and feet. But this uproar wouldbe speedily silenced, and the mellow voice ring out again, clear andcommanding. What could the subject be to rouse such enthusiasm in theAssociated Brotherhood of the Awl, the Plane and the Trowel? There was amoment when our listening friends expected to be enlightened. A shutterwas thrown back in one of those upper windows, and the window hurriedlyraised, during which words took the place of sounds and they heardenough to whet their appetite for more. But only that. The shutterwas speedily restored to place, and the window again closed. A wiseprecaution, or so thought George if they wished to keep their doubtfulproceedings secret.
A tirade against the rich and a loud call to battle could be gleanedfrom the few sentences they had heard. But its virulence and pointedattack was not that of the second-rate demagogue or business agent, butof a man whose intellect and culture rang in every tone, and informedeach sentence.
Sweetwater, in whom satisfaction was fast taking the place of impatienceand regret, pushed the window to before asking George this question:
"Did you hear the voice of the man whose action attracted, yourattention outside the Clermont?"
"No."
"Did you note just now the large shadow dancing on the ceiling over thespeaker's head?"
"Yes, but I could judge nothing from that."
"Well, he's a rum one. I shan't open this window again till he givessigns of reaching the end of his speech. It's too cold."
But almost immediately he gave a start and, pressing George's arm,appeared to listen, not to the speech which was no longer audible, butto something much nearer--a step or movement in the adjoining yard.At least, so George interpreted the quick turn which this impetuousdetective made, and the pains he took to direct George's attention tothe walk running under the window beneath which they crouched. Someonewas stealing down upon the house at their left, from the alley beyond.A big man, whose shoulder brushed the window as he went by. George felthis hand seized again and pressed as this happened, and before he hadrecovered from this excitement, experienced another quick pressure andstill another as one, two, three additional figures went slipping by.Then his hand was suddenly dropped, for a cry had shot up from the doorwhere the sentinel stood guard, followed by a sudden loud slam, and thenoise of a shooting bolt, which, proclaiming as it did that the invaderswere not friends but enemies to the cause which was being vaunted above,so excited Sweetwater that he pulled the window wide open and took abold look out. George followed his example and this was what they saw:
Three men were standing flat against the fence leading from the sheddirectly to the porch. The fourth was crouching within the latter, andin another moment they heard his fist descend upon the door inside in away to rouse the echoes. Meantime, the voice in the audience hall abovehad ceased, and there could be heard instead the scramble of hurryingfeet and the noise of overturning benches. Then a window flew up and avoice called down:
"Who's that? What do you want down there?"
But before an answer could be shouted back, this man was drawnfiercely inside, and the scramble was renewed, amid which George heardSweetwater's whisper at his ear:
"It's the police. The chief has got ahead of me. Was that the man we'reafter--the one who shouted down?"
"No. Neither was he the speaker. The voices are very different."
"We want the speaker. If the boys get him, we're all right; but if theydon't--wait, I must make the matter sure."
And with a bound he vaulted through the window, whistling in a peculiarway. George, thus left quite alone, had the pleasure of seeing his soleprotector mix with the boys, as he called them, and ultimately crowdin with them through the door which had finally been opened for theiradmittance. Then came a wait, and then the quiet re-appearance of thedetective alone and in no very, amiable mood.
"Well?" inquired George, somewhat breathlessly. "Do you want me? Theydon't seem to be coming out."
"No; they've gone the other way. It was a red hot anarchist meeting,and no mistake. They have arrested one of the speakers, but the otherescaped. How, we have not yet found out; but I think there's a way outsomewhere by which he got the start of us. He was the man I wanted youto see. Bad luck, Mr. Anderson, but I'm not at the end of my resources.If you'll have patience with me and accompany me a little further, Ipromise you that I'll only risk one more failure. Will you be so good,sir?"