CHAPTER IV
A Responsible Position
There was the muffled sound of many feet in the basement as Davidslipped across to the doorway of the store, where was situated theletter-box through which he would be able to pass a signal to ConstableHemming; and for a while he stood still listening.
'Better make absolutely sure that they are coming up here,' he toldhimself, tip-toeing back towards the head of the basement stairs. 'Andthere's another thing to consider. If they have entered through thatcupboard, they will escape that way, unless, of course--my word! thatwould alter matters very materially.'
For at first sight, and remembering what he had read about otherburglaries, David had taken it for granted that the men he had seenstepping into the basement had gained access to the cupboard through ahole in the wall. Then, suddenly, the idea had flashed across his brainthat probably they had merely secreted themselves there during the day,unseen by any save, perhaps, an accomplice in the store. In which casetheir retreat was cut off.
'Out of the question,' he told himself, bending over the basementbanisters. 'There is that heavy parcel. They couldn't have brought thatin. No, they have broken through the wall in some manner. Let me see.'
In his mind's eye he inspected the surroundings of the store, butobtained little help from his review of the dwellings. For though amixed property lay adjacent to the store, and, indeed, was attached toits walls, the majority of the premises were divided into numerousoffices and workrooms, while there was an enormous number of tenants.However, his reflections were suddenly cut short, for one of the fourmen below suddenly put in an appearance, and came hurrying up thestairs, his rubber soles making not a sound. Instantly David took to hisheels and ran across to the manager's office, the latter affording asafe asylum near to the door through which he was to give his signal. Hebolted through the open swing-doors of the office, and turning roundpeered through the glass screen which helped to form it. His heart beganto beat furiously; for the men had all reached the ground floor by now,and were advancing direct for the manager's office.
'They'll see me at once, of course,' thought David, on the verge ofpanic 'I can't get out without their catching sight of me. Where am I tohide?'
The answer came to him within the second as he ran his eyes round theoffice, for all the world as if he were a hunted animal. 'Ah, behind thebookcase. That'll do for me.'
Quite close to him, with its back placed within a foot of one wall ofthe office was a big desk, with a leather top, on which ink, paper, andpens were scattered. And posted on it, right at the back, was a smallbookcase, filled with directories and a heterogeneous mixture of booksand papers, besides a bale of leather samples. It afforded the onlyhiding-place possible, and David slid towards it eagerly. The spacebehind was barely sufficient to accommodate him, for our hero wasinclined to be somewhat bulky, and showed promise of one day possessingbroad shoulders and big limbs. However, by pushing firmly, he was ableto roll the desk a couple of inches outward on the parquet flooring, andthat without so much as a sound. He was hardly ensconced in the spacebehind when one of the strangers entered.
'Bring it in here, bring it in here,' David heard him say, with apeculiarly nasal accent, while the words were slurred as if a foreignerhad given vent to them. 'There, lay it down, we are not ready for ityet. Bah! why not a light here of all places? There are lamps going allover the store, and the police know them and take no further notice. Buthere, where we want them, none. _Peste!_ How stupid of the owners!'
There came a snigger from the man directly behind him, while David couldhear the deep breathing of the two who were carrying the long, strangeobject.
'It's heavy, at any rate,' he told himself. 'Let's take a squint at 'em.Jolly glad I am that there isn't a lamp going here. The light would comethrough between the books and show me nicely. My word! This is a finepeep show! There are a dozen niches through which I can get a view.That's an electric torch. Ain't the chap careful to keep the light onthe floor too! Every one of them wearing gloves. This is interesting.'
He almost forgot to think of himself and the undoubted danger of his ownposition. For the four men in the manager's office, one of them not morethan the desk's width from David, occupied the greater part of histhoughts. It was true that there was no light in this particular part ofthe store; but, then, elsewhere there were electric lamps, and theillumination of the whole place and of this office in particular, thoughnot brilliant, was ample for our hero. His eyes were used to thedimness, and as he stared between the books on their dusty shelves, hewas able first of all to detect the fact that all four burglars wore kidgloves on their hands and rubber shoes on their feet For the rest, threewere undoubtedly of dark complexion and wore moustaches, while thefourth, the only one whose aspect was decidedly English, wasclean-shaven. He leaned his back against the wall close to the bookcase,and breathed heavily while David surveyed his companions.
'Can't think why them cylinders are so heavy,' our hero heard himgrumble. 'From the look of the things, with their rope coatings, you'dsay as they was that light a child could play with 'em. But, my! theymake a chap blow. Where's the safe?'
'S-s-sh, my friend. People will find us before we find the safe if youmake such a bother,' declared the man who had led the way into theoffice, and who for a moment had used his electric torch. 'The safe ishere, without doubt, seeing that it was here this morning, and suchthings are not moved as easily as are boxes. Behold the safe, myfriend.'
Tucked away in his hiding-place David went hot all over, till beads ofperspiration streamed from his forehead, and his clothing clung to himuncomfortably; for in the leader of the gang--for such the speakerseemed to be--he suddenly recognised an official of the store who hadhad some years of service with his employers, and who was an expert inthe jewellery department.
'And is a burglar all the while,' thought David, common sense tellinghim that the man was an expert in this branch also; for otherwise, howcould he wear such a business-like air? How could he appear sounconcerned, so used to midnight entries into closed premises? 'Queer,'thought our hero. 'It just shows his cunning. The articles which havebeen disappearing have not been stones or jewellery. Valuable furs havegone, and Henricksen has nothing to do with that department. So they'reafter the safe? I should laugh right out if it didn't happen to bedistinctly dangerous; for our manager took care to empty it. There areuseless books inside; nothing more.'
'Behold the safe, my friend,' said Henricksen again, triumphantly, hiseyes flashing as he turned towards the clean-shaven man beside thebookcase, while his electric torch played on the huge mass of paintedsteel, wherein the most valuable jewels and the money of the store werewont to rest at night. 'You grumble at the weight of a couple ofcylinders; let us see if you will grumble when we come to handle thegold. But we must be moving; there is big work before us, and it is nowtwenty minutes after midnight. Yes, precisely that time.'
His coolness was amazing. David saw him refer to a neat little watchstrapped to his left wrist, and noted at the same moment that the gloveshe wore were of reddish colour, while the left one was split up theback. Then his eyes went to the cylinders lying snugly on the floor, andfrom them to the other men.
'They might be any nationality,' he thought. 'To look at them now theydon't appear to be ruffians, but there you are, old ideas are beingexploded every day of the year. A criminal face does not always mean amurderer or a burglar. Some of the most cunning fellows known to thepolice of late have had quite a sanctimonious appearance. Thewell-groomed, gentlemanly criminal who is a clever hypocrite has abetter chance to-day than the man with the face of a bull dog, theforehead of a Cree Indian, and the narrow, half-closed eyes of a Chinee.What are they up to now?'
He might well ask the question, for David was not used to burglariousenterprises. Up till this moment he had hardly dared to imagine how themen would endeavour to force the huge safe in the office. Then heremembered the cylinders, and remembering them, and drawing upon hisslender engineering knowledge, he
realised that modern methods areadopted not alone by scientists who mostly discover them, and byup-to-date manufacturers, but also by up-to-date malefactors. Theoxy-acetylene flame, he knew, would eat its way into a mass of steel sotough that not even a finely-tempered drill would touch it. Also, thatit would burn a path far sooner than the same could be formed by theaid of the best of tools. His past knowledge told him all that. But howwould these men set about the task, and----
'That's not the sort of thing I want to be interested in just now,' hesuddenly told himself. 'I want to get out of this, and without theirknowing; how's that to be done? A fine fool I shall look if I have towatch their operations and see them get away without summoning thoseposted outside. How's it to be done?'
He might ask himself the question a thousand times, but yet there was noanswer. Puzzle his wits as he might, he could see no way out of thedifficulty. He was trapped; he was virtually a prisoner. A movement onhis part would be fatal; these men were armed perhaps.
'Armed--that's a shooter, a magazine pistol!' He almost said the wordsaloud of a sudden, for his danger was brought full face before him. Theman, Henricksen, pulled something from his trouser pocket and depositedit on the desk behind which David was crouching. The thing glittered inthe feeble rays. It flashed brightly as the electric torch happened tocast a beam in its direction. It was a Browning pistol without a shadowof doubt. It brought David Harbor to a full stop for the moment; evenhis heart seemed to arrest its palpitations.
'Unstrap the rugs,' he heard Henricksen say, as if he were a mile off,'fix the props, and let us get going. When all is ready Spolikoff willget along and watch the door and windows, while Ovanovitch will mountthe stairs and clear every jewel that he thinks worth having. TheAdmiral will lend me a hand. Got those glasses, Admiral?'
The individual alluded to, he with the clean-shaven face, searched in aninner pocket, and produced two long cases. He placed them on the desk,and then proceeded to help his companions. Nor could there now be adoubt in David's mind that the gang was experienced and well drilled.There was not a hitch, not a false move in the proceedings. They wentabout the work like men who had done the same before, and who in eachcase knew what was required of them. A huge, thick rug or mat--Davidcould not tell which--was unwound from the outside of the tworope-covered cylinders, and was quickly supported on four wooden legs,so contrived as to telescope at the will of the owners. A second rug wasslung at one side, making a species of tent, the roof being meantwithout doubt to arrest the glare of the flame about to be employed, andkeep it from reflecting on the ceiling. While the side curtain wouldkeep the rays from the shop windows and from the eyes of curious orsuspicious passers.
'And now for the burner,' Henricksen said, seating himself on a chairbeneath the tent, and donning a pair of dark-coloured spectacles. 'Puton your pair of glasses, Admiral. I've known a man pretty nigh blindedby the glare of the flame, and in any case, supposing there was trouble,you wouldn't be able to see when you wanted to hook it. Fix those rubbertubes. We'll have things going nicely in a second.'
David took in a long breath as he watched the scene, and once more hiseyes surveyed each member of the gang. 'Two Russians,' he told himself,looking at the dark moustached men told off to leave the office.'Spolikoff and Ovanovitch. The sort of alien not wanted in this country,and the Admiral is, I suppose, an ex-sailor--a bad hat, dismissed fromthe lower deck, a confirmed criminal. The only Englishman amongstthem--what an artful fellow Henricksen must be! Who would have thoughtthat the man employed in the jewellery store could be such adouble-faced rascal! And there's his pistol.'
Yes, there it was, twinkling in the dim light, fascinating David,drawing his eyes in its direction every half minute, inviting him toinspect it further, rousing his envy, making his fingers itch to possessand handle it.
'Why not? With a long reach I could do it. Why not? It's a risk. I'lltake it.'
It was typical of the lad that he should come to a sudden decision, andhaving so decided, should proceed to carry the task out with all hiscourage and determination. Was that not David's character? Had he notalready shown courage and determination? What were Mrs. Clayhill's wordson our hero? 'Stubborn and obstinate,' she had misrepresented him.'Perseveres in a thing he has decided on; just like his father.'
At such times her none too pleasant features bore a somewhat ferociousaspect 'Ain't she just angry?' David used to say, as he went his way,deeming it best to absent himself for the moment. 'Just sparks flashingfrom her eyes. She doesn't seem as if she could be friendly. I must bean out and out obstinate fellow.'
And so he was. David was an obstinate fellow without a shadow of doubt,but with this saving clause--he was not selfish, and he was possessed ofcommon sense; he could criticise his own actions and impulses. If heonce, on maturer reflection, came to the conclusion that a certaindecision was wrong, he had the sense to change it. His obstinacy wasconfined to matters wherein he felt that there could be no error.Witness his intention of fending for himself, of making his way alone inthe world. David had that as a fixed and firm-rooted purpose before himnow. His strong chin squared itself in the most emphatic manner wheneverthe matter crossed his mind, which was nearly always. But here was thepistol.
'I'll have it,' he told himself, his muscles tightening. 'One longstretch and there it is. Ah! they're turning their backs; I'll have achance before very long.'
'Now the match; set the flame going,' he heard Henricksen say, andlooking beneath the tent-like structure saw a sudden flash, and theprofiles of this man and the 'Admiral.' The latter was holding a matchtowards the end of the long brass burner which Henricksen gripped in hishands. David noticed that two separate pipes converged towards the endinto one, from which a small flame now spouted, while Henricksencontrolled two taps, one for each of the tubes, with his fingers.Farther back a rubber tube went to each of those of metal leading tothe burner, and ended at one of the cylinders, or rather, to put it inthe correct order, began there, carrying the gas to the burner.
'You two get off,' said Henricksen, seeing that he had a flame.'Spolikoff, keep moving up and down, and if you hear a latch click, sitdown as tight as possible. The police look into the store every timethey pass, and might see you. Admiral, pull that rug round a bit. Thelight will break too much round the corner.'
What a clever criminal he was! David marvelled that it could be the samesleek, suave man who waited in the jewellery department, and enticedcustomers to buy the things he offered. Then his eyes closed suddenly,for Henricksen's fingers manipulated the taps of his burner, and at oncea fierce flame spurted out, casting about it a dazzling light. Peeringround the corner of the rug which the 'Admiral' had drawn towards him,and shading his eyes behind an enormous directory, David caught aglimpse of the intensely hot jet of flame playing on the door of thesafe in the neighbourhood of the lock. It seemed that he could actuallysee the paint peeling off, while, almost at once, the metal beneathbecame white hot. In less time than he could have believed it possibleit seemed to be pitting, as if the flame were devouring portions of it.Then, very suddenly, the 'Admiral' pulled at the rug again, and theglare and the figures beneath the tent were obliterated. David gentlyremoved one of the ponderous volumes, stretched his arm through theopening, and possessed himself of the Browning revolver.
'So far, so good!' he thought. 'Now to get out of the place. Wonderwhether I could climb over the glass partition? No, wouldn't do; Ishould be seen by Henricksen at once.'
He forgot for the second that the ruffian who went by that name, and whoin his everyday life was looked upon as a clever and capable salesman inthe store, was at that moment wearing dark spectacles, through which hecould see nothing but the glare of the acetylene flame. David failed toremember that, even armed with those glasses, the glare was such that aman manipulating the blow-pipe would require a few moments rest toaccustom his eyes to lesser illumination. Then the thought occurred tohim. He stretched his neck round the edge of the bookcase, and caught aglimpse of the flame. Its brilliance was int
ense. It caused his pupilsto contract with painful suddenness, and turning his head away, he foundthat everything was a dark blank. For the moment his own eyes wereuseless. The experience emboldened him.
'I'll creep out and across the office behind the tent,' he said. 'ThenI'll dodge the Russian Spolikoff. Ah! what's that?'
A motor horn sounded suddenly out in the street, and he heard the rattleof a passing automobile. The next instant there came a sharp click,which was easily heard above the gentle roar of the oxy-acetylene flame.Promptly the glare died down. Henricksen had manipulated the taps andhad shut down the gas.
'Stay still,' David heard him whisper to the man known as the'Admiral.' 'It's a policeman inspecting. He won't see the glare; hecouldn't with this tent. What's he making all that noise about?'
It was Constable Hemming without a doubt, and if the truth had beenguessed at, the honest fellow had suddenly become fearful for the safetyof our hero. There was a second constable on duty with him, patrollingthe outskirts of the store, and the latter had reported a sudden glarewithin. Hemming was sceptical; but he went at once to the letter-box,and opened the flap with a loud click. Yes, there did seem to be a glareover the manager's office, he thought, but it died away at once.
'He's been having a feed,' he suggested to his comrade. 'Switched on alight in the office for a while, and then turned it out again. He'llhave heard the latch go, he'd have shouted if there was trouble.'
But the sound he had made had been sufficient to alarm Henricksen andhis comrades. David saw the 'Admiral' suddenly crouch close to the floorand grope in his pocket. Henricksen tore his glasses from his eyes, andemerging from the tent, groped on the desk for the weapon he had leftthere. A growl escaped him as he failed to find it. His fingers ran overthe leather surface, over the pens and ink bottle and paper, but stillthey were unsuccessful. Then he turned to his comrade.
'That fellow made a heap of noise,' he said. 'I thought he might besuspicious. Suppose he didn't see or hear Spolikoff; but where's myBrowning? I could swear that I left it on the desk here.'
'I saw you,' came the answer. 'You put it down close to the ink bottle:ain't it there?'
'Not a sign of it. Can't very well see yet, for that glare is terrificin spite of smoked glasses. But I've run my fingers everywhere, andthere's no shooter. Spolikoff's taken it perhaps.'
Meanwhile, David had crouched behind the bookcase again, and for themoment almost shivered. It was true that he was now armed; but wouldthat help him against such miscreants, considering he was like a rat ina trap, hemmed in the closest quarters? He even thought wildly of makinga dash for the outside of the manager's office, and was bracing hismuscles for the effort, when a dusky figure came sliding in through theglass doorway, to be detected instantly by our hero, but not so by theothers, for their backs were in that direction, while even if it hadbeen otherwise their eyes were still hardly fit for such a task.
'S-s-shish!' said the man, whispering. 'It's Spolikoff. A policeman cameto the opening and rattled. I dived down and sat still; then I managedto get to a place where I could see through a chink in the shutters. Twoconstables were talking outside. I saw them part and walk away along thepavement. It's all clear again.'
The 'Admiral' gave vent to a sigh of relief, and wiped the sweat fromhis forehead, while Henricksen turned round and stared hard at the man,still unable to see him.
'You get back to that peep hole right away,' he commanded gruffly, 'andwatch out for the police. Give us a signal when they're coming. I'mafraid they may see the glare. Did you walk off with my shooter?'
Spolikoff denied the charge promptly. 'Here's my own,' he said. 'Butperhaps Ovanovitch took it; he has a way of borrowing things! I will goand ask him.'
'You'll just get right off to that peep hole,' he was commanded.'Ovanovitch can hand over the gun when he comes down. Should say he'llnot be long; that place upstairs don't take long clearing. My! won'tthis be a haul! I've done the firm in for a thousand pounds alreadyduring the past six weeks. Monday's their day for banking, and I reckonwe shall clear double the amount once we get this safe open. Get along,Spolikoff. Now, Admiral, put your back to it; we've a long job beforeus.'
David breathed more easily as Henricksen gave up for the moment hisquest for the revolver. Then he watched the two men creep into the tentagain, and drag the side curtain still more round them. He waited tillthe glare of the flame once more reached his eyes, and then began toslide along to the far side of the bookcase. Bang! crash! A volume whichhad been resting unbeknown to him on the very edge of the desk toppledover at the movement, and went to the floor with a thud. Henricksen andhis comrade darted from beneath their covering as if they had been shot.
'What was it? What was it?' the former asked breathlessly, evidentlyscared by the noise. 'Something fell quite close to us. Look about.'
But that was just exactly what they found a difficulty in doing, forthey had again donned their smoked spectacles, and had had their flameplaying on the safe. However, the 'Admiral' dropped on to his knees andwent groping about the floor close to the desk till his fingers came incontact with the fallen book. A low guffaw broke from him.
'Here's what's caused all the pother,' he laughed. 'In searching forthat shooter you must have just balanced the book on the edge of thedesk. Of course it went bang: it would do--just to scare us. Blessed ifthese glasses don't bother a fellow. Even now I can't see a thing; it'sall feeling. But it's a book all right, no mistake about it.'
Another growl came from Henricksen: he hated such interruptions. True,he had had to put up with them before in the course of his criminalcareer, but he imagined that by now he was hardened. It angered him tofind himself so easily scared. For the moment, too, he was almostsuspicious; the strange disappearance of his revolver, coupled with thefallen book, tended to alarm him.
'I'm jumpy to-night,' he told himself, with an oath. 'Fact is, if I amever to be taken I'd fifty times rather have it elsewhere, and not herewhere I'm at home as it were. Come along, let's get to at the job; it'lltake a couple of hours to work round this lock.'
A couple of hours: then David had plenty of time before him. Should hestay where he was, and not risk further movement till matters hadsettled down a little?
To be absolutely candid regarding him, there was doubt in his mind onthis occasion, doubt engendered by fear of what might happen. And who,remembering all the circumstances, could feel surprise? Where he wasthere was security. He had already had it proved to him that the back ofthe bookcase was an excellent hiding-place. Why not stay there insafety, then? Why not wait a little and see what turned up?
'Bah!'--he could have kicked himself--'Funking, are you?' he almostgrowled aloud. 'Putting your tail between your legs because you areafraid of these men--afraid when you've got a revolver! Gurr!'
He flicked beads of perspiration from the corners of his eyes, and oncemore squeezed stealthily along behind the case. Yet again he caught theglare of the oxy-acetylene flame, while the gentle buzz of the jetstruck upon his ear. Another motor car passed in the street with a gurrand a blast from its horn; then there was silence. David reached theedge of the case, looked cunningly about him, and stole straightway tothe door. He turned to watch the glare, and caught a glimpse of the'Admiral's' leg as it showed beyond the curtain. Then he stared into themain portion of the store looking eagerly for Spolikoff, but withoutsuccess.
'Got to dodge him,' he told himself. 'Got to reach the door and give thealarm. Supposing I do? What'll happen?'
He was now some fifteen paces from the office, and stood for a fewseconds considering the question. What would the burglars do once thealarm was given, and Constable Hemming had placed his key in the lockand thrown the door open?
BURGLARS AT THE STORE]
'It's as clear as daylight,' thought David. 'They'll run below rightaway. Perhaps they'll shoot as they go. In any case, they'll be out andaway before the police can guess what they're doing. I've got to put astop to that.'
He stole forward again in th
e direction of the door, wondering whatcourse he ought to pursue; then, as if doubtful, he turned towards theentry to the stairway leading to the basement.
'Why not?' he asked himself. 'I'll go down there and--'
His hair almost stood on end; his heart seemed to stop abruptly and hismuscles felt paralysed all in one brief second; for a figure was comingtowards him, a dusky figure, sidling silently across the floor; and in aflash he recognised the man. It was Spolikoff, the Russian, sent byHenricksen to keep watch and ward.