IX. ROOM NUMBER ELEVEN
Another five minutes, and in her own personality now, a slim, trimfigure, neatly gloved, the heavy veil affording ample protection to herfeatures, Rhoda Gray emerged from the shed and the lane, and startedrapidly toward lower Sixth Avenue. And as she walked, her mind, releasedfor the moment from the consideration of her immediate venture, beganagain, as it had so many times in the last three days, its strivingand its searching after some loophole of escape from her own desperatesituation. But only, as it ever did, confusion came--a chaos of things,contributory things and circumstances, and the personalities of thosewith whom this impossible existence had thrown her into contact. Littleby little she was becoming acquainted with the personnel of the gang--inan impersonal way, mostly. Apart from Danglar, there was Shluker, whomust of necessity be one of them; and Skeeny, the man who had been withDanglar in Shluker's room; and the Cricket, whom she had never seen; andbesides these, there were those who were mentioned in the cipher messageto-night, and detailed to the performance of the various acts and scenesthat were to lead up to the final climax--which, she supposed, was theobject and reason for the cipher message, in order that even those notactually employed might be thoroughly conversant with the entire plan,and ready to act intelligently if called upon. For there were others, ofcourse, as witness herself, or, rather, Gypsy Nan, whose personality shehad so unwillingly usurped.
It was vital, necessary, that she should know them all, and more thanin that impersonal way, if she counted upon ever freeing herself of theguilt attributed to her. For she could see no other way but one--thatof exposing and proving the guilt of this vile clique who now surroundedher, and who had actually instigated and planned the crime of which shewas accused. And it was not an easy task!
And then there were those outside this unholy circle who kept forcingtheir existence upon her consciousness, because they, too, played anintimate part in the sordid drama which revolved around her, and whoseend she could not foresee. There was, for instance--the Adventurer. Shedrew in her breath quickly. She felt the color creep slowly upward, andtinge her throat and cheeks--and then the little chin, strong and firm,was lifted in a sort of self-defiant challenge. True, the man had been agreat deal in her thoughts, but that was only because her curiosity waspiqued, and because on two occasions now she had had very real cause forgratitude to him. If it had not been for the Adventurer, she would evennow be behind prison bars. Why shouldn't she think of him? She wasnot an ingrate! Why shouldn't she be interested? There was somethingpiquantly mysterious about the man--who called himself an adventurer.She would even have given a good deal to know who he really was, and howhe, too, came to be so conversant with Danglar's plans as fast as theywere matured, and why, on those two particular occasions, he had notonly gone out of his way to be of service to her, but had done so atvery grave risk to himself. Of course, she was interested in him--inthat way. How could she help it? But in any other way--the little chinwas still tilted defiantly upward--even the suggestion was absurd. Theman might be chivalrous, courageous, yes, outwardly, even a gentleman inboth manner and appearance; he might be all those things, and, indeed,was--but he was a thief, a professional thief and crook. It seemedvery strange, of course; but she was judging him, not alone from thecircumstances under which they had met and been together, but from whathe had given her to understand about himself.
The defiance went suddenly from her face; and, for a moment, herlips quivered a little helplessly. It was all so very strange, and soforbidding, and--and, perhaps she hadn't the stout heart that a manwould have--but she did not understand, and she could not see her waythrough the darkness that was like a pall wrapped about her--and it washard just to grope out amidst surroundings that revolted her and madeher soul sick. It was hard to do this and--and still keep her courageand her faith.
She shook her head presently as she went along, shook it reprovingly atherself, and the little shoulders squared resolutely back. There mustbe, and there would be, a way out of it all, and meanwhile her position,bad as it was, was not without, at least, a certain compensation. Therehad been the Sparrow the other night whom she had been able to save,and to-night there was Nicky Viner. She could not be blind to that. Whoknew! It might be for just such very purposes that her life had beenturned into these new channels!
She looked around her sharply now. She had reached the lower sectionof Sixth Avenue. Perlmer's office, according to the address given, wasstill a little farther on. She walked briskly. It was very differentto-night, thanks to her veil! It had been horrible that other night,when she had ventured out as the White Moll and had been forced to keepto the dark alleyways and lanes, and the unfrequented streets!
And now, through a jeweler's window, she noted the time, and knew afurther sense of relief. It was even earlier than she had imagined. Itwas not quite ten o'clock; she would, at least, be close on the heels ofPerlmer's departure from his office, if not actually ahead of time, andtherefore she would be first on the scene, and--yes, this was the place;here was Perlmer's name amongst those on the name-plate at the streetentrance of a small three-story building.
She entered the hallway, and found it deserted. It was a rather dirtyand unkempt place, and very poorly lighted--a single incandescent aloneburned in the hall. Perlmer's room, so the name-plate indicated, wasNumber Eleven, and on the next floor.
She mounted the stairs, and paused on the landing to look around heragain. Here, too, the hallway was lighted by but a single lamp; andhere, too, an air of desertion was in evidence. The office tenants, itwas fairly obvious, were not habitual night workers, for not a ray oflight came from any of the glass-paneled doors that flanked both sidesof the passage. She nodded her head sharply in satisfaction. It wasequally obvious that Perlmer had already gone. It would take her but amoment, then, unless the skeleton keys gave her trouble. She had neverused a key of that sort, but--She moved quietly down the hallway, and,looking quickly about her to assure herself again that she was notobserved, stopped before the door of Room Number Eleven.
A moment she hung there, listening; then she slipped the skeleton keysfrom her pocket, and, in the act of inserting one of them tentativelyinto the keyhole, she tried the door--and with a little gasp of surprisereturned the keys hurriedly to her pocket. The door was unlocked; it hadeven opened an inch already under her hand.
Again she looked around her, a little startled now; and instinctivelyher hand in her pocket exchanged the keys for her revolver. But shesaw nothing, heard nothing; and it was certainly dark inside there, andtherefore only logical to conclude that the room was unoccupied.
Reassured, she pushed the door cautiously and noiselessly open, andstepped inside, and closed the door behind her. She stood still for aninstant, and then the round, white ray of her flashlight went dancinginquisitively around the office. It was a medium-sized room, farfrom ornate in its appointments, bare floored, the furniture of thecheapest--Perlmer's clientele did not insist on oriental rugs andmahogany!
Her appraisal of the room, however, was but cursory. She was interestedonly in the flat-topped desk in front of her. She stepped quickly aroundit--and stopped-and a low cry of dismay came from her as she stared atthe floor. The lower drawer had been completely removed, and now layupturned beside the swivel chair, its contents strewn around in alldirections.
And for a moment she stared at the scene, nonplused, discomfited. Shehad been so sure that she would be first--and she had not been first.There was no need to search amongst those papers on the floor. They toldtheir own story. The ones she wanted were already gone.
In a numbed way, mechanically, she retreated to the door; and, with theflashlight playing upon it, she noticed for the first time that thelock had been roughly forced. It was but corroborative of the despoileddrawer; and, at the same time, the obvious reason why the door had notbeen relocked when whoever had come here had gone out again.
Whoever had come here! She could have laughed out hysterically. Wasthere any doubt as to who it was? One of Dangla
r's emissaries; theCricket, perhaps-or perhaps even Danglar himself! They had seen to itthat lack of prompt action, at least, would not be the cause of marringtheir plans.
A little dazed, overwrought, confused at the ground being cut from underher where she had been so confident of a sure footing, she made her wayout of the building, and to the street--and for a block walked almostaimlessly along. And then suddenly she turned hurriedly into a crossstreet, and headed over toward the East Side. The experience hadnot been a pleasant one, and it had upset most thoroughly all hercalculations; but it was very far, after all, from being disastrous.It meant simply that she must now find Nicky Viner himself and warnthe man, and there was ample time in which to do that. The code messagespecifically stated midnight as the hour at which they proposed to favorold Viner with their unhallowed attentions, and as it was but a littleafter ten now, she had nearly a full two hours in which to accomplishwhat should not take her more than a few minutes.
Rhoda Gray's lips tightened a little, as she hurried along. Old NickyViner still lived in the same disreputable tenement in which he hadlived on the night of that murder two years ago, and she could not wardoff the thought that it had been--yes, and was--an ideal place for amurder, from the murderer's standpoint! The neighborhood was one of thetoughest in New York, and the tenement itself was frankly nothing morethan a den of crooks. True, she had visited there more than once, hadvisited Nicky Viner there; but she had gone there then as the WhiteMoll, to whom even the most abandoned would have touched his cap.To-night it was very different--she went there as a woman. Andyet, after all--she amended her own thoughts, smiling a littleseriously--surely she could disclose herself as the White Moll thereagain to-night if the actual necessity arose, for surely crooks,pokegetters, shillabers and lags though they were, and though the placeteemed with the dregs of the underworld, no one of them, even for thereward that might be offered, would inform against her to the police!And yet--again the mental pendulum swung the other way--she was not soconfident of that as she would like to be. In a general way there couldbe no question but that she could count on the loyalty of those wholived there; but there were always those upon whom one could nevercount, those who were dead to all sense of loyalty, and alive only toselfish gain and interest--a human trait that, all too unfortunately,was not confined to those alone who lived in that shadowland outsidethe law. Her face, beneath the thick veil, relaxed a little. Well, shecertainly did not intend to make a test case of it and disclose herselfthere as the White Moll, if she could help it! She would enter thetenement unnoticed if she could, and make her way to Nicky Viner's twomiserable rooms on the second floor as secretively as she could. And,knowing the place as she did, she was quite satisfied that, if shewere careful enough and cautious enough, she could both enter and leavewithout being seen by any one except, of course, Nicky Viner.
She walked on quickly. Five minutes, ten minutes passed; and now, in anarrow street, lighted mostly by the dull, yellow glow that seepedup from the sidewalk through basement entrances, queer and forbiddingportals to sinister interiors, or filtered through the dirty windowsof uninviting little shops that ran the gamut from Chinese laundriesto oyster dens, she halted, drawn back in the shadows of a doorway, andstudied a tenement building that was just ahead of her. That was whereold Nicky Viner lived. A smile of grim whimsicality touched her lips.Not a light showed in the place from top to bottom. From its exterior itmight have been uninhabited, even long deserted. But to one who knew, itwas quite the normal condition, quite what one would expect. Those wholived there confined their activities mostly to the night; and theirexodus to their labors began when the labors of the world at largeended--with the fall of darkness.
For a little while she watched the place, and kept glancing up and downthe street; and then, seizing her opportunity when for half a block ormore the street was free of pedestrians, she stole forward and reachedthe tenement door. It was half open, and she slipped quickly inside intothe hall.
She stood here for a moment motionless; listening, striving toaccommodate her eyes to the darkness, and instinctively her hand went toher pocket for the reassuring touch of her revolver. It was black backthere in the hallway of Gypsy Nan's lodging; she had not thought thatany greater degree of blackness could exist; but it was blacker here.Only the sense of touch promised to be of any avail. If one could havemoved as noiselessly as a shadow moves, one could have passed anotherwithin arm's-length unseen. And so she listened, listened intently.And there was very little sound. Once she detected a footstep from theinterior of some room as it moved across a bare floor; once she hearda door creak somewhere upstairs; and once, from some indeterminatedirection, she thought she heard voices whispering together for amoment.
She moved suddenly then, abruptly, almost impulsively, but carefulnot to make the slightest noise. She dared not remain another instantinactive. It was what she had expected, what she had counted upon as anally, this darkness, but she was not one who laughed, even in daylight,at its psychology. It was beginning to attack her now; her imaginationto magnify even the actual dangers that she knew to be around her. Andshe must fight it off before it got a hold upon her, and before panicvoices out of the blackness began to shriek and clamor in her ears, asshe knew they would do with pitifully little provocation, urging her toturn and flee incontinently.
The staircase, she remembered, was at her right; and feeling out beforeher with her hands, she reached the stairs, and began to mount them.She went slowly, very slowly. They were bare, the stairs, and unless onewere extremely careful they would creak out through the silence with anoise that could be heard from top to bottom of the tenement. But shewas not making any noise; she dared not make any noise.
Halfway up she halted and pressed her body close against the wall. Wasthat somebody coming? She held her breath in expectation. There wasn'ta sound now, but she could have sworn she had heard a footstep on thehallway above, or on the upper stairs. She bit her lips in vexation.Panic noises! That's what they were! That, and the thumping of herheart! Why was it that alarms and exaggerated fancies came and tried tounnerve her? What, after all, was there really to be afraid of? Shehad almost a clear two hours before she need even anticipate any actualdanger here, and, if Nicky Viner were in, she would be away from thetenement again in another fifteen minutes at the latest.
Rhoda Gray went on again, and gaining the landing, halted once more.And here she smiled at herself with the tolerant chiding she would haveaccorded a child that was frightened without warrant. She could accountfor those whisperings and that footstep now. The door to the left, theone next to Nicky Viner's squalid, two-room apartment, was evidentlypartially open, and occasionally some one moved within; and the voicescame from there too, and, low-toned to begin with, were naturallymuffled into whispers by the time they reached her.
She had only, then, to step the five or six feet across the narrow hallin order to reach Nicky Viner's door, and unless by some unfortunatechance whoever was in that room happened to come out into the hall atthe same moment, she would--Yes, it was all right! She was trying NickyViner's door now. It was unlocked, and as she opened it for the space ofa crack, there showed a tiny chink of light, so faint and meager thatit seemed to shrink timorously back again as though put to rout by themassed blackness--but it was enough to evidence the fact that NickyViner was at home. It was all simple enough now. Old Viner wouldundoubtedly make some exclamation at her sudden and stealthy entrance,but once she was inside without those in the next room either havingheard or seen her, it would not matter.
Another inch she pushed the door open, another--and then another. Andthen quickly, silently, she tip-toed over the threshold and closed thedoor softly behind her. The light came from the inner room and shonethrough the connecting door, which was open, and there was movement fromwithin, and a low, growling voice, petulant, whining, as though an oldman were mumbling complainingly to himself. She smiled coldly. It wasvery like Nicky Viner--it was a habit of his to talk to himself, sheremembered. And, also, sh
e had never heard Nicky Viner do anything elsebut grumble and complain.
But she could not see fully into the other room, only into a corner ofit, for the two doors were located diagonally across from one another,and her hand, in a startled way, went suddenly to her lips, as thoughmechanically to help choke back and stifle the almost overpoweringimpulse to cry out that arose within her. Nicky Viner was not alone inthere! A figure had come into her line of vision in that other room,not Nicky Viner, not any of the gang--and she stared now in incredulousamazement, scarcely able to believe her eyes. And then, suddenly cooland self-possessed again, relieved in a curious way because the elementof personal danger was as a consequence eliminated, she began tounderstand why she had been forestalled in her efforts at Perlmer'soffice when she had been so sure that she would be first upon the scene.It was not Danglar, or the Cricket, or Skeeny, or any of the band whohad forestalled her--it was the Adventurer. That was the Adventurerstanding in there now, side face to her, in Nicky Viner's inner room!