Miss Maitland, Private Secretary
CHAPTER XXV--MOLLY'S STORY
The morning after that talk with Ferguson I rose up "loaded for bar." Atbreakfast I led Dixon round to the old subject--we were good friends nowand he'd drop his professional manner when we were alone and talk like ahuman being. Of course he remembered everything, and opened up as fluentas a gramophone. Willitts hadn't found them at the movies till nearlyten--been delayed on his way in from Cedar Brook, his landlady's littlegirl had been took bad with croup and he'd gone for the doctor--Dr.Bernard, who was off on a side road half way between Cedar Brook andBerkeley.
That ought to have been enough for me, but having started I thought I'dclear it all up, so I borrowed a bike off Ellen and set out on thedouble quick for Dr. Bernard's. I saw Mrs. Bernard and heard all Iwanted. Willitts had been there on the night of July seventh, came on abicycle, saw the doctor and gave his message about the sick child. Shethought it was somewhere between eight and half-past--the storm was juststopping. I lit out for home; I'd got it all now. He'd gone straightfrom the doctor's to Grasslands, taken the jewels, and made a short cutback to the main road through the woods to where he'd hidden his wheel.
When you get this far on a case there comes over you a sort of terrorthat you may slip up. You have it all in your hand, your fingers arestretched to lay hold on the criminal, and an awful fear takespossession of you that right on the threshold of success you may lose.The cup and the lip--that's the idea.
This seized me on the ride back to Grasslands. Why was the cigar bandgone if he wasn't wise to what it meant? It was a powerful hot day,smothering on the wood roads, but the way I made that machine shootyou'd suppose it was a hard frost and I was peddling to get up mycirculation. He might be gone already, taken fright and skipped! I had avision of telling the Chief and what he'd say, and the perspiration cameout on me like the beads on a mint julep glass. I'd go to town rightnow--there was an express at eleven--but before I left I'd call upCouncil Oaks and find out if he was there.
As I ran up the piazza steps the hall clock chimed out a single note,half-past ten--I had plenty of time. I called to Dixon to order themotor--I was going to town--whisked into the telephone closet, and madethe connection. The voice that answered lifted me up out of thedepths--for I guessed it was Willitts by the dialect, English, with the"H's" hanging on sort of loose and wobbly. To make sure I asked, and itanswered, smooth as a summer sea--yes, I was talking to Mr. Ferguson'svalet, Willitts. Mr. Ferguson was not at 'ome, 'ed gone to the city tobe away a day or two. Was there any message? There wasn't--you could beton that--and I eased off in a high-class society drawl.
With a deep breath I dropped back to normal, smoothed my feathers,powdered my nose, and when the motor came round looked like a shy littlenursery governess, snitching a day off in town.
It was at the station that something happened which ended my peacefulstate and gave me an experience I'll remember as long as I live.
Just as I was stepping on the train I took a glance back along theplatform and there, close behind me, dressed as neat as a tailor'sdummy, was Willitts with a bag in his hand. He didn't notice me, and ifhe had he wouldn't have known me, for I'd only passed him once in thevillage and then he wasn't looking my way. I mounted up the steps andwent into the car. From the tail of my eye I saw him in the doorway andwhen he'd taken the seat in front of me, I dropped against the back ofmine, saying to myself: "Hully Gee, he's _going_!"
All the way into town, I sat with my eyes on his hat, thinking what I'dbetter do. There was one thing certain--that stood out like the writingon the wall--I mustn't let him out of my sight. Where he went I'd haveto go, tight as a barnacle I'd have to stick to that desperado. I triedto think how I could get a message to the Whitneys' office, but I didn'tsee how I was going to find the time or the opportunity. If the worstcame to the worst I could call a cop, but if I knew anything of men likeWillitts, he'd keep a watch out like a warship for periscopes, foranything that wore brass buttons and connected with the law.
The "Penn" station was as hot as a Turkish bath and through it you canimagine me, trying to trip light and airy, and keeping both eyes astight as steel rivets on that man's back. I've never shadowedanybody--it's not been included in my college course--all I knew was Imustn't lose him and I mustn't get him suspicious, and if you're makingaway with a fortune in a handbag, suspicion ought to be your naturalstate. So I trailed after him as far in the rear as I dared, sometimes,a gang rushing for a train coming in between us, sometimes the spaceclear with him hurrying to the exit and me sort of loitering and gawkingup at the maps on the ceiling.
Out in the street he turned and shot a glance like a searchlight roundbehind him. It swept over me and took no notice, which was considerableof an encouragement. If it was warm in the station, it was sizzlingoutside. Men were carrying their coats on their arms, some of them usingpalm leaf fans, careful ones keeping to the edge of shade along thehouse fronts. But Willitts didn't mind the sun; I guess when you'remaking off with a fortune you're indifferent to temperature--it'sanother proof of mind over matter.
After walking down Seventh Avenue for a few minutes he turned to theleft and struck across a side street to Sixth. Half way down the blockhe went into a men's furnishing store, and sauntering slow past thewindow, I saw him looking at collars. There was a stationer's justbeyond and I cast anchor there, by a counter near the door set out withmagazines. A sales girl lounged up, chewing her gum like the heat hadmade her languid, and looking interested over my clothes.
"Awful warm, ain't it?" she said, and I answered, picking up a magazine:
"It's something fierce. I'll take this one."
"You got that one already," says she, pointing to the magazine I'dbought at Berkeley and was still clinging to. "Don't you wanna trysomething new?"
"Oh--it's the heat; the sun gets my head woozy." I picked out anotherand gave her a dollar, the smallest change I had. As she was walking tothe cash register, Willitts passed the door and I was out on the sill,moving cautious to the sidewalk.
"Say," comes the girl's voice from behind me, "what are you doin'? Youain't got your change yet. You'd oughtn't to be let out in this sun."
"Keep it," I called back. "I was a working girl once myself."
At the corner of Fifth Avenue he stopped and, a bus coming along, hehaled it. "Lord," thought I, "if he gets into that without me I'll haveto run after it and they'll arrest me for a lunatic." Being quite a waysbehind, I had to make a dash for it, waving my magazine and holleringlike the rubes from the country. He was up on the roof, and the bus wasmoving when I lit on the step, and was hauled in friendly by theconductor.
We jolted downtown, me sitting sideways in a rear seat watching thestairs for Willitts' legs. It wasn't until we were below Twenty-thirdStreet that they came into view, stepping lightly down. The bus heavedup against the curb and he swung off, me behind him. I was terriblyscared that he'd begin to suspect me, and all I could think of thatwould look natural was to roll my eyes flirtatious at the conductor, whoseemed to like it so much I was afraid he wouldn't let me off.
When I got down on the pavement Willitts was walking along the crossstreet back toward Sixth Avenue. Midway down the block, he stopped anddisappeared through a doorway. I was quite a piece behind him and when Isaw him fade out of sight I forgot everything and ran. At the door Icame up short, panting and purple in the face--the place was arestaurant. It had a large plate glass window with white letters on itand a man making pancakes where he'd show plainest. Inside I could seeWillitts seating himself at a littered up table.
"Lunch!" I said to myself. "He's going to eat, the cool devil. Now's mychance!"
Almost directly opposite was a drug store with telephone booths close tothe window. I could get a message to the office, and if I caught thechief or Mr. George, I could have a man up in twenty minutes. If theyweren't there I'd try headquarters, but I was afraid of that--they'd askquestions, waste time, want to know who I was and what it was all about.If only Willitts was hungry, if he'd only eat enough to la
st till I gotsome one, if he'd only order pancakes. As I waited for the connection Ifound myself sort of praying "Pancakes--make him order pancakes. They'remade in the window and they take quite a while. _Please_ make him eatpancakes!"
Right in the midst of my prayer came the voice of Miss Quinn, theswitchboard girl in the office, and for me it was:
"Quick, Miss Quinn--it's Mrs. Babbitts. Is Mr. Whitney or Mr. Georgethere? Give 'em to me--on the jump--if they are."
She didn't waste a word, and in a minute Mr. George's voice came sharp:
"Hello, who is it?"
"Molly, Mr. George. And I've got Willitts--and I've got enough on him toknow he's the thief--I can't tell you now but--"
He cut in with:
"I know, I know, Ferguson's told us. O'Malley's here now going toCouncil Oaks for him."
I almost screamed:
"Send him _here_. Willitts is off; he's left and I've trailed him. I'mwaiting at the door and he's inside."
"Inside _what_, where the devil are you?"
I gave him the directions and then:
"It's a restaurant; he's eating. But it may only be a doughnut and aglass of milk. If it's pancakes we're safe, but a man lighting out witha fortune in a handbag don't generally want anything so filling. I'llfollow him until I drop, but I don't want to travel round with a jewelthief unless I have to."
"I'll send O'Malley now. You stay right there and if Willitts finishesbefore he comes, hold him any way you can. Get a cop. I'll 'phone toheadquarters for a warrant. So long."
Of course I thought of the cop, but spying out from the doorway, therewasn't one in sight. And by this time I was considerably worked up,afraid to move in any direction, afraid to take my eyes from therestaurant entrance. I pulled up one of the chairs they have for peoplegetting prescriptions filled, and sat down by the doorway, watching theplace opposite, like a cat camped in front of a mouse hole.
Ten minutes had passed. If the traffic wasn't too thick on BroadwayO'Malley could make it in less than twenty. But the traffic _was_thick--it was the middle of the day; if he was stalled or had to make adetour it might run toward half an hour. He might be--The door of therestaurant opened and out crept the mouse.
The cat rose up, soft and stealthy, with her claws ready. As I crossedthe street I sent a look both ways--not a taxi in sight, not a cop, onlythe whole thoroughfare tangled up with drays and delivery wagons. Therewas nothing for it but to stop him, first put out the velvet paw andthen shoot the claws. Jumping quick on the curb I came up alongside ofhim, a smile on my face that felt like the grin you get when you make ajoke that no one sees.
"Why, _hullo_," I said, going at him with my hand out, "I couldn't atfirst believe it--but it _is_ you."
He drew up quick, all on the alert, looking at me with hard, ferreteyes.
"Who are you?" he said, fierce and forbidding. "What do you want?"
I put my head sideways, and tried to take the curse off the smile,changing it to a sort of trembly sweetness.
"Why, _don't_ you know me? I can't be changed that bad. It's Rosie."
I didn't know what his Christian name was and anyway, if I had itwouldn't have helped--a man like Willitts changes his name as often ashe does his address. But I had to call him something, so when I saw theanger rising in his eyes, I said, all broken and tender like thedeserted wife in the last act:
"Dearie, don't pretend you don't remember me--it's Rosie from the oldcountry."
He began to look savage, also alarmed:
"I don't know what you're talking about. I never saw you before in mylife."
He made a movement to pass on, but I drew up close, wiped off the smile,and put on the look of true love that won't let go.
"Oh, dearie, don't say that. Haven't I worn the soles off my shoeshunting for you ever since, ever since--" Gee, I didn't know how tofinish it, then it came in a flash. I moaned out, "ever since weparted."
"Look 'ere, young woman," he said, low, with a face on him like a meatax, "this doesn't go with me. Now get out; get off or I'll 'ave you runin."
I knew he wouldn't do _that_; he'd hand over the jewels first. I raisedup my voice in a wail and said:
"Oh, dearie, you're faking; I won't believe it. You can't haveforgot--back in the old country, me and you."
A messenger boy, slouching by, heard me and drew up, hopeful of somefun. Willitts saw him and began to look like murder would be added tohis other offenses. I gave a glance up the street--still only drays andwagons, not a taxi in sight. Fatima with Sister Anne reporting from thetower, had nothing over me for watchful waiting.
"It's Rosie," I whined, "it's your own little Rosie. If I don't look thesame it's the suffering you've caused me and Gawd knows it."
I laid my hand on his arm. With a movement of fury he shook it off andbegan to back away from me. Another boy had come up against themessenger and lodged there like a leaf in a stream, caught in an eddy. Iheard him say, "What's on?" and the other answered:
"Don't know but I guess it's the movies."
And they both looked round for the camera man.
I don't think Willitts heard them. His back was that way and his face tome, hard as iron and savage as a hungry wolf's. He tried to speak lowand soothing:
"Now 'old your tongue, don't make such a fuss. I'll give you somethingand you go off quiet and respectable." His hand felt in his pocket and Iraised a loud, tearful howl:
"_Money!_ Is it money you're offering? What's money to me whose heartyou've broken?"
"I don't see no camera man," came the messenger boy's voice.
"Aw, he's in one of them wagons," said the other. "I've seen 'em inwagons."
The perspiration was on Willitts' forehead in beads, he was whiteninground the mouth. Putting his face close down to mine he breathed outthrough his teeth:
"What in 'ell do you want?"
"_You!_" I cried and out of the tail of my eye I saw a taxi shoot roundthe corner from Fifth Avenue. Willitts drew away from me, shrunktogether for a race. I saw it and I knew even now, with O'Malleyplunging through the traffic, it might be too late. Embracing is not mystrong suit, no man but my lawful husband ever felt my arms about him.But duty's a strong word with me and then my sporting blood was up. Sowith my teeth set, I just made a lunge at that crook and clasped himlike an octopus.
I didn't know a man was so much stronger than a woman. Willitts wasn'tmuch taller than I and he was a thin little shrimp, but believe me, hewas as tough as leather and as slippery as an eel. I could see the twoboys, delighted, drinking it in, and a dray man in a jumper, drop acrate and come up on the run, bawling: "Say, you feller, let the ladyalone," The boys chorused out: "Aw, keep out--it's the movies!" Willittsmust have heard too, and I guess he saw his chance, for he suddenlysquirmed one arm loose, and whang! came a blow on the side of my head.It might have seemed part of the play but he did it too hard--calculatedwrong in his excitement. I let go, seeing everything--the houses, thesky, the crowd that seemed to start up out of the pavements--whirlinground and shot over with zigzags. There was a roaring noise in my earsand all about, and I dropped over into somebody's arms, things gettingswimmy and dark.
When I came out of it I was sitting on a packing box with a man fanningme and O'Malley, red as a tomato and Willitts the color of ashes in themiddle of a mob. There was a terrible hubbub, people jamming together,the wagons stopped and the drivers yelling to know what was up, headsout of every window, and then two policemen, fighting their way through.I felt queer, sickish, and as if the muscles of my face were all slackso my mouth wouldn't stay shut. But the gentleman fanning me acted awfulkind and a clerk came out of a store with ice water and a wethandkerchief that he patted soft on the side of my head.
I could see O'Malley and the policeman (they'd come from headquarters Iheard afterward) go off into a vestibule with Willitts and the crowdthat couldn't get a look-in came squeezing round me, heads peering upover heads. They'd got the idea that Willitts was my husband, seeming tothink only a lawful spouse would dare
to hit a woman before witnesses inthe public street. The guys in the front were explaining it to the guysin the back and calling Willitts names I couldn't put down in theserefined pages.
It got me laughing, especially when an old Jew who had been sizing me uplike a piece of goods nodded slow and solemn and said: "And she ain'd zobad lookin' neither." I burst right out at that and the man with the fanwaved his arms at them, shouting:
"Give way there--back--back! She wants air--she's hysterical. She's gonethrough more than she can bear."
Gee, how I laughed!
Presently in the center of a surging mass we crowded our way to thetaxi, the policemen going in front and hitting round light with theirclubs. O'Malley with Willitts handcuffed to him got in the back seat, meopposite, with my hat off, holding the handkerchief against my head. Aswe pulled out I looked back over the sea of faces and caught the eye ofone of the policemen. He straightened up, very serious and dignified,and saluted.