CHAPTER XIII--IN HER SERVICE
Perhaps never had Peter Pape felt in more of a rush to reach any givenspot. Yet, once there, he seemed in a greater rush to get away. Scarcelydid he pause in his brisk walk along the pavement outside the park wallto study the details of the scene beneath the poplars which so hadinterested him--three laborers dressed in jeans, each equipped with pickor shovel, digging in the shade under direction of a dapper-dressed,slight-built stranger. But in the sprinkling of curious bystanders, menand women who decorated the wall like rail-birds, there was no sight ofher whom he rather had expected to find among those present.
The total absence of Jane Lauderdale, either in the bonnet and black ofEast Sixty-third Street or in the modish morning frock which might haveattired her dual self, decided his next move. By passage of severalminutes, a picked-up taxi and a dollar bill, he was mounting the frontsteps of the old, scaly far-East mansion. The front door standing open,he seemed tacitly invited to enter without formality of a ring. Uponundertaking the flight of stairs within he congratulated himself that hewas not superstitious. Every step of the weathered wood squeaked,scrooped or screeched as if in ill-omen. Never had he climbed soforeboding a stair-case, albeit never so determinedly.
Just why he had come did not matter. There was plenty of time, as hetold himself, to argue that out afterward. Impulse had mastered him, thesame sort of impulse that would have started him burning the trail backhome to warn a pal whose mining claim had been jumped or whose cattlewere being rustled toward the Canadian line. Actionful resentment hadmoved him, as during the previous winter when he had discovered poachersattacking the Yellowstone buffalo herd and had skied forty miles inblizzard weather to warn the Spread-Eagle Rangers. So far as he cared tofigure in the emergency, a bent-back, ill-clad old lady--no matter whoelse or what else or whyfore else she might be--had preempted thatpoplar patch and owned therefore the exclusive digging rights thereto.In the event that she herself had not instigated the present activity,he was here to warn her.
Whom he should meet at the top of his climb was problematic. If it wasthe blond-mopped man--Well, they both might be taking chances.
A moment did he pause before the door of the fourth floor front. Supposea maid attended his knock, for whom should he ask? "Miss Lauderdale"might not be known in the house--mention of the name might betray anincognito. Reminding himself, however, that a servant was the difficultyleast likely to be encountered in that tenement, he knuckled up his handand knocked.
His first rap did not bring response; had to be repeated moreperemptorily. He could hear low voices within. Then there was silence.Perhaps the occupants of flats did not answer unexpected knocks. Hishand was fisted for a third when the knob turned and the door opened acrack.
No face appeared; nothing but a voice--a woman's, hard and impatient.
"Yes. What is it? Who do you want?"
Pape was returned to the quandary of the maid possibility. Before hecould decide what to answer the suction of wind from the hall drewaround the edge of the door a fluttery bit of black skirt.
"I want you, Jane," he hazarded.
Curiosity, surprise or exasperation ruled her--perhaps a combination ofthe three. Her young-white face in its old-black bonnet followed theskirt around the door edge, high as his own and so close that herbreath, warm and sweet as a summer zephyr off a clover field, blew uponhis cheek.
"_You_?" she gasped, as before, out under the trees.
"Again," he finished for her with the briefest of bows.
She narrowed the crack and moved across it, evidently to protect theroom from his inspection. Not exactly a "welcome to our happy home" washer next offering, although in her natural tones.
"So you followed me home last night, after all! How dared you? What isthe meaning of your espionage?"
His courage was lit by the blaze of her look.
"There's a particular meaning to it that I hope you won't find sounwelcome. I've whizzed hereward to inform you that a gang ofgrave-diggers are exercising their muscles 'neath the shade of thesheltering poplars where you and Kicko were planting bones lastevening."
He felt gratified at the importance of his news, as shown by its effecton her. Her lips paled as they parted. The pansy-black irises widenedwithin the blue of her eyes in her concentrated stare. Lines lengthenedher face more suitably to the poke of the bonnet that framed it.
"Who--_who_?" she demanded, her voice scarcely more than a rasp.
"That I didn't linger to learn. I saw them as I was polkaing past uponmy trusty steed just now. Thought you mightn't know."
She turned her head and spoke as if to some one within the room.
"Oh, what shall we do? If they've solved the cryptogram--if theyfind----"
She checked other disclosures; again faced the volunteer messenger, nowfrowning.
When no suggestion as to what they could do came from the person whowould seem to be the other half of her "we," Pape made cheerfuloffering: "The taxi-hack that conveyed me cross-town is ticking timedown in the street. It is at your service, miss or madam, with orwithout yours truly."
She gave him a startled glance, whether for his mode of address or hisoffer, he could not be sure; then spent a moment in urgent thought.
"_Would_ you wait for me a few minutes?" She all at once announced herdecision.
Without need of his answer, without a verbal thank-you or suggestion ofapology, she closed the door in his face and, by way of insult toinjury, turned the key inside.
Seeing nothing better to do, Pape leisurely descended the stairs. Thesteps protested stridently as before, but more intelligibly now.
"She doesn't look it," shrieked the top one. And: "Shedoesn't--doesn't--_doesn't_!" repeated the several next. "But shewouldn't let you in--in--in," the hard-tried middle ones. "There'ssomething queer about it all--something queer--something queer," creakedthe ground-floor last.
Within the stipulated "few" minutes Jane joined him out on the Colonialportico of long-ago grandeur. Her complete change of costume--the dingyblack doffed for a small, smart sailor hat and a gray tweed that didcredit to her tailor as well as herself--proclaimed her something of anartist at the alias act. Also did it quash any hope which may have beenleft in him that the East Side flat-house was a place of temporarysojourn. Evidently she kept a wardrobe there. The man who had greetedher so tenderly last night called the shack "home." Jane was alwaysgoing off on these visits to her many woman friends--so Irene had said.
Such deductions halved his attention during the reflexes of handing herinto the taxi and instructing the driver regarding the return trip.There pended a somewhat important question. Of this he reminded her by alevel glance, his foot ready to leave the running-board and his handready to shut the door from the outside.
"I am not such an ingrate as to make you walk," she answered.
During the cross-town ride there was but one exchange between them.
"Jane"--Pape turned to her daringly, the humor twitches about his mouthdefying any serious attempt which she might make to put him in hisplace--"I have to call you Jane, you see, because it is the only part ofyour name of which I feel sure."
As before, at a similar suggestion, she gave him a look of startledresentment. Then, with a faint but very sweet smile----
"Peter," she bade him, "pray proceed."
He did. "Should you mind telling me, Jane, whether what you are diggingfor in the park has any connection with the theft of that something youvalued the other night?"
"I guess--I don't mind," said she, thoughtfully. "It has connection."
"Is it---- Of course refuse to answer if you wish, with the assurancethat there can be no hard feelings between us. Is it, just possibly,buried treasure?"
"Just possibly it is."
"Central Park, if piled up with hay, would be a right sizeable stack. Bycomparison, any treasure which might have been contained within thatsnuff-box would be needle-sized."
The girl looked intolerant, as if at stupidity on his p
art.
"The treasure which I hope to unbury before those grave-diggers you sawcan unearth it for some one not entitled to it is larger than all thepark."
Even at this, Pape didn't doubt her entire sanity. She had mentioned acryptogram; merely was being a bit cryptic herself.
"I see," he assured her.
"I hope you don't," she assured him.
"That," he finished, "you don't trust me."
"Trust you? Why should I trust you?"
A moment her blue eyes blazed into his. He was feeling quite scorched byher scorn. Probably he looked wilted. At any rate, her next move amazedas much as it refreshed him.
One of her ungloved, ringless hands slipped into his that lay idle onthe leather of the seat; the fingers curled around it.
"I'd like to trust you. I don't mind admitting that." She turned sodirectly toward him that again he felt her clover-field breath acrosshis cheek. "But you'll have to excuse me for the present. I just don'tdare."
He held her hand hard, pulsant palm to pulsant palm. But he took hiseyes off the temptation of her face; a second or so stared straightahead, trying to resist--trying to answer for himself the question ofher.
Who and what was she--this woman of his first, deliberateself-selection?
"Trust--is a thing--some people have to--be taught," he said, steadilyas he could. "You will trust me--in time. There is only one--quickway--to learn."
Having gone that far, he gave up; realized that he couldn't resist. Hiseyes swept back to the temptation of her face. His two arms swept aroundthe temptation of her form. His face swept down until he yielded, in aserious kiss, to the temptation of her lips.
"Learn, Jane. Learn," he insisted into the panic of emotion he felt herto be in. "Your distrust has made it hard for me to trust you. But Ifind I do. I trust you with my soul. Don't say the angry things youmight. Wait. Learn."
At her first effort to be free, he released her; leaned to his window;knew without turning that she was leaning to hers. After they had swunginto the wide avenue that bounds the park on the west, he spoke quietly.
"I'd suggest that we land here. By looking over the wall you can seewithout being seen."
Without turning, she nodded. Pape dismissed the cab and guided hissilent companion north a block. He pointed out the group of poplars toher by their tops, claiming what he called "the wild, or wilderness eyefor location." When they reached what he considered a vantage point,however, she drew back, reluctant to look.
"If they've solved it--if they've found it, I'm lost--lost," she said."Another hour last night and I'd have known. If you hadn't comealong----"
"Ain't I trying to make up for that?" he asked her.
Without meeting his demanding eyes, she set her lips; stepped close tothe V-topped wall; peered over. For a space both studied the scene ofactivity.
"Won't take them long," she commented. "They're just commonlaborers--Polakers, no doubt. The short, dressed-up man must be theboss. Wonder whether I've seen him before. Wait, he's turning! His faceis strange to me. One of their hirelings, of course."
The silencer which Pape put upon certain questions exploding in hismind--pertinent questions such as what was the nature of "it," who were"they," why should another hour last night have made all "known"?--wasthe result of a new-made decision on his own account. He would teachthis determinedly untrusting young person by demonstration; would aspireonly to such confidence as she saw fit to volunteer. The hope thattelepathy already was at work strengthened him to meet manfully hercalm, cold gaze when at last she faced him.
"You say you want to make up for----" She caught her breath and startedafresh. "I am willing to--to learn--if I can. But some women mightconsider that you owed quite a bit."
"I am--" and he bent his head, the better to see her lips--"very deeplyin your debt."
In spite of her flush, she continued crisply. "Very well, I am going toask you for part payment."
"And I am only too willing, Jane, to pay in full."
She studied his serio-flippancy; evidently decided to value hisstatement above his smile.
"I need about one hour of dusk to finish in there. I could finishto-night if that gang could be driven off now, before they find--what Ihope to find first. Can't you--won't you try to frighten them off?"
"I? What right have I----"
One of two things was certain. Either she thought very little of thecourage of the four or very much of his frightsomeness. He did feelindebted to her, though; appreciated the born-and-bred conventionalitywhich she had overcome at his request. When he compared the scathing,stereotyped things she might have said with the fact that she had saidnothing at all--well, despite the confusions since that Zaza night,including the man over on East Sixty-third Street, she was--she must bethe sort she at first had seemed. He shrugged off his own dubiousnessand looked as hopeful as he could.
"Once you pretended to be a detective," she encouraged him.
"Got a supper out of that."
"Last night you were again taken for one."
"And had a scrap that was lively while it lasted."
"This much you may assume. Something important--something more valuable,really, than any treasure that could be buried in the whole length ofManhattan Isle--something more than you possibly could imagine is atstake. It doesn't matter what or why or how, but try to do what I ask.Get those hired looters out!"
"Get them out?" he objected, "Girl-alive, they have a right to bedigging in there or they wouldn't dare to come in force and in daylight.I'd need some authority to object before I could-- Will you stay righthere?"
Instead of vaulting the park wall, which at first had, seemed to be theone possible response to her demand, Pape lifted his hat and sauntereddown the avenue as though bound nowhere in particular.