CHAPTER XVI
"DEATH TO THE GRAY SEAL!"
On Jimmie Dale ran. Across on Fourth Avenue he swung on a car that tookhim to Astor Place. Then striking east once more, making a detour toavoid the Bowery, he ran on at top speed again. To reach the Sanctuary,not before the Magpie should have spread the alarm, that was impossible,but to reach it before the underworld should have had time to recoverits breath, as it were, before the underworld should have had time toact--that was his only chance! The Magpie had, at the outside, a startof fifteen minutes; but he, Jimmie Dale, had probably retrieved fiveminutes of that in the time he had made in getting downtown. That leftthe Magpie ten to the good. How long would it take the Magpie to bringthe underworld swarming like hornets around the Sanctuary?
On Larry the Bat ran. At the Sanctuary were the clothes, the belongingsof Jimmie Dale. Could he save Jimmie Dale! If he could get there,change, and get out again, the way was clear for him--as clear as forthe Tocsin now. In a few hours the police would have every member ofthe Crime Club in the trap; there would be no watch any more aroundhis house on Riverside Drive; and he would be free to return thereand resume his normal life as Jimmie Dale again if he could makethe Sanctuary in time! But let the Magpie get there first, let theunderworld tear the place to pieces in its fury as it would do, let themdiscover that hiding place under the flooring, for instance, and theGray Seal would not be merely Larry the Bat, but Jimmie Dale as well,and--a cry escaped him even as he ran--it meant ruin, the disgrace ofan honoured name, death, crimes without number at his door. Crimes! TheGray Seal had never committed a crime! But the crimes attributed to theGray Seal he could not disprove, not one of them! He had meant themto appear as crimes--and he had succeeded so well that the Gray Seal'sname, execrated, was a synonym for the most callous, dangerous, andunscrupulous criminal of the age!
He was gasping for breath as finally, making for the side door, hedarted into the alleyway that flanked the Sanctuary. What story wouldthe Magpie tell? Not the truth, of course--that would let the Magpie infor what had happened that night, for the Magpie must be well awarethat he had shot at least one of the two men in that room. But thetruth wasn't necessary; it was foreign, and had no bearing on the oneoutstanding fact--the Gray Seal was Larry the Bat. At the present momentthe Magpie had a double incentive for "getting" the Gray Seal--the GraySeal was the only one who could prove murder against him that nightin the LaSalle mansion. And afterwards, when the police version of theaffair was made public, the Magpie, to save himself, would be carefulenough to do or say nothing to contradict "Henry LaSalle's" confession!
Larry the Bat slipped in through the door, halted there, listened; andthen began to mount the rickety stairs, with his silent tread. At thetop he paused again. Nothing--no sound! They were not here yet--so farhe was in time! He stepped to the Sanctuary door, unlocked it, passedinto the squalid, miserable room that had harboured him for so long asLarry the Bat, locked the door behind him, crossed quickly to the windowto make sure that the shutters were closed--and then, for the firsttime, as the gray light streaked in through the interstices, he wasconscious that it was already dawn. So much the more need for hastethen!
He whipped out his revolver and laid it at his hand on the dilapidatedtable; then the flooring in the corner was up in an instant, and hebegan to strip off the rags of Larry the Bat. Boots, mismated socks, thetorn, patched trousers, the greasy flannel shirt, the threadbare coat,the nondescript slouch hat were thrown in a pile on the floor; andwith them, from their hiding-place, the grease paints and heterogeneouscollection of make-up accessories. This done, he began to slip on theclothes of Jimmie Dale; and, when half dressed, turned to the tableagain to remove the characteristic grime, stain, and paint of Larry theBat from face, hands, wrists, throat, and neck. This was a longer, morearduous task. He reached for the cracked pitcher to pour more water intothe basin--and, snatching up his revolver instead, whirled to face thedoor.
Some one was outside! He had caught the creak of a footstep upon thestairs. In a flash he was across the room and crouched by the door. Yes,the step was nearer now--at the head of the stairs--on the landing. Hisrevolver lifted, holding a steady bead on the door panel. And then therecame a low voice:
"Jimmie! Jimmie! Are you there? Quick, Jimmie! Are you there?"
The Tocsin! What was she doing here! Why had he not warned her up thereon the avenue, fool that he was, that of all places she was to keep awayfrom here!
She slipped into the room as he unlocked the door.
"They're coming, Jimmie!" she panted breathlessly. "There's not aninstant to lose! Listen! When the Magpie ran from the house, I ran withhim--but it"--she tried to smile--"it wasn't to obey you, to run away--Ihad made up my mind I wouldn't do that--it was to find out from him whathad happened. He told me you were the Gray Seal. He did not suspect me.He thinks you were no more than just Larry the Bat to me, as you wereto everybody else. He went straight to Chicago Ike's gambling rooms andfound the Skeeter's gang there--you know them, Red Mose, the Midget,Harve Thoms, and the Skeeter--you remember your fight with them overold Luddy's diamonds! Well, they have not forgotten, either! They are ontheir way here, now! The news that you are the Gray Seal is travellinglike lightning all through the underworld--there will be a mob here onthe Skeeter's heels. So, Jimmie--quick! Run!"
Run! Half Larry the Bat, half Jimmie Dale--and run! In another fiveminutes, perhaps--yes. But there probably would not be five minutes--andshe--if she were found here!
"Yes," he said quietly. "I'll get away in a moment. You go at once.I'll"--he was smiling at her reassuringly--"I'll meet you at--"
She looked at him then for an instant--interrupting him quickly, as sheshook her head.
"I didn't notice, Jimmie. You cannot go like that--can you? It wouldbe even worse than being caught as Larry the Bat. Hurry then--I am notgoing without you."
"No!" he said. "Go now! Go at once, Marie--while you can. You haverisked your life as it is to come here and tell me this. For God's sake,go now!"
The great, brown eyes were smiling bravely through a sudden mist. Sheshook her head again.
"Not without you, Jimmie."
It brought a fierce, wild throb of joy upon him--and then a cold,sickening fear.
"Listen!" he cried out desperately. "You must go now! You cannot takeany chances now, Marie. Everything is right for you. That man who posedas your uncle is dead--the leader of the Crime Club is dead. Don't youunderstand what that means! You have only to be Marie LaSalle again andclaim your own. I cannot tell you all now--there's no time. That housewas the Crime Club itself. The police will get them all. Don't you see!Don't you see! Everything is clear for you now--and now go! Go--you mustgo!"
She was staring at him, a strange wonder in her face.
"Clear! All clear--for me! I--I can go back to--to my own life again!"It was as though she were whispering some amazing thing of unbelievablejoy to herself.
"YES!" he cried out again. "Yes! But go--go, Marie!"
But now, for answer, suddenly she reached out and took the key from thedoor and put it in the pocket of her dress.
"We will go together, Jimmie--or not at all," she said simply. "We arewasting precious moments. Hurry and dress!"
He hesitated miserably. What could he do--if she WOULD not go! And itwas true--the moments were flying. Better, rather than futile argument,to use them as she said. There was still a chance! Why not! Fiveminutes! He could do better than that! He MUST do better than that!
Without a word, he ran back across the room. In frantic haste, fromface, hands, wrists, and neck came the stain. There was still time. Shewas standing there by the door, listening. She, the Tocsin, she whomhe loved, she who, all through the years that had gone, had been sostrangely elusive and yet so intimately a part of his life, SHE wasstanding there now, here with him--in peril with every second thatpassed!
He had only to slip on his coat and vest now--and make a bundle ofLarry the Bat's things on the floor, so that he could carry them awayto
destroy them. He stooped to gather up the clothes--and straightenedsuddenly--and jumped toward the door again.
"They are coming, Jimmie!" she called, in a low voice. But he hadalready heard them--the stairs were creaking loudly under the tread ofmany feet. He pushed the Tocsin hurriedly back against the wall at theside of the door.
"Stand there!" he said, under his breath. "Out of the line of fire!Don't move!"
There was a rush against the door--and then a voice growled:
"Aw, cut dat out! Wot do youse want to do--scare him away by bustin' it!Pick de lock, an' we'll lay for him inside till he shows up."
It was the Skeeter's voice. The Skeeter and his gang--the worst apachesin the city of New York! Professional assassins, death contractors,he had called them--and the lowest bidders! A man's life any time fortwenty-five dollars! No, they were not likely to forget the affair ofthe pushcart man, to forget old Luddy and his diamonds, to forget--theGray Seal! And they were only the vanguard of what was to come!
Some one was working at the lock now. There was one way to stop that. Itwould not take them long to find out that he WAS there once the doorwas opened! Better know it with the door SHUT! Jimmie Dale lifted hisrevolver coolly and fired through the panel.
A burst of yells answered the shot; and among them, high above theothers, the Magpie's scream:
"We got him! We got him! He's dere now!"
And then it seemed that pandemonium broke loose--there was a volley ofshots, the bullets splintering through the door panels as from a machinegun, so fast they came--and then another rush against the door.
Flat on the floor, but well back and to one side, Jimmie Dale firedsteadily--again and again.
Came screams of pain, yells, and oaths--and they fell back from thedoor.
And now from above, from overhead, came tumult--windows thrown up, thestamp of feet, cries of fright. And from the street, a low, sullen roar.The underworld was gathering fast!
Once more the rush upon the door--and Jimmie Dale, a grim, twisted smileupon his lips, emptied his revolver into the panels. Once more theyfell back--and then there came the Skeeter's voice, snarling like aninfuriated beast:
"He'll get de lot of us like dis! Cut it out! Besides, we'll have debulls down here in a minute--an' he's OUR meat, not theirs. Dey'd betoo damned soft wid him--dey'd only send him to de chair. Youse chaseupstairs, Mose, an' pass de word to beat it--an' beat it quick. We'llBURN de skunk out--dat's wot. An' de bulls can stand alongside an'watch, if dey likes--but he's our meat."
Jimmie Dale did not dare to look at the Tocsin's face. Mechanically herefilled the magazine of his automatic--and lay there, waiting. The roarfrom the street grew louder. They seemed to be fighting out there, asthough an inadequate number of police were trying to disperse a mob--andnot succeeding! Pretty soon, with the riot call in, there would probablybe a battle--for the Gray Seal! Sublime irony! It was death at the handsof either one!
Children whimpered on the stairs outside, men swore, women cried, feetshuffled hurriedly by as the tenement emptied. Occasionally, a pertinentinvitation to him to remain where he was, there was a vicious ripthrough the panel, and the drumming whir of a bullet flying through theroom. And then a curious, ominous crackling sound--and then the smell ofsmoke.
Jimmie Dale stood up, his face drawn and haggard. The tenement would golike matchwood, burn like a bonfire, with any kind of a start--and therewas no doubt about the start! The Skeeter, the Magpie, and the restwould have seen that it had headway enough to serve their purpose beforeeither firemen or police could thwart them. He, Jimmie Dale, couldtake his choice: walk out into a bullet, or stay there and--he smiledmiserably as his eyes fell upon the pile of Larry the Bat's clothing onthe floor. There was no longer need to worry about ITS destruction--thefire would take care of that only too well! And then a low, bittercry came to his lips, and he clenched his hands. If it were onlyhimself--only himself! He crossed to the Tocsin and caught her in hisarms.
"Oh, my God--Marie!" he faltered.
The cape and hood had fallen from her, and with the hood had fallen thegray-streaked hair of Silver Mag--and now as she smiled at him it wasfrom a face that was very beautiful and very brave and very full oftenderness.
And he held her there--and neither spoke.
It seeped in under the threshold of the door, it came from everywhere,filling the room--the black, strangling smoke. Outside in the hall allwas silence now--save for that crackle of flame that grew in volume,that came now in quick, sharp reports, like revolver shots. From out inthe street swelled a cry: "Death to the Gray Seal!" Then the clang ofbells, the roar and rattle of fire apparatus, strident voices bellowingorders, and the crowd again, blood hungry: "Death to the Gray Seal!"
There was a chance, just one--if the fire had no headway along the upperend of the landing--and if they had not thought to set a watch forhim ABOVE! They--the Magpie, the Skeeter, and his gang--must have beendriven even out of the house now by the smoke and flame.
"Give me the key, I am going to open the door, Marie," he said quietly."Cover your face with a handkerchief, anything, and run to the LEFT tothe next flight of stairs. There are two flats above this--we'll makethe roof if we can. Now--are you ready?"
It was an instant before she answered, an instant in which she liftedher face to his, and held his face between her two hands--and then:
"I am ready, Jimmie."
He flung open the door, his arm around her to help her forward--andinstinctively, with a cry, fell back for a moment. With the inrush ofthe draft poured the smoke, and through it, lurid, yellow, showed theflames leaping from the stair well.
And then all was blind madness. Together they ran. At the foot of thestairs she fell, recovered herself, staggered up another--and fellagain. He caught her up in his arms and, staggering now as she hadstaggered, went on. His lungs seemed to be bursting. His limbs grewweak and trembled under him. He could not see or breathe. The nauseatingfumes suffocated him, bringing an intolerable agony. He gained the firstlanding above. There was one more--one more! If he could only rest herefor a moment! Yes, that was it--rest. It wasn't so bad here now. Shestirred in his arms, struggled to her feet--and he was helping her onagain, and up the next flight of stairs.
And suddenly he found himself laughing in hysteria--for they wereclimbing a half stair, half ladderway at the end of the upper landing,and the open skylight was above them, and they were drinking in thepure, fresh air--and now they were out upon the roof, and the roar fromthe street was in their ears, like the roar of great waters from somecanyon far below. Jimmie Dale tried to speak, and found his lips werecracked and dry. He wet them with his tongue.
"Don't stand up--we'd be seen--CRAWL," he mumbled hoarsely.
It took a long time--over one roof, and then another, and yetanother--and then through the skylight of a tenement whose occupantswere either craning from the front windows, or were on the street below.It was, perhaps, half an hour--and then they, too, were standing in thestreet, and all about them the crowd was shouting in wild excitement.
Up the block, inside the fire lines, the Sanctuary was blazingfuriously--and now suddenly the wall seemed to bulge outward. It broughta yell from the crowd:
"Death to the Gray Seal!"
She pulled at his arm.
"Let us get away! Let us get away, Jimmie!" she whispered frantically.
A strange smile was on Jimmie Dale's lips.
"We're safe now--for always," he whispered back. "Look!"
The Sanctuary wall bulged farther outward, seemed to hang an instanthesitant in mid-air--and fell with a mighty crash.
The Gray Seal was dead!
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