CHAPTER XIII
THE ONLY WAY
It was a horrible thing--and it grew upon him. In a blind, mechanicalway, his brain receptive to nothing else, Jimmie Dale walked on alongthe street. To kill a man! Death he had faced himself a hundred times,witnessed it a hundred times in its most violent forms, had seen murderdone before his eyes, had been in straits where, to save his own life,it had seemed the one last desperate chance--and yet his hands werestill clean! To kill a man in fair fight, in struggle, when the bloodwas hot, was terrible enough, a possibility that was always before him,the one thing from which he shrank, the one thing that, as the GraySeal, he had always feared; but to kill a man deliberately, to creepupon his victim with hideous, cold-blooded premeditation--he shivered alittle, and his hand shook as he drew it nervously across his eyes.
But there was no other way! Again and again, insidiously grappling withhis revulsion, with the horror that the impulse to murder inspired,came that other thought--there was no other way. If the man who posedas Henry LaSalle were DEAD! If he were dead! If he were dead! See, now,what would happen if that man were dead! How clear his brain was on thatpoint! The whole plot would tumble like a house of cards about the headsof the Crime Club. The courts would require an auditing of the estateby a trustee of the courts' own appointing, who would continue toadminister it until the Tocsin's twenty-fifth birthday, or until therewas tangible evidence of her death--but the Tocsin, automatically withher pseudo uncle's death, could publicly appear again. Her death couldno longer benefit the Crime Club, since it, the Crime Club, with thesupposed uncle dead, could not profit through the false Henry LaSalleinheriting as next of kin! It was the weak link, the vulnerable point inthe stupendous scheme of murder and crime with which these hell fiendshad played for and won, so far, the stake of eleven millions. Not thatthey had overlooked or been blind to this, they were too clever, toocunning for that--it was only that they had planned to accomplish theTocsin's death, as they had her father's and uncle's, and ESTABLISHthe false Henry LaSalle in undisputed possession and ownership of theestate--and had failed in that--up to the present. But the materialresults remained the same, so long as the Tocsin, to save her life,was forced to remain in hiding, so long as proof that would convict theCrime Club was not forthcoming--SO LONG AS THAT MAN LIVED!
Time passed to which Jimmie Dale was oblivious. At times he walkedslowly, scarcely moving; at times his pace was a nervous, hurriedstride, that was almost a run. And as he was oblivious to time, so washe oblivious to his surroundings, to the direction which he took.At times his forehead was damp with moisture that was not there fromphysical exertion; at times his face, deathly white, was full as ofthe vision of some shuddering, abhorrent sight; at times his lips werethinned into a straight line, and there was a glitter in the dark eyesthat was not good to see, while his hands at his sides clenched untilthe skin, tight over the knuckles, was an ivory white. To kill a man!
What other way was there? The proof that it had taken Hilton Traversyears to obtain, the proof on which the Tocsin's life depended, wasdestroyed utterly, irreparably. It could never be duplicated--HiltonTravers was dead--MURDERED. Murder! That thought again! It was theirown weapon! Murder! Would one kill a venomous reptile in whose fangswas death? What right had this man to life, whose life was forfeit evenunder the law--for murder? Was she to drag on an intolerable existenceamong the dregs and the scum of the underworld, she, in her refinementand her purity, to exist among the vile and dissolute, in daily, hourlyperil of her life, because the weapons that these inhuman vultureshad used to rob her, to destroy those she loved, to make of her life ahideous, joyless thing, should not be used against them?
But to kill a man! To steal upon a man with cold intent in the blacknessof the night--and take his life! To be a murderer! To know the horrorof blood forever upon one's hands, to rise, cold-sweated, in the night,fearful of the very shadows around one, to live with every detail ofthat fearsome act sweeping like some dread spectre at unexpected momentsupon the consciousness! He put up his hands before his face, as thoughto blot out the thought from him. Mind and soul recoiled before it--tokill a man!
He walked on and on, until at last, conscious of a sense of fatigue, hestopped. He must have come a long way, been walking a long time. Wherewas he? He looked about him for a moment in a dazed way--and suddenly,with a low cry, shrank back. As though he had been drawn to it bysome ghastly magnet, he found himself standing in front of the LaSallemansion, on Fifth Avenue. No, no; it was not for that he had come--tokill a man! It was only--only to get that money. Yes--he rememberednow--that money from the safe, before the Magpie got it. The Magpie wasto be there at three o'clock--and the Tocsin was to be there, too. TheTocsin! That package! He had failed! It had been her one hope, and--andit was gone. What could he say to her? How could he tell her themiserable truth? But--but he had not come there in the dead of night tokill a man, these other things were what had--
"Jimmie!" It was a quick-breathed whisper. A hand was on his arm.
He turned, startled. It was the Tocsin--Silver Mag.
"Jimmie!" in alarm. "Why are you standing here like this? You may beSEEN!"
Seen! Suppose he WERE seen? He shuddered a little.
"Yes; that's so!" he said hoarsely. He glanced numbly up and down thewide, deserted, but well-lighted, avenue. It was no place, that mostaristocratic section of the city, for such as Silver Mag and Larrythe Bat to be seen at that hour of night, or, rather, morning. And ifanything HAPPENED inside that house! "I--I didn't think of that," hesaid mechanically.
"Come across the street--under the stoop of that house there." She hadhis arm, and was half dragging him as she spoke, the alarm in her voiceintensified. And then, a moment later, safe from observation: "Jimmie,Jimmie, what is the matter? What has happened? What makes you act sostrangely?"
"Nothing," he said. "I--"
"TELL me!" she insisted wildly.
And then, with a violent effort, Jimmie Dale forced his mind back to theimmediate present. He was only inspiring her with terror--and there wasthe Magpie--and that money in the safe!
"Where is the Magpie?" he asked, with quick apprehension. "Am I late? Ishe in there already?"
"No," she said. "He hasn't come yet."
"What time is it?" he demanded anxiously.
"About half-past two," she replied. "But, Jimmie--"
"Wait!" he broke in. "Where is he now? You were both together! Andyou were both to be here at three. What are you doing here alone athalf-past two?"
A strange little exclamation, one almost of dismay, it seemed, escapedher.
"The Magpie left my place an hour ago--to get his kit, I think. And Icame here at once because that was what you and I understood I was todo, wasn't it? Jimmie, you frighten me! You are not yourself. Don'tyou remember the last words you said, as you nodded to me behind theMagpie's back--that you would be here BEFORE us? There was no mistakingyour meaning--if I could get away from him, I was to come here and meetyou."
Jimmie Dale passed his hand nervously across his eyes. Of course, heremembered now! What a frightful turmoil his brain had been in!
"Yes; of course!" He tried to speak nonchalantly. "I had forgotten forthe moment."
She caught his arm in a quick, tight hold, shaking him in a terrifiedway.
"YOU--forget a thing like that! Jimmie--something terrible has happened.Can't you see that I am nearly mad with anxiety! What is it? What is it?That package, Jimmie--is it the package?"
He did not answer. What could he say? It meant life, hope, joy,everything that the world held for her--and it was gone.
"Yes--it IS the package!" she whispered frantically. "Quick, Jimmie!Tell me! It--it was not there? You--you could not find it?"
"It was there," he said, as though the words were literally forced fromhim.
"Then? Then--WHAT, Jimmie?" The clutch on his arm was like a vise.
"They got it," he said. It was like a death sentence that he pronounced."It is destroyed."
She did
not speak or move--save that her hands, as though nerveless andwithout strength, fell away from his arms, and dropped to her sides. Itwas dark there under the stoop, though not so dark but that he could seeher face. It was gray--gray as death. And there was misery and fearand a pitiful helplessness in it--and then she swayed a little, and hecaught her in his arms.
"Gone!" she murmured in a dead, colourless way--and suddenly laughed outsharply, hysterically.
"Don't! For God's sake, don't do that!" he pleaded wildly.
She looked at him then for a moment in strange quiet--and lifted herhand and stroked his face in a numbed way.
"It--it would have been better, Jimmie, wouldn't it," she said in thesame monotonous voice, "it would have been better if--if I had neverfound out anything, and they--they had done the same to me that they didto--to father."
"Marie! Marie!" It was the first time he had ever spoken her name, andit was on his lips now in an agony of tenderness and appeal. "Don't! Youmustn't speak like that!"
"I'm tired," she said. "I--I can't fight any more."
She did not cry. She lay there in his arms quite still--like a wearychild.
The minutes passed. When Jimmie Dale spoke again it wasirrelevantly--and his face was very white:
"Marie, describe the upper floor of that house over there for me."
She roused herself with a start.
"The upper floor?" she repeated slowly. "Why--why do you ask that?"
"Have YOU forgotten in turn?" he said, with a steady smile. "That moneyin the safe--it's yours--we can at least save that out of the wreck. Youonly drew the basement plan and the first floor for the Magpie--themore I know about the house the better, of course, in case anything goeswrong. Now, see, try and be brave--and tell me quickly, for I must getthrough before the Magpie comes, and I have barely half an hour."
"No, Jimmie--no!" She slipped out of his arms. "Let it alone! I amafraid. Something--I--I have a feeling that something will happen."
"It is the only way." He said it involuntarily, more to himself than toher.
"Jimmie, let it alone!" she said again.
"No," he said. "I am going--so tell me quickly. Every minute that wewait is one that counts against us."
She hesitated an instant--and then, speaking rapidly, made a verbalsketch of the upper portion of the house for him.
"It's a very large house, isn't it?" he commented innocently--to pavethe way for the question, above all others, that he had to ask. "Whichis your uncle's, I mean that man's room?"
"The first on the right, at the head of the landing," she answered."Only, Jimmie, don't--don't go!"
He drew her close to him again.
"Now, listen," he said quietly. "When the Magpie comes and finds I amnot here, lead him to think that the money he gave me was too much forme; that I am probably in some den, doped with drug--and hold him aslong as you can on the pretext that there is always the possibility Imay, after all, show up before he goes in there. You understand? Andnow about yourself--you must do exactly as I say. On no account allowyourself to be seen by ANY ONE except the Magpie. I would tell you togo now, only, unless it is vitally necessary, we cannot afford toarouse the Magpie's suspicions--he'd have every crook in the underworldsnarling at our heels. But you are not to wait, even for him, if youdetect the slightest disturbance in that house before he comes. And,equally, after he has gone in, whether I have come out or not, at thefirst indication of anything unusual you are to get away at once. Youunderstand--Marie?"
"Yes," she said. "But--but, Jimmie, you--"
"Just one thing more." He smiled at her reassuringly. "Did the Magpiesay anything about how he intended to get in?"
"Yes--by the side away from the corner of the street," she saidtremulously. "You see, there's quite a space between the house and theone next door; and, besides, the house next door is closed up, there'snobody there, the family has gone away for the summer. The librarywindow there is low enough to reach from the ground."
For a moment longer he held her close to him, as though he could not lether go--then bent and kissed her passionately. And in that moment allthe emotions he had known as he had walked blindly from Spider Jack'sthat night surged again upon him; and that voice was whispering,whispering, whispering: "It is the only way--it is the only way."
And then, not daring to trust his voice, he released her suddenly,and stepped back out from under the stoop--and the next instant he wasacross the deserted avenue. Another, and he had slipped through theiron gates that opened on the street driveway--and in yet another he wascrouched close up against the front door of the LaSalle mansion.
It was a large house, a very large house, one of the few that, evenamid the wealth and luxury of that quarter, boasted its own grounds, andthose so restricted as scarcely to deserve the name; but it was set farenough back from the street to escape the radius of the street lamps,and so guarantee in its shadows security from observation. It was notthe Magpie's way, the front door--the obvious to the Magpie and his ilkwas a thing always to be shunned. Jimmie Dale's lips were set in agrim smile, as his fingers worked with lightning speed, now taking thisinstrument and now that from the leather pockets in the girdle beneathhis shirt--the penitentiaries were full of Magpies who shunned theobvious!
Very slowly, very cautiously the door opened. He listened breathlessly,tensely. The door closed again--behind him. He was inside now.Stillness! Blackness! Not a sound! A minute went by--another. And then,as he stood there, strained, listening, the silence itself began, itseemed, to palpitate, and pound, pound, pound, and be full of strangenoises. It was a horrible thing--to kill a man!