XXV
KRANTZ'S KELLER
Clo had been able to think very clearly, while there had been somethingdefinite to think about, but her brain refused this problem of an extrafive minutes, which might mean success or failure. She couldn't stopwhere she was; she couldn't hang about in the street, lest the real Kithad given the false Kit away to the "gang"; yet to dawdle in thecorridor, or on the stairs of the Westmorland Hotel, was unthinkable.When the murder of Peterson was discovered someone might remember thatslim girl in brown. The police were diabolically clever--now and then.Who could say if they might not trace that girl in brown, and, findingher, eventually reach Beverley Sands?
"One minute must have gone, just while I've been thinking of it!" Clotold herself. "And Peterson hasn't come alive. Now, if I can only thinkhard enough, and forget him and the silence, for two or three minutes, Ican start."
But the silence broke. Once more her nerves thrilled to the telephonebell. She was standing by the door, her back resolutely turned to thefigure in the chair, when the sound began. The girl snatched thereceiver and called "Hello" but no one answered. She must get outquickly, at the risk of having to wait in the street before O'Reillycould arrive.
"Unless they live close by, they won't have had time to reach me yet,even if Kit's given the show away," Clo thought. But of course, "Chuff"might have 'phoned from a house round the corner. Peterson might havechosen the Westmorland Hotel in order to be near his friends!
Clo locked the door, took out the key, and dropped it behind the trunkat the end of the hall. That would not be unfair to the owner of thetrunk, she thought, for in any case, the blood stains would directsuspicion to Peterson's vanished neighbour. The key would be only adetail.
As she descended the stairways leading from the sixth story to theground floor, she met two or three men, but they had the air of tiredcommercial travellers going up to bed. Apparently the veiled girl inbrown had no special interest for them. Next came the ordeal of theentrance hall, and passing the desk; but there a new group of men hadcollected. Clo peered through her brown veil, but encountered no curiousglances. Yet the worst was to come. The eight minutes could hardly haverun out; besides, O'Reilly might be late. If "Kit" were true to herpals, and if she had seen from her hiding place in the trunk, who wentinto Peterson's room, the coming moment might hold the greatest peril ofall. The girl hesitated at the door, then sprang into the street as shemight have sprung into a wave.
Plenty of people were passing as she walked slowly away. She had nottaken many steps, however, when a taxi separated itself from others inthe double line of moving vehicles, and slackened speed near the curb.The window was open, and Justin O'Reilly was looking out. Clo gave awelcoming cry, and waved Kit's bead bag. He caught her eye, spoke to thechauffeur, and the taxi slowed down, short of the hotel entrance. Thegirl ran back. O'Reilly held the door ajar, and, putting out his hand,pulled her in while the car was in motion. He had not forgotten herorders, and had instructed the driver. On bounded the taxi, as the doorslammed shut, and the sudden jerk, before Clo was seated, flung her intoO'Reilly's arms. He held her for a second or two, and then carefully sether by his side.
"By Jove, I'm glad to have you safe!" he said in a warm, kind voice,which for some reason made Clo want to cry. "I've a hundred things tosay and ask, you child or imp, but first of all, where do you want togo? Home, or----"
"To Krantz's Keller," Clo finished the sentence. "Do you know where itis?"
"Yes," said O'Reilly. "I know, though I've never been. But----"
"I've got to go there," said Clo. "If you don't like, you needn't."
"I do like!" he laughed. "What do you know about Krantz's Keller?"
"I'll tell you that, and other things, when we arrive," said Clo."Please, what time is it?"
"No thanks to you that I have a watch, and can answer that question," hethrust at her slyly. The street lights turned to ivory the small facefrom which Clo had pushed back the veil. It was a child's face, thoughnot impish or defiant now; but the great dark eyes, it seemed to theman, were a woman's eyes. He was conscious that never in his life had hebeen so intensely interested in a female thing. She had tricked him, shehad deceived and she had robbed him. Yet his dominant feeling was joyoustriumph at having found her when he had thought her lost. He was happybecause she had summoned him, excited because they were going side byside toward some unknown adventure.
He looked at his watch which had been retrieved from the wall safe, andsaid that the time was twelve minutes to eleven. Krantz's Keller was inFourteenth Street, and they could reach there at the hour, for alreadythe cab was moving in the right direction. "Are you in a hurry?" heasked, "or shall we go a round-about way and talk things over? TheKeller won't be at its best till nearly midnight."
"I've a--sort of appointment at eleven-thirty," Clo said. "But I'd liketo be on the spot before that, for a look round to get my bearings. Idaresay I can tell you the whole story in twelve minutes. I've learnedthe lesson to-night that almost anything can happen, and you can liveyears in the time that it takes to button a pair of shoes."
"Certainly _you_ can accomplish more in a few brief minutes than anyother person I ever met! My own experience with you proves that!"O'Reilly laughed. But the girl's face was drawn. He remembered hearingthat she had been dangerously ill. He wished her to realize that he wasready to give sympathy as well as help. "I don't want to talk of myself,but of you. Tell me what you care to tell. You may trust me."
"You're sure?" insisted Clo. "I'm putting my life in your hands."
"I've just my word to give," O'Reilly answered. "Look me in the face anddecide if it's worth taking."
Clo looked him in the face, and said, "Yes! I'll tell you everything.Please don't ask questions, or speak till I finish."
Since the moment when he had been surprised by her voice at thetelephone, and she had claimed his help, O'Reilly had thought offantastic things, but they were commonplace compared to the story sheflung at his head. To make him understand, in ten minutes, why she hadto be at Krantz's Keller meant that she must spring all her facts uponhim. Already, without knowing how she had escaped at the Dietz, O'Reillyhad formed the opinion that she was a girl, not in a thousand but inmany thousands. Now, listening in silence, he heard her tell what shehad found, and what she had done, in Peterson's room. She spoke insimple words. Yet O'Reilly saw the scene as if his eye were at akeyhole; saw the girl realize that she was in the presence of a man notonly dead, but murdered; saw the battle between horror and courage asshe searched the room and the pockets of the corpse whose blood-stainedclothing was still warm. He heard the bell of the telephone. He followedClo into the room next door, and marvelled at the way in which she drewinformation from "Chuff." When the taxi slowed down in FourteenthStreet, she had but reached the point where she "made a dash for thestreet." O'Reilly's brain had been busy. He was ready to give the adviceexpected.
Clo was talking still, while he paid the chauffeur and sent him away. Asthey entered the restaurant below which lay Krantz's Keller,breathlessly she brought her story to an end. "There! You know all Iknow!"
While they went downstairs side by side, step by step, O'Reilly gazed atthe girl's profile. "I'm going to fall in love with this strange child,"he thought. "I'm in love with her already."
They penetrated the blue curtain of tobacco smoke which veiled thecellar restaurant. People of all sorts were sitting at small, uncoveredwooden tables, which were painted green. There were long-hairedforeigners; there were rich American Jews. There were girls who lookedlike "show girls" or chorus girls at least, companioned by fashionablydressed and silly-faced boys. And all the company drank wine from oddlyshaped bottles, or beer out of stone or pewter "krugs." At the end ofthe long, narrow room stood two huge casks, one on either side of asmall stage where three men in the costumes of Tyrolese peasants playeda zither, a 'cello, and a violin, for a gaily dressed boy and girl todance.
There were a number of tables still unoccupied, and of these a few werefree.
O'Reilly chose one close to the entrance. Seated there, he and Clocould see everybody who came in or went out. If they themselves wishedto leave in a hurry it would be a convenient place.
Clo could not even pretend to eat. She asked for strong coffee, and notto be conspicuous O'Reilly ordered for himself beer, and food with anodd, Russian sounding name. Having thus bought their right to the table,he leaned across to the pale girl.
"The time's come when I can tell you what I think," he said. "First,what I think of you. You're the bravest person I ever met, and the mostloyal. If the woman for whose sake you've done this is worthy of herfriend, why, I'll be on her side from this night on."
"Thank you," said Clo, meekly. She was very tired, but vitality flowedthrough her newly at O'Reilly's words and look. "I don't deserve such acompliment, but she deserves everything. If I've behaved badly to you,it was for her."
"I know," said O'Reilly. "But you weren't precisely 'bad.' You were, onthe whole, rather--wonderful. How did you get out of my room with theonly door locked on the inside?"
"Oh!" the girl cried, surprised, "I thought you'd guess. I went alongthe stone ledge under the window of your bedroom till I came to an openwindow of a room in the next suite."
"I thought of that, when it was too late; but it seemed incredible."
"It wasn't as hard to do as I was afraid it would be," said Clo. "Theother window was open, the curtain was blowing out. I caught hold of it,and got along somehow, through not looking down. Then in the room whereI went in, there was a man. He was at the door, and I scared him poppingin that way at the window, so he let me run past. That's all." Firmlythe girl closed the subject.
"Let's talk about the pearls," she said. "Peterson was a wicked man. Ican't pretend to be sorry he's been killed. He was acting for othershigher up. I want to find Kit, not because I think she murdered him, butbecause I'm sure she's got the pearls. Who called out 'Come in!' in aman's voice, when Peterson was dead? We haven't got time to discuss thewhole business before half-past eleven. Here comes my coffee! It's goingto give me new life!"
"You must need it. Try to nibble a few crumbs of this rusk," O'Reillyadvised. "I've been thinking hard since you told me how 'Chuff' 'phonedto 'Pete,' and took you for Kit. As for the voice that called 'Come in',the wall being thin, a man in the room close by might think the knockwas at his door. You're almost surely right about Kit being in the hotelto watch Peterson. No doubt he was acting for men who have the powerto--trouble Mrs. Sands. Don't look at me like a wild cat! I shan't tellwhat you don't want to hear, but there certainly are such men. Mostlikely Peterson followed us into the Sands' apartment without beingnoticed in the wild confusion of your fainting. He was there to get holdof the thing he was blackmailing her for, the thing you went back to myhotel to steal, and then repented stealing. Naturally Peterson didn'tfind it, as it was still in my safe at the Dietz, but he might have seenthe pearls. The fellow must have been hiding close to Mrs. Sands and me,when we talked, or he wouldn't have known that John Heron had wanted tobuy those pearls! He 'phoned, later, from the Westmorland to Heron, asyou must have guessed from what I 'phoned back. As for Kit, she was inher room next door when he called Heron up, and heard about his havingpearls to sell; or else she went in to help him pack, and saw them. Butit strikes me that a young woman of her class wouldn't bash a man on thehead, and risk the Chair, for the righteous joy of turning a fortuneover to her pals. No, if she killed Peterson, she killed him because shewanted the pearls for herself or a 'sweetheart.'"
"There's Churn," said Clo. "He and Kit may be a 'case.' She may havegone straight to him with the pearls."
"'Churn's' possibly a nickname for that Lorenz Czerny, whose name youfound written on a visiting card," O'Reilly said. "What with that card,and the memorandum, and Kit's bag, we ought to get on to the track ofthe gang. I'm on Mrs. Sands' side now. But I know a private detectivewho's worked for clients of mine. He's close as an oyster, and true as acompass. Chuff may keep his appointment, or he may not. If the realKit's turned up and told the truth, perhaps he won't dare, for fear of atrap. Still, he may, if he's got pluck, and a good disguise--or if thepolice have nothing 'on' him. The gang won't want the false Kit to getaway with what she knows if the real one's true to them. And they'll beeager to see whom they're up against. That's why I should like to haveDenham--the detective--on the spot."
"Would that be the best way to get the pearls?" asked Clo.
"Can you suggest a better one?"
"Not on the spur of the moment."
"It's on the spur of the moment we must decide."
"Well--'phone Denham."
"I will," said O'Reilly. "I think I ought to get him now unless he's onsome job. I'll be back in a few minutes. There's no danger of serioustrouble for you here."
"I'm used to taking care of myself," said Clo. The hot, strong coffeehad brought a faint colour to her face, and she looked up with one ofthose "cheeky" grins of hers, such as his "cousin" had given him at theDietz. O'Reilly went away bewitched with the creature, absorbed in her.She had done so much for the love of a woman. What would she do for loveof a man?
He had to go upstairs to the telephone, it seemed, at Krantz's. Then theline was busy. He was obliged to wait.
Meanwhile a tall girl, in a bright pink cloak over a pink dress, hurriedthrough the gloomy restaurant. She paused only to glance at a clock onthe wall, and then ran downstairs to the "Keller."