"What was the enclosure they speak of?" asked Evan.
"A note from my father."
"Ah! May I see it?"
"I haven't it. It was addressed to Culberson, President of the Mid-City Bank."
"An order?"
"Yes, for Culberson to buy $400,000. of non-registered Liberty bonds and deliver them to me!"
"So he gave in!" cried Evan in strong amazement. "Even Simeon Deaves values his skin more than his money!" he added to himself. "You have already secured the bonds?" he asked Deaves.
The latter nodded. "They're at home."
"By God! I hate to let those rascals get away with it!" cried Evan. "Four hundred thousand! Think of the good you could do with such a sum!"
"But they have promised to let us alone for good," said Deaves eagerly.
"They can afford to!" said Evan dryly. "It fairly drives me wild to think of them triumphing!"
"But you'll come with me?" said Deaves anxiously.
"Sure, I'll go with you. I may get a chance at them yet!"
"No! No!" cried Deaves in a panic. "That would ruin everything! You must promise me you will make no attempt against them!"
"I must be free to act as I see fit!" said Evan stubbornly.
"Then I cannot take you!"
"That's up to you," said Evan with an indifferent shrug. He turned away.
Deaves lingered in a state of pitiable indecision. "I have no one else I can ask," he said appealingly. "I beg of you to be reasonable, Weir. You must see that we are helpless against them. Promise me you will do nothing against them, and you may ask me what you like."
"I want nothing from you," said Evan coldly. "I won't promise."
"Then I must take a servant," said Deaves helplessly—"and perhaps lay myself open to fresh demands from another quarter!" He turned to go.
Evan of course was keen on going. When he saw that Deaves was actually prepared to stick to what he said, Evan gave in.
"I'll compromise with you," he said. "I promise to carry out instructions exactly as given in the letter until after the securities are handed over. After that I must be free to act as I see fit."
"What do you mean to do?" asked Deaves anxiously.
"I don't know. How can I tell? I'm hoping that something may happen to give me a clue that I may follow up later."
"Oh well, that's all right," said Deaves. "You'll be at my house before eight then?"
"I'll be there."
George Deaves and Evan sat in the Deaves limousine with the package of bonds between them. Deaves was perspiring and fidgetty, Evan the picture of imperturbability—not but what Evan was excited too, but the display of agitation the other was making put Evan on his mettle to show nothing. The car was lying against the curb on the North side of the Queensboro Bridge Plaza, and they were watching the hands of a clock in a bank building creep to half-past eight.
"Why do you suppose they insisted on our waiting here?" said Deaves querulously.
"Can't say," answered Evan. "I have fancied that some of their orders were just thrown in to mystify us, to undermine our morale. Possibly they stipulated we must leave this point at eight-thirty so they would know exactly when to expect us."
"That man who just passed us, how he stared! Do you suppose he could have been one of them?"
"There must be a lot of them then. Everybody stares. Like ourselves, they wonder what we're waiting here for."
On the stroke of the half hour they gave the chauffeur word to proceed out Stonewall avenue. The village of Regina is not a beautiful hamlet. Its founders had large ideas; they laid off the principal street a hundred feet wide, but the city has its own ideas about the proper width of streets, and when in the course of time the municipality took over Regina it paved but two-thirds of Stonewall avenue, leaving a muddy morass at each side. The buildings that lined this thoroughfare were something between those of a city slum and those of a Western boom town. They had no difficulty in picking out Beechurst street; the big stone church in its muddy yard was a horror.
They alighted in the middle of the street, for the chauffeur opined that if he fell off the hard pavement he'd never be able to climb back on it. They dismissed him, and watched him turn and roll out of sight.
Deaves shuddered. "I wish I was safe inside!" he murmured.
Evan took careful note of their surroundings. On the corner where they stood was a stationery store, and across Beechurst street was a saloon. "Someone watching us from in there I'll be bound," thought Evan. If he had been alone he would have gone in. Across Stonewall avenue from the saloon was the church aforementioned, and the fourth corner was vacant.
They turned up Beechurst street, which was swallowed up in unrelieved blackness a few yards ahead.
"I feel as if there were watching eyes on every side of us," said Deaves tremulously.
"They're welcome to look at me if it does them any good," said Evan lightly.
"You carry the package," said Deaves.
"Aren't you afraid I might skip with it?" said Evan teasingly.
Deaves had no humour. He hastily took the package back. Evan chuckled.
The sidewalk ended abruptly, and they took to the centre of the street. Here they found a rough and stony road grown high with weeds on either hand. Mounds of ashes and tin cans obstructed the way; an automobile would have found it well-nigh impassable. It wound across that ugly no-man's land between the pavements and the cultivated land. What with his terrors and the tenderness of his feet, Deaves made heavy going over the stones.
To complete his demoralisation, a shrill whistle presently rang out of the dark behind them. Deaves gasped and clutched Evan.
"That's only their signal that all's well," said Evan.
"This is no place for me!" moaned Deaves.
The road became a little smoother, and alongside they saw the neat rows of a market garden. Evan sniffed that curious odor compounded of growing vegetables and fertilizer. Then the road dipped into a hollow and thick bushes rose on either side. The air was sweet of the open countryside here. It was very dark under the bushes. Deaves clung to Evan's arm.
Suddenly they found themselves surrounded by several figures with masked faces. A crisp voice commanded:
"Hands up, gentlemen!"
Deaves obeyed so quickly that the package rolled on the ground. Somebody sniggered. The first voice sternly bade him to be quiet. Deaves stooped to pick up the precious package. He was ordered to let it lie. Evan and Deaves, their hands aloft, were rapidly and thoroughly frisked for weapons. Deaves gasped with terror when they touched him. The spot was so dark, Evan could make but few observations. He did see though that the men—he counted four of them—were roughly dressed, and from this he deduced that they were from the higher walks of life. Clever and successful crooks nowadays are invariably well-dressed. The rough clothes were in line with the gruff voices the men assumed. Gruffness could not hide the educated forms of speech that they used.
The search was over in a minute. "Pick up the package, gentlemen, and proceed," ordered the voice. The figures melted away in the darkness. Evan and Deaves went on. The road rose out of the hollow, and they had more light to pick their tracks. Again a whistle sounded behind them.
"The word is being passed along to those in front of us," said Evan.
After the market gardens came a patch of woods. Deaves halted at the edge and peered into the shadows.
"I cannot trust myself in there," he muttered. "I simply cannot!"
"Just as you say," said Evan. "I don't suppose they'll let us back now."
With a groan Deaves started ahead. Evan sniffed the trees gratefully.
In the thick of the woods two figures faced them. White cotton masks over their faces gave them an unearthly look. Deaves tremulously held out the package, and it was taken from his hands. No word was spoken. One man snapped on an electric flash, and in the disk of light that it threw the other hastily unwrapped the package and examined the bonds.
Now from the white papers a certain amount of light was reflected back on the man who was holding the flash, and Evan studied him attentively. He was holding a pistol in his other hand. Something familiar in the creases of the suit he wore first arrested Evan's attention. That is to say, these creases suggested the lines of a figure that Evan had often drawn and painted. When in addition he perceived a certain well-remembered involuntary twitching in the figure, amazement and incredulity gave place to certainty.
"Charl!" he cried.
The two masked figures started back. He who held the light took his breath sharply, and Evan knew he was not mistaken. The man with the bonds quickly recovered himself.
"Be quiet!" he sharply commanded.
But Evan in his anger had forgotten prudence. "Charl!" he cried. "What does this mean? Have you turned crook!"
The other man whispered in a passion: "Shoot him if he doesn't shut his mouth!"
"Yes, shoot your partner," cried Evan.
Charley shrunk back.
"Give me the gun and I'll do it," said the other man.
"Weir, for God's sake, for God's sake, for God's sake!" Deaves was gabbling in an ecstasy of terror.
With an effort Evan commanded himself. Nothing was to be gained by making a row there in the woods. Indeed he already saw how foolish he had been to betray his discovery.
The examination of the bonds was concluded. The man who had them spoke to his partner: "These are all right. Hold them here while I start the engine."
Evan, more accustomed now to the darkness of the woods, made out that at the point where they stood the road forked. In the left fork he dimly perceived the form of a car at a few paces distance. The top was down. Presently the engine started, and Evan recognised that it was the same car that had carried him off. The engine had its own rattle.
Charley said in a disguised voice: "Keep straight ahead to the right."
He started to back away from them, keeping the light playing on the agonised, fascinated face of Deaves, who stood rooted to the ground. The hand that held the light trembled a little. Suddenly it was switched off and Charley ran the last few steps that separated him from the car.
Evan involuntarily sprang forward, leaving a speechless and gasping Deaves in the road. But Evan was not thinking of Deaves then. He saw Charley take the driver's seat in the car. The noise of the engine drowned what sounds Evan's feet made. He laid hands on the back of the car as it started to move, and swung himself off the ground. His knees found the gasoline tank. He cautiously turned around and let himself down upon it in a sitting position, his hands still clinging to the folds of the lowered top above his head. As they got under way the man beside Charley blew a blast on a whistle similar to those they had heard before.
They went but slowly for the way was rough. Evan prayed that the tank beneath him might be stoutly swung to the frame. As well as he could he distributed his weight between the tank and the top. After passing over some spring-testing bumps in safety he felt somewhat reassured. If she stood that there would not be much danger on a smoother road when they hit up speed.
Emerging from the woods they turned into a farm road not so bad, and by means of the farm road they gained a dirt highway, ever increasing speed as the way became smoother. All this neighbourhood was quite unknown to Evan of course, and his point of view was somewhat restricted, being directed solely towards the rear. He watched the stars and made out that the car was choosing roads that were gradually bringing it around in a great circle. He supposed that it was bound back for town—for the "club-house," if he was lucky.
Evan had no clear idea of what he meant to do. His one purpose was to get Charley by himself. He knew the ascendancy that he possessed over that mercurial youth.
They finally struck a smooth macadam road upon which they travelled East at thirty-five miles an hour, the best, no doubt, the old car could do. It was a well-travelled road. They passed all cars bound in the same direction, and to the drivers of these cars Evan on his perch was brilliantly revealed in the rays of their headlights. With the idea of suggesting that it was all a joke, Evan waved facetiously to them. They accepted it as intended, or at any rate none of them sought to give him away. They passed through several villages, but the people on the sidewalks rarely noticed Evan, or, if they did, they merely gaped at him.
They crossed the long viaduct over the railway yards in Long Island City, and Evan began to grow anxious. If they were going to traverse the whole length of town how could he hope to avoid having the attention of the two men on the front seat called to him by the sharp-eyed small boys? They crossed the Plaza and swung out on Queensboro Bridge, keeping close to the speed limit, or edging over it a little. The drivers they passed still obligingly accepted Evan's suggestion that he was paying an election bet, or was up to some other foolishness.
They passed a limousine which looked familiar. Evan looked twice and recognized the Deaves turnout. George Deaves sat behind the glass windows, looking pale and shaken. So he had got out of the woods all right! The chauffeur stared at Evan, then grinned widely, and stepped on his accelerator. The big car came up close.
Evan saw Deaves lean forward to rebuke his chauffeur for the speed. The chauffeur called his attention to Evan. Deaves' eyes nearly started out of his head. Evan waved his hand. Deaves, with emphatic adjurations to his chauffeur to slow up, fell back on his seat and closed his eyes. "He wants to forget about me," thought Evan. The limousine gradually dropped back out of sight.
Evan's anxiety about the streets of town was presently relieved. After crossing the Bridge Plaza, where, to be sure, a number of people laughed and pointed at him but without apparently attracting the attention of the two men in front, they turned into the darkest and quietest streets. Evan soon saw that they were not bound for the club-house. Their journey through town was not long; through Fifty-eighth to Lexington; down Lexington in the car tracks to Thirty-ninth, and East again. In Thirty-ninth street the car slowed down and Evan held himself in readiness to drop off.
At the moment of stopping Evan ducked under the side of the car opposite to the curb. He heard the car-door slam and feet run across the pavement. Cautiously peering around the back he saw Charley, fully revealed in the light of a street lamp, run up the steps of a house and let himself in with a latch-key. Just before disappearing he glanced up and down the street; no other car was in sight. Evan said to himself: "He is stopping here. That is something to know."
Evan peeped over the top. To his surprise he found the car empty. The second man had dropped off at some point en route without his seeing him. Evidently he still had the securities for Charley's hands had been empty. Evan was chagrined to think of this prize slipping through his fingers; however he still had a line on Charley.
Unfortunately for Evan at this moment a gruff voice behind him said: "Hey, young man, what do you think you're doin'?"
It was a policeman who, having observed Evan's maneuvres from across the street, had felt a perhaps not unnatural curiosity and had come over to satisfy it.
Evan, silently cursing his luck, instantly said with a confiding air: "It's just a joke, officer. Fellow I know hired this car to take his girl out, see? I think they're going to run off and be married, and I want to give them the laugh, see? All in fun."
"Well, it may be so," was the heavily facetious reply, "and again it may not. You better leave that guy be, see?"
"Just as you say," said Evan with a shrug.
He was not at all anxious to have Charley come out and find him in talk with the blue-coat, so he sauntered off down the street, the policeman following with a darkly suspicious eye. Glancing over his shoulder, Evan, to his unspeakable chagrin, saw Charley come scampering down the steps, jump in the car and start off in the other direction. In his heart Evan cursed the whole race of blue-coats.
Evan walked around the block and approached the house from the other side. The policeman was now out of sight. It was still only half-past nine, not too late conceivably to pay a call. Evan rang the bell.
The door was opened by a handsome, bold-eyed girl who had a challenging glance for any personable young male. Evan gave her look for look; she was a potential source of valuable information.
"Charley Straiker live here?" he asked.
"Yes, but he's out now."
"Do you know when he'll be in?"
"In half an hour. He's gone to the garage to put the car away."
"Sure he's coming back?"
"He just told me. In case anybody called up."
The trail was not lost then; Evan took heart. "Well, I'll wait for him," he said. "Where's his room?"
The girl gave him a provoking glance. "I don't know if I ought to let you up. I don't know you."
"Well, I'll stop and talk to you and you soon will," retorted Evan.
She tossed her head. "I can't stand here all night talking."
"What's your name?"
"Ethel Barrymore. What's yours?"
"Leo Dietrichstein."
"Some li'l jollier, aren't you?"
"I'm just learning from you, Ethel."
"Are you an artist like Mr. Straiker?"
"No, I'm a Wall street broker."
"Yes you are!"
"Any rooms to rent, Ethel? I'd like to hang out where you are."
"All the hall rooms are taken."
"They would be, around you. How about a man's size room?"
"Who do you want it for?"
This sprightly exchange was cut short by a shrill voice from the basement calling: "Sa-a-d-e-e-e!"
"Darn!" muttered the girl. "I've got to go or she'll scream her lungs out!"
"Which is Charley's room?" said Evan. "I'll go up."
"Second floor rear hall," she said as she disappeared.
Her cryptic description was sufficient to anyone who knows New York rooming houses. The room was typical. Charley had not been in it long enough to give it any of his own character. You squeezed past the bed to a tiny rectangular space at the foot where there was just room enough for a bureau, a wash-stand and one chair. If the occupant had a visitor one of them must sit on the bed.
Evan sat down in the chair and filled his pipe, thinking grimly of the surprise that Charley was due to receive when he opened the door. Suppose Charley flatly refused all information, how could he make him speak? It occurred to him that it would be well to be supplied with evidence, and he began to look over Charley's things. After the way Charley had acted he had no scruples in doing so; he would not have been at all put out of countenance had Charley come in.
He scarcely expected to find anything of importance—still Charley was extraordinarily careless. Seeing a book lying on the bureau (a novel by Jack London) Evan was reminded of an old habit of his friend's of putting any paper he wished to save between the leaves of a book. He shook the book and several papers dropped out: to wit: a letter from his mother; ditto from a girl in his home town, and lastly a sheet of thin paper with typewriting upon it. Evan put the first two back and studied the third. As he grasped the purport of it, he pursed up his lips to whistle and his eyes grew round. This was a prize indeed!
Evan read:
GENERAL INSTRUCTIONS FOR TUESDAY NIGHT
Members P.D. and H.B. will be on the ground not later than five o'clock Tuesday afternoon to make sure that no surprise is planted on us beforehand. P.D. will hang out in the little roadhouse marked A. on the map, where he can see anything that turns the corner, and H.B. will take up his station in the saloon B. at the other end of the road C. These two can communicate with each other by telephone if anything suspicious is observed.
Members J.T., L.A., J.M. and C.C. will proceed in two couples separately by trolley to the saloon at B. where they should stop for a drink for the purpose of showing themselves to H.B. who is watching there, and to give H.B. a chance to warn them if he has observed anything suspicious. All members must bear in mind that no chances must be taken. There is too much at stake. If anybody sees anything out of the way let him warn the others, and the operation be called off for the night. Unless warned by H.B., J.T. and the three others will proceed from the saloon to their station at the clump of bushes marked D. on the road C. They should not get there until eight-thirty as their continued presence in the neighbourhood might arouse suspicion.
Meanwhile T.D. and C.S. are to proceed in the car to the fork E. of the road by the route they have already been over. There is no need of watching the track through the woods to E. as it is not marked on any map, and could not be found except by one entering from A. or B. which will both be watched. The car must be in place, turned around and ready to run back at eight-thirty.
A most important duty devolves on H.B. who must satisfy himself that the man and his companion are not accompanied nor followed by the police. When the two pass the corner B. let member H.B. if all is well blow one long blast on his whistle as a signal to J.T. But if they are followed let H.B. blow five short blasts and take to the fields.
When J.T. gets the O.K. signal let him post his men in readiness to quietly surround the two and search them for weapons. If he gets a warning signal let him pass on a warning to J.T. and all must scatter in the market gardens and make their way home separately. After the two have been searched and sent on, J.T. will give the clear signal to T.D.
When the two arrive at the fork of the road E. member C.S. will keep them covered while T.D. takes the package and examines the contents. It is supposed that the man will bring Evan Weir as his companion, and C.S. must therefore take especial care not to betray himself by his voice.
When T.D. has satisfied himself the package is O.K. let him direct the two men to continue walking by the right-hand fork of the road, and when they have passed on, let T.D. and C.S. make their getaway in the car, signalling all clear as they start. When T.D.'s clear signal is heard let all members make their way separately to their homes. On the way back J.T. can give the word to H.B. None of the members must meet together later that night.
Meanwhile T.D. and C.S. make their way back to town by the same route they went out by, C.S. driving. T.D. after distributing the contents of the package through his various pockets, will drop off the car at any suitable spot according to his judgment, taking care that he is not under observation at the moment. He will return home, taking due precautions against being followed.
C.S. will return to his home in the car. If the car is required, a telephone message will be awaiting him there. If there is no message let him put the car up. If he is followed, it is no great matter, nothing can be brought home to him. After putting the car up let him return to his home for an hour. At the end of that time if no one has been there he can be pretty sure that he has not been traced. At eleven o'clock then, let him proceed to the club-house and report to me on the night's happenings. He can then take the old man home. A pass-word for the night will be communicated to him verbally.
Let every member commit the contents of this paper to memory and destroy his copy.
THE CHIEF.
Evan thought hard. This communication put an entirely new complexion on affairs. Far from wishing to confront Charley, Evan now desired at any cost to avoid him. If he could only succeed in following Charley to the "club-house" and in trapping the elusive chief himself, what a triumph! His heart beat fast at the very thought.
He hastened down-stairs, dreading to hear Charley's key in the door. Nevertheless he had to linger long enough to square the girl, for if Charley encountered her and she told him of his visitor it would spoil all. Evan looked up and down the street. No sign of Charley yet. He rang the bell to bring the girl.
She appeared, saying scornfully: "Oh, it's you, is it?"—but not ill-pleased by the summons.
"I hate waiting around," said Evan.
"He'll be here any minute now."
"I'm not so keen about seeing him anyhow. I'd rather visit with you."
"Quit your kidding, Leo."
"Come on out and have a soda while I'm waiting."
She hesitated, looked up and down—and succumbed. "All right. I'll have to hurry back. I don't need a hat."
Evan was careful to lead her towards Lexington, since it was from the other direction Charley would presumably appear.
They had their soda, never ceasing to "con" each other in the style that has been suggested. Sadie enjoyed it to the full; Evan on the other hand was rather hard put to it to keep up his end, for his thoughts were far away. His fits of abstraction rather added to his attractiveness in the girl's eyes; she couldn't quite make him out.
His problem was how to keep her from seeing Charley before Charley left the house for the last time, and yet be on time himself to follow Charley when he started out.
Issuing from the drug-store, Evan suggested a short walk, to which Sadie was nothing loath. He steered her through another street back to Third avenue, and managed to fetch up as if by accident before a moving-picture palace.
"Let's go in," he said carelessly. "The last show will just be beginning."
Once more Sadie hesitated, made objections—and allowed him to brush them away. Sadie was fascinated. Evan took her by the arm and marched her in in masterful style. For his own ends he chose seats in that part of the house where smoking was permitted.
To Evan's relief the picture proved to be one of which Sadie could wholly approve, and she no longer required to be entertained. She became absorbed in its unrolling. The hard eyes softened a little; clearly she was lifted out of this mundane sphere of rooming-houses and attractive, fresh young men you had to be careful with, into a realm of peculiar magnificence.
Meanwhile Evan watched the illuminated clock with which the proprietor thoughtfully provided his patrons, and made his calculations. He had to figure closely. He knew that all these picture houses let out at eleven, and they were only five minutes' walk from the rooming-house. If the show was over a little early to-night, or if Charley was a little late in starting, all his careful planning would go for nothing.
At ten minutes to eleven the drama was still going strong, with everything as yet unexplained. Evan whispered to his companion.
"I'm out of smokes. Excuse me while I get a pack at the stand."
She nodded without taking her eyes from the screen. She did not mark that he took his hat with him. He stopped not at the cigar-stand, but made his way out of the theatre. There was little chance of her following while any of the fascinating drama remained unrevealed.
He stopped in a haberdasher's and bought three of the largest size handkerchiefs for a grim purpose. Back in Thirty-ninth street he concealed himself in the area-way of a vacant house across the street from the rooming-house. Now, if only Sadie did not come back before Charley went out, and if an inquisitive policeman did not put a crimp in his plans!
A church clock struck eleven, and Charley appeared almost upon the last stroke. He slammed the door after him, and his feet twittered down the steps in style peculiarly his own. He stopped on the pavement to light a cigarette—and incidentally to look warily up and down the street. Reassured, he started quickly towards Lexington. He was an easy man to trail, gait and appearance were both so marked. Evan could hardly lose that cheap Panama hat cocked at a slightly rakish angle.
Evan let him get around the corner before he ventured out of his hiding-place. As Evan himself reached the corner of Lexington he looked back and saw Sadie turning into the block from Third. "A close shave!" he thought.
Charley was still visible hastening North with his loose-jointed stride, his "kangaroo lope" Evan had called it. He turned West in Forty-second street. This was an advantage to Evan, for Forty-second street is crowded at this hour. Charley took the more crowded sidewalk, and Evan kept the Panama in view from across the street.
They crossed the whole central part of town, breasting the current of pedestrians bound from the theatres to the terminal station. At Sixth avenue Charley went up one stairway to the elevated, and Evan up the other. The platform was crowded, obviating the greatest danger of an encounter. When a train came along Evan lost Charley for a while, for he could not risk boarding the same car of the train. But he had little doubt now where Charley was bound for: i.e., Central Bridge, the end of the line.
Up-town, when the crowd began to thin out a little; Evan satisfied himself that Charley was still safe in the next car but one ahead. "Lucky for me," he thought, "they set the only hour at night when the cars are crowded."
At the end of the line there were still many left to get off and Evan safely lost himself amongst them. Most of these people (including the Panama hat) climbed to the viaduct above to take the red trolley cars of various lines.
Charley boarded a Lafayette avenue car, but displayed an inclination to remain out on the back platform. This was a poser for Evan, but he managed with several others to crowd on the front end, which is against the rules. He found a little seat in the corner of the motorman's vestibule, where he sat down in the dark. Looking back through the car he could make out a square of Charley's striped coat through one of the rear windows. He kept his eye on that.
Charley rode clear to the end of the line at Featherbed lane. Evan, by lingering to ask the motorman a question as to his supposed direction, let him get away from the car. Eight people got off at this point. Five waited at the transverse tracks for the Yonkers car, while three, of whom Evan and Charley were two, crossed the tracks and kept on heading North by the automobile highway. They were at the extreme edge of the town in this direction. The last electric lights were behind them; only a house or two remained alongside the road, then tall woods and darkness.
There was no sidewalk; they proceeded up the middle of the road, first Charley, then the suburbanite, then Evan. Charley frequently looked over his shoulder, the pale patch of his face revealed in the receding lights. But Evan kept on boldly, confident that he could not be recognised with the lights at his back. The suburbanite turned in at one of the houses; Charley was presently swallowed by the shadow of the woods. Evan made believe to turn in at the last house, but dropped in the ditch, and crept along until he, too, gained the woods.
Running in the soft stuff at the side, pausing to listen, and running ahead again, Evan continued to follow Charley by the sound of his nervous steps on the hard road. The road turned slightly, and the lights behind them passed out of sight. The tall trees pressed close on either hand, and it was as dark below as in a cavern.
The steps ceased. Evan paused, listening. Had Charley stopped, or had he, too, taken to the soft stuff? They re-commenced, grew louder, he was coming back! Evan hastily withdrew close under the bushes at the side. Charley passed him at five yards distance. In the stillness Evan could even hear his agitated breathing. In a queer way Evan felt for him. It was no joke to fancy one's self followed on such a road at such an hour. He showed pluck in thus boldly venturing back.
Evan was obliged to take into account the possibility that this whole excursion up the dark road might be a feint. He dared not let Charley out of sight and hearing. He followed him back to the turn in the road, still creeping in the soft stuff. From this point Charley's figure was outlined against the twinkling lights of the trolley terminus, and Evan waited to see what he would do.
Charley went back to the edge of the woods: stopped, listened, walked back and forth a few times, then returned towards Evan, but now, like the other man, taking care to muffle his steps in the grass alongside. Evan could only see him at moments now. He was on Evan's side of the road. Evan drew back under a thick bush.
Charley came creeping along, bent almost double with the primordial instinct of concealment. He paused to listen so close to Evan that the latter, squatting under his bush, could have reached out and touched Charley's foot. Evan breathed from the top of his lungs, wondering that the beating of his heart did not betray him. He heard Charley's breath come in uneven little jerks.
For seconds Charley stood there. Was it possible he knew an enemy was near? Evan could make out his head turning this way and that. The tension was hard on nerves. Though he lay as still as a snake it seemed incredible to Evan that Charley did not feel his nearness.
Finally he went on, and a soft, blessed breath of relief escaped Evan.
He gave him ten yards and started to follow. Charley was on the alert now; very well, he must be twice as alert and beat him at his own game. Evan followed him by the swish of his feet in the grass, by the soft brushing of leaves against his clothes, by the crackle of an occasional twig under foot, at the same time taking care to betray no similar sounds himself. The advantage was greatly with the one who followed, for he knew the other man was there, while the one in front only feared.
Evan's patient stalking was interrupted by the passage of an automobile. He was obliged to seek cover from the rays of its headlights. It bowled up the road with a gay party, laughing and talking, all unsuspecting of the drama being enacted beside the road. Before it was well by Evan was out again. For a second he had a glimpse of Charley running like a deer up the road. Then he plunged into the bushes. Whatever the automobile party thought of this apparition, they did not stop to investigate.
Evan hastened to the vicinity of the spot where he had seen Charley disappear. Lying low, he concentrated all the power of his will on the act of hearing. He was rewarded by the faintest whisper of a sound from within the woods to the left of the road. It was repeated. Someone was creeping away in that direction. Charley had left the road. A sharp anxiety attacked Evan, for his difficulties were now redoubled.
But when he sought to feel a way into the woods, he discovered a place near by where it was comparatively open. There was no underbrush. In fact a road was suggested, a former road perhaps, for it was rough and tangled underfoot. Evan's heart bounded. Could this be the track that led direct to the abandoned house? He lost all sound of Charley, but continued to press forward full of hope.
At intervals he paused to listen, but no sound such as he wished to hear reached his ears; only the whisper of the night breeze among the leaves, and the faint far-off hum of the living world. A hundred feet or so from the highway the wood-track made a turn, and the trees hemmed him all about. The darkness of the road outside was as twilight to the blackness that surrounded him here.
Suddenly a sixth sense warned Evan of danger from behind. He whirled around only to receive the impact of a leaping figure which bore him to the earth. Dazed by the fall, for a moment he was at a hopeless disadvantage. The whole weight of the other man was on his chest. Evan struck up at him ineffectually.
Charley's voice whispered hoarsely: "I'm armed. Give up, or I'll shoot you like a dog! Will you give up?"
"Never!" muttered Evan.
The effect was surprising. "Evan! You! Oh, my God!" whispered Charley. The tense body slackened for a moment. Evan, gathering his strength, heaved up and threw him off.
But Charley was quick too. When Evan reached for him he was not there. Evan, grinding his teeth with rage, scrambled for him on hands and knees. The other kept just beyond his reach. Both were confused by the utter darkness. Each time one succeeded in getting to his feet, he promptly crashed over a branch again. Evan clutched at Charley's clothes, and Charley wrenched himself free. Charley, seeking to escape Evan, collided with him and recoiled gasping. Meanwhile he never ceased imploring him in a desperate whisper. But it was something more than the note of personal fear that actuated his pleading.
"Evan, hold up! You don't know what you're doing! Evan, listen! Let me talk to you quietly! I swear I'm on the square! Evan, for God's sake hold up, or I swear I'll have to shoot you!"
But Evan was past listening. "Throw your gun away, and stand up to me like a man!" he said thickly.
In the mad, blind scramble, Charley finally got his bearing and started to run back towards the highway. Evan plunged after him. Charley tripped and fell headlong, and Evan came down on top of him.
Charley was helpless then, for in strength he was no match for Evan. Yet he still struggled desperately. Not to escape though. His hand was in his pocket. Not for his gun, because that was already out. He managed to get the hand to his lips, and then Evan understood. The warning whistle! As Charley drew breath to blow, Evan snatched it out of his hand and flung it into the bush.
While Charley still implored him, Evan shook out a handkerchief in his teeth, and gagged him. With the other handkerchiefs that he had brought against such a contingency, he tied his hands behind his back, and tied his ankles. He then possessed himself of Charley's pocket searchlight, and with its aid found the revolver which had flown from Charley's hand upon his fall.
With his antagonist bound and helpless at his feet, Evan cooled down. He rapidly considered what he must do next. He had no means of knowing how well the old house might be barricaded, and it would be the height of foolhardiness to attempt to storm it single-handed. On the other hand, if he took the time to go for the police, the chief of the gang, warned of danger by Charley's non-arrival, might make his getaway. Perhaps he could commandeer an automobile. Late as it was, an occasional car still passed on the highway. Evan hastened back.
As he turned the bend in the road he saw the lights of a car standing in the main road with engine softly running. Evan prudently slowed down. The occupants could not possibly see him yet. They were talking. Evan listened.
One said: "Well, it's all over now, anyway."
Another replied. "Come on in, and let's see what was the matter?"
"Into that black hole? Not on your life!"
"We have flashlights."
"Yes, and a nice mark they'd make for bullets!"
This was sufficiently reassuring. Evan showed himself. He saw an expensive runabout with two young fellows in it. They burst out simultaneously:
"What's the matter?"
"Oh, I had a fight with a crook in there," said Evan. "They have a hang-out in an old abandoned house."
"Do you want any help?"
"No thanks. I've got him tied up. But I wish you'd go for the police if you don't mind."
"Sure thing! The nearest station's in Tremont, five miles over bad roads. We'll bring 'em back in half an hour!"
In his excitement the young fellow threw his clutch in, and the big car leaped down the road before Evan could give him any further particulars.
On his way back Evan felt certain compunctions at the sight of Charley lying bound in the road. After all, Charley had been his friend for many a year. He wouldn't mind saving him from the consequences of his own folly if he could. That the police might not discover him when they came, Evan dragged him out of the road, and under a thick leafy bush to one side. Charley made imploring sounds through the gag. Evan continued along the rough track. He had the pocket flash to help him over the rough places now. In a quarter of a mile or more from the highway he came upon the dark mass of the old house rising against the night sky. It stood on a little rise in the midst of its clearing, which could scarcely be called a clearing now, for except in a small space immediately around the building the young trees were rising thickly.
It was a square block of a design somewhat freakish for a country residence, since the principal storey was above the entrance floor. There was a row of tall windows here, and above these windows an attic in the style of the eighteenth century. The tall windows evidently lighted the great room where Evan had suffered his ordeal at the hands of the Ikunahkatsi. It was in one of the back rooms on the same floor that the chief had his sanctum, he told himself. All the windows of the house were dark, but this did not prove that people were not within and awake, for Evan remembered the heavy shutters inside the windows.
He waited for a minute or two, and then began to get restless. In fact he itched for the glory of taking the chief single-handed. The letter of instructions had suggested that the chief would be alone in the building to-night, except for the old negress and the prisoner. And Evan was armed now. If he could find some way to make an entrance without giving an alarm, he believed it could be done.
He stole up to the front door on all fours. It was locked of course. He went around to the back; there were two doors here, both locked. He went from window to window. All of them had panes missing, but within each window the heavy shutters were closed and barred. He thought of cellar windows, sometimes they were forgotten. In certain places thick clumps of sumach had sprung up close to the house. Pushing behind one such clump, he stumbled on an old stone stair leading down. Once it had been closed by inclined doors, but these had rotted and fallen in. The steps led him into the cellar.
With the aid of his light he picked his way over the piles of rubbish and around the brick piers. Immense brick arches supported the chimneys of the house. They built more generously in those days. The rats scuttled out of his way. In the centre of the space there was a steep stair leading up. It looked sound. Pocketing his light, he crept up step by step and with infinite care tried the door at the top. It yielded! He was in!
All was dark and silent throughout the house. He judged that he must be in the central hall. He dared not use his light now, but felt his way towards the front. The sensation was not unlike that when he had been led through the house blindfolded. He touched the edge of the stairway, and guided himself to the foot. As he turned to mount, a sound brought the heart into his throat.
He identified it, and smiled grimly. It was a human snore and it came through the door on his left. This was the room where he had been confined, and it was more than likely old Simeon Deaves was sleeping there now.
He went up, stepping on the sides of the stair-treads to avoid making them creak. The stairway turned on itself in the middle, and at the top he was facing the front of the house again. Here he had to flash his light for a second. Immediately before him a pair of doors gave on the big room. They stood open. There were two more doors, one on each hand, both closed. Evan put out his light. As he did so a tiny ray of light became visible through the keyhole of the door on his left.
Evan dropped the light in his pocket, and took out his gun. Drawing a deep breath to steady himself, he smartly turned the handle and, flinging the door open, stepped back into the darkness. He saw in the centre of the great, bare, ruinous room an old packing case with a common lamp upon it, and a smaller box to sit on. He saw in the corner an army cot with a little figure lying upon it covered by a carriage robe, a figure which turned over and sat up at the sound of the door. He saw—Corinna!