Chapter Twenty-one
_The Miracle_
No great intelligence was needed to understand the meaning of it.Fernand, having trapped his game, was now about to kill it. He couldsuffocate the two with smoke, blown into the tunnel, and make them rushblindly out. The moment they appeared, dazed and uncertain, therevolvers of half a dozen gunmen would be emptied into them.
"It's like taking a trap full of rats," said Ronicky bitterly, "andshaking them into a pail of water. Let's go back and see what we can."
They had only to turn the corner of the tunnel to be sure. Fernand hadhad the door of the tunnel slid noiselessly open, then, into the tunnelitself, smoking, slowly burning, pungent pieces of pine wood had beenthrown, having been first soaked in oil, perhaps. The tunnel was rapidlyfilling with smoke, and through the white drifts of it they looked intothe lighted cellar beyond. They would run out at last, gasping forbreath and blinded by the smoke, to be shot down in a perfect light. Somuch was clear.
"Now back to the wall and try to find that door," said Ronicky.
Jerry had already turned. In a moment they were back and tearing withtheir fingers at the sham wall, kicking loose fragments with their feet.
All the time, while they cleared a larger and larger space, theysearched feverishly with the electric torch for some sign of a knobwhich would indicate a door, or some button or spring which might beused to open it. But there was nothing, and in the meantime the smokewas drifting back, in more and more unendurable clouds.
"I can't stand much more," declared Jerry at length.
"Keep low. The best air is there," answered Ronicky.
A voice called from the mouth of the tunnel, and they could recognizethe smooth tongue of Frederic Fernand. "Doone, I think I have you now.But trust yourselves to me, and all may still be well with you. Throwout your weapons, and then walk out yourselves, with your arms aboveyour heads, and you may have a second chance. I don't promise--I simplyoffer you a hope in the place of no hope at all. Is that a goodbargain?"
"I'll see you hung first," answered Ronicky and turned again to his workat the wall.
But it seemed a quite hopeless task. The surface of the steel was stillcovered, after they had cleared it as much as they could, with a thin,clinging coat of plaster which might well conceal the button or devicefor opening the door. Every moment the task became infinitely harder.
Finally Jerry, his lungs nearly empty of oxygen, cast himself down onthe floor and gasped. A horrible gagging sound betrayed his efforts forbreath.
Ronicky knelt beside him. His own lungs were burning, and his head wasthick and dizzy. "One more try, then we'll turn and rush them and diefighting, Jerry."
The other nodded and started to his feet. Together they made that lasteffort, fumbling with their hands across the rough surface, andsuddenly--had they touched the spring, indeed?--a section of the surfacebefore them swayed slowly in. Ronicky caught the half-senseless body ofJerry Smith and thrust him inside. He himself staggered after, andbefore him stood Ruth Tolliver!
While he lay panting on the floor, she closed the door through whichthey had come and then stood and silently watched them. Presently Smithsat up, and Ronicky Doone staggered to his feet, his head clearingrapidly.
He found himself in a small room, not more than eight feet square, witha ceiling so low that he could barely stand erect. As for thefurnishings and the arrangement, it was more like the inside of a safethan anything else. There were, to be sure, three little stools, butnothing else that one would expect to find in an apartment. For the restthere was nothing but a series of steel drawers and strong chests,lining the walls of the room and leaving in the center very little roomin which one might move about.
He had only a moment to see all of this. Ruth Tolliver, hooded in anevening cloak, but with the light gleaming in her coppery hair, wasshaking him by the arm and leaning a white face close to him.
"Hurry!" she was saying. "There isn't a minute to lose. You must startnow, at once. They will find out--they will guess--and then--"
"John Mark?" he asked.
"Yes," she exclaimed, realizing that she had said too much, and shepressed her hand over her mouth, looking at Ronicky Doone in a sort ofhorror.
Jerry Smith had come to his feet at last, but he remained in thebackground, staring with a befuddled mind at the lovely vision of thegirl. Fear and excitement and pleasure had transformed her face, but sheseemed trembling in an agony of desire to be gone. She seemed invinciblydrawn to remain there longer still. Ronicky Doone stared at her, with astrange blending of pity and admiration. He knew that the danger was notover by any means, but he began to forget that.
"This way!" called the girl and led toward an opposite door, very low inthe wall.
"Lady," said Ronicky gently, "will you hold on one minute? They won'tstart to go through the smoke for a while. They'll think they've chokedus, when we don't come out on the rush, shooting. But they'll wait quitea time to make sure. They don't like my style so well that they'll hurryme." He smiled sourly at the thought. "And we got time to learn a lot ofthings that we'll never find out, unless we know right now, pronto!"
He stepped before the girl, as he spoke. "How come you knew we were inthere? How come you to get down here? How come you to risk everythingyou got to let us out through the treasure room of Mark's gang?"
He had guessed as shrewdly as he could, and he saw, by her immediatewincing, that the shot had told.
"You strange, mad, wild Westerner!" she exclaimed. "Do you mean to tellme you want to stay here and talk? Even if you have a moment to spareyou must use it. If you knew the men with whom you are dealing you wouldnever dream of--"
In her pause he said, smiling: "Lady, it's tolerable clear that youdon't know me. But the way I figure it is this: a gent may die any time,but, when he finds a minute for good living, he'd better make the mostof it."
He knew by her eyes that she half guessed his meaning, but she wished tobe certain. "What do you intend by that?" she asked.
"It's tolerable simple," said Ronicky. "I've seen square things done inmy life, but I've never yet seen a girl throw up all she had to do agood turn for a gent she's seen only once. You follow me, lady? I prettynear guess the trouble you're running into."
"You guess what?" she asked.
"I guess that you're one of John Mark's best cards. You're his chiefgambler, lady, and he uses you on the big game."
She had drawn back, one hand pressed against her breast, her mouth tightwith the pain. "You have guessed all that about me?" she asked faintly."That means you despise me!"
"What folks do don't matter so much," said Ronicky. "It's the reasonsthey have for doing a thing that matters, I figure, and the way they doit. I dunno how John Mark hypnotized you and made a tool out of you, butI do know that you ain't changed by what you've done."
Ronicky Doone stepped to her quickly and took both her hands. He wasnot, ordinarily, particularly forward with girls. Now he acted asgracefully as if he had been the father of Ruth Tolliver. "Lady," hesaid, "you've saved two lives tonight. That's a tolerable lot to havepiled up to anybody's credit. Besides, inside you're snow-white. We'vegot to go, but I'm coming back. Will you let me come back?"
"Never, never!" declared Ruth Tolliver. "You must never see me--you mustnever see Caroline Smith again. Any step you take in that direction isunder peril of your life. Leave New York, Ronicky Doone. Leave it asquickly as you may, and never come back. Only pray that his arm isn'tlong enough to follow you."
"Leave Caroline?" he asked. "I'll tell you what you're going to do,Ruth. When you get back home you're going to tell Caroline that Jerry,here, has seen the light about Mark, and that he has money enough to payback what he owes."
"But I haven't," broke in Jerry.
"I have it," said Ronicky, "and that's the same thing."
"I'll take no charity," declared Jerry Smith.
"You'll do what I tell you," said Ronicky Doone. "You been botheringenough, son. Go tell Caroline what I've s
aid," he went on to the girl."Let her know that they's no chain on anybody, and, if she wants to findBill Gregg, all she's got to do is go across the street. Youunderstand?"
"But, even if I were to tell her, how could she go, Ronicky Doone, whenshe's watched?"
"If she can't make a start and get to a man that loves her and iswaiting for her, right across the street, she ain't worth worryingabout," said Ronicky sternly. "Do we go this way?"
She hurried before them. "You've waited too long--you've waited toolong!" she kept whispering in her terror, as she led them through thedoor, paused to turn out the light behind her, and then conducted themdown a passage like that on the other side of the treasure chamber.
It was all deadly black and deadly silent, but the rustling of thegirl's dress, as she hurried before them, was their guide. And alwaysher whisper came back: "Hurry! Hurry! I fear it is too late!"
Suddenly they were climbing up a narrow flight of steps. They stoodunder the starlight in a back yard, with houses about them on all sides.
"Go down that alley, and you will be on the street," said the girl."Down that alley, and then hurry--run--find the first taxi. Will you dothat?"
"We'll sure go, and we'll wait for Caroline Smith--and you, too!"
"Don't talk madness! Why will you stay? You risk everything foryourselves and for me!"
Jerry Smith was already tugging at Ronicky's arm to draw him away, butthe Westerner was stubbornly pressing back to the girl. He had her handand would not leave it.
"If you don't show up, lady," he said, "I'll come to find you. Youhear?"
"No, no!"
"I swear!"
"Bless you, but never venture near again. But, oh, Ronicky Doone, I wishten other men in the whole world could be half so generous and wild asyou!" Suddenly her hand was slipped from his, and she was gone into theshadows.
Down the alley went Jerry Smith, but he returned in an agony of dread tofind that Ronicky Doone was still running here and there, in a blindconfusion, probing the shadowy corners of the yard in search of thegirl.
"Come off, you wild man," said Jerry. "They'll be on our heels anyminute--they may be waiting for us now, down the alley--come off, idiot,quick!"
"If I thought they was a chance of finding her I'd stay," declaredRonicky, shaking his head bitterly. "Whether you and me live, don'tcount beside a girl like that. Getting soot on one tip of her fingermight mean more'n whether you or me die."
"Maybe, maybe," said the other, "but answer that tomorrow; right now,let's start to make sure of ourselves, and we can come back to find herlater."
Ronicky Doone, submitting partly to the force and partly to thepersuasion of his friend, turned reluctantly and followed him down thealley.