CHAPTER VII
THE "HOUR"
As the minutes passed, many of them, Jimmie Dale sat there motionless,staring before him at the desk that was faintly outlined in theunlighted room. Then somewhere in the house a clock struck the hour.Five o'clock! He raised his head. YES! It could be done! There was away! He had the germ of it now. And now the plan began to grow, to takeform and shape in his mind, to dovetail, to knit the integral parts intoa comprehensive whole. There was a way--but he must have assistance.Jason--yes, assuredly. Benson, his chauffeur--yes, equally astrustworthy as Jason. Benson was devoted to him; and moreover Benson wasyoung, alert, daring, cool. He had had more than one occasion to testBenson's resourcefulness and nerve!
Jimmie Dale rose abruptly, went to the rear window, and, parting thecurtains cautiously, stood peering down into the courtyard. Yes, itwas feasible; even a little more than feasible. The garage fronted thedriveway, of course, to give free entrance and egress to the cars, butwhere the wall of the garage and the rear wall of the house overlapped,as it were, the space between them was not much more than ten yards;and here the shadows of the two walls, mingling, lay like a black,impenetrable pathway--not like that other shadow he had seen moving atthe side of the garage, and that, if not for the moment discernible, wasnone the less surely still lurking there!
Satisfied, Jimmie Dale swung briskly from the window, and, going nowto his bedroom across the hall, undressed and went to bed--but not tosleep. There would be time enough to sleep, all day, if he wished; now,there were still the little details to be thought out that, more thananything else, could make or wreck his plans. A point overdone, thefaintest suggestion of a false note where men of the calibre of thoseagainst whom he was now fighting for his life were concerned, wouldnot only make his scheme abortive, but would place him utterly at theirmercy.
It was nine o'clock when he rang for Jason.
"Jason," he said abruptly, as the other entered, "I want you totelephone for Doctor Merlin."
"The doctor, sir!" exclaimed the old man anxiously. "You're--you're notill, Master Jim, sir?"
"Do I look ill, Jason?" inquired Jimmie Dale gravely.
"Well, sir," admitted Jason, in concern; "a bit done up, sir, perhaps. Alittle pale, sir; though I'm sure--"
"I'm glad to hear it," said Jimmie Dale, sitting up in bed. "The worse Ilook, the better!"
"I--I beg pardon, sir?" stammered Jason.
"Jason," said Jimmie Dale, gravely again, "you have had reason to knowthat on several occasions my life has been threatened. It is threatenednow. You know from last night that this house is now watched. Youmay, or you may not have surmised--that our telephone wires have beentapped."
"Tapped, sir!"--Jason's face had gone a little gray.
"Yes; a party line, so to speak," said Jimmie Dale grimly. "Do youunderstand? You must be careful to say no more, no less than exactlywhat I tell you to say. Now go and telephone! Ask the doctor to comeover and see me this morning. Simply say that I am not feeling well; butthat, apart from being apparently in a very nervous condition, you donot know what is the matter."
"Yes, sir--good Lord, sir!" gasped Jason--and left the room to carry outhis orders.
An hour later, Doctor Merlin had been and gone--and had left twoprescriptions; one written, the other verbal. With the written one,Benson, in his chauffeur's livery, was dispatched to the drug store; theverbal one was precisely what Jimmie Dale had expected from the fussyold family physician: "Two or three days of quiet in the house James;and if you need me again, let me know."
"Now, Jason," said Jimmie Dale, when the old man had returned fromushering Doctor Merlin from the house, "our friends out there will beanxious to learn the verdict. I was to dine with the Ross-Hendersonsto-morrow night, was I not?"
"Yes, sir; I think so, sir."
"Make sure!" said Jimmie Dale. "Look in my engagement book there on thetable."
Jason looked.
"Yes, sir, that's right," he announced.
"Very good," said Jimmie Dale softly. "Now go and telephone again,Jason. Present my regrets and excuses to the Ross-Hendersons, and saythat under the doctor's orders I am confined to the house for the nextfew days--and, Jason!"
"Yes, sir?"
"When Benson returns with the medicine let him bring it herehimself--and I shall want you as well."
Jimmie Dale propped himself up a little wearily on the pillows, as Jasonwent out of the room. After all, his condition was not entirely feigned.He was, as a matter of fact, pretty well played out, both mentally andphysically. Certainly, that he should require a doctor and be confinedto the house could not arouse suspicion even in the minds of thosealert, aristocratic thugs of the Crime Club, prone as they would beto suspect anything--a man who had been knocked unconscious in anautomobile smash the night before, had been in a fight, had beensubjected to a terrific mental shock, to say nothing of the infernaldrug that had been administered to him, might well be expected to beindisposed the next morning, and for several mornings following that!It might, indeed, even cause them to relax their vigilance for the timebeing--though he dared build nothing on that. Well, he had only to coachBenson and Jason in the parts they were to play, and the balance of themorning and all the afternoon was his in which to rest.
He reached over to the table, picked up a pencil and paper, and began tojot down memoranda. He had just tossed the pencil back on the table asthe two men entered.
Jason, at a sign, closed the door quietly.
Jimmie Dale looked at Benson half musingly, half whimsically, for amoment before he spoke.
"Benson," he said, "the back seat of the large touring car is hinged andlifts up, once the cushion is removed, doesn't it?"
"Yes, sir," Benson answered promptly.
"And there's space enough for, say, a man inside, isn't there?"
"Why, yes, sir; I suppose so--at a squeeze"--Benson stared blankly.
"Quite so!" said Jimmie Dale calmly. "Now, another matter, Benson: Ibelieve some chauffeurs have a habit, when occasion lends itself, oftaking, shall we say, their 'best girl' out riding in their masters'machines?"
"SOME might," Benson replied, a little stiffly. "I hope you don't think,sir, that--"
"One moment, Benson. The point is, it's done--quite generally?"
"Yes, sir."
"And you have a 'best girl,' or at least could find one for such apurpose, if you were so inclined?"
"Yes, sir," said Benson; "but--"
"Very good!" Jimmie Dale interrupted. "Then to-night, Benson, takingadvantage of my illness, and to-morrow night, and the nights afterthat until further notice, you will acquire and put into practice thatreprehensible habit."
"I--I don't understand, Mr. Dale."
"No; I dare say not," said Jimmie Dale--and then the whimsicalitydropped from him. "Benson," he said slowly, "do you remember a night,nearly four years ago, the first night you ever saw me? You had,indiscreetly, I think, displayed more money than was wise in that EastSide neighbourhood."
"I remember," said Benson, with a sudden start; then simply: "I wouldn'tbe here now, sir, if it hadn't been for you."
"Well," said Jimmie Dale quietly, "the tables are turned to-day, Benson.As Jason already knows, this house is watched. For reasons that I cannotexplain, I am in great danger. Bluntly, I am putting my life in yourhands--and Jason's."
Benson looked for an instant from Jimmie Dale to Jason, caught thestrained, troubled expression on the old man's face, then back again atJimmie Dale.
"D'ye mean that, sir!" he cried. "Then you can count on me, Mr. Dale, tothe last ditch!"
"I know that, Benson," Jimmie Dale said softly. "And now, both of you,listen! It is imperative that I should get away from the house; andequally imperative that those watching should believe that I am stillhere. Not even the servants are to be permitted a suspicion that I amnot here in my bed, ill. That, Jason, is your task. You will allowno one to wait on me but yourself; you will bring the meal trays upregularly--and eat the food yourself.
You will answer all inquiries,telephone and otherwise, in person--I am not seeing any one. Youunderstand perfectly, Jason?"
"I understand, Master Jim. You need have no fear, sir, on that score."
"Now, you, Benson," Jimmie Dale went on. "A few minutes ago I sentyou out in your chauffeur's togs with that prescription. You wereundoubtedly observed. I wanted you to be. It was quite necessary thatthey should know and be able to recognise you again--to disabuse theirminds later on of the possibility that I might be masquerading in yourclothes; and also, of course, that they should know who you were, andwhat your position was in the household. Very well! To-night, at eighto'clock exactly, you are to go out from the back door of the house tothe garage. On the way out--it will be quite dark then--I want you todrop something, say, a bunch of keys that you had been jingling in yourhand. You are to experience some difficulty in finding it again, moveabout a little to force any one that may be lurking by the garage toretreat around the corner. Grumble a bit and make a little noise; butyou are not to overdo it--a couple of minutes at the outside is enough,by that time I shall be under the car seat. You will then run themachine out to the street and stop at the curb, jump out, and, as thoughyou had forgotten something, hurry back to the garage. You must not beaway long--enough only to permit, say, a passer-by to glance into thecar and satisfy himself that it is empty. You understand, of course,Benson, that the hood must be down--no closed car to invite even thesuggestion of concealment--that would be a fatal blunder. Drive thento the young lady's home by as direct a route as you can--give noappearance of being aware that you are followed, as you will be, andmuch less the appearance of attempting to elude pursuit. Act naturally.Between here and your destination I will manage readily enough to leavethe car. You will then take the young lady for her drive--that is whatthey will be interested in--your motive for going out to-night. And, asI said, take her driving again on each succeeding night--establish theHABIT to their satisfaction."
Jimmie Dale paused, glanced at the paper which he still held in hishand, then handed it to Benson.
"Just one thing more, Benson," he said: "Listed on that paper you willfind a different rendezvous for each night for the next five nights,excluding to-night, which, after you have returned the young lady to herhome, you are to pass by on your way back here. See that your drive isalways over in time for you to pass each night's rendezvous at halfpast eleven sharp. Don't stop unless I signal you. If I am not there,go right on home, and be at the next place on the following night. I amfairly well satisfied they will not bother about you after to-night,or to-morrow night at the most; but, for all that, you must take nochances, so, except in the route you take in going to the young lady's,always avoid covering the same ground twice, which might give theappearance of having some ulterior purpose in view--even in your drives,vary your runs. Is this clear, Benson?"
"Yes, sir," said Benson earnestly.
"Very well, then," said Jimmie Dale. "Eight o'clock to the dot,Benson--compare your time with Jason's. And now, Jason, see that I get achance to sleep until dinner time to-night."
The hours that followed were hours of sound and much-needed sleep forJimmie Dale, and from which he awoke only on Jason's entrance thatevening with the dinner tray.
"I've slept like a log, Jason!" he cried briskly, as he leaped out ofbed. "Anything new--anything happened?"
"No, sir; not a thing," Jason answered. "Only, Master Jim, sir"--the oldman twisted his hands nervously--"I--you'll excuse my saying so, sir--Ido hope you'll be careful to-night, sir. I can't help being afraid thatsomething'll happen to you, Master Jim."
"Nonsense, Jason!" Jimmie Dale laughed cheerfully. "There's nothinggoing to happen--to me! You go ahead now and stay with the servants, andget them out of the road at the proper time."
He bathed, dressed, ate his dinner, and was slipping cartridges into themagazine of his automatic when, within a minute or two of eight o'clock,Jason's whisper came from the doorway.
"It's all clear now, Master Jim, sir."
"Right!" Jimmie Dale responded--and followed Jason down the stairway,and to the head of the cellar stairs.
Here Jason halted.
"God keep you, Master Jim!" said the old man huskily. "Good-night,Jason," Jimmie Dale answered softly; and, with a reassuring squeeze onthe other's arm, went on down to the cellar.
Here he moved quickly, noiselessly across to the window--not thewindow of the night before, but another of the same description, almostdirectly beneath the one in his den above, that faced the garage and layin the line of that black shadow path between the two buildings. Deftly,cautiously without sound, a half inch, an inch at a time he opened it.He stood listening, then. A minute passed. Then he heard Benson open andshut the back door; then Benson in the yard; and then Benson's voice ina muttered and irritable growl, talking to himself, as he stamped aroundon the ground.
With a lithe, agile movement, Jimmie Dale pulled himself up and throughthe window--and began to creep rapidly on hands and knees towardthe garage. It was dark, intensely dark. He could barely distinguishBenson's form, though, as he passed the other, the slight sounds he madedrowned out by the chauffeur's angry mumblings, he could have reachedout and touched Benson easily.
He gained the interior of the garage, and, as Benson, came on again,stepped lightly into the car, lifted the seat, and wriggled his wayinside.
It was close, stuffy, abominably cramped, but Jimmie Dale was smilinggrimly now. Thanks to Benson, there wasn't a possibility that he hadbeen seen. He both felt and heard Benson start the car. Then the carmoved forward, ran the length of the driveway, bumped slightly as itmade the street--and stopped. He heard Benson jump out and run back--andthen he listened intently, and the grim smile flickered on his lipsagain. Came the sound of a footstep on the sidewalk close beside thecar--then silence--the car shook a little as though some one's weightwas on the step--then the footsteps receded--Benson returned on therun--and the car started forward once more.
Perhaps ten minutes passed. Three times the car had swerved sharply,making a corner turn. Then Jimmie Dale pushed up the seat, and,protected from observation from behind by the back of the car itself,crawled out and crouched down on the floor of the tonneau.
"Don't look around, Benson," he said calmly. "Are we followed?"
"Yes, sir." Benson answered. "At least, there's always been a car behindus, though not the same one. They're pretty clever. There must be threeor four, each following the other. Every time I turn a corner it's adifferent car that turns it behind me."
"How far behind?" Jimmie Dale asked.
"Half a block."
"Slow down a little," instructed Jimmie Dale; "and don't turn anothercorner until they've had a chance to accommodate themselves to your newspeed. You are going too fast for me to jump, and I don't want them tonotice any change in speed, except what is made in plain sight. Yes;that's better. Where are we, Benson?"
"That's Amsterdam Avenue ahead," replied Benson.
"All right," said Jimmie Dale quietly. "Turn into it. The more peoplethe better. Tell me just as you are about to turn."
"Yes, sir," said Benson; then, almost on the instant, "All ready, sir!"
Jimmie Dale's hand reached out for the door catch, edged the door ajar,the car swerved, took the corner--and Jimmie Dale stepped out on therunning board, hung there negligently for a moment as though chattingwith Benson, and then with an airy "good-night" dropped nonchalantlyto the ground, and the next instant had mingled with the throng ofpedestrians on the sidewalk.
A half minute later, a large gray automobile turned the corner andfollowed Benson--and Jimmie Dale, stepping out into the street again,swung on a downtown car. The road to the Sanctuary was open!
In his impatience, now, the street car seemed to drag along every footof the way; but a glance at his watch, as he finally reached the Bowery,and, walking then, rapidly approached the cross street a few steps aheadthat led to the Sanctuary, told him that it was still but a quarter tonine. But even at that he quickened
his steps a little. He was free now!There was a sort of savage, elemental uplift upon him. He was free! Hecould strike now in his own defense--and hers! In a few moments he wouldbe at the Sanctuary; in a few more he would be Larry the Bat, and byto-morrow at the latest he would see--The Tocsin. After all, that "hour"was not to be taken from him! It was not, perhaps, the hour that she hadmeant it should be, thought and prayed, perhaps, that it might be! Itwas not the hour of victory. But it was the hour that meant to him therealisation of the years of longing, the hour when he should see her,see her for the first time face to face, when there should be no morebarriers between them, when--
"Fer Gawd's sake, mister, buy a pencil!"
A hand was plucking at his sleeve, the thin voice was whining in hisear. He halted mechanically. A woman, old, bedraggled, ragged, wasthrusting a bunch of cheap pencils imploringly toward him--and then,with a stifled cry, Jimmie Dale leaned forward. The eyes that lifted tohis for an instant were bright and clear with the vigor of youth, greateyes of brown they were, and trouble, hope, fear, wistfulness, ay, anda glorious shyness were in their depths. And then the voice he knew sowell, the Tocsin's was whispering hurriedly:
"I will be waiting here, Jimmie--for Larry the Bat."