CHAPTER XVI.
A DETECTIVE TRAPPED.
While the thieves are gazing upon her from above, Leslie Warburton,unconscious of this new danger that threatens her, replaces her veil andcontinues to address the old man.
"Once more, and for the last time," she pleads, "I ask you to tell methe truth. Give up this claim of kinship. If you were my father,something in my heart would tell me so; God has not created me lowerthan the brutes. What do you know of my parentage? You must possess someknowledge. Man, I would go upon my knees to you to learn the truth!"
Papa is silent a moment, then he begins to cough violently. It is thesignal for the two thieves to enter, but they do not respond as promptlyas Papa could wish.
"My child," he begins feebly, but leaves the sentence unfinished at thesound of a double knock upon the door.
"Ah-h-h!" he cries with evident relief, "here comes your mother; she cantell you how wrong you are."
And he hastens to admit an old woman, literally lost in an ampleold-fashioned cloak, and bearing in her arms a long and apparently heavybundle.
"Ah," says the old hypocrite, "here you are at last, after being at thetoil of the poor. Come in, old woman, here is our proud girl come to seeus." Then as his eyes rest upon the bundle, he grasps her wrist andhisses in her ear: "You old fool! to bring _that_ here."
"I had to do it," she retorts in a whisper; "there are cops in thealleys."
With a fierce gesture toward the rear door, Papa seizes the bundle,saying:
"Why, it is very heavy; old iron, I suppose; and how horrid those oldrags smell. We must take them away, old woman."
And with a jerk of the head which, evidently, she understands, he turnstoward the aforementioned door, and they bear the big bundle out betweenthem.
Perhaps it is the flickering light, perhaps it is her disordered fancy,but as they bear their burden through the doorway, Leslie Warburtonhalf believes that she sees it move. A moment later she starts forward,her face blanched, her eyes distended.
"Oh, am I losing my senses?" she cries, "or _did_ I hear a child'svoice, a voice like my little Daisy's, calling 'mamma?'"
A moment she listens, but no child's voice breaks the stillness; evenPapa and Mamma Francoise are silent in the room without.
A sudden feeling of terror possesses Leslie.
"Oh, these wicked people are driving me mad!" she murmurs brokenly."_Anything_ is better than this. I will go home and confess all to myhusband. I will brave the worst, rather than be so tortured!"
Drawing her cloak about her, she makes a step toward the door.
Only a single step, for strong hands seize her from behind, and,uttering a shriek of terror, she sees a ferocious face close to her own,feels a clutch upon her throat, and is struggling between two fierceassailants.
"Get on to the shiners, gal," commands Siebel, as he pinions her armswith his powerful hands.
Again Leslie utters a cry for help, and what follows is the work of amoment.
The outer door, left unbarred after the entrance of Mamma Francoise, isdashed open and a man attired as a sailor bounds into the room. At thesame moment Papa and Mamma Francoise rush upon the scene.
"Stop, Josef, you demon, stop!" cries Papa wildly, and scarce noticingthe stranger in their midst; while the sailor, without uttering a word,hurls himself upon Leslie's assailants.
Then follows a moment of confusion, a wild struggle for the mastery,which ends soon in a horrible tableau.
Near the door stands Papa Francoise, his face livid, his teethchattering, his foot poised for instant flight. In the corner, bornedown by the force and fury of Mamma Francoise, the girl, Nance, liesprostrate, her throat still in the clutch of the virago, whose facebears bloody evidence that Nance has not succumbed without a struggle.In the center of the room stands Alan Warburton, one arm supporting thehalf fainting form of Leslie, the other hanging limp by his side; and athis feet, ghastly and horrible, lies the form of Josef Siebel, his skullcrushed out of all semblance to humanity, and a bar of rusty iron lyingclose beside him.
There is a moment of awful stillness in the room.
Then Leslie Warburton's strong nature asserts itself. Withdrawing fromAlan's supporting arm, she fixes her eyes upon his face.
"Oh, Alan," she says, "you followed--"
"I followed you? Yes," he answers sternly. "Hush!" as she is about tospeak, "this is no time for words."
There is a shout from the street, and the sound of approachingfootsteps. Papa Francoise seems galvanized into new life.
"The police!" he cries, springing through the door by which he haslately entered. Mamma Francoise, releasing her hold upon the girl,Nance, bounds up in affright, and hurries after her partner in iniquity;while Nance, who evidently fears her less than she dreads the police,loses no time in following the pair, leaving Alan and Leslie alone, withthe dead man at their feet.
"There is a moment of awful stillness in the room."--page130.]
The approaching footsteps come nearer, and Alan, seizing Leslie by thearm, drags her toward the door by which the others have escaped.
"Go!" he says fiercely, "the police are coming; go, for the sake of thename you bear, for your husband's sake, go! _go!_ GO!"
As he forces her resisting form across the threshold she turns upon hima face of piteous appeal.
"Alan! And you--"
His lip curls scornfully.
"I am not a _woman_," he says impatiently; "_go, or_--"
Some one is entering at the outer doorway. He pushes her fiercely outinto the rear room, from which he knows there is a means of exit, closesthe door, and turns swiftly to face the intruders.
Silly Charlie has crossed the threshold just in time to see Leslie asshe disappears through the opposite door. He has one swift glimpse ofthe fair vanishing face, and then turns suddenly, and with a soundindicative of extreme terror, brings himself into violent contact withVan Vernet who is close behind.
Before he has so much as obtained a glimpse of the scene, Vernet findshis legs flying from under him, and in another moment is rolling uponthe floor, closely locked in the embrace of Silly Charlie, who, in histerror, seems to mistake him for an enemy.
When he has finally released himself from the grasp of the seemingidiot, and is able to look about him, Van Vernet sees only a dead manupon the floor, and a living one standing at bay, with his back againsta closed door, a deal table before him serving as barricade, and, in hishand, a bar of rusty iron. There is no trace of the Francoises, andnothing to indicate the recent presence of Leslie Warburton.
Struggling away from the embrace of Silly Charlie, and bringing himselfslowly to his feet, Vernet says angrily:
"You confounded idiot, what do you mean?"
But the "idiot" only sits upon the floor and stares stupidly, and Vernetturns from him to glance about the room. At sight of the dead man hestarts eagerly forward.
"What's this?" he queries sharply, glancing down at the body and drawinga pistol with a quick movement. "A murder!" And he levels the weapon atAlan, dropping upon one knee, at the same instant, and with theunoccupied hand touching the face of the dead man. "A murder! yes; andjust committed. Don't you stir, my man," as Alan makes a slightmovement, "I'm a dead shot. This is your work, and it seems that weheard this poor fellow's death-cry. Skull crushed in. Done by that barof iron in your hand, of course. Well, you won't crack any more skullswith _that_."
While Vernet delivers himself thus, Alan Warburton is thinkingvigorously, his eyes, meanwhile, roving about the room in search of someavenue of escape other than the door over which he stands guard, andthrough which, he is resolved, the detective shall not pass, at leastuntil Leslie has made good her escape from the vicinity. He is unarmed,save for the bar of iron, but he is no coward, and he resolves to make afight for Leslie's honor and his own liberty.
Gazing thus about him he sees the seeming idiot rise from his crouchingposture and creep behind Vernet, beginning, over that officer'sshoulder, a series of strange gestures.
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Shaking his fist defiantly behind Vernet's left ear, in token, Alanconjectures, of his opposition to that gentleman, he makes aconciliatory gesture towards Alan. And then, placing his fingers uponhis lips, he shakes his head, and points again to Vernet, who now risesfrom his examination of the body, and calls over his shoulder:
"Charlie, come here."
Leering and laughing, Charlie comes promptly forward.
"Ugh!" he says, making a detour around the body of Siebel, "Charlie wasscared. Charlie don't like dead folks." And he plants himself squarelybefore Vernet, grinning and staring at Alan the while.
"Out of my range, fool!" cries Vernet angrily. And then, as Charliesprings aside with absurd alacrity, he says to Alan: "Fellow, throw downthat iron."
But Alan Warburton gives no sign that he hears the command. He has notrecognized the voice of Vernet, and is not aware of the man's identity,but he has an instinctive notion that his address will not be in keepingwith his nautical costume, and he is not an adept at dissimulation.
"You won't eh?" pursues Vernet mockingly. "You are very mum? and nowonder."
"Mum, mum," chants Silly Charlie, approaching Alan with gingerly steps,and peering curiously into his face.
Then bending suddenly forward he whispers quickly: "_Keep mum!_" andbursting into an idiotic laugh, _pirouettes_ back to the side of Vernet.
"Charlie," says Vernet suddenly, and without once removing his eyes fromAlan's face, "put your hand in my side pocket--no, no! the other one,"as Charlie makes a sudden dive into the pocket nearest him. "That'sright; now pull out the handcuffs, and take out the rope."
Charlie obeys eagerly, and examines the handcuffs with evident delight.
"Charlie" says Vernet, "you and I have got to make this man a prisoner.If we do, you will get your star and uniform."
"Hooray!" cries Charlie, fairly dancing with delight. "Gimme, gum--gimmeknife!"
"Why, the blood-thirsty fool!" exclaims Vernet. "No, no, Charlie; wemust put on these handcuffs, and rope his feet."
"Hoop la!" cries Charlie; "gimme rope."
Seizing the rope from Vernet's hand, he advances toward Alan,gesticulating savagely. Suddenly Alan raises the iron bar and menaceshim. Charlie stops a moment, then flinging aside the rope he makes aswift spring, hurling himself upon Alan with such sudden force that thelatter loses his guard for a moment, and then Van Vernet is upon him. Hemakes such resistance as a brave man may, when he has a single hand fordefence and two against him, but he is borne down, handcuffed, andbound.
As he lies fettered and helpless, in close proximity to the murderedsneak thief, Alan Warburton's eyes rest wonderingly upon Silly Charlie,for during the struggle that strange genius has contrived to whisper inhis ear these words:
"_Don't resist--keep silence--we are gaining time for her!_"
"Charlie," says Vernet, "that's a good bit of work, and I'm proud ofyou. Now, let's make our prisoner more comfortable."
Together they lift Alan, and place him in a chair near the centre of theroom. Then, finding it impossible to make him open his lips, Van Vernetbegins a survey of the premises.
"We must get one or two of my men here," he says, after a few moments ofsilent investigation. "Charlie, can I trust you to go back to the placewhere we left them?"
Charlie nods confidently, and makes a prompt movement toward the door.Then suddenly he stops and points upward with a half terrified air.
"Some one's up there," he whispers.
"What's that, Charlie?"
"Somebody's there. Charlie heard 'em."
Van Vernet hesitates a moment, looks first at the prisoner, then atCharlie, and slowly draws forth his dark lantern.
"I'll go up and see," he says half reluctantly, and making his pistolready for use. "Watch the prisoner, Charlie."
But Silly Charlie follows Vernet's movements with his eyes until he haspassed through the low door leading to the stairway. Then, glidingstealthily to the door, he assures himself that Vernet is alreadyhalf-way up the stairs. The next moment he is standing beside theprisoner.
"Hist, Mr. Warburton!"
"Ah! who--," Alan Warburton checks himself suddenly.
"Hush!" says this strangest of all simpletons, in a low whisper, at thesame moment beginning to work rapidly at the rope which binds Alan'sfeet. "Be silent and act as I bid you; I intend to help you out of this.There," rising and searching about his person, "the ropes are loosened,you can shake them off in a moment. Now, the darbies."
He produces a key which unlocks the handcuffs.
"Now, you are free, but remain as you are till I give you thesignal,--ah!"
The tiny key has slipped through his fingers and fallen to the floor. Itis just upon the edge of the scrap of dirty carpet; as he stoops to takeit up, it catches in a fringe, and in extricating it the carpet becomesa trifle displaced.
Something underneath it strikes the eye of the seeming idiot. He bendscloser, and then drags the carpet quite away, seizes the candle, andsprings the trap which he has just discovered. Holding the candle abovethe opening, he looks down, and then, with a low chuckle, spreads thecarpet smoothly over it, rises to his feet, and listens.
He hears footsteps crossing the rickety floor above. Van Vernet, havingfailed to find what he sought for aloft, is about to descend.
Stepping quickly to Alan's side, Silly Charlie whispers:
"Fortune favors us. We have got Vernet trapped."
"_Vernet!_" Alan Warburton starts and the perspiration comes out on hisforehead.
Is this man who is his captor, Van Vernet? Heavens! what a complication,what a misfortune! And this other,--this wisest of all idiots, who callshim by name; who knows the reason for his presence, then, perhaps, knowsLeslie herself; who, without any motive apparent, is acting so strange apart, who is _he_?
Mentally thanking the inspiration which led him to retain his incognitowhile negotiating with Van Vernet, Alan's eyes still follow themovements of Silly Charlie.
As he gazes, Vernet enters the room, a look of disappointment anddisgust upon his face.
"Charlie, you were scared at the rats," he says; "there's nothing elsethere."
The trap is directly between him and the prisoner, and as he walkstoward it, Silly Charlie fairly laughs with delight.
"What are you--"
The sentence is never finished. Vernet's foot has pressed the yieldingcarpet; he clutches the air wildly, and disappears like a clown in apantomine.
"Now," whispers Silly Charlie, "off with your fetters, Warburton, and Iwill guide you out of this place. You are not entirely safe yet."
Up from the trap comes a yell loud enough to waken the seven sleepers,and suddenly, from without, comes an answering cry.
"It's Vernet's men," says Silly Charlie. "Now, Warburton, your safetydepends upon your wind and speed. Come!"