Chapter XIV.What We FoundLarry’s tiny electric torch showed us a small basement room, evidently used as a laundry. An unlocked door led from it into the kitchen, an old-fashioned one and very large. And after listening at the door for a moment we explored this room also. The fire was out and the ashes were quite cold, and the coolness of the air in the room indicated that no fire had been lit in it that day, or, at least, late that day.Evidently the housemaid’s tale to Larry about the discharge of the servants was correct, and we explored the rest of the basement with more confidence that we were alone in it. It was quite deserted.Presently, off the hall-way running the entire length of the basement floor, we found the stairs leading up to the floor above. Larry put up a restraining hand here, and we paused listening for several minutes and peering up into the darkness. But aside from the tiny creaks and soft thuds always to be heard at night in an old house, the floor above was as silent as the basement. I could hear my own heart thumping away as I listened.At last Larry gave the signal and we began to creep silently upward. A board snapped suddenly underfoot and we both stopped and listened for a while, but nothing happened, and presently we started on again, raising and putting down each foot with infinite care until we stood in the big, carpeted hallway above, staring cautiously about us.Larry had put out his torch when we started up the basement steps. But in the upper hall enough light filtered in from near-by arc-lights in the street to show us the dim outlines of furniture already familiar to me from several visits to Mrs. Fawcette’s house.It was an eerie sensation standing there at night and in darkness, on such a search, in this hall which I had only known as a guest, when it was bright with lights and color and noisy with laughter and the babble of voices. But the object of my search and my anxiety over Natalie swept over me again, and I reached out in the darkness and touched Larry’s arm impatiently. He turned and put his lips against my ear.“There’s nobody on this floor, I think,” he whispered. “But we’ll give a look round on the chance, sor. ’Tis a bad thing to lave any one at the back av ye, to cut off yer retrate maybe.”We crept along the hall, peering into darkness that was, as I knew, drawing-room, dining-room, morning-room and study. But they were all deserted. We knew that there was some one in the house, in all probability, because of the light we had seen from the front. But evidently we had not many people to deal with, at any rate.As before, we halted, listening, at the foot of the stairs which led up to the next floor. It was well after midnight by now and the street outside, and indeed the whole city, had grown quiet, but in spite of the stillness we could hear no sound from above.“Come on, sor,” whispered Larry, and hand in hand we crept up the thickly carpeted stairs, keeping close to the wall where the steps were less likely to creak. And as we advanced the black darkness that was the upper hall seemed to creep down and envelop us like an intangible cloud.But in spite of the sinister element with which my imagination endowed the darkness, the bedrooms, bathrooms and the library on that floor also were silent and untenanted. And with the urge of a growing impatience to have done with our search and be gone, we mounted another well-carpeted flight as silently as before.As our heads topped this floor level, Larry’s hand gripped my arm suddenly. A thin line of light glowed from beneath a door a little way up the hall, toward the front of the house. Larry brought his lips close to my ear again. “ ’Tis the light we saw from the front, sor!” he whispered, so softly that I only just caught the words. “We’ll creep up and listen, try the handle and then, maybe, fling open the door. You’ll be ready, sor?”I pressed his arm in assent and Larry started to lead the way down the hall. Then another plan occurred to me. I caught his arm and leaned close to him. “How about searching the rest of the house first?” I whispered. The recollection was still vivid of the way I had messed up the affair in Moore’s house, by walking into a trap, and I thought it would be as well to know whether there were others besides the inhabitants of that one room. My idea was based on reason which was well enough, I thought, but again Larry’s instinct was better.He turned back, however, and we went through the rooms on the top floor above, without finding anything or any one. Then we descended and went through the rooms on that floor. The last one, next to the room with the light, had another door leading into it, beneath which the light showed, and it was in this room that Larry had the bad luck to fall over a small footstool, making a noise which a person in the next room could not fail to hear if he or she were awake. He had fallen to one knee, but he got up again quickly, smothering a curse, and we stood waiting tensely in the darkness.We could hear no sound from the next room, but suddenly the door we faced was flung open from within and a man stood framed in the light, crouching a little.He was a big fellow, nearly filling the doorway. He said something that sounded like Russian in a quavering voice, peering into the darkness as he spoke. Then suddenly, before either of us could move, he vanished.I dashed into the doorway and the room beyond, with Larry close at my heels. The big fellow had his hand on the wall opposite and was just turning away from some instrument there. As I entered I heard a sound like the buzzer which is used to call messengers. I was vaguely conscious that the man held a revolver in my direction as he turned toward me, but I was so intent upon reaching him without loss of time that the fact hardly registered. At any rate, he had no time to fire it, for I was almost on him as he turned.My fist caught him between the eyes and he dropped with a groan, the revolver falling limply from his hand. Larry was on him like a flash, pocketing his gun. Then I turned to look at the rest of the room.In the far corner stood Natalie, her eyes wide with terror and her hands tied behind her. There was no recognition in her eyes—only blind apprehension.“Natalie!” I cried, “Natalie! For God’s sake, what have they done to you?”The lovely eyes stared at me, and slowly bewilderment first and then recognition dawned in them. Then, with a little cry, she staggered toward me, bound as she was, and into my arms. “Oh,” she cried, “I knew you’d come. I knew you’d come for me!”I held her close for just an instant. Then I turned. Larry was trussing up the fallen Russian in a business-like way, with the man’s own necktie, and gagging him with their combined handkerchiefs. “Your knife, quick, Larry,” I whispered, for the ache in my throat at the sight of her would not let me speak aloud.In an instant Larry was on his feet, and a moment later Natalie’s hands were free. She flung her arms around my neck and pressed her lovely face against my shoulder, weeping softly. “It—it has been—awful—waiting for you,” she sobbed.Larry touched my arm. “We must get out av it, sor,” he whispered. “Twas a signal he gave!”At his words Natalie straightened herself, shuddering, and then drew away from me a little shyly. We all listened. An automobile brake screamed suddenly, either in front of the house or very near.Without a word Larry dashed out into the hall. An instant later he was back again. “Comin’ in here, sor,” he whispered. “Two av thim. ’Twas his signal, likely.”Natalie moaned and swayed against the wall. “Oh, don’t let them get me again!” she begged, her hands outstretched. Red marks scarred the white wrists.And suddenly all desire left me to get out of there before the newcomers reached us. Somebody was going to get a lesson that night, I determined.I ran and closed the two doors. Then I guided Natalie into the far corner and placed her on a chair, putting her hands behind her as though tied. I ran to the wall and tore down the instrument there, spreading the wires well apart and tucking them far back into the hole in the plaster which the instrument had left.There was a couch in the room, and my next move was to roll the Russian under it and out of sight. “Behind the door, Larry!” I whispered. As he took up his position, where the door opening into the hall would conceal him, I ran to the fireplace, picked up a poker that lay in it, and darted back to Larry. “Get the second man as he comes in,” I whispered; “I’ll take care of the first one!” Then I ran back to Natalie and stood facing her, my back to the door.I had just taken up my position when the door was flung open and two men rushed into the room. There was a babble of Russian, the two evidently taking me for the gagged and bound watcher, as I had hoped. Then I drew my revolver, turned and covered the first man, just as the poker descended upon the head of the second. The latter dropped without a sound.“Oh!” gasped Natalie. “That’s—that’s the man who struck me. He—he struck me!” she repeated, like an incredulous child.“Throw up your hands!” I told him savagely.The man’s hands went up over his head with a certain airy grace. “And, pray, who are you?” he demanded calmly, in a slightly mincing voice, and in excellent English. “He was at the luncheon,” Natalie gasped. “Mrs. Fawcette introduced him to me and he took me in to the next room to show me some pictures. Then something pricked my arm, and when I woke up I was here—and—and he struck me!”“Search him, Larry!” I cried.Larry produced a long, slender sheathed knife from the inside of the man’s trouser band, and a small instrument, the duplicate of the air-revolver Moore had taken from the stranger he shot in my room. Then I threw my own revolver on the couch and started for the airy and well-dressed newcomer.It was not a pretty sight. But I don’t believe Natalie minded that side of it much. The Russian knew something about boxing, and he evidently knew what was coming when I started for him, for he put up his hands in the most approved style. My own hands were still raw and sore from the encounter in Moore’s house the day before, and they were almost devoid of flesh on the knuckles when I got through with the Russian. But I’m sure I did not mind that; for I left him raw and bleeding, lying in the corner, his clothes torn and his face unrecognizable. Even then I only refrained from dragging him to his feet again for some more because Natalie cried out in pity. “And that’ll teach you to strike women, you swine!” I told him at last. But the Russian only moaned.Larry went to the bathroom on that floor and came back with some face towels. We gagged both men with their own handkerchiefs and neckties, in some novel and effective way which Larry seemed to have at his finger-tips. Then we rolled the other fellow out from under the couch. And we tied the hands of all three of them with the towels. Larry darted out of the door and down the stairs, and presently he was back again with some cord, evidently torn from the curtains on the first floor.“This’ll kape thim apart, sor,” he observed. And together we tied the three of them, one on the couch, one in a chair and one on the bed in the next room. Then I turned to Natalie.“Did anybody else hit you?” I asked her grimly.“Oh, no,” she breathed. “That’s enough, p-please! Look at your poor hands.” There is a Viking spirit in every woman, however gently reared; for her eyes were shining in spite of the pity in them.“ ’Twas a glorious fight, sor,” breathed the delighted Larry. “But he’s marked you pretty bad. Come away now and wash yer face, sor. ’Tis no sight for a lady!” Then I realized that the man had got home some pretty fair blows before he went under. He was no coward; I’ll say that for him.Natalie followed us into the bathroom. She seemed quite recovered and insisted upon washing my face for me, by the light of Larry’s electric torch—a ridiculous proceeding, none the less sweet for that, and one which relieved my mind a good deal. She had not been badly ill-treated if she could recover so quickly.It was a risk remaining there, but I could not go into the street covered with blood as I was and the risk had to be taken. Besides, it did not seem probable that more of them would turn up that night.“Tell me everything, Natalie,” I begged, as she bathed my face and hands.“That was all, Jack,” she whispered. “They did not ill-treat me very much. But some one was watching me every minute and they would not even let me feed myself. What do you suppose they wanted with me? Do you think they were going to hold me to ransom? I haven’t much money. And what happened to Mrs. Fawcette? Is this her house?”“Yes, this is her house. She’s in the thing, Natalie. If I had only been sure, I could have warned you more fully. But I didn’t like that drugged tea from the start. Tell me, you say they would not let you feed yourself?”“No. They kept my hands tied. They said they did not want me to kill myself with the knife. That scared me more than anything. Why should I kill myself, Jack?”I lowered my eyes to hide the red mist that swam in them. I found myself aching to get back to the other two specimens of Russian manhood and give them a dose of the same medicine. I turned away toward where they lay and Larry sensed my thought, for he caught at my arm. “Not now, sor,” he whispered; “we must get the gyurl out av ut, remember.”I was ashamed and stood waiting quietly until they had finished with my face and hands. Then Larry went out with a muttered word or two about seeing if the coast was clear. I caught Natalie’s hand in mine and kissed it. “Thank God, we found you,” I whispered.There was a thistle-down touch on my hair, and I looked up to find the lovely parted lips close to mine and the long lashes slowly sinking over the lovely eyes.A moment or two later Larry coughed close behind me. He seemed to be chuckling about something. I looked at him and he became preternaturally grave. “ ’Tis time we were goin’, sor,” he remarked.Together we walked to the head of the stairs, leaving the light still on in that one room and the three Russians prone where we had tied them. We dared not light any of the electric lights in the house, but with the aid of Larry’s torch we managed to guide Natalie’s feet until we reached the ground floor.Here we paused while Larry fumbled with the bolts, and having, at length, got the door open, stuck out a cautious head to see if the coast was clear. He came back to us at last.“The cyar they come in is gone,” said he, “and there’s nought in sight but a taxi down in front of that apartment house. Shall I call it?”“We’ll walk down to it, Larry,” I told him, and we sallied forth together.There was no one in sight in the street as we left the house, closing the door behind us, but as we drew abreast of the taxi, a man who had been getting a light from the driver detached himself from the shadow of the car and shambled away. I went up to the driver and gave him Natalie’s address. He stared at me curiously, for I must have been a pretty sight, but he merely nodded and signed for us to get in.“Don’t come with me, Jack,” Natalie whispered; “I’ll be all right now. I have a key in my pocket still; I just looked. And you must get home. Why, you might be arrested!”This event was a good deal more probable than she guessed, and I knew it would be wiser, now that she was out of danger, to let her go alone and get home before the main streets were also deserted and the police began to inspect all passers-by. But some instinct made me hesitate, in spite of the need, on Moore’s account, to keep my freedom.“The lady’s roight, sor. They’d be sure to pick you up in that condition. Sure, I’ll see the lady safe home mesilf.”In spite of the wiser instinct, my duty to Moore flooded my mind again and—I have cursed myself countless times for it—I agreed, for I knew she would be safe with Larry, and he was a far better hand than I at avoiding the police.I turned and held out my hand to Natalie. “All right,” I said. “Some day I’ll be able to tell you why it is better so, Natalie.”If she was disappointed she did not show it. “That’s right. And come, please, in the morning, or to-morrow afternoon.”“Thank you,” I whispered, for I could at least telephone to her in the morning. I stooped and kissed her hand. A moment later the door slammed and the taxi started. A faint “Good-night” floated back to me, and they were gone.As the taxi passed down the street, the man who had been talking to the driver started off at a shambling run and passed around the corner in the same direction that the car had taken. I stopped in my tracks for a moment, wondering. But I could hardly expect to explain the vagaries of such night prowlers, and anyway Larry was with her, and there was nothing I could do, in spite of a sudden vague anxiety at the sight of the running man. I had to get home the quickest way; for it was very late already.Fortunately I found another taxi at the corner and ten minutes later let myself into my new home. My thoughts were full of Natalie on the ride, and she still filled my mind as I opened my bedroom door, switched on the light and closed the door behind me.But as I turned back to the room again, the heavy curtains in front of the window parted once more and a man stepped into the room. “Hands up, Clayton,” he said. And I stood like a dunce and stared into the steady muzzle of a revolver.
Larry’s tiny electric torch showed us a small basement room, evidently used as a laundry. An unlocked door led from it into the kitchen, an old-fashioned one and very large. And after listening at the door for a moment we explored this room also. The fire was out and the ashes were quite cold, and the coolness of the air in the room indicated that no fire had been lit in it that day, or, at least, late that day.
Evidently the housemaid’s tale to Larry about the discharge of the servants was correct, and we explored the rest of the basement with more confidence that we were alone in it. It was quite deserted.
Presently, off the hall-way running the entire length of the basement floor, we found the stairs leading up to the floor above. Larry put up a restraining hand here, and we paused listening for several minutes and peering up into the darkness. But aside from the tiny creaks and soft thuds always to be heard at night in an old house, the floor above was as silent as the basement. I could hear my own heart thumping away as I listened.
At last Larry gave the signal and we began to creep silently upward. A board snapped suddenly underfoot and we both stopped and listened for a while, but nothing happened, and presently we started on again, raising and putting down each foot with infinite care until we stood in the big, carpeted hallway above, staring cautiously about us.
Larry had put out his torch when we started up the basement steps. But in the upper hall enough light filtered in from near-by arc-lights in the street to show us the dim outlines of furniture already familiar to me from several visits to Mrs. Fawcette’s house.
It was an eerie sensation standing there at night and in darkness, on such a search, in this hall which I had only known as a guest, when it was bright with lights and color and noisy with laughter and the babble of voices. But the object of my search and my anxiety over Natalie swept over me again, and I reached out in the darkness and touched Larry’s arm impatiently. He turned and put his lips against my ear.
“There’s nobody on this floor, I think,” he whispered. “But we’ll give a look round on the chance, sor. ’Tis a bad thing to lave any one at the back av ye, to cut off yer retrate maybe.”
We crept along the hall, peering into darkness that was, as I knew, drawing-room, dining-room, morning-room and study. But they were all deserted. We knew that there was some one in the house, in all probability, because of the light we had seen from the front. But evidently we had not many people to deal with, at any rate.
As before, we halted, listening, at the foot of the stairs which led up to the next floor. It was well after midnight by now and the street outside, and indeed the whole city, had grown quiet, but in spite of the stillness we could hear no sound from above.
“Come on, sor,” whispered Larry, and hand in hand we crept up the thickly carpeted stairs, keeping close to the wall where the steps were less likely to creak. And as we advanced the black darkness that was the upper hall seemed to creep down and envelop us like an intangible cloud.
But in spite of the sinister element with which my imagination endowed the darkness, the bedrooms, bathrooms and the library on that floor also were silent and untenanted. And with the urge of a growing impatience to have done with our search and be gone, we mounted another well-carpeted flight as silently as before.
As our heads topped this floor level, Larry’s hand gripped my arm suddenly. A thin line of light glowed from beneath a door a little way up the hall, toward the front of the house. Larry brought his lips close to my ear again. “ ’Tis the light we saw from the front, sor!” he whispered, so softly that I only just caught the words. “We’ll creep up and listen, try the handle and then, maybe, fling open the door. You’ll be ready, sor?”
I pressed his arm in assent and Larry started to lead the way down the hall. Then another plan occurred to me. I caught his arm and leaned close to him. “How about searching the rest of the house first?” I whispered. The recollection was still vivid of the way I had messed up the affair in Moore’s house, by walking into a trap, and I thought it would be as well to know whether there were others besides the inhabitants of that one room. My idea was based on reason which was well enough, I thought, but again Larry’s instinct was better.
He turned back, however, and we went through the rooms on the top floor above, without finding anything or any one. Then we descended and went through the rooms on that floor. The last one, next to the room with the light, had another door leading into it, beneath which the light showed, and it was in this room that Larry had the bad luck to fall over a small footstool, making a noise which a person in the next room could not fail to hear if he or she were awake. He had fallen to one knee, but he got up again quickly, smothering a curse, and we stood waiting tensely in the darkness.
We could hear no sound from the next room, but suddenly the door we faced was flung open from within and a man stood framed in the light, crouching a little.
He was a big fellow, nearly filling the doorway. He said something that sounded like Russian in a quavering voice, peering into the darkness as he spoke. Then suddenly, before either of us could move, he vanished.
I dashed into the doorway and the room beyond, with Larry close at my heels. The big fellow had his hand on the wall opposite and was just turning away from some instrument there. As I entered I heard a sound like the buzzer which is used to call messengers. I was vaguely conscious that the man held a revolver in my direction as he turned toward me, but I was so intent upon reaching him without loss of time that the fact hardly registered. At any rate, he had no time to fire it, for I was almost on him as he turned.
My fist caught him between the eyes and he dropped with a groan, the revolver falling limply from his hand. Larry was on him like a flash, pocketing his gun. Then I turned to look at the rest of the room.
In the far corner stood Natalie, her eyes wide with terror and her hands tied behind her. There was no recognition in her eyes—only blind apprehension.
“Natalie!” I cried, “Natalie! For God’s sake, what have they done to you?”
The lovely eyes stared at me, and slowly bewilderment first and then recognition dawned in them. Then, with a little cry, she staggered toward me, bound as she was, and into my arms. “Oh,” she cried, “I knew you’d come. I knew you’d come for me!”
I held her close for just an instant. Then I turned. Larry was trussing up the fallen Russian in a business-like way, with the man’s own necktie, and gagging him with their combined handkerchiefs. “Your knife, quick, Larry,” I whispered, for the ache in my throat at the sight of her would not let me speak aloud.
In an instant Larry was on his feet, and a moment later Natalie’s hands were free. She flung her arms around my neck and pressed her lovely face against my shoulder, weeping softly. “It—it has been—awful—waiting for you,” she sobbed.
Larry touched my arm. “We must get out av it, sor,” he whispered. “Twas a signal he gave!”
At his words Natalie straightened herself, shuddering, and then drew away from me a little shyly. We all listened. An automobile brake screamed suddenly, either in front of the house or very near.
Without a word Larry dashed out into the hall. An instant later he was back again. “Comin’ in here, sor,” he whispered. “Two av thim. ’Twas his signal, likely.”
Natalie moaned and swayed against the wall. “Oh, don’t let them get me again!” she begged, her hands outstretched. Red marks scarred the white wrists.
And suddenly all desire left me to get out of there before the newcomers reached us. Somebody was going to get a lesson that night, I determined.
I ran and closed the two doors. Then I guided Natalie into the far corner and placed her on a chair, putting her hands behind her as though tied. I ran to the wall and tore down the instrument there, spreading the wires well apart and tucking them far back into the hole in the plaster which the instrument had left.
There was a couch in the room, and my next move was to roll the Russian under it and out of sight. “Behind the door, Larry!” I whispered. As he took up his position, where the door opening into the hall would conceal him, I ran to the fireplace, picked up a poker that lay in it, and darted back to Larry. “Get the second man as he comes in,” I whispered; “I’ll take care of the first one!” Then I ran back to Natalie and stood facing her, my back to the door.
I had just taken up my position when the door was flung open and two men rushed into the room. There was a babble of Russian, the two evidently taking me for the gagged and bound watcher, as I had hoped. Then I drew my revolver, turned and covered the first man, just as the poker descended upon the head of the second. The latter dropped without a sound.
“Oh!” gasped Natalie. “That’s—that’s the man who struck me. He—he struck me!” she repeated, like an incredulous child.
“Throw up your hands!” I told him savagely.
The man’s hands went up over his head with a certain airy grace. “And, pray, who are you?” he demanded calmly, in a slightly mincing voice, and in excellent English. “He was at the luncheon,” Natalie gasped. “Mrs. Fawcette introduced him to me and he took me in to the next room to show me some pictures. Then something pricked my arm, and when I woke up I was here—and—and he struck me!”
“Search him, Larry!” I cried.
Larry produced a long, slender sheathed knife from the inside of the man’s trouser band, and a small instrument, the duplicate of the air-revolver Moore had taken from the stranger he shot in my room. Then I threw my own revolver on the couch and started for the airy and well-dressed newcomer.
It was not a pretty sight. But I don’t believe Natalie minded that side of it much. The Russian knew something about boxing, and he evidently knew what was coming when I started for him, for he put up his hands in the most approved style. My own hands were still raw and sore from the encounter in Moore’s house the day before, and they were almost devoid of flesh on the knuckles when I got through with the Russian. But I’m sure I did not mind that; for I left him raw and bleeding, lying in the corner, his clothes torn and his face unrecognizable. Even then I only refrained from dragging him to his feet again for some more because Natalie cried out in pity. “And that’ll teach you to strike women, you swine!” I told him at last. But the Russian only moaned.
Larry went to the bathroom on that floor and came back with some face towels. We gagged both men with their own handkerchiefs and neckties, in some novel and effective way which Larry seemed to have at his finger-tips. Then we rolled the other fellow out from under the couch. And we tied the hands of all three of them with the towels. Larry darted out of the door and down the stairs, and presently he was back again with some cord, evidently torn from the curtains on the first floor.
“This’ll kape thim apart, sor,” he observed. And together we tied the three of them, one on the couch, one in a chair and one on the bed in the next room. Then I turned to Natalie.
“Did anybody else hit you?” I asked her grimly.
“Oh, no,” she breathed. “That’s enough, p-please! Look at your poor hands.” There is a Viking spirit in every woman, however gently reared; for her eyes were shining in spite of the pity in them.
“ ’Twas a glorious fight, sor,” breathed the delighted Larry. “But he’s marked you pretty bad. Come away now and wash yer face, sor. ’Tis no sight for a lady!” Then I realized that the man had got home some pretty fair blows before he went under. He was no coward; I’ll say that for him.
Natalie followed us into the bathroom. She seemed quite recovered and insisted upon washing my face for me, by the light of Larry’s electric torch—a ridiculous proceeding, none the less sweet for that, and one which relieved my mind a good deal. She had not been badly ill-treated if she could recover so quickly.
It was a risk remaining there, but I could not go into the street covered with blood as I was and the risk had to be taken. Besides, it did not seem probable that more of them would turn up that night.
“Tell me everything, Natalie,” I begged, as she bathed my face and hands.
“That was all, Jack,” she whispered. “They did not ill-treat me very much. But some one was watching me every minute and they would not even let me feed myself. What do you suppose they wanted with me? Do you think they were going to hold me to ransom? I haven’t much money. And what happened to Mrs. Fawcette? Is this her house?”
“Yes, this is her house. She’s in the thing, Natalie. If I had only been sure, I could have warned you more fully. But I didn’t like that drugged tea from the start. Tell me, you say they would not let you feed yourself?”
“No. They kept my hands tied. They said they did not want me to kill myself with the knife. That scared me more than anything. Why should I kill myself, Jack?”
I lowered my eyes to hide the red mist that swam in them. I found myself aching to get back to the other two specimens of Russian manhood and give them a dose of the same medicine. I turned away toward where they lay and Larry sensed my thought, for he caught at my arm. “Not now, sor,” he whispered; “we must get the gyurl out av ut, remember.”
I was ashamed and stood waiting quietly until they had finished with my face and hands. Then Larry went out with a muttered word or two about seeing if the coast was clear. I caught Natalie’s hand in mine and kissed it. “Thank God, we found you,” I whispered.
There was a thistle-down touch on my hair, and I looked up to find the lovely parted lips close to mine and the long lashes slowly sinking over the lovely eyes.
A moment or two later Larry coughed close behind me. He seemed to be chuckling about something. I looked at him and he became preternaturally grave. “ ’Tis time we were goin’, sor,” he remarked.
Together we walked to the head of the stairs, leaving the light still on in that one room and the three Russians prone where we had tied them. We dared not light any of the electric lights in the house, but with the aid of Larry’s torch we managed to guide Natalie’s feet until we reached the ground floor.
Here we paused while Larry fumbled with the bolts, and having, at length, got the door open, stuck out a cautious head to see if the coast was clear. He came back to us at last.
“The cyar they come in is gone,” said he, “and there’s nought in sight but a taxi down in front of that apartment house. Shall I call it?”
“We’ll walk down to it, Larry,” I told him, and we sallied forth together.
There was no one in sight in the street as we left the house, closing the door behind us, but as we drew abreast of the taxi, a man who had been getting a light from the driver detached himself from the shadow of the car and shambled away. I went up to the driver and gave him Natalie’s address. He stared at me curiously, for I must have been a pretty sight, but he merely nodded and signed for us to get in.
“Don’t come with me, Jack,” Natalie whispered; “I’ll be all right now. I have a key in my pocket still; I just looked. And you must get home. Why, you might be arrested!”
This event was a good deal more probable than she guessed, and I knew it would be wiser, now that she was out of danger, to let her go alone and get home before the main streets were also deserted and the police began to inspect all passers-by. But some instinct made me hesitate, in spite of the need, on Moore’s account, to keep my freedom.
“The lady’s roight, sor. They’d be sure to pick you up in that condition. Sure, I’ll see the lady safe home mesilf.”
In spite of the wiser instinct, my duty to Moore flooded my mind again and—I have cursed myself countless times for it—I agreed, for I knew she would be safe with Larry, and he was a far better hand than I at avoiding the police.
I turned and held out my hand to Natalie. “All right,” I said. “Some day I’ll be able to tell you why it is better so, Natalie.”
If she was disappointed she did not show it. “That’s right. And come, please, in the morning, or to-morrow afternoon.”
“Thank you,” I whispered, for I could at least telephone to her in the morning. I stooped and kissed her hand. A moment later the door slammed and the taxi started. A faint “Good-night” floated back to me, and they were gone.
As the taxi passed down the street, the man who had been talking to the driver started off at a shambling run and passed around the corner in the same direction that the car had taken. I stopped in my tracks for a moment, wondering. But I could hardly expect to explain the vagaries of such night prowlers, and anyway Larry was with her, and there was nothing I could do, in spite of a sudden vague anxiety at the sight of the running man. I had to get home the quickest way; for it was very late already.
Fortunately I found another taxi at the corner and ten minutes later let myself into my new home. My thoughts were full of Natalie on the ride, and she still filled my mind as I opened my bedroom door, switched on the light and closed the door behind me.
But as I turned back to the room again, the heavy curtains in front of the window parted once more and a man stepped into the room. “Hands up, Clayton,” he said. And I stood like a dunce and stared into the steady muzzle of a revolver.