Children of the Whirlwind

  CHAPTER XXVII

  On the sidewalk Larry glanced swiftly around him. Half a block down thestreet on the front of a drug-store was a blue telephone flag. A minutelater he was inside a telephone booth in the drug-store, asking firstfor the Hotel Grantham, and then asking the Grantham operator to beconnected with Miss Maggie Cameron.

  There was a long wait. While he listened for Maggie's voice he blazedwith terrible fury against Barney Paler. For Maggie to be connected witha straight crook, that idea had been bad enough. But for her to be underthe influence of the worst crook of all, a stool, a cunning traitor tohis own friends--that was more than could possibly be stood! In his ragein Maggie's behalf he forgot for the moment the many evils Barney haddone to himself. He thought of wild, incoherent, vaguely tremendousplans. First he would get Maggie away from Barney and OldJimmie--somehow. Then he would square accounts with those two--again byan undefined somehow.

  Presently the tired, impersonal voice of the Grantham operator remarkedagainst his ear-drum: "Miss Cameron don't answer."

  "Have her paged, please," he requested.

  Larry, of course, could not know that his telephone call was the veryone which had rung in Maggie's room while Barney and Old Jimmiewere with her, and which Barney had harshly forbidden her to answer.Therefore he could not know that any attempt to get Maggie by telephonejust then was futile.

  When he came out of the booth, the impersonal voice having informedhim that Miss Cameron was not in, it was with the intention of callingMaggie up between eight and nine when she probably would have returnedfrom dinner where he judged her now to be. He knew that Dick Sherwoodhad no engagement with her, for Dick was to be out at Cedar Crest thatevening, so he judged it almost certain Maggie would be at home andalone later on.

  Having nothing else to do for an hour and a half, he thought of a notehe had received from the Duchess in that morning's mail asking him tocome down to see her when he was next in town. Thirty minutes later hewas in the familiar room behind the pawnshop. The Duchess asked himif he had eaten, and on his reply that he had not and did not careto, instead of proceeding to the business of her letter she mumbledsomething and went into the pawnshop.

  She left Larry for the very simple reason that now that she had himhere she was uncertain what she should say, and how far she should go.Unknown to either, one thread of the drama of Larry and Maggie was beingspun in the brain and heart of the Duchess; and being spun with painto her, and in very great doubt. True, she had definitely decided, forLarry's welfare, that the facts about Maggie's parentage should never beknown from her--and since the only other person who could tell the truthwas Jimmie Carlisle, and his interests were all apparently in favor ofsilence, then it followed that the truth would never be known from anyone. But having so decided, and decided definitely and finally, theDuchess had proceeded to wonder if she had decided wisely.

  Day and night this had been the main subject of her thought. Could shebe wrong in her estimate of Maggie's character, and what she might turnout to be? Could she be wrong in her belief that, given enough time,Larry would outgrow his infatuation for Maggie? And since she was insuch doubt about these two points, had she any right, and was it for thebest, to suppress a fact that might so gravely influence both matters?She did not know. What she wanted was whatever was best for Larry--andso in her doubt she had determined to talk again to Larry, hoping thatthe interview might in some way replace her uncertainty with stabilityof purpose.

  Presently she returned to the inner room, and in her direct wayand using the fewest possible words, which had created for her herreputation of a woman who never spoke and who was packed with strangesecrets, she asked Larry what he had done concerning Maggie. He toldher of the plan he had evolved, of Maggie's visit to Cedar Crest, ofhis ignorance of Maggie's reactions. To all this his grandmother maderesponse neither by word nor by change of expression. He then went on totell her of what he had just learned from Casey of Barney's maneuveringhis misfortunes.

  The old head nodded. "Yes, Barney's just that sort," she said in herflat monotone.

  And then she came to the purpose of her sending for him. "How do youfeel about Maggie now?"

  "The same as before."

  "You love her?"

  "Yes--and always will," he said firmly.

  She was silent once more. Then, "What are you going to do next?"

  "Break things up between her and Barney and her father. Get her awayfrom them."

  She asked no further questions. Larry was as settled as a man couldbe. But was Maggie worth while?--that was the great question stillunanswered.

  "Just what did you want me for, grandmother?" he asked her finally.

  "Something which I thought might have developed, but which hasn't."

  And so she let him go away without telling him. And wishing to shapethings for the best for him, she was troubled by the same doubts asbefore.

  His visit with his grandmother had had no meaning to Larry, since hehad no guess of the struggle going on within that ancient, inscrutablefigure. The visit had for him merely served to fill in a nervous,useless hour. His rage against Barney had all the while possessed himtoo thoroughly for him to give more than the mere surface of his mindto what had passed between his grandmother and himself. And when he hadleft her, his rage at Barney's treachery and his impetuous desire tosnatch Maggie away from her present influences, so stormed within himthat his usually cautious judgment was blown away and recklessness sweptlike a gale into control of him.

  When he called up the Grantham a second time, at nine o'clock, Maggie'svoice came to him:

  "Hello. Who this, please?"

  "Mr. Brandon."

  He heard a stilted "Oh!" at the other end of the line "I'm coming rightup to see you," he said.

  "I--I don't think you--"

  "I'll be there in then minutes," Larry interrupted the startled voiceand hung up.

  He counted that Maggie, after his sparing her at Cedar Crest, wouldreceive him and treat him at least no worse than an enemy with whomthere was a half hour's truce. Sure enough, when he rang the bell of hersuite, Maggie herself admitted him to her sitting-room. She was taut andpale, her look neither friendly nor unfriendly.

  "Don't you know the risk you're running," she whispered when the doorwas closed--"coming here like this, in the open?"

  "The time has come for risks, Maggie," he announced.

  "But you were safe enough where you were. Why take such risks?"

  "For your sake."

  "My sake?"

  "To take you away from these people you're tied up with. Take you awaynow."

  At an earlier time this would have been a fuse to a detonation ofdefiance from her. But now she said nothing at all, and that wassomething.

  "Since I've come out into the open, everything's going to be in theopen. Listen, Maggie!" The impulse had suddenly come upon him, sincehis plan to awaken Maggie by her psychological reactions had apparentlyfailed, to tell her everything. "Listen, Maggie! I'm going to lay allmy cards on the table, and show you every card I've played. You wereinvited to come out to Cedar Crest because I schemed to have you come.And the reason I schemed to have you invited was, I reasoned that beingreceived in such a frank, generous, unsuspecting way, by a woman likeMiss Sherwood, would make you sick of what you were doing and you woulddrop it of your own accord. But it seems I reasoned wrong."

  "So--you were behind that!" she breathed.

  "I was. Though I couldn't have done it if Dick Sherwood hadn't beenhonestly infatuated with you. But now I'm through with working undercover, through with indirect methods. From now on every play's in theopen, and it's straight to the point with everything. So get ready. I'mgoing to take you away from Barney and Old Jimmie."

  The mention of these two names had a swift and magical effect upon her.But instead of arousing belligerency, they aroused an almost franticagitation.

  "You must leave at once, Larry. Barney and my father were here beforedinner, and they've just telephoned they were comin
g back!"

  "Coming back! That's the best argument you could make for my staying!"

  "But, Larry--they both have keys, and Barney always carries a gun!"

  "I stay here, unless you leave with me. Listen to some more, Maggie. Ilaid all the cards on the table. Do you know the kind of people you'retied up with? I'll not say anything about your father, for I guess youknow all there is to know. But Barney Palmer! He's the lowest kind ofcrook that breathes. There's been a lot of talk about squealers andpolice stools. Well, the big squealer, the big stool, is Barney Palmer!"

  "I don't believe it!" she cried involuntarily.

  "It's true! I've got it straight. Barney wanted to smash me, because I'dmade up my mind to quit the old game and because he wanted to get meout of his way with you. So he framed it up so that I appeared to be asquealer, and started the gangmen after me. And he put Barlow up to theidea of forcing me to be a stool, and then framing me when I refused.It was Barney who fixed things so I had to go to jail, or be shot up,or run away. It was Barney Palmer who squealed on Red Hannigan and JackRosenfeldt, and who's been squealing on his other pals. And that's thesort you're stringing along with!"

  She gazed at him in appalled half conviction. He remained silent to lethis truth sink in.

  They were standing so, face to face, when a key grated in the outer doorof the little hallway as on the occasion of Larry's first visit here.And as on that occasion, Maggie sprang swiftly forward and shot home thebolt of the inner door. Then she turned and caught Larry's arm.

  "It's Barney--I told you he was coming!" she whispered. "Oh, why didn'tyou go before? Come on!"

  She tried to drag him toward her bedroom door, through which she hadonce helped him escape. But this time he was not to be moved.

  "I stay right here," he said to her.

  There was the sound of a futile effort to turn the lock of the innerdoor; then Barney's voice called out: "What's the matter, Maggie? Openthe door."

  Maggie, still clutching Larry's resisting arm, stood gasping inwide-eyed consternation.

  "Open the door for them, Maggie," Larry whispered.

  "I'll not do it!" she whispered back.

  "Open it, or I will," he ordered.

  Their gazes held a moment longer while Barney rattled at the lock. Thenslowly, falteringly, her amazed eyes over her shoulder upon him, Maggiecrossed and unlocked the door. Barney entered, Old Jimmie just bend him.

  "I say, Maggie, what was the big idea in keeping us--" he was beginningin a grumbling tone, when he saw Larry just beyond her. His complaintbroke off in mid-breath; he stopped short and his dark face twitchedwith his surprise.

  "Larry Brainard!" he finally exclaimed. Old Jimmie, suddenly tense,blinked and said nothing.

  "Hello, Barney; hello, Jimmie," Larry greeted his former allies, puttingon an air of geniality. "Been a long time since we three met. Don'tstand there in the door. Come right in."

  Barney was keen enough to see, though Larry's attitude was careless andhis tone light, that his eyes were bright and hard. Barney moved forwarda couple of paces, alert for anything, and Old Jimmie followed.Maggie looked on at the three men, her girlish figure taut and hardlybreathing.

  "Didn't know you were in New York," said Barney.

  "Well, here I am all right," returned Larry with his menacingcheerfulness.

  By now Barney had recovered from his first surprise. He felt it time toassert his supremacy.

  "How do you come to be here with Maggie?" he demanded abruptly.

  "Happened to catch sight of her on the street to-day. Trailed her hereto the Grantham, and to-night I just dropped in."

  Barney's tone grew more authoritative, more ugly. "We told you long agowe were through with you. So why did you come here?"

  "That's easy answered, Barney. The last time we were all together, you'dcome to take Maggie away. This is that same scene reproduced--only thistime I've come to take Maggie away."

  "What's that?" snapped Barney.

  Larry's voice threw off its assumed geniality, and became drivinglyhard. "And to get Maggie to come, I've been telling her the kind of abird you are, Barney Palmer! Oh, I've got the straight dope on you! I'vebeen telling her how you framed me, and were able to frame me becauseyou are Chief Barlow's stool."

  Barney went as near white as it was possible for him to become, and hismouth sagged. "What--what--" he stammered.

  "I've been telling her that you are the one who really squealed on RedHannigan and Jack Rosenfeldt."

  "You're a damned liar!" Barney burst out, and instantly from beneathhis left arm he whipped an automatic which he thrust against Larry'sstomach. "Take that back, damn you, or I'll blow you straight to hell!"

  "Barney!--Larry!" interjected Maggie in sickened fright.

  "This is nothing to worry over, Maggie," Larry said. He looked back atBarney. "Oh, I knew you would flash a gun on me at some stage of thegame. But you're not going to shoot."

  "You'll see, if you don't take that back!"

  Larry realized that his hot blood had driven him into an enterprise ofdaring, in which only bluff and the playing of his highest cards couldhelp him through.

  "You don't think I was such a fool as to walk into this place withouttaking precautions," he said contemptuously. "You won't shoot, Barney,because since I knew I might meet you and you'd pull a gun, I had myselfsearched by two friends just before I came up here. They'll testify Iwas not armed. They know you, and know you so well that they'll be ableto identify the thing in your hand as your gun. So no matter what Maggieand Jimmie may testify, the verdict will be cold-blooded murder andthe electric chair will be your finish. And that's why I know you won'tshoot. So you might as well put the gun away."

  Barney neither spoke nor moved.

  "I've called your bluff, Barney," Larry said sharply. "Put that gunaway, or I'll take it from you!"

  Barney's glare wavered. The pistol sank from its position. With alightning-swift motion Larry wrenched it from Barney's hand.

  "Guess I'd better have it, after all," he said, slipping it into apocket. "Keep you out of temptation."

  And then in a subdued voice that was steely with menace: "I'm too busyto attend to you now, Barney--but, by God, I'm going to square thingswith you for the dirt you've done me, and I'm going to show you up fora stool and a squealer!" He wheeled on Old Jimmie. "And the only reasonI'll be easy with you, Jimmie Carlisle, is because you are Maggie'sfather--though you're the rottenest thing as a father God ever letbreathe!"

  Old Jimmie shrank slightly before Larry's glower, and his little eyesgleamed with the fear of a rat that is cornered. But he said nothing.

  Larry turned his back upon the two men. "We're through with this bunch,Maggie. Put on a hat and a wrap, and let's go. We can send for yourthings."

  "No you don't, Maggie," snarled Barney, before Maggie could speak.

  Old Jimmie made his first positive motion since entering the room. Heshifted quickly to Maggie's side and seized her arm.

  "You're my daughter, and you stay with me!" he ordered. "I broughtyou up, and you do exactly what I tell you to! You're not going withLarry--he's lying about Barney. You stay with me!"

  "Come on, let's go, Maggie," repeated Larry.

  "You stay with me!" repeated Jimmie.

  Thus ordered and appealed to, Maggie was areel with contradictingthoughts and impulses while the three men awaited her action. In factshe had no clear thought at all. She never knew later what determinedher course at this bewildered moment: perhaps it was partly acontinuance of her doubt of Larry, perhaps partly once more sheermomentum, perhaps her instinctive feeling that her place was with theman she believed to be her father.

  "Yes, I'll stay with you," she said to Old Jimmie.

  "That's the signal for you to be on your way, Larry Brainard!" Barneysnapped at him triumphantly.

  Larry realized, all of a sudden, that his coming here was no more thana splendid gesture to which his anger had excited him. Indeed there wasnothing for him but to be on his w
ay.

  "I've told you the truth, Maggie; and you'll be sorry that you have notleft--if not sorry soon, then sorry a little later."

  He turned to Barney with a last shot; he could not leave the gloatingBarney Palmer his unalloyed triumph. "I told you I had the straight dopeon you, Barney. Here's some more of it. I know exactly what your gameis, and I know exactly who your sucker is. We'll see if you put itover--you squealer! Good-night, all."

  With that Larry walked out. Old Jimmie regarded his partner withsuspicion.

  "How about that, Barney--you being a stool and a squealer?" he demanded.

  "I tell you it's all a lie--a damned lie!" cried Barney with feverishemphasis.

  "I hope it is!" breathed Old Jimmie.

  This was a subject Barney wanted to get away from. "Maggie," hedemanded, "is what Larry Brainard said about how he came here thetruth?--his seeing you on the street and then following you here?"

  "How do I know where he first saw me?"

  "But is to-night the first time you've seen him?"

  "It is."

  "Sure you haven't been seeing him?" demanded Barney's quick jealousy.

  "I have not."

  "Did he tell you where he came from?--where he hangs out?"

  "No."

  Old Jimmie interrupted this cross-examination.

  "You're wasting good time asking these questions. Barney, do you realizethe cold fact that it's not a good thing for you, nor for us, for LarryBrainard to be back in New York, floating around as he pleases?"

  "I should say not!" Barney saw he was facing a sudden crisis, and in theneed for quick action he spoke without thought of Maggie. "We've got tolook after him at once!"

  "Tell the bunch he's back, and let them take care of him?" suggested OldJimmie.

  Barney considered rapidly. If Larry knew of his arrangement with thepolice, then perhaps his secret was beginning to leak through to others.He decided that for the present it would be wiser to keep from these oldfriends and allies.

  "Not the bunch--the police!" he said inspiredly. "They're after him,anyhow, and are sore. All we've got to do is slip them word--they'll dothe rest!" And then with the sharper emphasis of an immediate plan: "Wedon't want to lose a minute. I know where Gavegan hangs out at this timeof night. Come on!"

  With a bare "Good-night" to Maggie the two men hurried forth on theirpressing mission. Left to herself, Maggie sank into a chair and wildlyconsidered the many elements of this new situation. Presently twothoughts emerged to dominance: Whether Larry was right or wrong, he hadrisked coming out of his safety for her sake--perhaps had risked all hehad won for her sake. And now the police were to be set after him, withthat Gavegan heading the pack.

  Perhaps the further thinking Maggie did did not result in cool, maturewisdom--for her thoughts were the operations of a panicky mind. Somehowshe had to get warning to Larry of this imminent police hunt! Withoutdoubt Larry would return to Cedar Crest sometime that night. Word shouldbe sent to him there. A letter was too uncertain in such a crisis.Of course she had an invitation to go to Cedar Crest the followingafternoon, and she might warn him then--but that might be too late.She dared not telephone or telegraph--for that might somehow directdangerous attention to the exact spot where Larry was hidden. Also shehad an instinct, operating unconsciously long before she had any thoughtof what she was eventually to do, not to let Barney or Old Jimmie findout, or even guess, that she had warned Larry--not yet.

  There seemed nothing that she herself could do. Then she thought of theDuchess. That was the way out! The Duchess would know some way in whichto get Larry word.

  Five minutes later, in her plainest suit and hat, Maggie in a taxicabwas rolling down toward the Duchess's--from where, only a few monthsback, she had started forth upon her great career.