Persons Unknown

  CHAPTER XI

  THE ARM OF JUSTICE ON CLEANING DAY: AN OVERTURE TO A COMIC OPERA

  Mrs. Pascoe had some last minute shopping on hand, including farewellgifts for her niece's family and a special token for Maria Rosa, and shewas quite unaware that it would have been a godsend for her daughter'splans had she kept her sharp eyes, that day, on the interior of thetable d'hote. But even had this occurred to her the number of figures onthe background of her son's life had lately so increased that she couldscarcely have been expected to recognize that the friendly Italians whoarrived at the appointed time were not a guard of Nicola's choosing,sent to carry a willing captive to the freedom of Allegra's waitingship, but plain clothes men, who bore their prisoner back to jail. Sheand little Maria Rosa shopped successfully, refreshed themselves at anice-cream parlor, returned home for a distribution of the farewells and,re-emerging from the house in mid-afternoon, walked briskly enougheastward, though now laden with heavier packages. Mrs. Pascoe carried somany bottles of wine that even the stout wrappings threatened to giveway and, wrapped in many folds of clean dust-cloth, Maria bore thepretty jugs.

  "I did lay out you should wait an' take those home," said Mrs. Pascoe tothe little girl, "since your cousin Ally's fixed 'em up so pretty! Butit'll be too late, likely, an' I don't like you should be crossin' thestreet after dark. You better tell me good-by an' run home soon 's I getthe loft cleaned up fer the meetin'. I told yer ma you an' me 'd unpackthat barrel o' backyard party truck an' the boys could bring a bundle ofit over when they leave to-night. No use it settin' in a empty garradge.Don't fergit yer old great-aunt, now will you, M'ree?--an' I'll send yousomepun' reel pretty from furrin' parts, where yer parrot come from."She added, as they crossed under a bend of the Elevated Road into SouthFifth Avenue, "Remember, I've told yer ma ye're always to go out an'visit my folks, same as if I was there. Mercy, I hope it don't rain withall of us trapesin' out there fer our last night! I don't see how theboys are goin' to get that feller out, with them fools skiddin' roundthe roads the way they be--an' Filly'll faint away most likely!"

  They turned in at the door of a small dingy structure, which had beensomething else before it became a garage and that now looked vaguely outof use; from its obscure depths emerged the tall Sicilian, Mr. Gumama,who relieved her of the wine. She and the child mounted a ladder-likestaircase and emerged through a sort of hatchway, scarcely more than anopening in the boards, with its lid tipped back against the wall.

  It was not yet four in the afternoon, but the September light wasalready failing under the low roof of the loft. The windows were builtclose to the floor and that at the rear had a little, begrimed straggleof vine waving in at it. For the window looked out upon a triangle oftrodden earth, heaped as with the rubbish of an old machine-shop butproducing spears of grass and black, stunted bushes to show it had oncebeen part of a yard. In front the loft gave directly upon a turning ofthe Elevated Road, and when a deafening train roared by the whole flimsystructure rattled and shook; the walls were irregularly studded withnails and hooks from which hung lengths of rope and buckled straps as ofold harness that shook, too. Among these, from a cleared space ofhonor, a head of Garibaldi, in gaily colored lithograph, confronted theflyspecked grandeur of the Italian royal family, domestically grouped;the pink paper of cheap gazettes brightened some of the murkier boardswith woodcuts of prizefighters or disrobing ladies. Three or four stoolsstood about on the dingy boards and rather a greater number of worn outchairs; a couple of heaping barrels in one corner were covered with anold awning; there was a small bureau, once yellowishly glazed, withoutany glass; a kitchen table, stained with al fresco dinners, had beenbrought in from the yard; in another corner, torn rubber curtain-flaps,collapsed tires and threadbare leather cushions supported each other.Suddenly Mrs. Pascoe uttered a little hiss. She had perceived, sittingin the frame of the front window, a listless, undersized, undevelopedlad with the delicate, soft-eyed face of a young seraph, who lookedseventeen and had probably turned twenty.

  This young person was reading an Italian newspaper and sucking a limpcigarette which hung from between his teeth and occasionally scatteredsparks down the slim chest which his inconceivably filthy shirt leftopen to his belt. He was greeted devotedly by Maria as Cousin Beppo and,though he was evidently the old lady's abomination, when she accostedhim with the unconciliatory greeting, "Here, you! You stir yourself!" hereared himself slowly to his feet and, with a good-natured smile, saggedamicably toward her.

  "I don't s'pose you think so," snapped Mrs. Pascoe, "but this place'sgot to be swep' out!"

  Fortunately, the tidying of the loft did not depend upon thesweet-smiling indolence which remained unbroken while she swept andrubbed; when the barrels were despoiled of their green and pink netting,their feast-day lanterns and paper flowers Beppo nosed ingratiatinglyup; but long before the old woman had laid clean oil-cloth over tableand bureau he was playing charmingly with Maria, whom he coaxed tocarry a chair to the rear window, to fill and set upon it a tin basin,and to filch him a clean dust-cloth.

  Then he began cautiously to wash his face, down almost to the black rimmidway of his pretty throat; cleansing his hands, too, but not so as todisturb the fingernails. Out from the top drawer of the bureau he took abroken bit of mirror, also richly scented pomatum with which he smoothedhis hair well down over his brows and then he brought forth a velvetjacket and a waistcoat sprigged with embroidered flowers. He handledthem as if they were vestments and, despite the warmth of the afternoon,their weight did not appal him. To these, over the filthy shirt, headded a silk neckerchief of robin's egg blue and a glittering scarfpin;there came forth, from its hiding-place about his person, a verygraceful little knife which he stuck with airy bravado in his belt.Lastly, he lighted a huge cigar and assumed, though for indoor displayonly, a soft hat balanced on the left side of the head, and a light caneswung from the left hand. Standing thus, full-costumed, with ahip-swaying swagger, he was more picturesque though less fashionablethan his confreres of northern races, but his infamous profession wasnone the less proclaimed in every line of him. And once more he turnedthe sweet beam of his smile upon the little girl.

  Beppo had not, however, dressed himself for professional purposes. Thecoming occasion was more solemn and his toilette an act of the purestpiety. Perhaps that was why, when Mrs. Pascoe turned her contempt on himagain, he was no longer amused.

  The old woman, as she set out the jugs, was saying, "Fetch up thembottles, M'ree. An' Becky or whatever your name is--"

  She turned and beheld the basin of dirty water. "You take that rightdown stairs!" cried she, in outrage. "An' the rest o' yer trash withyeh! When I clean a place, I want it left clean!"

  He said something, sulkily, about emptying it herself.

  "Well, when I come to emptyin' swill, 't won't be no Dago swill! Here--"

  For he had furiously snatched the basin above his head to dash it on thefloor.

  She caught at and somehow prevented him, but not from whirling itthrough the window into the back yard. He was smiling again at thisassuagement to his dignity when he suddenly perceived that the strugglehad sprinkled his vest; spots appeared also upon his scarf's ceruleanblue! He became, on the instant, a maniac, not human; he raved, heshrieked, his delicate skin flamed, tears suffused his eyes, he ran upand down scattering prayers, howls and curses. Until, one of thesevoyages bringing him close to Mrs. Pascoe's small disgusted figure, heseized her by the wrist and with the deliberate, systematic skill ofcustom began to wrench her arm.

  Mrs. Pascoe very promptly kicked him in the shins. "If my son Nick washere he'd take the buckle-end o' one o' those straps an' spank the lifeout o' yeh! Yeh wax-face! Yeh--" For once stooping to Italian she shotforth the word, "Ricondoterro!"

  It was his calling and he should not have objected to it. None the less,pursing his soft lips he spat a fine spray over her face. She jumped athim in such a fury that Maria threw protecting arms about herplayfellow; then they were all parted by the tall Sicilian, Mr. Gumama
.

  This imposing person had, with dramatic quiet, brought up the wine; andnow, holding Beppo by one wrist, he listened to Mrs. Pascoe's angrycluckings. Then he seemed merely to put out one fist. The boy fell onhis back without even a cry and lay as he fell. "Why, you beast, you!"cried Mrs. Pascoe. "Mebbe you've killed him!"

  "No. But no matter," said Mr. Gumama. "Go and make your guard. Come notup again till I call you. Take the child."

  She went, holding Maria's hand and looking back, with her old minglingof curiosity and reluctance at the prone figure of the prettyricondoterro, from whose nostrils blood had begun copiously to gush onher clean floor. The tall Mr. Gumama was evidently not one to be defied.

  It was half-past four and those who were expected began to come. First acouple of laborers, warm from their work; the next had the proud bearingof a chauffeur; after him came a respectable professional man, probablya dentist, wearing a black suit, a full beard and glasses; then a plumpand coquettish little beau, the owner of a fruit-and-candy stand, whobore a flower in his light, ornamental coat and the scar of a knifeacross his rosy left cheek. He was followed by his cousin, who had onlya fruit cart and sold for him on commission. One and all were obliged tohalt before Mrs. Pascoe, who sat on a stool at the foot of the stairs,playing solitaire on a couple of orange boxes.

  She bent her tongue Italianwards and asked of each the same question.

  "What do you want here?"

  "Justice!"

  "How can you get it?"

  "By the Arm of God."

  "Who is your enemy and mine and your children's children's?"

  "A traitor!"

  "Y' can g'won up."

  As they emerged into the loft they were each greeted by Mr. Gumama andthen dropped themselves awkwardly about on stools and window-sills, withthe whispering stiffness of people in their best clothes. Beppo,moaning, now lay huddled on his side and, as occasion arose, theystepped about and over him without the slightest interest or even malignamusement in his plight. By-and-by he got to his hands and knees andcrawled into a corner, where, with the now fatally ruined blue scarfheld to his nose, he shivered himself slowly quiet. But his pomatum cameinto play with the laborers, who sat seriously down by the still brightrear window and beautified their heads with it, cheerfully assistingeach other's toilet as amiable monkeys often do and even smearingthemselves a little from the communal mercies of the water-pitcher."Enough!" Mr. Gumama sternly rebuked them. "Business alone!"

  They looked meekly at him, stricken, and he called one of them byname--"Take the stairs!"

  The man crossed to the opening in the floor and seated himself a littleback from where it gave into the room; the knife which he drew frominside his clothes seemed a trifle clouded and he sat idly polishing it.Mr. Gumama looked at his large silver watch and, stepping to the frontwindow, glanced out. A certain anxiety in him began to make itself felt.

  More and more men arrived, but evidently not the looked-for men. Astrapping youth began unconcernedly to converse with Beppo about a duelthey were to fight. "I cannot remain forever a picciotto. If I do notfight the next duel how shall I ever get to be a member?"

  "Me they will not yet let fight again." Beppo stopped sniffling anddisplayed, a bit above his knee, a wound that might have been made witha knife like that in his belt or a short dagger. "In two duels have Ilost, and if I lose the third I lose my entry."

  The strapping youth began to get excited. "With whom, then, can Ifight? How long do they intend to keep me waiting? See, now, I want myrights--I want to be promoted--"

  A man with turned-up red mustaches, sporting a carnation and a pair ofhighly polished boots, interrupted his complaint that the bootblackunder the Elevated had overcharged him and reproved Beppo for kickinghis chair. The fruit-vendors also stopped quarreling over the accusationof the huckster that the merchant had supplied him with decayed fruit;the merchant allying himself with the strapping youth and declaring thathis wife's brother was right and ought to be promoted. Then, with theone word, "Peace!" Mr. Gumama struck them into abject silence.

  "Peace! Ludovisi, your wife's brother may win all three duels and yetendure years of probation. Beppo, let your squeal rise once more and youare suspended for a month.--Have you, then, no wits at all? Let theresult of this meeting go a little wrong and promotion it will be nomore! At least for us, fellow members of the old-days Arm of Justice,for we shall be no more!"

  A number of men cast glances of horror. But after a few lightning-shotgrowls even this number returned to its knitting, being accustomed toobey and not to ask questions. Again Mr. Gumama looked at his watch.

  More and more men arrived till the loft was crowded. The unknown personswho had so long so strangely shadowed the pathway of Christina Hope werebeginning to mass for action and to detach themselves from thebackground. And still as the loft darkened with the passage of eachtrain and relightened less and less when that was gone, another presenceseemed to enter and abide; the growing, shadowy presence of suspense. Itwas in the air, for the ignorant many as well as for the few whounderstood. There were brief silences so deep that the little vine,spying in at the window, could be heard tapping on the upper pane. Thena cab stopped outside and a startled thrill passed through the assembly.The man who had been told to take the stairs rose with a soft,business-like precision and drew his knife. He stood, waiting. Somethingin his attitude defined his duty as preventative not of an entrance, butan exit. Any unwelcome comer who got past Mrs. Pascoe's guard would getfarther; he would enter the loft, but he would never leave it. He wouldnot even turn round. Mr. Gumama, watching the cab avidly, opened hisfateful mouth. But the men disgorged from its disreputable depths werefriends to that house.

  The first two tumbled into the garage, glanced round, saluted Mrs.Pascoe, and returned to the assistance of those on the sidewalk. Thesemanoeuvered between them a man with his hat pulled down over his eyesand an overcoat hanging about his shoulders whom they supported like adrunkard. A fascinated crowd stopped to wink and advise. As soon as thetwo men were inside they threw their burden flat on the floor andreturned to the cab for another. The man on the floor was gagged, hisarms were tied behind him and even his thighs were bound.

  Swarthy as was the man's face Mrs. Pascoe was still observing withannoyance these signs of roughness when a second human bundle wasbrought in from the cab and the cavalcade somehow hoisted itselfupstairs. In the loft the human bundles were propped against the walland the meeting came to attention.