XXVI
FERRY LIGHTS
There could be but one reason for this message from the DistrictAttorney. I had identified myself too closely with the Gillespie casenot to have attracted the notice of the police. I was about to becalled upon to explain; and, while I shrank from the task, I could notbut acknowledge to myself that the time for such explanations hadcome; that the burden then weighing upon me was too heavy to be borneany longer unassisted.
But the explanations I have thus alluded to would cost me Hope. Neverwould she forget through whose instrumentality the man she loved hadbeen betrayed to his doom.
It was now raining hard, and the chill which this gave to theatmosphere was sensibly felt by us both as we stepped out into theair. At the suggestion of the officer accompanying me, I had providedmyself with a heavy overcoat. It stood me in good stead that night,much more so than I had any reason for anticipating when I donned it.
The ride down-town was hurried and without incident. I entered theDistrict Attorney's office about nine o'clock, and found him in closeconversation with Mr. Gryce. Both showed relief at seeing me. Thisdid not add to my satisfaction, and when the detective rose and Inoticed his composed aspect and the somewhat startling fact that thewrinkle which I had so long observed between his brows had entirelydisappeared, I experienced a strange sensation of dread only to beaccounted for by the delicate nature of the sympathy which bound me toHope Meredith. For the moment I was Leighton Gillespie, conscious ofguilt and quailing under the quiet eye of this old detective.
This sensation, odd and thrilling as it was, did not cease with thefirst sight of this man. It followed me with more or less insistencethrough the whole of this memorable night, occasioning me, I have nodoubt, a more poignant anguish and a more intolerable share in thegrief and suspense of the woman most affected than Leighton Gillespiehimself would have felt or did feel when the whole power of the lawwas brought to bear upon him.
But these feelings, with all their sub-consciousness of another'ssuffering, did not interfere with my outward composure; and I may hereremark in passing that I learned a lesson from this experience whichhas proved of great use to me in my profession. However true it may bethat sudden shock reveals the hidden motions of the heart, it is alsotrue that a man, if he is a man, may be the victim of the keenestinternal struggle without abating a jot of his natural manner, orshowing by look or gesture the wild contention raging within him. ThisI have learned, and I no longer gauge a man's internal sensations byhis outward appearance.
The District Attorney was not slow in making me understand what hewanted of me.
After the necessary civilities had passed, he told me bluntly that hehad heard of my visit to Mother Merry's and of the conversation I hadheld there with a young woman against whom a warrant of arrest had forsome time been made out. As by this interview I had been renderedcompetent to identify her, would I be good enough to accompany theofficers who were about to attempt her arrest? A failure in seizingthe right girl would at this stage of the affair be fatal to thesuccessful progress of the important matter at present engaging them.
What could I say? My position at the best required explanation, andany hesitation I might show towards aiding the police in theirlegitimate task, might easily be construed not only to my owndisadvantage, but to that of the man in whose behalf I showedresistance. Indeed, there was nothing left for me but acquiescence,hard and uncongenial as I found it.
"I am at your service," I returned. "But, first, I should like toexplain----"
"Pardon me," interposed the District Attorney. "Explanations will comelater. Mr. Gryce says he has no time to lose, the woman being a veryrestless one and liable at any moment to flit. Her name isMille-fleurs; or, rather, that is the name by which she is known onthe police books. You have seen her, and have only to follow Mr.Gryce; he will explain the rest."
I bowed my acquiescence, and joined the old detective at the door.
"It will be a rough night," that venerable official remarked, with akeen glance at my outfit. And with just this hint as to what wasbefore us, he stepped out into the street, where I hastily followedhim.
We did not carry umbrellas, Mr. Gryce looking upon them as a uselessencumbrance; and as I waited there in the wet while my companionexchanged some words with a man who had stepped up to him, I marvelledat the impassibility of this old man and the astonishing vigour heshowed in face of what most young and able-bodied men would considerthe disadvantages of the occasion. Short as was the whisperedconference, it seemed to infuse fresh life into the rheumatic limbs Ihad frequently seen limping along in much more favourable weather, andit was with a gesture of decided satisfaction he now led the way to acab I had already seen dimly outlined through the mist which nowenveloped everything in sight.
"We shall have to cross the city," he announced, as he followed meinside. "It's a bad night and gives promise of being worse. But youare young, and I--well, I have been younger, but, young or old, havealways managed so far to be in at the finish."
"It is the finish, then?" I ventured, with that sinking of the heartLeighton might have felt had he heard his own doom thus foreshadowed.
The old detective smoothed out the lap-robe he had drawn over hisknees.
"There is reason to think so, unless some mistake or unforeseenmisfortune robs us of success at the moment of expected triumph. Isyour interest a friendly or a professional one? The affair is onewhich warrants either."
It was a question I was surely entitled to evade. But I had alreadydecided to be frank in my explanations to the District Attorney, andwhy not with the man most in his confidence?
"I am a friend of Miss Meredith," said I; "in other words, her lawyer.She is more than a friend to the Gillespies, as her relationshipdemands. To serve her interests I have meddled more in this matterthan was perhaps judicious. I was anxious to prove to her that hercousins' lives would bear scrutiny."
"I see, and discovered that one of them, at least, would not. Poorgirl! she has my sympathy. You are without doubt a man we can rely on,no matter into what complexities our errand takes us?"
"I don't know; I have never undergone any great test. I am willing toassist you in the identification of this girl; but I would rather notbe present at her arrest."
We were crossing Broadway. He looked out, gave one rapid glance up anddown the busy street,--busy even at that hour and in the wet,--andquietly remarked:
"Or at his, I suppose?"
The jolting of the cab over the car-tracks struck my nerves as hisquestion did my heart. To this day I never cross a street track in acarriage, but the double anguish of that moment comes back; also themist of lights which dazzled down the long perspective as I cast aglance through the dripping windows.
"His?" I repeated, as soon as I could trust my voice.
"Yes, Leighton Gillespie's. We expect to take him to-night in hercompany," he added.
That last phrase startled me.
"You are going to take him in the presence of Mille-fleurs!" Iexclaimed. "Why, I saw him an hour ago standing in his own hall inFifth Avenue."
"No doubt, but if you have made a study of Mr. Gillespie's habits, youhave learned that he is given to sudden sallies from his home. He willbe found, I assure you, in the same house as Mille-fleurs. I hope wemay make no mistakes in locating this house correctly. I hardly thinkwe shall. The men I have chosen for the job are both keen andreliable; besides, for a gentleman of his antecedents, Mr. Gillespieshows a startling indifference to the result of his peculiarescapades. A strange man, Mr. Outhwaite."
"Very," I ejaculated abstractedly enough. My thoughts were with apossibility suggested by his words. Pursuing it, I said, "The letter Isaw Mr. Gillespie read was from her, then? I noticed that it causedhim great agitation, even from where I stood on the other side of thestreet."
The old detective smiled instinctively at my reckless betrayal of thepart I had played in this scene, but made no reference to the factitself, possibly because he was as well acquainted with my
movementsas I was myself. He only gave utterance to an easy-toned, "Exactly!"which seemed not only to settle this matter, but some others theninflaming my curiosity.
"We have been waiting a long time for some such communication to passbetween them," he presently resumed, with a benevolent condescension,springing, perhaps, from our close contact in that jolting cab."Otherwise, we should have taken him to-day, and in his own house. Wehave had great difficulty in holding the reporters back and even inkeeping our own men quiet. It was desirable, you see, to take themtogether."
"And couldn't she be found? Wasn't she at Mother Merry's?"
"Not lately. No one answering to her description has shown up therefor days. She seems to have fled from that place, alarmed, no doubt,by the interest shown in her by the young gentleman who got speechwith her at the cost of a couple of silver dollars."
I began to note the corners as we passed them.
"Then we are not going to Mother Merry's?" I observed.
"No, we are not going to Mother Merry's."
"Yet we are not far from the docks," I remarked, as I caughttransitory glimpses of the unmistakable green and red lights of theferry-boats shining mistily on the left.
"No, our errand takes us in the region of her old haunts. I hope youfeel no concern as to your safety?"
"Concern?"
"Oh, there's cause enough, or would be, if we were not in force. Butour preparations have been made very carefully, and you can trust usto bring you out all right."
I signified my entire satisfaction. The prospect of physical struggleor some open adventure was welcome to me. My inner excitement wouldthus find vent.
"Do not bother about me," said I. "What I dread most is thepossibility of meeting that unhappy woman's eye. Seeing me with you,she may think I have betrayed her. And perhaps I have; but it was donewithout intention. She did not strike me as a wicked woman."
"So much the less excuse for the man who has made her his accomplice,"came in quiet rejoinder.
This ended our conversation for the time.
We were now making our way up-town through upper West Street. As Icame to what I knew must be Canal Street from the cars that wentjingling across our path, the difficulties of advance became moremarked, and finally the cab stopped.
"What is going on here?" I asked, as carriage after carriage rolledinto our course, till the street was blocked and we found itimpossible to proceed.
"It's a Cunarder going out. The tide sets late to-night."
Here a coach, with a sweet-faced girl, drew up along-side us. I couldsee her happy smile, her air of busy interest, as she bent her head tocatch a glimpse of the steamer upon which she was perhaps about totake her first voyage abroad. I could even hear her laugh. Thesensation was poignant. Wrapt up in the thought of Hope, whom I hadnot forgotten for one moment during this wild ride, the sight of joywhich might never again be hers came like a glimpse into anothersphere, so far removed did I feel from everything bespeaking theordinary interests of life, much less its extraordinary pleasures andanticipations.
Mr. Gryce in the meantime was fuming over the delay.
"We might better have come up ---- Street," he said. "Ah! that'sbetter. We will arrive at our destination now in less than tenminutes."
We had passed the Cunarder's wharf, and were now rolling rapidlynorthward.
Suddenly the cab stopped.
"Again?" I cried.
Mr. Gryce replied by stepping out upon the sidewalk.
"We alight here," said he.
I rapidly followed him.
The rain dashing in my face blinded me for a moment; then I perceivedthat we were standing on a corner in front of a saloon, and that Mr.Gryce was talking very earnestly to two men who seemed to have sprungup from nowhere. When he had finished with what he had to say to them,he turned to me.
"Sorry, sir, but we shall have to walk the rest of the way. There arealleys to explore, and a cab attracts attention."
"It's all one to me," I muttered; and it was.
He turned east and I followed him. At the first crossing, a man glidedinto our wake; at the second, another. Soon there were three mensauntering behind us at a convenient distance apart. Each held apoliceman's club under his coat; and walked as if the rain had nopower to wet him. Suddenly I felt myself wheeled into an alley-way.
It was pouring now, and even the street lamps shone through a veil ofmist, which made them all look like stars. The alley was dark, forthere were no lamps there; only at the remote end a distant glimmershone. It came from the murky panes of some shop or saloon.
Towards this light we moved.