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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/1807-0.txt b/1807-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..02851d7 --- /dev/null +++ b/1807-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2487 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Lost House, by Richard Harding Davis + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Lost House + +Author: Richard Harding Davis + +Posting Date: October 15, 2008 [EBook #1807] +Last Updated: September 26, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LOST HOUSE *** + + + + +Produced by Aaron Cannon + + + + + +THE LOST HOUSE + +by Richard Harding Davis + + + + +I + +It was a dull day at the chancellery. His Excellency the American +Ambassador was absent in Scotland, unveiling a bust to Bobby Burns, +paid for by the numerous lovers of that poet in Pittsburg; the First +Secretary was absent at Aldershot, observing a sham battle; the Military +Attache was absent at the Crystal Palace, watching a foot-ball match; +the Naval Attache was absent at the Duke of Deptford's, shooting +pheasants; and at the Embassy, the Second Secretary, having lunched +leisurely at the Artz, was now alone, but prepared with his life to +protect American interests. Accordingly, on the condition that the story +should not be traced back to him, he had just confided a State secret to +his young friend, Austin Ford, the London correspondent of the New York +REPUBLIC. + +“I will cable it,” Ford reassured him, “as coming from a Hungarian +diplomat, temporarily residing in Bloomsbury, while en route to his post +in Patagonia. In that shape, not even your astute chief will suspect its +real source. And further from the truth than that I refuse to go.” + +“What I dropped in to ask,” he continued, “is whether the English are +going to send over a polo team next summer to try to bring back the +cup?” + +“I've several other items of interest,” suggested the Secretary. + +“The week-end parties to which you have been invited,” Ford objected, +“can wait. Tell me first what chance there is for an international polo +match.” + +“Polo,” sententiously began the Second Secretary, who himself was a +crackerjack at the game, “is a proposition of ponies! Men can be trained +for polo. But polo ponies must be born. Without good ponies----” + +James, the page who guarded the outer walls, of the chancellery, +appeared in the doorway. + +“Please, Sir, a person,” he announced, “with a note for the Ambassador, +he says it's important.” + +“Tell him to leave it,” said the Secretary. “Polo ponies----” + +“Yes, Sir,” interrupted the page. “But 'e won't leave it, not unless he +keeps the 'arf-crown.” + +“For Heaven's sake!” protested the Second Secretary, “then let him keep +the half-crown. When I say polo ponies, I don't mean----” + +James, although alarmed at his own temerity, refused to accept the +dismissal. “But, please, Sir,” he begged; “I think the 'arf-crown is for +the Ambassador.” + +The astonished diplomat gazed with open eyes. + +“You think--WHAT!” he exclaimed. + +James, upon the defensive, explained breathlessly. + +“Because, Sir,” he stammered, “it was INSIDE the note when it was thrown +out of the window.” + +Ford had been sprawling in a soft leather chair in front of the open +fire. With the privilege of an old school-fellow and college classmate, +he had been jabbing the soft coal with his walking-stick, causing it to +burst into tiny flames. His cigarette drooped from his lips, his hat +was cocked over one eye; he was a picture of indifference, merging upon +boredom. But at the words of the boy his attitude both of mind and body +underwent an instant change. It was as though he were an actor, and the +words “thrown from the window” were his cue. It was as though he were +a dozing fox-terrier, and the voice of his master had whispered in his +ear: “Sick'em!” + +For a moment, with benign reproach, the Second Secretary regarded the +unhappy page, and then addressed him with laborious sarcasm. + +“James,” he said, “people do not communicate with ambassadors in notes +wrapped around half-crowns and hurled from windows. That is the way one +corresponds with an organ-grinder.” Ford sprang to his feet. + +“And meanwhile,” he exclaimed angrily, “the man will get away.” + +Without seeking permission, he ran past James, and through the empty +outer offices. In two minutes he returned, herding before him an +individual, seedy and soiled. In appearance the man suggested that +in life his place was to support a sandwich-board. Ford reluctantly +relinquished his hold upon a folded paper which he laid in front of the +Secretary. + +“This man,” he explained, “picked that out of the gutter in Sowell +Street, It's not addressed to any one, so you read it!” + +“I thought it was for the Ambassador!” said the Secretary. + +The soiled person coughed deprecatingly, and pointed a dirty digit at +the paper. “On the inside,” he suggested. The paper was wrapped around +a half-crown and folded in at each end. The diplomat opened it +hesitatingly, but having read what was written, laughed. + +“There's nothing in THAT,” he exclaimed. He passed the note to Ford. The +reporter fell upon it eagerly. + +The note was written in pencil on an unruled piece of white paper. The +handwriting was that of a woman. What Ford read was: + +“I am a prisoner in the street on which this paper is found. The house +faces east. I think I am on the top story. I was brought here three +weeks ago. They are trying to kill me. My uncle, Charles Ralph Pearsall, +is doing this to get my money. He is at Gerridge's Hotel in Craven +Street, Strand. He will tell you I am insane. My name is Dosia Pearsall +Dale. My home is at Dalesville, Kentucky, U. S. A. Everybody knows me +there, and knows I am not insane. If you would save a life take this at +once to the American Embassy, or to Scotland Yard. For God's sake, help +me.” + +When he had read the note, Ford continue to study it. Until he was quite +sure his voice would not betray his interest, he did not raise his eyes. + +“Why,” he asked, “did you say that there's nothing in this?” + +“Because,” returned the diplomat conclusively, “we got a note like that, +or nearly like it, a week ago, and----” + +Ford could not restrain a groan. “And you never told me!” + +“There wasn't anything to tell,” protested the diplomat. “We handed +it over to the police, and they reported there was nothing in it. They +couldn't find the man at that hotel, and, of course, they couldn't find +the house with no more to go on than----” + +“And so,” exclaimed Ford rudely, “they decided there was no man, and no +house!” + +“Their theory,” continued the Secretary patiently, “is that the girl is +confined in one of the numerous private sanatoriums in Sowell Street, +that she is insane, that because she's under restraint she IMAGINES +the nurses are trying to kill her and that her relatives are after +her money. Insane people are always thinking that. It's a very common +delusion.” + +Ford's eyes were shining with a wicked joy. “So,” he asked +indifferently, “you don't intend to do anything further?” + +“What do you want us to do?” cried his friend. “Ring every door-bell in +Sowell Street and ask the parlor-maid if they're murdering a lady on the +top story?” + +“Can I keep the paper?” demanded Ford. “You can keep a copy of it,” + consented the Secretary. “But if you think you're on the track of a big +newspaper sensation, I can tell you now you're not. That's the work of a +crazy woman, or it's a hoax. You amateur detectives----” + +Ford was already seated at the table, scribbling a copy of the message, +and making marginal notes. + +“Who brought the FIRST paper?” he interrupted. + +“A hansom-cab driver.” + +“What became of HIM?” snapped the amateur detective. + +The Secretary looked inquiringly at James. “He drove away,” said James. + +“He drove away, did he?”' roared Ford. “And that was a week ago! Ye +gods! What about Dalesville, Kentucky? Did you cable any one there?” + +The dignity of the diplomat was becoming ruffled. + +“We did not!” he answered. “If it wasn't true that her uncle was at that +hotel, it was probably equally untrue that she had friends in America.” + +“But,” retorted his friend, “you didn't forget to cable the State +Department that you all went in your evening clothes to bow to the new +King? You didn't neglect to cable that, did you?” + +“The State Department,” returned the Secretary, with withering reproof, +“does not expect us to crawl over the roofs of houses and spy down +chimneys to see if by any chance an American citizen is being murdered.” + +“Well,” exclaimed Ford, leaping to his feet and placing his notes in +his pocket, “fortunately, my paper expects me to do just that, and if it +didn't, I'd do it anyway. And that is exactly what I am going to do now! +Don't tell the others in the Embassy, and, for Heaven's sake, don't tell +the police. Jimmy, get me a taxi. And you,” he commanded, pointing at +the one who had brought the note, “are coming with me to Sowell Street, +to show me where you picked up that paper.” + +On the way to Sowell Street Ford stopped at a newspaper agency, and +paid for the insertion that afternoon of the same advertisement in three +newspapers. It read: “If hansom-cab driver who last week carried note, +found in street, to American Embassy will mail his address to X. X. X., +care of GLOBE, he will be rewarded.” + +From the nearest post-office he sent to his paper the following cable: +“Query our local correspondent, Dalesville, Kentucky, concerning Dosia +Pearsall Dale. Is she of sound mind, is she heiress. Who controls +her money, what her business relations with her uncle Charles Ralph +Pearsall, what her present address. If any questions, say inquiries come +from solicitors of Englishman who wants to marry her. Rush answer.” + +Sowell Street is a dark, dirty little thoroughfare, running for only +one block, parallel to Harley Street. Like it, it is decorated with the +brass plates of physicians and the red lamps of surgeons, but, just as +the medical men in Harley Street, in keeping with that thoroughfare, +are broad, open, and with nothing to conceal, so those of Sowell Street, +like their hiding-place, shrink from observation, and their lives are as +sombre, secret, and dark as the street itself. + +Within two turns of it Ford dismissed the taxicab. Giving the soiled +person a half-smoked cigarette, he told him to walk through Sowell +Street, and when he reached the place where he had picked up the paper, +to drop the cigarette as near that spot as possible. He then was to turn +into Weymouth Street and wait until Ford joined him. At a distance of +fifty feet Ford followed the man, and saw him, when in the middle of +the block, without apparent hesitation, drop the cigarette. The house in +front of which it fell was marked, like many others, by the brass +plate of a doctor. As Ford passed it he hit the cigarette with his +walking-stick, and drove it into an area. When he overtook the man, Ford +handed him another cigarette. “To make sure,” he said, “C4 go back +and drop this in the place you found the paper.” For a moment the man +hesitated. + +“I might as well tell you,” Ford continued, “that I knocked that last +cigarette so far from where you dropped it that you won't be able to use +it as a guide. So, if you don't really know where you found the paper, +you'll save my time by saying so.” Instead of being confused by the +test, the man was amused by it. He laughed appreciatively admitted. +“You've caught me out fair, governor,” “I want the 'arf-crown, and I +dropped the cigarette as near the place as I could. But I can't do it +again. It was this way,” he explained. “I wasn't taking notice of the +houses. I was walking along looking into the gutter for stumps. I see +this paper wrapped about something round. 'It's a copper,' I thinks, +'jucked out of a winder to a organ-grinder.' I snatches it, and runs. +I didn't take no time to look at the houses. But it wasn't so far from +where I showed you; about the middle house in the street and on the left +'and side.” + +Ford had never considered the man as a serious element in the problem. +He believed him to know as little of the matter as he professed to know. +But it was essential he should keep that little to himself. + +“No one will pay you for talking,” Ford pointed out, “and I'll pay you +to keep quiet. So, if you say nothing concerning that note, at the end +of two weeks, I'll leave two pounds for you with James, at the Embassy.” + +The man, who believed Ford to be an agent of the police, was only too +happy to escape on such easy terms. After Ford had given him a pound on +account, they parted. + +From Wimpole Street the amateur detective went to the nearest public +telephone and called up Gerridge's Hotel. He considered his first step +should be to discover if Mr. Pearsall was at that hotel, or had ever +stopped there. When the 'phone was answered, he requested that a message +be delivered to Mr. Pearsall. + +“Please tell him,” he asked, “that the clothes he ordered are ready to +try on.” + +He was informed that no one by that name was at the hotel. In a voice of +concern Ford begged to know when Mr. Pearsall had gone away, and had he +left any address. + +“He was with you three weeks ago,” Ford insisted. “He's an American +gentleman, and there was a lady with him. She ordered a riding-habit of +us: the same time he was measured for his clothes.” + +After a short delay, the voice from the hotel replied that no one of the +name of Pearsall had been at the hotel that winter. + +In apparent great disgust Ford rang off, and took a taxicab to his rooms +in Jermyn Street. There he packed a suit-case and drove to Gerridge's. +It was a quiet, respectable, “old-established” house in Craven Street, +a thoroughfare almost entirely given over to small family hotels much +frequented by Americans. + +After he had registered and had left his bag in his room, Ford returned +to the office, and in an assured manner asked that a card on which he +had written “Henry W. Page, Dalesville, Kentucky,” should be taken to +Mr. Pearsall. + +In a tone of obvious annoyance the proprietor returned the card, saying +that there was no one of that name in the hotel, and added that no such +person had ever stopped there. Ford expressed the liveliest distress. + +“He TOLD me I'd find him here,” he protested., “he and his niece.” With +the garrulousness of the American abroad, he confided his troubles to +the entire staff of the hotel. “We're from the same town,” he explained. +“That's why I must see him. He's the only man in London I know, and I've +spent all my money. He said he'd give me some he owes me, as soon as I +reached London. If I can't get it, I'll have to go home by Wednesday's +steamer.” And, complained bitterly, “I haven't seen the Tower, +nor Westminster Abbey.” + +In a moment, Ford's anxiety to meet Mr. Pearsall was apparently lost +in a wave of self-pity. In his disappointment he appealing, pathetic +figure. + +Real detectives and rival newspaper men, even while they admitted Ford +obtained facts that were denied them, claimed that they were given him +from charity. Where they bullied, browbeat, and administered a third +degree, Ford was embarrassed, deprecatory, an earnest, ingenuous, +wide-eyed child. What he called his “working” smile begged of you not +to be cross with him. His simplicity was apparently so hopeless, his +confidence in whomever he addressed so complete, that often even the +man he was pursuing felt for him a pitying contempt. Now as he stood +uncertainly in the hall of the hotel, his helplessness moved the proud +lady clerk to shake her cylinders of false hair sympathetically, +the German waiters to regard his predicament with respect; even the +proprietor, Mr. Gerridge himself, was ill at ease. Ford returned to his +room, on the second floor of the hotel, and sat down on the edge of the +bed. + +In connecting Pearsall with Gerridge's, both the police and himself had +failed. Of this there were three possible explanations: that the girl +who wrote the letter was in error, that the letter was a hoax, that the +proprietor of the hotel, for some reason, was protecting Pearsall, and +had deceived both Ford and Scotland Yard. On the other hand, without +knowing why the girl believed Pearsall would be found at Gerridge's, +it was reasonable to assume that in so thinking she had been purposely +misled. The question was, should he or not dismiss Gerridge's as a +possible clew, and at once devote himself to finding the house in Sowell +Street? He decided for the moment at least, to leave Gerridge's out of +his calculations, but, as an excuse for returning there, to still retain +his room. He at once started toward Sowell Street, and in order to find +out if any one from the hotel were following him, he set forth on foot. +As soon as he made sure he was not spied upon, he covered the remainder +of the distance in a cab. + +He was acting on the supposition that the letter was no practical joke, +but a genuine cry for help. Sowell Street was a scene set for such +an adventure. It was narrow, mean-looking, the stucco house-fronts, +soot-stained, cracked, and uncared-for, the steps broken and unwashed. +As he entered it a cold rain was falling, and a yellow fog that rolled +between the houses added to its dreariness. It was now late in the +afternoon, and so overcast the sky that in many rooms the gas was lit +and the curtains drawn. + +The girl, apparently from observing the daily progress of the sun, had +written she was on the west side of the street and, she believed, in +an upper story. The man who picked up the note had said he had found +it opposite the houses in the middle of the block. Accordingly, Ford +proceeded on the supposition that the entire east side of the street, +the lower stories of the west side, and the houses at each end were +eliminated. The three houses in the centre of the row were outwardly +alike. They were of four stories. Each was the residence of a physician, +and in each, in the upper stories, the blinds were drawn. From the front +there was nothing to be learned, and in the hope that the rear might +furnish some clew, Ford hastened to Wimpole Street, in which the houses +to the east backed upon those to the west in Sowell Street. These houses +were given over to furnished lodgings, and under the pretext of renting +chambers, it was easy for Ford to enter them, and from the apartments +in the rear to obtain several hasty glimpses of the backs of the three +houses in Sowell Street. But neither from this view-point did he gather +any fact of interest. In one of the three houses in Sowell Street +iron bars were fastened across the windows of the fourth floor, but in +private sanatoriums this was neither unusual nor suspicious. The bars +might cover the windows of a nursery to prevent children from falling +out, or the room of some timid householder with a lively fear of +burglars. + +In a quarter of an hour Ford was again back in Sowell Street no wiser +than when he had entered it. From the outside, at least, the three +houses under suspicion gave no sign. In the problem before him there was +one point that Ford found difficult to explain. It was the only one that +caused him to question if the letter was genuine. What puzzled him was +this: Why, if the girl were free to throw two notes from the window, did +she not throw them out by the dozen? If she were able to reach a window, +opening on the street, why did she not call for help? Why did she not, +by hurling out every small article the room contained, by screams, by +breaking the window-panes, attract a crowd, and, through it, the police? +That she had not done so seemed to show that only at rare intervals +was she free from restraint, or at liberty to enter the front room that +opened on the street. Would it be equally difficult, Ford asked himself, +for one in the street to communicate with her? What signal could he give +that would draw an answering signal from the girl? + +Standing at the corner, hidden by the pillars of a portico, the water +dripping from his rain-coat, Ford gazed long and anxiously at the blank +windows of the three houses. Like blind eyes staring into his, they told +no tales, betrayed no secret. Around him the commonplace life of the +neighborhood proceeded undisturbed. Somewhere concealed in the single +row of houses a girl was imprisoned, her life threatened; perhaps even +at that moment she was facing her death. While, on either side, shut +from her by the thickness only of a brick wall, people were talking, +reading, making tea, preparing the evening meal, or, in the street +below, hurrying by, intent on trivial errands. Hansom cabs, prowling +in search of a fare, passed through the street where a woman was being +robbed of a fortune, the drivers occupied only with thoughts of a +possible shilling; a housemaid with a jug in her hand and a shawl over +her bare head, hastened to the near-by public-house; the postman made +his rounds, and delivered comic postal-cards; a policeman, shedding +water from his shining cape, halted, gazed severely at the sky, and, +unconscious of the crime that was going forward within the sound of his +own footsteps, continued stolidly into Wimpole Street. + +A hundred plans raced through Ford's brain; he would arouse the street +with a false alarm of fire and lead the firemen, with the tale of a +smoking chimney, to one of the three houses; he would feign illness, +and, taking refuge in one of them, at night would explore the premises; +he would impersonate a detective, and insist upon his right to search +for stolen property. As he rejected these and a dozen schemes as +fantastic, his brain and eyes were still alert for any chance advantage +that the street might offer. But the minutes passed into an hour, and +no one had entered any of the three houses, no one had left them. In the +lower stories, from behind the edges of the blinds, lights appeared, +but of the life within there was no sign. Until he hit upon a plan of +action, Ford felt there was no longer anything to be gained by remaining +in Sowell Street. Already the answer to his cable might have arrived at +his rooms; at Gerridge's he might still learn something of Pearsall. +He decided to revisit both these places, and, while so engaged, to send +from his office one of his assistants to cover the Sowell Street houses. +He cast a last, reluctant look at the closed blinds, and moved away. As +he did so, two itinerant musicians dragging behind them a small street +piano on wheels turned the corner, and, as the rain had now ceased, one +of them pulled the oil-cloth covering from the instrument and, +seating himself on a camp-stool at the curb, opened the piano. After +a discouraged glance at the darkened windows, the other, in a hoarse, +strident tenor, to the accompaniment of the piano, began to sing. The +voice of the man was raucous, penetrating. It would have reached the +recesses of a tomb. + +“She sells sea-shells on the sea-shore,” the vocalist wailed. “The +shells she sells are sea-shells, I'm sure.” + +The effect was instantaneous. A window was flung open, and an indignant +householder with one hand frantically waved the musicians away, and with +the other threw them a copper coin. + +At the same moment Ford walked quickly to the piano and laid a +half-crown on top of it. + +“Follow me to Harley Street,” he commanded. “Don't hurry. Take your +time. I want you to help me in a sort of practical joke. It's worth a +sovereign to you.” + +He passed on quickly. When he glanced behind him, he saw the two men, +fearful lest the promised fortune might escape them, pursuing him at a +trot. At Harley Street they halted, breathless. + +“How long,” Ford demanded of the one who played the piano, “will it take +you to learn the accompaniment to a new song?” + +“While you're whistling it,” answered the man eagerly. + +“And I'm as quick at a tune as him,” assured the other anxiously. “I can +sing----” + +“You cannot,” interrupted Ford. “I'm going to do the singing myself. +Where is there a public-house near here where we can hire a back room, +and rehearse?” + +Half an hour later, Ford and the piano-player entered Sowell Street +dragging the piano behind them. The amateur detective still wore his +rain-coat, but his hat he had exchanged for a cap, and, instead of a +collar, he had knotted around his bare neck a dirty kerchief. At the +end of the street they halted, and in some embarrassment Ford raised his +voice in the chorus of a song well known in the music-halls. It was a +very good voice, much too good for “open-air work,” as his companion +had already assured him, but, what was of chief importance to Ford, it +carried as far as he wished it to go. Already in Wimpole Street four +coins of the realm, flung to him from the highest windows, had testified +to its power. From the end of Sowell Street Ford moved slowly from house +to house until he was directly opposite the three in one of which he +believed the girl to be. “We will try the NEW songs here,” he said. + +Night had fallen, and, except for the gas-lamps, the street was empty, +and in such darkness that even without his disguise Ford ran no risk of +recognition. His plan was not new. It dated from the days of Richard +the Lion-hearted. But if the prisoner were alert and intelligent, even +though she could make no answer, Ford believed through his effort she +would gain courage, would grasp that from the outside a friend was +working toward her. All he knew of the prisoner was that she came from +Kentucky. Ford fixed his eyes on the houses opposite, and cleared his +throat. The man struck the opening chords, and in a high barytone, and +in a cockney accent that made even the accompanist grin, Ford lifted his +voice. + +“The sun shines bright on my old Kentucky home,” he sang; “'tis summer, +and the darkies are gay.” + +He finished the song, but there was no sign. For all the impression he +had made upon Sowell Street, he might have been singing in his chambers. +“And now the other,” commanded Ford. + +The house-fronts echoed back the cheering notes of “Dixie.” Again Ford +was silent, and again The silence answered him. The accompanist glared +disgustedly at the darkened windows. + +“They don't know them songs,” he explained professionally. “Give 'em, +'Mollie Married the Marquis.'” + +“I'll sing the first one again,” said Ford. Once more he broke into the +pathetic cadences of the “Old Kentucky Home.” But there was no response. +He was beginning to feel angry, absurd. He believed he had wasted +precious moments, and, even as he sang, his mind was already working +upon a new plan. The song ceased, unfinished. + +“It's no use!” he exclaimed. Remembering himself, he added: “We'll try +the next street.” + +But even as he spoke he leaped forward. Coming apparently from nowhere, +something white sank through the semi-darkness and fell at his feet. +It struck the pavement directly in front of the middle one of the +three houses. Ford fell upon it and clutched it in both hands. It was a +woman's glove. Ford raced back to the piano. + +“Once more,” he cried, “play 'Dixie'!” + +He shouted out the chorus exultantly, triumphantly. Had he spoken it in +words, the message could not have carried more clearly. + +Ford now believed he had found the house, found the woman, and was +eager only to get rid of his companion and, in his own person, return to +Sowell Street. But, lest the man might suspect there was in his actions +something more serious than a practical joke, he forced himself to sing +the new songs in three different streets. Then, pretending to tire of +his prank, he paid the musician and left him. He was happy, exultant, +tingling with excitement. Good-luck had been with him, and, hoping that +Gerridge's might yet yield some clew to Pearsall, he returned there. +Calling up the London office of the REPUBLIC, he directed that one of +his assistants, an English lad named Cuthbert, should at once join him +at that hotel. Cuthbert was but just out of Oxford. He wished to become +a writer of fiction, and, as a means of seeing many kinds of life at +first hand, was in training as a “Pressman.” His admiration for Ford +amounted to almost hero-worship; and he regarded an “assignment” with +his chief as a joy and an honor. Full of enthusiasm, and as soon as a +taxicab could bring him, he arrived at Gerridge's, where, in a corner of +the deserted coffee-room, Ford explained the situation. Until he could +devise a way to enter the Sowell Street house. Cuthbert was to watch +over it. + +“The number of the house is forty,” Ford told him; “the name on the +door-plate, Dr. Prothero. Find out everything you can about him without +letting any one catch you at it. Better begin at the nearest chemist's. +Say you are on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and ask the man to mix +you a sedative, and recommend a physician. Show him Prothero's name and +address on a piece of paper, and say Prothero has been recommended to +you as a specialist on nervous troubles. Ask what he thinks of him. Get +him to talk. Then visit the trades-people and the public-houses in the +neighborhood, and say you are from some West End shop where Prothero, +wants to open an account. They may talk, especially if his credit is +bad. And, if you find out enough about him to give me a working basis, +I'll try to get into the house to-night. Meanwhile, I'm going to make +another quick search of this hotel for Pearsall. I'm not satisfied he +has not been here. For why should Miss Dale, with all the hotels in +London to choose from, have named this particular one, unless she had +good reason for it? Now, go, and meet me in an hour in Sowell Street.” + +Cuthbert was at the door when he remembered he had brought with him from +the office Ford's mail and cablegrams. Among the latter was the one for +which Ford had asked. + +“Wait,” he commanded. “This is about the girl. You had better know what +it says.” The cable read: + +“Girl orphan, Dalesville named after her family, for three generations +mill-owners, father died four years ago, Pearsall brother-in-law until +she is twenty-one, which will be in three months. Girl well known, +extremely popular, lived Dalesville until last year, when went abroad +with uncle, since then reports of melancholia and nervous prostration, +before that health excellent--no signs insanity--none in family. Be +careful how handle Pearsall, was doctor, gave up practice to look +after estate, is prominent in local business and church circles, best +reputation, beware libel.” + +For the benefit of Cuthbert, Ford had been reading the cable aloud. The +last paragraph seemed especially to interest him, and he read it twice, +the second time slowly, and emphasizing the word “doctor.” + +“A doctor!” he repeated. “Do you see where that leads us? It may explain +several things. The girl was in good health until went abroad with her +uncle, and he is a medical man.” + +The eyes of Cuthbert grew wide with excitement. + +“You mean poison!” he whispered. “Slow poison!” + +“Beware libel,” laughed Ford nervously, his own eyes lit with +excitement. “Suppose,” he exclaimed, “he has been using arsenic? He +would have many opportunities, and it's colorless, tasteless; and +arsenic would account for her depression and melancholia. The time when +he must turn over her money is very near, and, suppose he has spent +the money, speculated with it, and lost it, or that he still has it and +wants to keep it? In three months she will be of age, and he must make +an accounting. The arsenic does not work fast enough. So what does he +do? To save himself from exposure, or to keep the money, he throws her +into this private sanatorium, to make away with her.” + +Ford had been talking in an eager whisper. While he spoke his cigar had +ceased to burn, and to light it, from a vase on the mantel he took a +spill, one of those spirals of paper that in English hotels, where the +proprietor is of a frugal mind, are still used to prevent extravagance +in matches. Ford lit the spill at the coal fire, and with his +cigar puffed at the flame. As he did so the paper unrolled. To the +astonishment of Cuthbert, Ford clasped it in both hands, blotted out +the tiny flame, and, turning quickly to a table, spread out the charred +paper flat. After one quick glance, Ford ran to the fireplace, and, +seizing a handfull of the spills, began rapidly to unroll them. Then he +turned to Cuthbert and, without speaking, showed him the charred +spill. It was a scrap torn from the front page of a newspaper. The +half-obliterated words at which Ford pointed were DALESVILLE COUR ---- + +“His torn paper!” said Ford. “The DALESVILLE COURIER. Pearsall HAS been +in this hotel!” He handed another spill to Cuthbert. + +“From that one,” said Ford, “we get the date, December 3. Allowing three +weeks for the newspaper to reach London, Pearsall must have seen it +just three weeks ago, just when Miss Dale says he was in the hotel. The +landlord has lied to me.” + +Ford rang for a waiter, and told him to ask Mr. Gerridge to come to the +smoking-room. + +As Cuthbert was leaving it, Gerridge was entering it, and Ford was +saying: + +“It seems you've been lying to the police and to me. Unless you desire +to be an accessory to a murder, You had better talk quick!” + +An hour later Ford passed slowly through Sowell Street in a taxicab, +and, finding Cuthbert on guard, signalled him to follow. In Wimpole +Street the cab drew up to the curb, and Cuthbert entered it. + +“I have found Pearsall,” said Ford. “He is in No. 40 with Prothero.” + +He then related to Cuthbert what had happened. Gerridge had explained +that when the Police called, his first thought was to protect the good +name of his hotel. He had denied any knowledge of Pearsall only because +he no longer was a guest, and, as he supposed Pearsall had passed out +of his life, he saw no reason, why, through an arrest and a scandal, his +hotel should be involved. Believing Ford to be in the secret service of +the police, he was now only too anxious to clear himself of suspicion by +telling all he knew. It was but little. Pearsall and his niece had been +at the hotel for three days. During that time the niece, who appeared +to be an invalid, remained in her room. On the evening of the third +day, while Pearsall was absent, a call from him had come for her by +telephone, on receiving which Miss Dale had at once left the hotel, +apparently in great agitation. That night she did not return, but in the +morning Pearsall came to collect his and her luggage and to settle his +account. He explained that a woman relative living at the Langham Hotel +had been taken suddenly ill, and had sent for him and his niece. Her +condition had been so serious that they had remained with her all night, +and his niece still was at her bedside. The driver of a four-wheeler, +who for years had stood on the cab-rank in front of Gerridge's, had +driven Pearsall to the Langham. This man was at the moment on the rank, +and from him Ford learned what he most wished to know. + +The cabman remembered Pearsall, and having driven him to the Langham, +for the reason that immediately after setting him down there, and while +“crawling” for a fare in Portland Place, a whistle from the Langham had +recalled him, and the same luggage that had just been taken from the top +of his cab was Put back on it, and he was directed by the porter of the +hotel to take it to a house in Sowell Street. There a man-servant had +helped him unload the trunks and had paid him his fare. The cabman did +not remember the number of the house, but knew it was on the west side +of the street and in the middle of the block. + +Having finished with Gerridge and the cab-man, Ford had at once gone +to the Langham Hotel, where, as he anticipated, nothing was known of +Pearsall or his niece, or of any invalid lady. But the hall-porter +remembered the American gentleman who had driven up with many pieces of +luggage, and who, although it was out of season, and many suites in the +hotel were vacant, had found none to suit him. He had then set forth on +foot, having left word that his trunks be sent after him. The address he +gave was a house in Sowell Street. + +The porter recalled the incident because he and the cabman had grumbled +over the fact that in five minutes they had twice to handle the same +boxes. + +“It is pretty evident,” said Ford, what Pearsall had in mind, but chance +was against him. He thought when he had unloaded his trunks at the +Langham and dismissed the cabman he had destroyed the link connecting +him with Gerridge's. He could not foresee that the same cabman would be +loitering in the neighborhood. He should have known that four-wheelers +are not as plentiful as they once were; and he should have given that +particular one more time to get away. His idea in walking to the Sowell +Street house was obviously to prevent the new cabman from seeing him +enter it. But, just where he thought he was clever, was just where he +tripped. If he had remained with his trunks he would have seen that the +cabman was the same one who had brought them and him from Craven Street, +and he would have given any other address in London than the one he did. + +“And now,” said Ford, “that we have Pearsall where we want him, tell me +what you have learned about Prothero?” + +Cuthbert smiled importantly, and produced a piece of paper scribbled +over with notes. + +“Prothero,” he said, “seems to be THIS sort of man. If he made your +coffee for you, before you tasted it, you'd like him to drink a cup of +it first.” + + + + +II + +“Prothero,” said Cuthbert, “is a man of mystery. As soon as I began +asking his neighbors questions, I saw he was of interest and that I was +of interest. I saw they did not believe I was an agent of a West End +shop, but a detective. So they wouldn't talk at all, or else they talked +freely. And from one of them, a chemist named Needham, I got all I +wanted. He's had a lawsuit against Prothero, and hates him. Prothero got +him to invest in a medicine to cure the cocaine habit. Needham found +the cure was no cure, but cocaine disguised. He sued for his money, and +during the trial the police brought in Prothero's record. Needham let me +copy it, and it seems to embrace every crime except treason. The man is +a Russian Jew. He was arrested and prosecuted in Warsaw, Vienna, +Berlin, Belgrade; all over Europe, until finally the police drove him to +America. There he was an editor of an anarchist paper, a blackmailer, a +'doctor' of hypnotism, a clairvoyant, and a professional bigamist. His +game was to open rooms as a clairvoyant, and advise silly women how to +invest their money. When he found out which of them had the most money, +he would marry her, take over her fortune, and skip. In Chicago, he was +tried for poisoning one wife, and the trial brought out the fact that +two others had died under suspicious circumstances, and that there +were three more unpoisoned but anxious to get back their money. He was +sentenced to ten years for bigamy, but pardoned because he was supposed +to be insane, and dying. Instead of dying, he opened a sanatorium in +New York to cure victims of the drug habit. In reality, it was a sort of +high-priced opium-den. The place was raided, and he jumped his bail and +came to this country. Now he is running this private hospital in Sowell +Street. Needham says it's a secret rendezvous for dope fiends. But they +are very high-class dope fiends, who are willing to pay for seclusion, +and the police can't get at him. I may add that he's tall and muscular, +with a big black beard, and hands that could strangle a bull. In +Chicago, during the poison trial, the newspapers called him 'the Modern +Bluebeard.”' + +For a short time Ford was silent. But, in the dark corner of the cab, +Cuthbert could see that his cigar was burning briskly. + +“Your friend seems a nice chap,” said Ford at last. “Calling on him will +be a real pleasure. I especially like what you say about his hands.” + +“I have a plan,” began the assistant timidly, “a plan to get you into +the house-if you don't mind my making suggestions?” + +“Not at all!” exclaimed his chief heartily. + +“Get me into the house by all means; that's what we're here for. The +fact that I'm to be poisoned or strangled after I get there mustn't +discourage us.'” + +“I thought,” said Cuthbert, “I might stand guard outside, while you got +in as a dope fiend.” + +Ford snorted indignantly. “Do I LOOK like a dope fiend?” he protested. + +The voice of the assistant was one of discouragement. + +“You certainly do not,” he exclaimed regretfully. “But it's the only +plan I could think of.” + +“It seems to me,” said his chief testily, “that you are not so very +healthy-looking yourself. What's the matter with YOUR getting inside as +a dope fiend and MY standing guard?” + +“But I wouldn't know what to do after I got inside,” complained the +assistant, “and you would. You are so clever.” + +The expression of confidence seemed to flatter Ford. + +“I might do this,” he said. “I might pretend I was recovering from a +heavy spree, and ask to be taken care of until I am sober. Or I could +be a very good imitation of a man on the edge of a nervous breakdown. +I haven't been five years in the newspaper business without knowing all +there is to know about nerves. That's it!” he cried. “I will do that! +And if Mr. Bluebeard Svengali, the Strangler of Paris person, won't take +me in as a patient, we'll come back with a couple of axes and BREAK in. +But we'll try the nervous breakdown first, and we'll try it now. I will +be a naval officer,” declared Ford. “I made the round-the-world cruise +with our fleet as a correspondent, and I know enough sea slang to fool +a medical man. I am a naval officer whose nerves have gone wrong. I have +heard of his sanatorium through----” “How,” asked Ford sharply, “have I +heard of his sanatorium?” + +“You saw his advertisement in the DAILY WORLD,” prompted Cuthbert. +“'Home of convalescents; mental and nervous troubles cured.'” + +“And,” continued Ford, “I have come to him for rest and treatment. My +name is Lieutenant Henry Grant. I arrived in London two weeks ago on the +MAURETANIA. But my name was not on the passenger-list, because I did not +want the Navy Department to know I was taking my leave abroad. I have +been stopping at my own address in Jermyn Street, and my references are +yourself, the Embassy, and my landlord. You will telephone him at once +that, if any one asks after Henry Grant, he is to say what you tell him +to say. And if any one sends for Henry Grant's clothes, he is to send MY +clothes.” + +“But you don't expect to be in there as long as that?” exclaimed +Cuthbert. + +“I do not,” said Ford. “But, if he takes me in, I must make a bluff of +sending for my things. No; either I will be turned out in five minutes, +or if he accepts me as a patient I will be there until midnight. If I +cannot get the girl out of the house by midnight, it will mean that +I can't get out myself, and you had better bring the police and the +coroner.” + +“Do you mean it?” asked Cuthbert. + +“I most certainly do!” exclaimed Ford. + +“Until twelve I want a chance to get this story exclusively for our +paper. If she is not free by then it means I have fallen down on it, and +you and the police are to begin to batter in the doors.” + +The two young men left the cab, and at some distance from each other +walked to Sowell Street. At the house of Dr. Prothero, Ford stopped and +rang the bell. From across the street Cuthbert saw the door open and +the figure of a man of almost gigantic stature block the doorway. For a +moment he stood there, and then Cuthbert saw him step to one side, saw +Ford enter the house and the door close upon him. Cuthbert at once ran +to a telephone, and, having instructed Ford's landlord as to the part +he was to play, returned to Sowell Street. There, in a state nearly +approaching a genuine nervous breakdown, he continued his vigil. + +Even without his criminal record to cast a glamour over him, Ford would +have found Dr. Prothero, a disturbing person. His size was enormous, his +eyes piercing, sinister, unblinking, and the hands that could strangle a +bull, and with which as though to control himself, he continually pulled +at his black beard, were gigantic, of a deadly white, with fingers long +and prehensile. In his manner he had all the suave insolence of the +Oriental and the suspicious alertness of one constantly on guard, but +also, as Ford at once noted, of one wholly without fear. He had not +been over a moment in his presence before the reporter felt that to +successfully lie to such a man might be counted as a triumph. + +Prothero opened the door into a little office leading off the hall, and +switched on the electric lights. For some short time, without any effort +to conceal his suspicion, he stared at Ford in silence. + +“Well?” he said, at last. His tone was a challenge. + +Ford had already given his assumed name and profession, and he now ran +glibly into the story he had planned. He opened his card-case and looked +into it doubtfully. “I find I have no card with me,” he said; “but I am, +as I told you, Lieutenant Grant, of the United States Navy. I am all +right physically, except for my nerves. They've played me a queer trick. +If the facts get out at home, it might cost me my commission. So I've +come over here for treatment.” + +“Why to ME?” asked Prothero. + +“I saw by your advertisement,” said the reporter, “that you treated +for nervous mental troubles. Mine is an illusion,” he went on. “I see +things, or, rather, always one thing-a battle-ship coming at us head on. +For the last year I've been executive officer of the KEARSARGE, and the +responsibility has been too much for me.” + +“You see a battle-ship?” inquired the Jew. + +“A phantom battle-ship,” Ford explained, “a sort OF FLYING DUTCHMAN. +The time I saw it I was on the bridge, and I yelled and telegraphed the +engine-room. I brought the ship to a full stop, and backed her. But it +was dirty weather, and the error was passed over. After that, when I saw +the thing coming I did nothing. But each time I think it is real.” Ford +shivered slightly and glanced about him. “Some day,” he added fatefully, +“it WILL be real, and I will NOT signal, and the ship will sink!” + +In silence, Prothero observed his visitor closely. The young man seemed +sincere, genuine. His manner was direct and frank. He looked the part he +had assumed, as one used to authority. + +“My fees are large,” said the Russian. + +At this point, had Ford, regardless of terms, exhibited a hopeful +eagerness to at once close with him, the Jew would have shown him the +door. But Ford was on guard, and well aware that a lieutenant in the +navy had but few guineas to throw away on medicines. He made a movement +as though to withdraw. + +“Then I am afraid,” he said, “I must go somewhere else.” + +His reluctance apparently only partially satisfied the Jew. + +Ford adopted opposite tactics. He was never without ready money. His +paper saw to it that in its interests he was always able at any moment +to pay for a special train across Europe, or to bribe the entire working +staff of a cable office. From his breast-pocket he took a blue +linen envelope, and allowed the Jew to see that it was filled with +twenty-pound notes. “I have means outside my pay,” said Ford. + +“I would give almost any price to the man who can cure me.” The eyes of +the Russian flashed avariciously. + +“I will arrange the terms to suit you,” he exclaimed. “Your case +interests me. Do you See this mirage only at sea?” + +“In any open place,” Ford assured him. “In a park or public square, but +of course most frequently at sea.” + +The quack waved his great hands as though brushing aside a curtain. + +“I will remove the illusion,” he said, “and give you others more +pretty.” He smiled meaningfully--an evil, leering smile. “When will you +come?” he asked. Ford glanced about him nervously. + +“I shall stay now,” he said. “I confess, in the streets and in my +lodgings I am frightened. You give me confidence. I want to stay near +you. I feel safe with you. If you will give me writing-paper, I will +send for my things.” + +For a moment the Jew hesitated, and then motioned to a desk. As Ford +wrote, Prothero stood near him, and the reporter knew that over his +shoulder the Jew was reading what he wrote. Ford gave him the note, +unsealed, and asked that it be forwarded at once to his lodgings. + +“To-morrow,” he said, “I will call up our Embassy, and give my address +to our Naval Attache. + +“I will attend to that,” said Prothero. + +“From now you are in my hands, and you can communicate with the outside +only through me. You are to have absolute rest--no books, no letters, +no papers. And you will be fed from a spoon. I will explain my treatment +later. You will now go to your room, and you will remain there until you +are a well man.” + +Ford had no wish to be at once shut off from the rest of the house. The +odor of cooking came through the hall, and seemed to offer an excuse for +delay. + +“I smell food,” he laughed. “And I'm terrifically hungry. Can't I have a +farewell dinner before you begin feeding me from a spoon?” + +The Jew was about to refuse, but, with his guilty knowledge of what was +going forward in the house, he could not be too sure of those he allowed +to enter it. He wanted more time to spend in studying this new patient, +and the dinner-table seemed to offer a place where he could do so +without the other suspecting he was under observation. + +“My associate and I were just about to dine,” he said. “You will wait +here until I have another place laid, and you can join us.” + +He departed, walking heavily down the hall, but almost at once Ford, +whose ears were alert for any sound, heard him returning, approaching +stealthily on tiptoe. If by this maneuver the Jew had hoped to discover +his patient in some indiscretion, he was unsuccessful, for he found Ford +standing just where he had left him, with his back turned to the +door, and gazing with apparent interest at a picture on the wall. The +significance of the incident was not lost upon the intruder. It taught +him he was still under surveillance, and that he must bear himself +warily. Murmuring some excuse for having returned, the Jew again +departed, and in a few minutes Ford heard his voice, and that of another +man, engaged in low tones in what was apparently an eager argument. + +Only once was the voice of the other man raised sufficiently for Ford to +distinguish his words. “He is an American,” protested the voice; “that +makes it worse.” + +Ford guessed that the speaker was Pearsall, and that against his +admittance to the house he was making earnest protest. A door, closing +with a bang, shut off the argument, but within a few minutes it was +evident the Jew had carried his point, for he reappeared to announce +that dinner was waiting. It was served in a room at the farther end of +the hall, and at the table, which was laid for three, Ford found a man +already seated. Prothero introduced him as “my associate,” but from his +presence in the house, and from the fact that he was an American, Ford +knew that he was Pearsall. + +Pearsall was a man of fifty. He was tall, spare, with closely shaven +face and gray hair, worn rather long. He spoke with the accent of +a Southerner, and although to Ford he was studiously polite, he was +obviously greatly ill at ease. He had the abrupt, inattentive manners, +the trembling fingers and quivering lips, of one who had long been +a slave to the drug habit, and who now, with difficulty, was holding +himself in hand. + +Throughout the dinner, speaking to him as though, interested only as +his medical advisers, the Jew, and occasionally the American, sharply +examined and cross-examined their visitor. But they were unable to trip +him in his story, or to suggest that he was not just what he claimed to +be. + +When the dinner was finished, the three men, for different reasons, were +each more at his ease. Both Pearsall and Prothero believed from the new +patient they had nothing to fear, and Ford was congratulating himself +that his presence at the house was firmly secure. + +“I think,” said Pearsall, “we should warn Mr. Grant that there are in +the house other patients who, like himself, are suffering from nervous +disorders. At times some silly neurotic woman becomes hysterical, and +may make an outcry or scream. He must not think ----” + +“That's all right!” Ford reassured him cheerfully. “I expect that. In a +sanatorium it must be unavoidable.” + +As he spoke, as though by a signal prearranged, there came from the +upper portion of the house a scream, long, insistent. + +It was the voice of a woman, raised in appeal, in protest, shaken with +fear. Without for an instant regarding it, the two men fastened their +eyes upon the visitor. The hand of the Jew dropped quickly from his +beard, and slid to the inside pocket of his coat. With eyes apparently +unseeing, Ford noted the movement. + +“He carries a gun,” was his mental comment, “and he seems perfectly +willing to use it.” Aloud, he said: “That, I suppose is one of them?” + +Prothero nodded gravely, and turned to Pearsall. “Will you attend her?” + he asked. + +As Pearsall rose and left the room, Prothero rose also. + +“You will come with me,” he directed, “and I will see you settle in your +apartment. Your bag has arrived and is already there.” + +The room to which the Jew led him was the front one on the second story. +It was in no way in keeping with a sanatorium, or a rest-cure. The walls +were hidden by dark blue hangings, in which sparkled tiny mirrors, the +floor was covered with Turkish rugs, the lights concealed inside lamps +of dull brass bedecked with crimson tassels. In the air were the odors +of stale tobacco-smoke, of cheap incense, and the sickly, sweet smell of +opium. To Ford the place suggested a cigar-divan rather than a bedroom, +and he guessed, correctly, that when Prothero had played at palmistry +and clairvoyance this had been the place where he received his dupes. +But the American expressed himself pleased with his surroundings, and +while Prothero remained in the room, busied himself with unpacking his +bag. + +On leaving him the Jew halted in the door and delivered himself of a +little speech. His voice was stern, sharp, menacing. + +“Until you are cured,” he said, “you will not put your foot outside this +room. In this house are other inmates who, as you have already learned, +are in a highly nervous state. The brains of some are unbalanced. With +my associate and myself they are familiar, but the sight of a stranger +roaming through the halls might upset them. They might attack you, might +do you bodily injury. If you wish for anything, ring the electric bell +beside your bed and an attendant will come. But you yourself must not +leave the room.” + +He closed the door, and Ford, seating himself in front of the coal fire, +hastily considered his position. He could not persuade himself that, +strategically, it was a satisfactory one. The girl he sought was on the +top or fourth floor, he on the second. To reach her he would have to +pass through Well-lighted halls, up two flights Of stairs and try +to enter a door that would undoubtedly be locked. On the other hand, +instead of wandering about in the rain outside the house, he was now +established on the inside, and as an inmate. Had there been time for a +siege, he would have been confident of success. But there was no time. +The written call for help had been urgent. Also, the scream he had +heard, while the manner of the two men had shown that to them it was a +commonplace, was to him a spur to instant action. In haste he knew there +was the risk of failure, but he must take that risk. + +He wished first to assure himself that Cuthbert was within call, and to +that end put out the lights and drew aside the curtains that covered the +window. Outside, the fog was rolling between the house-fronts, both rain +and snow were falling heavily, and a solitary gas-lamp showed only a +deserted and dripping street. Cautiously Ford lit a match and for an +instant let the flame flare. He was almost at once rewarded by the sight +of an answering flame that flickered from a dark doorway. Ford closed +the window, satisfied that his line of communication with the outside +world was still intact. The faithful Cuthbert was on guard. + +Ford rapidly reviewed each possible course of action. These were +several, but to lead any one of them to success, he saw that he must +possess a better acquaintance with the interior of the house. Especially +was it important that he should obtain a line of escape other than the +one down the stairs to the front door. The knowledge that in the rear of +the house there was a means of retreat by a servants' stairway, or over +the roof of an adjoining building, or by a friendly fire-escape, would +at least, lend him confidence in his adventure. Accordingly, in spite of +Prothero's threat, he determined at once to reconnoitre. In case of his +being discovered outside his room, he would explain his electric bell +was out of order, that when he rang no servant had answered, and that he +had sallied forth in search of one. To make this plausible, he unscrewed +the cap of the electric button in the wall, and with his knife cut off +enough of the wire to prevent a proper connection. He then replaced the +cap and, opening the door, stepped into the hall. + +The upper part of the house was, sunk in silence, but rising from the +dining-room below, through the opening made by the stairs, came the +voices of Prothero and Pearsall. And mixed with their voices came also +the sharp hiss of water issuing from a siphon. The sound was reassuring. +Apparently, over their whiskey-and-soda the two men were still lingering +at the dinner-table. For the moment, then--so far, at least, as they +were concerned--the coast was clear. + +Stepping cautiously, and keeping close to the wall, Ford ran lightly +up the stairs to the hall of the third floor. It was lit brightly by a +gas-jet, but no one was in sight, and the three doors opening upon it +were shut. At the rear of the hall was a window; the blind was raised, +and through the panes, dripping in the rain, Ford caught a glimpse of +the rigid iron rods of a fire-escape. His spirits leaped exultantly. If +necessary, by means of this scaling ladder, he could work entirely +from the outside. Greatly elated, he tiptoed past the closed doors and +mounted to the fourth floor. This also was lit by a gas-jet that showed +at one end of the hall a table on which were medicine-bottles and a tray +covered by a napkin; and at the other end, piled upon each other and +blocking the hall-window, were three steamer-trunks. Painted on each +were the initials, “D. D.” Ford breathed an exclamation. + +“Dosia Dale,” he muttered, “I have found you!” He was again confronted +by three closed doors, one leading to a room that faced the street, +another opening upon a room in the rear of the house, and opposite, +across the hallway, still another door. He observed that the first two +doors were each fastened from the outside by bolts and a spring lock, +and that the key to each lock was in place. The fact moved him with +indecision. If he took possession of the keys, he could enter the rooms +at his pleasure. On the other hand, should their loss be discovered, an +alarm would be raised and he would inevitably come under suspicion. The +very purpose he had in view might be frustrated. He decided that where +they were the keys would serve him as well as in his pocket, and turned +his attention to the third door. This was not locked, and, from its +position, Ford guessed it must be an entrance to a servants' stairway. + +Confident of this, he opened it, and found a dark, narrow landing, a +flight of steps mounting from the kitchen below, and, to his delight an +iron ladder leading to a trap-door. He could hardly forego a cheer. If +the trap-door were not locked, he had found a third line of retreat, a +means of escape by way of the roof, far superior to any he might attempt +by the main staircase and the street-door. + +Ford stepped into the landing, closing the door behind him and though +this left him in complete darkness, he climbed the ladder, and with +eager fingers felt for the fastenings of the trap. He had feared to +find a padlock, but, to his infinite relief, his fingers closed upon +two bolts. Noiselessly, and smoothly, they drew back from their sockets. +Under the pressure of his hand the trap door lifted, and through the +opening swept a breath of chill night air. + +Ford hooked one leg over a round of the ladder and, with hands frees +moved the trap to one side. An instant later he had scrambled to the +roof, and, after carefully replacing the trap, rose and looked about +him. To his satisfaction, he found that the roof upon which he stood ran +level with the roofs adjoining its to as far as Devonshire Street, +where they encountered the wall of an apartment house. This was of +seven stories. On the fifth story a row of windows, brilliantly lighted, +opened upon the roofs over which he planned to make his retreat. Ford +chuckled with nervous excitement. + +“Before long,” he assured himself, “I will be visiting the man who owns +that flat. He will think I am a burglar. He will send for the police. +There is no one in the world I shall be so glad to see!” + +Ford considered that running over roofs, even when their pitfalls were +not concealed by a yellow fog, was an awkward exercise, and decided that +before he made his dash for freedom, the part of a careful jockey would +be to take a preliminary canter over the course. Accordingly, among +party walls of brick, rain-pipes, chimney-pipes, and telephone wires, +he felt his way to the wall of the apartment house; and then, with a +clearer idea of the obstacles to be avoided, raced back to the point +whence he had started. + +Next, to discover the exact position of the fire-escape, he dropped to +his knees and crawled to the rear edge of the roof. The light from the +back windows of the fourth floor showed him an iron ladder from the edge +of the roof to the platform of the fire-escape, and the platform itself, +stretching below the windows the width of the building. He gave a sigh +of satisfaction, but the same instant exclaimed with dismay. The windows +opening upon the fire-escape were closely barred. For a moment he was +unable to grasp why a fire-escape should be placed where escape was +impossible, until he recognized that the ladder must have been erected +first and the iron bars later; probably only since Miss Dale had been +made a prisoner. + +But he now appreciated that in spite of the iron bars he was nearer that +prisoner than he had ever been. Should he return to the hall below, even +while he could unlock the doors, he was in danger of discovery by those +inside the house. But from the fire-escape only a window-pane would +separate him from the prisoner, and though the bars would keep him at +arm's-length, he might at least speak with her, and assure her that +her call for help had carried. He grasped the sides of the ladder and +dropped to the platform. As he had already seen that the window farthest +to the left was barricaded with trunks, he disregarded it, and passed +quickly to the two others. Behind both of these, linen shades were +lowered, but, to his relief, he found that in the middle window the +lower sash, as though for ventilation, was slightly raised, leaving +an opening of a few inches. Kneeling on the gridiron platform of the +fire-escape, and pressing his face against the bars, he brought his eyes +level with this opening. Owing to the lowered window-blind, he could see +nothing in the room, nor could he distinguish any sound until above the +drip and patter of the rain there came to him the peaceful ticking of +a clock and the rattle of coal falling to the fender. But of any sound +that was human there was none. That the room was empty, and that the +girl was in the front of the house was possible, and the temptation +to stretch his hand through the bars and lift the blind was almost +compelling. If he did so, and the girl were inside, she might make an +outcry, or, guarding her, there might be an attendant, who at once would +sound the alarm. The risk was evident, but, encouraged by the silence, +Ford determined to take the chance. Slipping one hand between the bars +he caught the end of the blind, and, pulling it gently down, let the +spring draw it upward. Through an opening of six inches the room lay +open before him. He saw a door leading to another room, at one side an +iron cot, and in front of the coal fire, facing him, a girl seated in a +deep arm-chair. A book lay on her knees, and she was intently reading. + +The girl was young, and her face, in spite of an unnatural pallor and an +expression of deep melancholy, was one of extreme beauty. She wore over +a night-dress a long loose wrapper corded at the waist, and, as though +in readiness for the night, her black hair had been drawn back into +smooth, heavy braids. She made so sweet and sad a picture that Ford +forgot his errand, forgot his damp and chilled body, and for a moment +in sheer delight knelt, with his face pressed close to the bars, and +gazed at her. + +A movement on the part of the girl brought him to his senses. She closed +the book, and, leaning forward, rested her chin upon the hollow of her +hand and stared into the fire. Her look was one of complete and hopeless +misery. Ford did not hesitate. The girl was alone, but that at any +moment an attendant might join her was probable, and the rare chance +that now offered would be lost. He did not dare to speak, or by any +sound attract her attention, but from his breast-pocket he took the +glove thrown to him from the window, and, with a jerk, tossed it through +the narrow opening. It fell directly at her feet. She had not seen the +glove approach, but the slight sound it made in falling caused her to +start and turn her eyes toward it. Through the window, breathless, and +with every nerve drawn taut, Ford watched her. + +For a moment, partly in alarm, partly in bewilderment, she sat +motionless, regarding the glove with eyes fixed and staring. Then she +lifted them to the ceiling, in quick succession to each of the closed +doors, and then to the window. In his race across the roofs Ford had +lacked the protection of a hat, and his hair was plastered across his +forehead; his face was streaked with soot and snow, his eyes shone with +excitement. But at sight of this strange apparition the girl made no +sign. Her alert mind had in an instant taken in the significance of the +glove, and for her what followed could have but one meaning. She knew +that no matter in what guise he came the man whose face was now pressed +against the bars was a friend. + +With a swift, graceful movement she rose to her feet, crossed quickly to +the window, and sank upon her knees. + +“Speak in a whisper,” she said; “and speak quickly. You are in great +danger!” + +That her first thought was of his safety gave Ford a thrill of shame and +pleasure. + +Until now Miss Dosia Dale had been only the chief feature in a newspaper +story; the unknown quantity in a problem. She had meant no more to him +than had the initials on her steamer-trunk. Now, through her beauty, +through the distress in her eyes, through her warm and generous nature +that had disclosed itself with her first words, she became a living, +breathing, lovely, and lovable woman. All of the young man's chivalry +leaped to the call. He had gone back several centuries. In feeling, he +was a knight-errant rescuing beauty in distress from a dungeon cell. To +the girl, he was a reckless young person with a dirty face and eyes +that gave confidence. But, though a knight-errant, Ford was a modern +knight-errant. He wasted no time in explanations or pretty speeches. + +“In two minutes,” he whispered, “I'll unlock your door. There's a ladder +outside your room to the roof. Once we get to the roof the rest's easy. +Should anything go wrong, I'll come back by this fire-escape. Wait at +the window until you see your door open. Do you understand?” + +The girl answered with an eager nod. The color had flown to her cheek. +Her eyes flashed in excitement. A sudden doubt assailed Ford. + +“You've no time to put on any more clothes,” he commanded. + +“I haven't got any!” said the girl. + +The knight-errant ran up the fire-escape, pulled himself over the edge +of the roof, and, crossing it, dropped through the trap to the landing +of the kitchen stairs. Here he expended the greater part of the two +minutes he had allowed himself in cautiously opening the door into the +hall. He accomplished this without a sound, and in one step crossed the +hall to the door that held Miss Dale a prisoner. + +Slowly he drew back the bolts. Only the spring lock now barred him from +her. With thumb and forefinger he turned the key, pushed the door gently +open, and ran into the room. + +At the same instant from behind him, within six feet of him, he heard +the staircase creak. A bomb bursting could not have shaken him more +rudely. He swung on his heel and found, blocking the door, the giant +bulk of Prothero regarding him over the barrel of his pistol. + +“Don't move!” said the Jew. + +At the sound of his voice the girl gave a cry of warning, and sprang +forward. + +“Go back!” commanded Prothero. His voice was low and soft, and +apparently calm, but his face showed white with rage. + +Ford had recovered from the shock of the surprise. He, also, was in a +rage--a rage of mortification and bitter disappointment. + +“Don't point that gun at me!” he blustered. + +The sound of leaping footsteps and the voice of Pearsall echoed from the +floor below. + +“Have you got him?” he called. + +Prothero made no reply, nor did he lower his pistol. When Pearsall was +at his side, without turning his head, he asked in the same steady tone: + +“What shall we do with him?” + +The face of Pearsall was white, and furious with fear. + +“I told you----” he stormed. + +“Never mind what you told me,” said the Jew. “What shall we do with him? +He knows!” + +Ford's mind was working swiftly. He had no real fear of personal danger +for the girl or himself. The Jew, he argued, was no fool. He would not +risk his neck by open murder. And, as he saw it, escape with the girl +might still be possible. He had only to conceal from Prothero his +knowledge of the line of retreat over the house-tops, explain his +rain-soaked condition, and wait a better chance. + +To this end he proceeded to lie briskly and smoothly. + +“Of course I know,” he taunted. He pointed to his dripping garments. +“Do you know where I've been? In the street, placing my men. I have this +house surrounded. I am going to walk down those stairs with this young +lady. If you try to stop me I have only to blow my police-whistle----” + +“And I will blow your brains out!” interrupted the Jew. It was a most +unsatisfactory climax. + +“You have not been in the street,” said Prothero. “You are wet because +you hung out of your window signalling to your friend. Do you know why +he did not answer your second signal? Because he is lying in an area, +with a knife in him!” + +“You lie!” cried Ford. + +“YOU lie,” retorted the Jew quietly, “when you say your men surround +this house. You are alone. You are NOT in the police service, you are +a busybody meddling with men who think as little of killing you as they +did of killing your friend. My servant was placed to watch your window, +saw your signal, reported to me. And I found your assistant and threw +him into an area, with a knife in him!” + +Ford felt the story was untrue. Prothero was trying to frighten him. +Out of pure bravado no sane man would boast of murder. But--and at the +thought Ford felt a touch of real fear--was the man sane? It was a most +unpleasant contingency. Between a fight with an angry man and an insane +man the difference was appreciable. From this new view-point Ford +regarded his adversary with increased wariness; he watched him as he +would a mad dog. He regretted extremely he had not brought his revolver. + +With his automatic pistol still covering Ford, Prothero spoke to +Pearsall. + +“I found him,” he recited, as though testing the story he would tell +later, “prowling through my house at night. Mistaking him for a burglar, +I killed him. The kitchen window will be found open, with the lock +broken, showing how he gained an entrance. Why not?” he demanded. + +“Because,” protested Pearsall, in terror, “the man outside will +tell----” + +Ford shouted in genuine relief. + +“Exactly!” he cried. “The man outside, who is not down an area with a +knife in him, but who at this moment is bringing the police--he will +tell!” + +As though he had not been interrupted, Prothero continued thoughtfully: + +“What they may say he expected to find here, I can explain away later. +The point is that I found a strange man, hatless, dishevelled, prowling +in my house. I called on him to halt; he ran, I fired, and unfortunately +killed him. An Englishman's home is his castle; an English jury----” + +“An English jury,” said Ford briskly, “is the last thing you want to +meet---- It isn't a Chicago jury.” + +The Jew flung back his head as though Ford had struck him in the face. + +“Ah!” he purred, “you know that, too, do you?” The purr increased to a +snarl. “You know too much!” + +For Pearsall, his tone seemed to bear an alarming meaning. He sprang +toward Prothero, and laid both hands upon his disengaged arm. + +“For God's sake,” he pleaded, “come away! He can't hurt you--not alive; +but dead, he'll hang you--hang us both. We must go, now, this moment.” + He dragged impotently at the left arm of the giant. “Come!” he begged. + +Whether moved by Pearsall's words or by some thought of his own, +Prothero nodded in assent. He addressed himself to Ford. + +“I don't know what to do with you,” he said, “so I will consult with +my friend outside this door. While we talk, we will lock you in. We can +hear any move you make. If you raise the window or call I will open the +door and kill you--you and that woman!” + +With a quick gesture, he swung to the door, and the spring lock snapped. +An instant later the bolts were noisily driven home. + +When the second bolt shot into place, Ford turned and looked at Miss +Dale. + +“This is a hell of a note!” he said + + + + +III + +Outside the locked door the voices of the two men rose in fierce +whispers. But Ford regarded them not at all. With the swiftness of +a squirrel caught in a cage, he darted on tiptoe from side to side +searching the confines of his prison. He halted close to Miss Dale and +pointed at the windows. + +“Have you ever tried to loosen those bars?” he whispered. + +The girl nodded and, in pantomime that spoke of failure, shrugged her +shoulders. + +“What did you see?” demanded Ford hopefully. + +The girl destroyed his hope with a shake of her head and a swift smile. + +“Scissors,” she said; “but they found them and took them away.” Ford +pointed at the open grate. + +“Where's the poker?” he demanded. + +“They took that, too. I bent it trying to pry the bars. So they knew.” + +The man gave her a quick, pleased glance, then turned his eyes to the +door that led into the room that looked upon the street. + +“Is that door locked?” + +“No,” the girl told him. “But the door from it into the hall is +fastened, like the other, with a spring lock and two bolts.” + +Ford cautiously opened the door into the room adjoining, and, except for +a bed and wash-stand, found it empty. On tiptoe he ran to the windows. +Sowell Street was deserted. He returned to Miss Dale, again closing the +door between the two rooms. + +“The nurse,” Miss Dale whispered, “when she is on duty, leaves that door +open so that she can watch me; when she goes downstairs, she locks and +bolts the door from that room to the hall. It's locked now.” + +“What's the nurse like?” + +The girl gave a shudder that seemed to Ford sufficiently descriptive. +Her lips tightened in a hard, straight line. + +“She's not human,” she said. “I begged her to help me, appealed to her +in every way; then I tried a dozen times to get past her to the stairs.” + +“Well?” + +The girl frowned, and with a gesture signified her surroundings. + +“I'm still here,” she said. + +She bent suddenly forward and, with her hand on his shoulder, turned the +man so that he faced the cot. + +“The mattress on that bed,” she whispered, “rests on two iron rods. They +are loose and can be lifted. I planned to smash the lock, but the noise +would have brought Prothero. But you could defend yourself with one of +them.” + +Ford had already run to the cot and dropped to his knees. He found the +mattress supported on strips of iron resting loosely in sockets at the +head and foot. He raised the one nearer him, and then, after a moment of +hesitation, let it drop into place. + +“That's fine!” he whispered. “Good as a crowbar.'” He shook his head in +sudden indecision. “But I don't just know how to use it. His automatic +could shoot six times before I could swing that thing on him once. And +if I have it in my hands when he opens the door, he'll shoot, and he may +hit you. But if I leave it where it is, he won't know I know it's there, +and it may come in very handy later.” + +In complete disapproval the girl shook her head. Her eyes filled with +concern. “You must not fight him,” she ordered. “I mean, not for me. You +don't know the danger. The man's not sane. He won't give you a chance. +He's mad. You have no right to risk your life for a stranger. I'll not +permit it----” + +Ford held up his hand for silence. With a jerk of his head he signified +the door. “They've stopped talking,” he whispered. + +Straining to hear, the two leaned forward, but from the hall there came +no sound. The girl raised her eyebrows questioningly. + +“Have they gone?” she breathed. + +“If I knew that,” protested Ford, “we wouldn't be here!” + +In answer to his doubt a smart rap, as though from the butt of a +revolver, fell upon the door. The voice of Prothero spoke sharply: + +“You, who call yourself Grant!” he shouted. + +Before answering, Ford drew Miss Dale and himself away from the line of +the door, and so placed the girl with her back to the wall that if the +door opened she would be behind it. “Yes,” he answered. + +“Pearsall and I,” called Prothero, “have decided how to dispose of +you--of both of you. He has gone below to make preparations. I am on +guard. If you try to break out or call for help, I'll shoot you as I +warned you!” + +“And I warn you,” shouted Ford, “if this lady and I do not instantly +leave this house, or if any harm comes to her, you will hang for it!” + Prothero laughed jeeringly. + +“Who will hang me?” he mocked. + +“My friends,” retorted Ford. “They know I am in this house. They know +WHY I am here. Unless they see Miss Dale and myself walk out of it in +safety, they will never let you leave it. Don't be a fool, Prothero!” he +shouted. “You know I am telling the truth. You know your only chance for +mercy is to open that door and let us go free.” + +For over a minute Ford waited, but from the hall there was no answer. + +After another minute of silence, Ford turned and gazed inquiringly at +Miss Dale. + +“Prothero!” he called. + +Again for a full minute he waited and again called, and then, as there +still was no reply, he struck the door sharply with his knuckles. On the +instant the voice of the Jew rang forth in an angry bellow. + +“Keep away from that door!” he commanded. + +Ford turned to Miss Dale and bent his head close to hers. + +“Now, why the devil didn't he answer?” he whispered. “Was it because he +wasn't there; or is he planning to steal away and wants us to think +that even if he does not answer, he's still outside?” The girl nodded +eagerly. + +“This is it,” she whispered. “My uncle is a coward or rather he is very +wise, and has left the house. And Prothero means to follow, but he wants +us to think he's still on guard. If we only KNEW!” she exclaimed. + +As though in answer to her thought, the voice of Prothero called to +them. + +“Don't speak to me again,” he warned. “If you do, I'll not answer, or +I'll shoot!” + +Flattened against the wall, close to the hinges of the door, Ford +replied flippantly and defiantly: + +“That makes conversation difficult, doesn't it?” he called. + +There was a bursting report, and a bullet splintered the panel of the +door, flattened itself against the fireplace, and fell tinkling into the +grate. + +“I hope I hit you!” roared the Jew. + +Ford pressed his lips tightly together. Whatever happy retort may have +risen to them was forever lost. For an exchange of repartee, the moment +did not seem propitious. + +“Perhaps now,” jeered Prothero, “you'll believe I'm in earnest!” + +Ford still resisted any temptation to reply. He grinned apologetically +at the girl and shrugged his shoulders. Her face was white, but it was +white from excitement, not from fear. + +“What did I tell you?” she whispered. “He IS mad--quite mad!” + +Ford glanced at the bullet-hole in the panel of the door. It was on a +line with his heart. He looked at Miss Dale; her shoulder was on a level +with his own, and her eyes were following his. + +“In case he does that again,” said Ford, “we would be more comfortable +sitting down.” + +With their shoulders against the wall, the two young people sank to +the floor. The position seemed to appeal to them as humorous, and, when +their eyes met, they smiled. + +“To a spectator,” whispered Ford encouragingly, “we MIGHT appear to +be getting the worst of this. But, as a matter of fact, every minute +Cuthbert does not come means that the next minute may bring him.” + +“You don't believe he was hurt?” asked the girl. + +“No,” said Ford. “I believe Prothero found him, and I believe there may +have been a fight. But you heard what Pearsall said: 'The man outside +will tell.' If Cuthbert's in a position to tell, he is not down an area +with a knife in him.” + +He was interrupted by a faint report from the lowest floor, as though +the door to the street had been sharply slammed. Miss Dale showed that +she also had heard it. + +“My uncle,” she said, “making his escape!” + +“It may be,” Ford answered. + +The report did not suggest to him the slamming of a door, but he saw no +reason for saying so to the girl. + +With his fingers locked across his knees, Ford was leaning forward, his +eyes frowning, his lips tightly shut. At his side the girl regarded +him covertly. His broad shoulders, almost touching hers, his strong +jaw projecting aggressively, and the alert, observant eyes gave her +confidence. For three weeks she had been making a fight single-handed. +But she was now willing to cease struggling and relax. Quite happily +she placed herself and her safety in the keeping of a stranger. Half +to herself, half to the man, she murmured: “It is like 'The Sieur de +Maletroit's Door.”' + +Without looking at her, Ford shook his head and smiled. + +“No such luck,” he corrected grimly. “That young man was given a choice. +The moment he was willing to marry the girl he could have walked out of +the room free. I do not recall Prothero's saying I can escape death by +any such charming alternative.” The girl interrupted quickly. + +“No,” she said; “you are not at all like that young man. He stumbled in +by chance. You came on purpose to help me. It was fine, unselfish.” + +“It was not,” returned Ford. “My motive was absolutely selfish. It was +not to help you I came, but to be able to tell about it later. It is my +business to do that. And before I saw you, it was all in the day's work. +But after I saw you it was no longer a part of the day's work; it became +a matter of a life time.” + +The girl at his side laughed softly and lightly. “A lifetime is not +long,” she said, “when you are locked in a room and a madman is shooting +at you. It may last only an hour.” + +“Whether it lasts an hour or many years,” said Ford, “it can mean to me +now only one thing----” He turned quickly and looked in her face boldly +and steadily: “You,” he said. + +The girl did not avoid his eyes, but returned his glance with one as +steady as his own. “You are an amusing person,” she said. “Do you feel +it is necessary to keep up my courage with pretty speeches?” + +“I made no pretty speech,” said Ford. “I proclaimed a fact. You are the +most charming person that ever came into my life, and whether Prothero +shoots us up, or whether we live to get back to God's country, you will +never leave it.” + +The girl pretended to consider his speech critically. “It would be +almost a compliment,” she said, “if it were intelligent, but when you +know nothing of me--it is merely impertinent.” + +“I know this much of you,” returned Ford, calmly; “I know you are fine +and generous, for your first speech to me, in spite of your own danger, +was for my safety. I know you are brave, for I see you now facing death +without dismay.” + +He was again suddenly halted by, two sharp reports. They came from +the room directly below them. It was no longer possible to pretend to +misinterpret their significance. + +“Prothero!” exclaimed Ford, “and his pistol!” + +They waited breathlessly for what might follow: an outcry, the sound of +a body falling, a third pistol-shot. But throughout the house there was +silence. + +“If you really think we are in such danger,” declared Miss Dale, “we are +wasting time!” + +“We are NOT wasting time,” protested Ford; “we are really gaining time, +for each minute Cuthbert and the police are drawing nearer, and to move +about only invites a bullet. And, what is of more importance,” he went +on quickly, as though to turn her mind from the mysterious pistol-shots, +“should we get out of this alive, I shall already have said what under +ordinary conditions I might not have found the courage to tell you in +many months.” He waited as though hopeful of a reply, but Miss Dale +remained silent. “They say,” continued Ford, “when a man is drowning his +whole life passes in review. We are drowning, and yet I find I can see +into the past no further than the last half-hour. I find life began only +then, when I looked through the bars of that window and found YOU!” + +With the palm of her hand the girl struck the floor sharply. “This is +neither the time,” she exclaimed, “nor the place to----” + +“I did not choose the place,” Ford pointed out. “It was forced upon me +with a gun. But the TIME is excellent. At such a time one speaks only +what is true.” + +“You certainly have a strange sense of humor,” she said, “but when you +are risking your life to help me, how can I be angry?” + +“Of course you can't,” Ford agreed heartily; “you could not be so +conventional.” + +“But I AM conventional!” protested Miss Dale. “And I am not USED +to having young men tell me they have 'come into my life to +stay'--certainly not young men who come into my life by way of a +trap-door, and without an introduction, without a name, without even a +hat! It's absurd! It's not real! It's a nightmare!” + +“The whole situation is absurd!” Ford declared. “Here we are in the +heart of London, surrounded by telephones, taxicabs, police--at least, +hope we are surrounded by police and yet we are crawling around +the floor on our hands and knees dodging bullets. I wish it were +a nightmare. But, as it's not”--he rose to his feet--“I think I'll +try----” + +He was interrupted by a sharp blow upon the door and the voice of +Prothero. + +“You, navy officer!” he panted. “Come to the door! Stand close to it so +that I needn't shout. Come, quick!” + +Ford made no answer. Motioning to Miss Dale to remain where she was, he +ran noiselessly to the bed, and from beneath the mattress lifted one of +the iron bars upon which it rested. Grasping it at one end, he swung the +bar swiftly as a man tests the weight of a baseball bat. As a weapon it +seemed to satisfy him, for he smiled. Then once more he placed himself +with his back to the wall. “Do you hear me?” roared Prothero. + +“I hear you!” returned Ford. “If you want to talk to me, open the door +and come inside.” + +“Listen to me,” called Prothero. “If I open the door you may act the +fool, and I will have to shoot you, and I have made up my mind to let +you live. You will soon have this house to yourselves. In a few moments +I will leave it, but where I am going I'll need money, and I want the +bank-notes in that blue envelope.” Ford swung the iron club in short +half-circles. + +“Come in and get them!” he called. + +“Don't trifle with me!” roared the Jew, “I may change my mind. Shove the +money through the crack under the door.” + +“And get shot!” returned Ford. “Not bit like it!” + +“If, in one minute,” shouted Prothero, “I don't see the money coming +through that crack, I'll begin shooting through this door, and neither +of you will live!” + +Resting the bar in the crook of his elbow, Ford snatched the bank-notes +from the envelope, and, sticking them in his pocket, placed the empty +envelope on the floor. Still keeping out of range, and using his iron +bar as a croupier uses his rake, he pushed the envelope across the +carpet and under the door. When half of it had disappeared from the +other side of the door, it was snatched from view. + +An instant later there was a scream of anger and on a line where Ford +would have been, had he knelt to shove the envelope under the door, +three bullets splintered through the panel. + +At the same moment the girl caught him by the wrist. Unheeding the +attack upon the door, her eyes were fixed upon the windows. With her +free hand she pointed at the one at which Ford had first appeared. The +blind was still raised a few inches, and they saw that the night was lit +with a strange and brilliant radiance. The storm had passed, and from +all the houses that backed upon the one in which they were prisoners +lights blazed from every window, and in each were crowded many people, +and upon the roof-tops in silhouette from the glare of the street lamps +below, and in the yards and clinging to the walls that separated them, +were hundreds of other dark, shadowy groups changing and swaying. And +from them rose the confused, inarticulate, terrifying murmur of a mob. +It was as though they were on a race-track at night facing a great +grandstand peopled with an army of ghosts. With the girl at his side, +Ford sprang to the window and threw up the blind, and as they clung to +the bars, peering into the night, the light in the room fell full upon +them. And in an instant from the windows opposite, from the yards below, +and from the house-tops came a savage, exultant yell of welcome, a +confusion of cries' orders, entreaties, a great roar of warning. At the +sound, Ford could feel the girl at his side tremble. + +“What does it mean?” she cried. + +“Cuthbert has raised the neighborhood!” shouted Ford jubilantly. “Or +else”--he cried in sudden enlightenment--“those shots we heard.” + +The girl stopped him with a low cry of fear. She thrust her arms between +the bars and pointed. In the yard below them was the sloping roof of the +kitchen. It stretched from the house to the wall of the back yard. Above +the wall from the yard beyond rose a ladder, and, face down upon the +roof, awry and sprawling, were the motionless forms of two men. Their +shining capes and heavy helmets proclaimed their calling. + +“The police!” exclaimed Ford. “And the shots we thought were for those +in the house were for THEM! This is what has happened,” he whispered +eagerly: “Prothero attacked Cuthbert. Cuthbert gets away and goes to the +police. He tells them you are here a prisoner, that I am here probably +a prisoner, and of the attack upon himself. The police try to make an +entrance from the street--that was the first shot we heard--and are +driven back; then they try to creep in from the yard, and those poor +devils were killed.” + +As he spoke a sudden silence had fallen, a silence as startling as had +been the shout of warning. Some fresh attack upon the house which the +prisoners could not see, but which must be visible to those in the +houses opposite was going forward. + +“Perhaps they are on the roof,”' whispered Ford joyfully. “They'll be +through the trap in a minute, and you'll be free!” + +“No!” said the girl. + +She also spoke in a whisper, as though she feared Prothero might hear +her. And with her hand she again pointed. Cautiously above the top +of the ladder appeared the head and shoulders of a man. He wore a +policeman's helmet, but, warned by the fate of his comrades, he came +armed. Balancing himself with his left hand on the rung of the ladder, +he raised the other and pointed a revolver. It was apparently at the two +prisoners, and Miss Dale sprang to one side. + +“Standstill!” commanded Ford. “He knows who YOU are! You heard that yell +when they saw you? They know you are the prisoner, and they are glad +you're still alive. That officer is aiming at the window BELOW us. He's +after the men who murdered his mates.” + +From the window directly beneath them came the crash of a rifle, and +from the top of the ladder the revolver of the police officer blazed in +the darkness. Again the rifle crashed, and the man on the ladder jerked +his hands above his head and pitched backward. Ford looked into the face +of the girl and found her eyes filled with horror. + +“Where is my uncle, Pearsall?” she faltered. “He has two rifles--for +shooting in Scotland. Was that a rifle that----” Her lips refused to +finish the question. + +“It was a rifle,” Ford stammered, “but probably Prothero----” + +Even as he spoke the voice of the Jew rose in a shriek from the floor +below them, but not from the window below them. The sound was from +the front room opening on Sowell Street. In the awed silence that had +suddenly fallen his shrieks carried sharply. They were more like the +snarls and ravings of an animal than the outcries of a man. + +“Take THAT!” he shouted, with a flood of oaths, “and THAT, and THAT!” + +Each word was punctuated by the report of his automatic, and to the +amazement of Ford, was instantly answered from Sowell Street by a +scattered volley of rifle and pistol shots. + +“This isn't a fight,” he cried, “it's a battle!” + +With Miss Dale at his side, he ran into the front room, and, raising the +blind, appeared at the window. And instantly, as at the other end of the +house, there was, at sight of the woman's figure, a tumult of cries, a +shout of warning, and a great roar of welcome. From beneath them a man +ran into the deserted street, and in the glare of the gas-lamp Ford saw +his white, upturned face. He was without a hat and his head was circled +by a bandage. But Ford recognized Cuthbert. “That's Ford!” he cried, +pointing. “And the girl's with him!” He turned to a group of men +crouching in the doorway of the next house to the one in which Ford was +imprisoned. “The girl's alive!” he shouted. + +“The girl's alive!” The words were caught up and flung from window to +window, from house-top to house-top, with savage, jubilant cheers. Ford +pushed Miss Dale forward. + +“Let them see you,” he said, “and you will never see a stranger sight.” + +Below them, Sowell Street, glistening with rain and snow, lay empty, but +at either end of it, held back by an army of police, were black masses +of men, and beyond them more men packed upon the tops of taxicabs and +hansoms, stretching as far as the street-lamps showed, and on the roofs +shadowy forms crept cautiously from chimney to chimney; and in the +windows of darkened rooms opposite, from behind barricades of mattresses +and upturned tables, rifles appeared stealthily, to be lost in a sudden +flash of flame. And with these flashes were others that came from +windows and roofs with the report of a bursting bomb, and that, on the +instant, turned night into day, and then left the darkness more dark. + +Ford gave a cry of delight. + +“They're taking flash-light photographs,” he cried jubilantly. “Well +done, you Pressmen!” The instinct of the reporter became compelling. +“If they're alive to develop those photographs to-night,” he exclaimed +eagerly, “Cuthbert will send them by special messenger, in time to catch +the MAURETANIA and the REPUBLIC will have them by Sunday. I mayn't be +alive to see them,” he added regretfully, “but what a feature for the +Sunday supplement!” + +As the eyes of the two prisoners became accustomed to the darkness, they +saw that the street was not, as at first they had supposed, entirely +empty. Directly below them in the gutter, where to approach it was to +invite instant death from Prothero's pistol, lay the dead body of a +policeman, and at the nearer end of the street, not fifty yards from +them, were three other prostrate forms. But these forms were animate, +and alive to good purpose. From a public-house on the corner a row of +yellow lamps showed them clearly. Stretched on pieces of board, and mats +commandeered from hallways and cabs, each of the three men lay at full +length, nursing a rifle. Their belted gray overcoats, flat, visored +caps, and the set of their shoulders marked them for soldiers. + +“For the love of Heaven!” exclaimed Ford incredulously, “they've called +out the Guards!” + +As unconcernedly as though facing the butts at a rifle-range, the +three sharp-shooters were firing point-blank at the windows from which +Prothero and Pearsall were waging their war to the death upon the +instruments of law and order. Beside them, on his knees in the snow, a +young man with the silver hilt of an officer's sword showing through the +slit in his greatcoat, was giving commands; and at the other end of +the street, a brother officer in evening dress was directing other +sharp-shooters, bending over them like the coach of a tug-of-war team, +pointing with white-gloved fingers. On the side of the street from which +Prothero was firing, huddled in a doorway, were a group of officials, +inspectors of police, fire chiefs in brass helmets, more officers of +the Guards in bear-skins, and, wrapped in a fur coat, the youthful Horne +Secretary. Ford saw him wave his arm, and at his bidding the cordon of +police broke, and slowly forcing its way through the mass of people came +a huge touring-car, its two blazing eyes sending before it great +shafts of light. The driver of the car wasted no time in taking up his +position. Dashing half-way down the street, he as swiftly backed the +automobile over the gutter and up on the sidewalk, so that the lights +in front fell full on the door of No. 40. Then, covered by the fire from +the roofs, he sprang to the lamps and tilted them until they threw their +shafts into the windows of the third story. Prothero's hiding-place +was now as clearly exposed as though it were held in the circle of a +spot-light, and at the success of the maneuver the great mob raised an +applauding cheer. But the triumph was brief. In a minute the blazing +lamps had been shattered by bullets, and once more, save for the fierce +flashes from rifles and pistols, Sowell Street lay in darkness. + +Ford drew Miss Dale back into the room. + +“Those men below,” he said, “are mad. Prothero's always been mad, and +your Pearsall is mad with drugs. And the sight of blood has made them +maniacs. They know they now have no chance to live. There's no fear +or hope to hold them, and one life more or less means nothing. If they +should return here----” + +He hesitated, but the girl nodded quickly. “I understand,” she said. + +“I'm going to try to break down the door and get to the roof,” explained +Ford. “My hope is that this attack will keep them from hearing, and----” + +“No,” protested the girl. “They will hear you, and they will kill you.” + +“They may take it into their crazy heads to do that, anyway,” protested +Ford, “so the sooner I get you away, the better. I've only to smash the +panels close to the bolts, put my arm through the hole, and draw the +bolts back. Then, another blow on the spring lock when the firing is +loudest, and we are in the hall. Should anything happen to me, you must +know how to make your escape alone. Across the hall is a door leading to +an iron ladder. That ladder leads to a trap-door. The trap-door is open. +When you reach the roof, run westward toward a lighted building.” + +“I am not going without you,” said Miss Dale quietly; “not after what +you have done for me.” + +“I haven't done anything for you yet,” objected Ford. “But in case I get +caught I mean to make sure there will be others on hand who will.” + +He pulled his pencil and a letter from his pocket, and on the back of +the envelope wrote rapidly: “I will try to get Miss Dale up through the +trap in the roof. You can reach the roof by means of the apartment house +in Devonshire Street. Send men to meet her.” + +In the groups of officials half hidden in the doorway farther down the +street, he could make out the bandaged head of Cuthbert. “Cuthbert!” he +called. Weighting the envelope with a coin, he threw it into the air. It +fell in the gutter, under a lamp-post, and full in view, and at once +the two madmen below splashed the street around it with bullets. But, +indifferent to the bullets, a policeman sprang from a dark areaway and +flung himself upon it. The next moment he staggered. Then limping, but +holding himself erect, he ran heavily toward the group of officials. The +Home Secretary snatched the envelope from him, and held it toward the +light. + +In his desire to learn if his message had reached those on the outside, +Ford leaned far over the sill of the window. His imprudence was all but +fatal. From the roof opposite there came a sudden yell of warning, +from directly below him a flash, and a bullet grazed his forehead and +shattered the window-pane above him. He was deluged with a shower of +broken glass. Stunned and bleeding, he sprang back. + +With a cry of concern, Miss Dale ran toward him. + +“It's nothing!” stammered Ford. “It only means I must waste no more +time.” He balanced his iron rod as he would a pikestaff, and aimed it at +the upper half of the door to the hall. + +“When the next volley comes,” he said, “I'll smash the panel.” + +With the bar raised high, his muscles on a strain, he stood alert +and poised, waiting for a shot from the room below to call forth an +answering volley from the house-tops. But no sound came from below. And +the sharp-shooters, waiting for the madmen to expose themselves, held +their fire. + +Ford's muscles relaxed, and he lowered his weapon. He turned his eyes +inquiringly to the girl. “What's THIS mean?” he demanded. Unconsciously +his voice had again dropped to a whisper. + +“They're short of ammunition,” said the girl, in a tone as low as his +own; “or they are coming HERE.” + +With a peremptory gesture, Ford waved her toward the room adjoining and +then ran to the window. + +The girl was leaning forward with her face close to the door. She held +the finger of one hand to her lips. With the other hand she beckoned. +Ford ran to her side. + +“Some one is moving in the hall,” she whispered. “Perhaps they are +escaping by the roof? No,” she corrected herself. “They seem to be +running down the stairs again. Now they are coming back. Do you hear?” + she asked. “It sounds like some one running up and down the stairs. What +can it mean?” + +From the direction of the staircase Ford heard a curious creaking sound +as of many light footsteps. He gave a cry of relief. + +“The police!” he shouted jubilantly. “They've entered through the roof, +and they're going to attack in the rear. You're SAFE!” he cried. + +He sprang away from the door and, with two swinging blows, smashed the +broad panel. And then, with a cry, he staggered backward. Full in +his face, through the break he had made, swept a hot wave of burning +cinders. Through the broken panel he saw the hall choked with smoke, the +steps of the staircase and the stair-rails wrapped in flame. + +“The house is on fire!” he cried. “They've taken to the roof and set +fire to the stairs behind them!” With the full strength of his arms and +shoulders he struck and smashed the iron bar against the door. But the +bolts held, and through each fresh opening he made in the panels the +burning cinders, drawn by the draft from the windows, swept into the +room. From the street a mighty yell of consternation told them the fire +had been discovered. Miss Dale ran to the window, and the yell turned +to a great cry of warning. The air was rent with frantic voices. “Jump!” + cried some. “Go back!” entreated others. The fire chief ran into the +street directly below her and shouted at her through his hands. “Wait +for the life-net!” he commanded. “Wait for the ladders!” + +“Ladders!” panted Ford. “Before they can get their engines through that +mob----” + +Through the jagged opening in the door he thrust his arm and jerked +free the upper bolt. An instant later he had kicked the lower panel into +splinters and withdrawn the second bolt, and at last, under the savage +onslaught of his iron bar, the spring lock flew apart. The hall lay open +before him. On one side of it the burning staircase was a well of flame; +at his feet, the matting on the floor was burning fiercely. He raced +into the bedroom and returned instantly, carrying a blanket and a towel +dripping with water. He pressed the towel across the girl's mouth and +nostrils. “Hold it there!” he commanded. Blinded by the bandage, Miss +Dale could see nothing, but she felt herself suddenly wrapped in the +blanket and then lifted high in Ford's arms. She gave a cry of protest, +but the next instant he was running with her swiftly while the flames +from the stair-well scorched her hair. She was suddenly tumbled to her +feet, the towel and blanket snatched away, and she saw Ford hanging from +an iron ladder holding out his hand. She clasped it, and he drew her +after him, the flames and cinders pursuing and snatching hungrily. + +But an instant later the cold night air smote her in the face, from +hundreds of hoarse throats a yell of welcome greeted her, and she found +herself on the roof, dazed and breathless, and free. + +At the same moment the lifting fire-ladder reached the sill of the +third-story window, and a fireman, shielding his face from the flames, +peered into the blazing room. What he saw showed him there were no lives +to rescue. Stretched on the floor, with their clothing in cinders and +the flames licking at the flesh, were the bodies of the two murderers. + +A bullet-hole in the forehead of each showed that self-destruction and +cremation had seemed a better choice than the gallows and a grave of +quick-lime. + +On the roof above, two young people stood breathing heavily and happily, +staring incredulously into each other's eyes. Running toward them across +the roofs, stumbling and falling, were many blue-coated, helmeted angels +of peace and law and order. + +“How can I tell you?” whispered the girl quickly. “How can I ever thank +you? And I was angry,” she exclaimed, with self-reproach. “I did not +understand you.” She gave a little sigh of content. “Now I think I do.” + +He took her hand, and she did not seem to know that he held it. + +“And,” she cried, in wonder, “I DON'T EVEN KNOW YOUR NAME!” + +The young man seemed to have lost his confidence. For a moment he was +silent. “The name's all right!” he said finally. His voice was still a +little shaken, a little tremulous. “I only hope you'll like it. It's got +to last you a long time!” + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Lost House, by Richard Harding Davis + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LOST HOUSE *** + +***** This file should be named 1807-0.txt or 1807-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/0/1807/ + +Produced by Aaron Cannon + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/1807-0.zip b/1807-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..dacc5af --- /dev/null +++ b/1807-0.zip diff --git a/1807-h.zip b/1807-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f6df907 --- /dev/null +++ b/1807-h.zip diff --git a/1807-h/1807-h.htm b/1807-h/1807-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..16832c3 --- /dev/null +++ b/1807-h/1807-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2957 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Lost House, by Richard Harding Davis + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Lost House, by Richard Harding Davis + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Lost House + +Author: Richard Harding Davis + +Release Date: October 15, 2008 [EBook #1807] +Last Updated: March 4, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LOST HOUSE *** + + + + +Produced by Aaron Cannon, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE LOST HOUSE + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + by Richard Harding Davis + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + Contents + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> III </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + I + </h2> + <p> + It was a dull day at the chancellery. His Excellency the American + Ambassador was absent in Scotland, unveiling a bust to Bobby Burns, paid + for by the numerous lovers of that poet in Pittsburg; the First Secretary + was absent at Aldershot, observing a sham battle; the Military Attache was + absent at the Crystal Palace, watching a foot-ball match; the Naval + Attache was absent at the Duke of Deptford's, shooting pheasants; and at + the Embassy, the Second Secretary, having lunched leisurely at the Artz, + was now alone, but prepared with his life to protect American interests. + Accordingly, on the condition that the story should not be traced back to + him, he had just confided a State secret to his young friend, Austin Ford, + the London correspondent of the New York REPUBLIC. + </p> + <p> + “I will cable it,” Ford reassured him, “as coming from a Hungarian + diplomat, temporarily residing in Bloomsbury, while en route to his post + in Patagonia. In that shape, not even your astute chief will suspect its + real source. And further from the truth than that I refuse to go.” + </p> + <p> + “What I dropped in to ask,” he continued, “is whether the English are + going to send over a polo team next summer to try to bring back the cup?” + </p> + <p> + “I've several other items of interest,” suggested the Secretary. + </p> + <p> + “The week-end parties to which you have been invited,” Ford objected, “can + wait. Tell me first what chance there is for an international polo match.” + </p> + <p> + “Polo,” sententiously began the Second Secretary, who himself was a + crackerjack at the game, “is a proposition of ponies! Men can be trained + for polo. But polo ponies must be born. Without good ponies——” + </p> + <p> + James, the page who guarded the outer walls, of the chancellery, appeared + in the doorway. + </p> + <p> + “Please, Sir, a person,” he announced, “with a note for the Ambassador, he + says it's important.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell him to leave it,” said the Secretary. “Polo ponies——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Sir,” interrupted the page. “But 'e won't leave it, not unless he + keeps the 'arf-crown.” + </p> + <p> + “For Heaven's sake!” protested the Second Secretary, “then let him keep + the half-crown. When I say polo ponies, I don't mean——” + </p> + <p> + James, although alarmed at his own temerity, refused to accept the + dismissal. “But, please, Sir,” he begged; “I think the 'arf-crown is for + the Ambassador.” + </p> + <p> + The astonished diplomat gazed with open eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You think—WHAT!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + James, upon the defensive, explained breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + “Because, Sir,” he stammered, “it was INSIDE the note when it was thrown + out of the window.” + </p> + <p> + Ford had been sprawling in a soft leather chair in front of the open fire. + With the privilege of an old school-fellow and college classmate, he had + been jabbing the soft coal with his walking-stick, causing it to burst + into tiny flames. His cigarette drooped from his lips, his hat was cocked + over one eye; he was a picture of indifference, merging upon boredom. But + at the words of the boy his attitude both of mind and body underwent an + instant change. It was as though he were an actor, and the words “thrown + from the window” were his cue. It was as though he were a dozing + fox-terrier, and the voice of his master had whispered in his ear: + “Sick'em!” + </p> + <p> + For a moment, with benign reproach, the Second Secretary regarded the + unhappy page, and then addressed him with laborious sarcasm. + </p> + <p> + “James,” he said, “people do not communicate with ambassadors in notes + wrapped around half-crowns and hurled from windows. That is the way one + corresponds with an organ-grinder.” Ford sprang to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “And meanwhile,” he exclaimed angrily, “the man will get away.” + </p> + <p> + Without seeking permission, he ran past James, and through the empty outer + offices. In two minutes he returned, herding before him an individual, + seedy and soiled. In appearance the man suggested that in life his place + was to support a sandwich-board. Ford reluctantly relinquished his hold + upon a folded paper which he laid in front of the Secretary. + </p> + <p> + “This man,” he explained, “picked that out of the gutter in Sowell Street, + It's not addressed to any one, so you read it!” + </p> + <p> + “I thought it was for the Ambassador!” said the Secretary. + </p> + <p> + The soiled person coughed deprecatingly, and pointed a dirty digit at the + paper. “On the inside,” he suggested. The paper was wrapped around a + half-crown and folded in at each end. The diplomat opened it hesitatingly, + but having read what was written, laughed. + </p> + <p> + “There's nothing in THAT,” he exclaimed. He passed the note to Ford. The + reporter fell upon it eagerly. + </p> + <p> + The note was written in pencil on an unruled piece of white paper. The + handwriting was that of a woman. What Ford read was: + </p> + <p> + “I am a prisoner in the street on which this paper is found. The house + faces east. I think I am on the top story. I was brought here three weeks + ago. They are trying to kill me. My uncle, Charles Ralph Pearsall, is + doing this to get my money. He is at Gerridge's Hotel in Craven Street, + Strand. He will tell you I am insane. My name is Dosia Pearsall Dale. My + home is at Dalesville, Kentucky, U. S. A. Everybody knows me there, and + knows I am not insane. If you would save a life take this at once to the + American Embassy, or to Scotland Yard. For God's sake, help me.” + </p> + <p> + When he had read the note, Ford continue to study it. Until he was quite + sure his voice would not betray his interest, he did not raise his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” he asked, “did you say that there's nothing in this?” + </p> + <p> + “Because,” returned the diplomat conclusively, “we got a note like that, + or nearly like it, a week ago, and——” + </p> + <p> + Ford could not restrain a groan. “And you never told me!” + </p> + <p> + “There wasn't anything to tell,” protested the diplomat. “We handed it + over to the police, and they reported there was nothing in it. They + couldn't find the man at that hotel, and, of course, they couldn't find + the house with no more to go on than——” + </p> + <p> + “And so,” exclaimed Ford rudely, “they decided there was no man, and no + house!” + </p> + <p> + “Their theory,” continued the Secretary patiently, “is that the girl is + confined in one of the numerous private sanatoriums in Sowell Street, that + she is insane, that because she's under restraint she IMAGINES the nurses + are trying to kill her and that her relatives are after her money. Insane + people are always thinking that. It's a very common delusion.” + </p> + <p> + Ford's eyes were shining with a wicked joy. “So,” he asked indifferently, + “you don't intend to do anything further?” + </p> + <p> + “What do you want us to do?” cried his friend. “Ring every door-bell in + Sowell Street and ask the parlor-maid if they're murdering a lady on the + top story?” + </p> + <p> + “Can I keep the paper?” demanded Ford. “You can keep a copy of it,” + consented the Secretary. “But if you think you're on the track of a big + newspaper sensation, I can tell you now you're not. That's the work of a + crazy woman, or it's a hoax. You amateur detectives——” + </p> + <p> + Ford was already seated at the table, scribbling a copy of the message, + and making marginal notes. + </p> + <p> + “Who brought the FIRST paper?” he interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “A hansom-cab driver.” + </p> + <p> + “What became of HIM?” snapped the amateur detective. + </p> + <p> + The Secretary looked inquiringly at James. “He drove away,” said James. + </p> + <p> + “He drove away, did he?”' roared Ford. “And that was a week ago! Ye gods! + What about Dalesville, Kentucky? Did you cable any one there?” + </p> + <p> + The dignity of the diplomat was becoming ruffled. + </p> + <p> + “We did not!” he answered. “If it wasn't true that her uncle was at that + hotel, it was probably equally untrue that she had friends in America.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” retorted his friend, “you didn't forget to cable the State + Department that you all went in your evening clothes to bow to the new + King? You didn't neglect to cable that, did you?” + </p> + <p> + “The State Department,” returned the Secretary, with withering reproof, + “does not expect us to crawl over the roofs of houses and spy down + chimneys to see if by any chance an American citizen is being murdered.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” exclaimed Ford, leaping to his feet and placing his notes in his + pocket, “fortunately, my paper expects me to do just that, and if it + didn't, I'd do it anyway. And that is exactly what I am going to do now! + Don't tell the others in the Embassy, and, for Heaven's sake, don't tell + the police. Jimmy, get me a taxi. And you,” he commanded, pointing at the + one who had brought the note, “are coming with me to Sowell Street, to + show me where you picked up that paper.” + </p> + <p> + On the way to Sowell Street Ford stopped at a newspaper agency, and paid + for the insertion that afternoon of the same advertisement in three + newspapers. It read: “If hansom-cab driver who last week carried note, + found in street, to American Embassy will mail his address to X. X. X., + care of GLOBE, he will be rewarded.” + </p> + <p> + From the nearest post-office he sent to his paper the following cable: + “Query our local correspondent, Dalesville, Kentucky, concerning Dosia + Pearsall Dale. Is she of sound mind, is she heiress. Who controls her + money, what her business relations with her uncle Charles Ralph Pearsall, + what her present address. If any questions, say inquiries come from + solicitors of Englishman who wants to marry her. Rush answer.” + </p> + <p> + Sowell Street is a dark, dirty little thoroughfare, running for only one + block, parallel to Harley Street. Like it, it is decorated with the brass + plates of physicians and the red lamps of surgeons, but, just as the + medical men in Harley Street, in keeping with that thoroughfare, are + broad, open, and with nothing to conceal, so those of Sowell Street, like + their hiding-place, shrink from observation, and their lives are as + sombre, secret, and dark as the street itself. + </p> + <p> + Within two turns of it Ford dismissed the taxicab. Giving the soiled + person a half-smoked cigarette, he told him to walk through Sowell Street, + and when he reached the place where he had picked up the paper, to drop + the cigarette as near that spot as possible. He then was to turn into + Weymouth Street and wait until Ford joined him. At a distance of fifty + feet Ford followed the man, and saw him, when in the middle of the block, + without apparent hesitation, drop the cigarette. The house in front of + which it fell was marked, like many others, by the brass plate of a + doctor. As Ford passed it he hit the cigarette with his walking-stick, and + drove it into an area. When he overtook the man, Ford handed him another + cigarette. “To make sure,” he said, “C4 go back and drop this in the place + you found the paper.” For a moment the man hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “I might as well tell you,” Ford continued, “that I knocked that last + cigarette so far from where you dropped it that you won't be able to use + it as a guide. So, if you don't really know where you found the paper, + you'll save my time by saying so.” Instead of being confused by the test, + the man was amused by it. He laughed appreciatively admitted. “You've + caught me out fair, governor,” “I want the 'arf-crown, and I dropped the + cigarette as near the place as I could. But I can't do it again. It was + this way,” he explained. “I wasn't taking notice of the houses. I was + walking along looking into the gutter for stumps. I see this paper wrapped + about something round. 'It's a copper,' I thinks, 'jucked out of a winder + to a organ-grinder.' I snatches it, and runs. I didn't take no time to + look at the houses. But it wasn't so far from where I showed you; about + the middle house in the street and on the left 'and side.” + </p> + <p> + Ford had never considered the man as a serious element in the problem. He + believed him to know as little of the matter as he professed to know. But + it was essential he should keep that little to himself. + </p> + <p> + “No one will pay you for talking,” Ford pointed out, “and I'll pay you to + keep quiet. So, if you say nothing concerning that note, at the end of two + weeks, I'll leave two pounds for you with James, at the Embassy.” + </p> + <p> + The man, who believed Ford to be an agent of the police, was only too + happy to escape on such easy terms. After Ford had given him a pound on + account, they parted. + </p> + <p> + From Wimpole Street the amateur detective went to the nearest public + telephone and called up Gerridge's Hotel. He considered his first step + should be to discover if Mr. Pearsall was at that hotel, or had ever + stopped there. When the 'phone was answered, he requested that a message + be delivered to Mr. Pearsall. + </p> + <p> + “Please tell him,” he asked, “that the clothes he ordered are ready to try + on.” + </p> + <p> + He was informed that no one by that name was at the hotel. In a voice of + concern Ford begged to know when Mr. Pearsall had gone away, and had he + left any address. + </p> + <p> + “He was with you three weeks ago,” Ford insisted. “He's an American + gentleman, and there was a lady with him. She ordered a riding-habit of + us: the same time he was measured for his clothes.” + </p> + <p> + After a short delay, the voice from the hotel replied that no one of the + name of Pearsall had been at the hotel that winter. + </p> + <p> + In apparent great disgust Ford rang off, and took a taxicab to his rooms + in Jermyn Street. There he packed a suit-case and drove to Gerridge's. It + was a quiet, respectable, “old-established” house in Craven Street, a + thoroughfare almost entirely given over to small family hotels much + frequented by Americans. + </p> + <p> + After he had registered and had left his bag in his room, Ford returned to + the office, and in an assured manner asked that a card on which he had + written “Henry W. Page, Dalesville, Kentucky,” should be taken to Mr. + Pearsall. + </p> + <p> + In a tone of obvious annoyance the proprietor returned the card, saying + that there was no one of that name in the hotel, and added that no such + person had ever stopped there. Ford expressed the liveliest distress. + </p> + <p> + “He TOLD me I'd find him here,” he protested., “he and his niece.” With + the garrulousness of the American abroad, he confided his troubles to the + entire staff of the hotel. “We're from the same town,” he explained. + “That's why I must see him. He's the only man in London I know, and I've + spent all my money. He said he'd give me some he owes me, as soon as I + reached London. If I can't get it, I'll have to go home by Wednesday's + steamer.” And, complained bitterly, “I haven't seen the Tower, nor + Westminster Abbey.” + </p> + <p> + In a moment, Ford's anxiety to meet Mr. Pearsall was apparently lost in a + wave of self-pity. In his disappointment he appealing, pathetic figure. + </p> + <p> + Real detectives and rival newspaper men, even while they admitted Ford + obtained facts that were denied them, claimed that they were given him + from charity. Where they bullied, browbeat, and administered a third + degree, Ford was embarrassed, deprecatory, an earnest, ingenuous, + wide-eyed child. What he called his “working” smile begged of you not to + be cross with him. His simplicity was apparently so hopeless, his + confidence in whomever he addressed so complete, that often even the man + he was pursuing felt for him a pitying contempt. Now as he stood + uncertainly in the hall of the hotel, his helplessness moved the proud + lady clerk to shake her cylinders of false hair sympathetically, the + German waiters to regard his predicament with respect; even the + proprietor, Mr. Gerridge himself, was ill at ease. Ford returned to his + room, on the second floor of the hotel, and sat down on the edge of the + bed. + </p> + <p> + In connecting Pearsall with Gerridge's, both the police and himself had + failed. Of this there were three possible explanations: that the girl who + wrote the letter was in error, that the letter was a hoax, that the + proprietor of the hotel, for some reason, was protecting Pearsall, and had + deceived both Ford and Scotland Yard. On the other hand, without knowing + why the girl believed Pearsall would be found at Gerridge's, it was + reasonable to assume that in so thinking she had been purposely misled. + The question was, should he or not dismiss Gerridge's as a possible clew, + and at once devote himself to finding the house in Sowell Street? He + decided for the moment at least, to leave Gerridge's out of his + calculations, but, as an excuse for returning there, to still retain his + room. He at once started toward Sowell Street, and in order to find out if + any one from the hotel were following him, he set forth on foot. As soon + as he made sure he was not spied upon, he covered the remainder of the + distance in a cab. + </p> + <p> + He was acting on the supposition that the letter was no practical joke, + but a genuine cry for help. Sowell Street was a scene set for such an + adventure. It was narrow, mean-looking, the stucco house-fronts, + soot-stained, cracked, and uncared-for, the steps broken and unwashed. As + he entered it a cold rain was falling, and a yellow fog that rolled + between the houses added to its dreariness. It was now late in the + afternoon, and so overcast the sky that in many rooms the gas was lit and + the curtains drawn. + </p> + <p> + The girl, apparently from observing the daily progress of the sun, had + written she was on the west side of the street and, she believed, in an + upper story. The man who picked up the note had said he had found it + opposite the houses in the middle of the block. Accordingly, Ford + proceeded on the supposition that the entire east side of the street, the + lower stories of the west side, and the houses at each end were + eliminated. The three houses in the centre of the row were outwardly + alike. They were of four stories. Each was the residence of a physician, + and in each, in the upper stories, the blinds were drawn. From the front + there was nothing to be learned, and in the hope that the rear might + furnish some clew, Ford hastened to Wimpole Street, in which the houses to + the east backed upon those to the west in Sowell Street. These houses were + given over to furnished lodgings, and under the pretext of renting + chambers, it was easy for Ford to enter them, and from the apartments in + the rear to obtain several hasty glimpses of the backs of the three houses + in Sowell Street. But neither from this view-point did he gather any fact + of interest. In one of the three houses in Sowell Street iron bars were + fastened across the windows of the fourth floor, but in private + sanatoriums this was neither unusual nor suspicious. The bars might cover + the windows of a nursery to prevent children from falling out, or the room + of some timid householder with a lively fear of burglars. + </p> + <p> + In a quarter of an hour Ford was again back in Sowell Street no wiser than + when he had entered it. From the outside, at least, the three houses under + suspicion gave no sign. In the problem before him there was one point that + Ford found difficult to explain. It was the only one that caused him to + question if the letter was genuine. What puzzled him was this: Why, if the + girl were free to throw two notes from the window, did she not throw them + out by the dozen? If she were able to reach a window, opening on the + street, why did she not call for help? Why did she not, by hurling out + every small article the room contained, by screams, by breaking the + window-panes, attract a crowd, and, through it, the police? That she had + not done so seemed to show that only at rare intervals was she free from + restraint, or at liberty to enter the front room that opened on the + street. Would it be equally difficult, Ford asked himself, for one in the + street to communicate with her? What signal could he give that would draw + an answering signal from the girl? + </p> + <p> + Standing at the corner, hidden by the pillars of a portico, the water + dripping from his rain-coat, Ford gazed long and anxiously at the blank + windows of the three houses. Like blind eyes staring into his, they told + no tales, betrayed no secret. Around him the commonplace life of the + neighborhood proceeded undisturbed. Somewhere concealed in the single row + of houses a girl was imprisoned, her life threatened; perhaps even at that + moment she was facing her death. While, on either side, shut from her by + the thickness only of a brick wall, people were talking, reading, making + tea, preparing the evening meal, or, in the street below, hurrying by, + intent on trivial errands. Hansom cabs, prowling in search of a fare, + passed through the street where a woman was being robbed of a fortune, the + drivers occupied only with thoughts of a possible shilling; a housemaid + with a jug in her hand and a shawl over her bare head, hastened to the + near-by public-house; the postman made his rounds, and delivered comic + postal-cards; a policeman, shedding water from his shining cape, halted, + gazed severely at the sky, and, unconscious of the crime that was going + forward within the sound of his own footsteps, continued stolidly into + Wimpole Street. + </p> + <p> + A hundred plans raced through Ford's brain; he would arouse the street + with a false alarm of fire and lead the firemen, with the tale of a + smoking chimney, to one of the three houses; he would feign illness, and, + taking refuge in one of them, at night would explore the premises; he + would impersonate a detective, and insist upon his right to search for + stolen property. As he rejected these and a dozen schemes as fantastic, + his brain and eyes were still alert for any chance advantage that the + street might offer. But the minutes passed into an hour, and no one had + entered any of the three houses, no one had left them. In the lower + stories, from behind the edges of the blinds, lights appeared, but of the + life within there was no sign. Until he hit upon a plan of action, Ford + felt there was no longer anything to be gained by remaining in Sowell + Street. Already the answer to his cable might have arrived at his rooms; + at Gerridge's he might still learn something of Pearsall. He decided to + revisit both these places, and, while so engaged, to send from his office + one of his assistants to cover the Sowell Street houses. He cast a last, + reluctant look at the closed blinds, and moved away. As he did so, two + itinerant musicians dragging behind them a small street piano on wheels + turned the corner, and, as the rain had now ceased, one of them pulled the + oil-cloth covering from the instrument and, seating himself on a + camp-stool at the curb, opened the piano. After a discouraged glance at + the darkened windows, the other, in a hoarse, strident tenor, to the + accompaniment of the piano, began to sing. The voice of the man was + raucous, penetrating. It would have reached the recesses of a tomb. + </p> + <p> + “She sells sea-shells on the sea-shore,” the vocalist wailed. “The shells + she sells are sea-shells, I'm sure.” + </p> + <p> + The effect was instantaneous. A window was flung open, and an indignant + householder with one hand frantically waved the musicians away, and with + the other threw them a copper coin. + </p> + <p> + At the same moment Ford walked quickly to the piano and laid a half-crown + on top of it. + </p> + <p> + “Follow me to Harley Street,” he commanded. “Don't hurry. Take your time. + I want you to help me in a sort of practical joke. It's worth a sovereign + to you.” + </p> + <p> + He passed on quickly. When he glanced behind him, he saw the two men, + fearful lest the promised fortune might escape them, pursuing him at a + trot. At Harley Street they halted, breathless. + </p> + <p> + “How long,” Ford demanded of the one who played the piano, “will it take + you to learn the accompaniment to a new song?” + </p> + <p> + “While you're whistling it,” answered the man eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “And I'm as quick at a tune as him,” assured the other anxiously. “I can + sing——” + </p> + <p> + “You cannot,” interrupted Ford. “I'm going to do the singing myself. Where + is there a public-house near here where we can hire a back room, and + rehearse?” + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later, Ford and the piano-player entered Sowell Street + dragging the piano behind them. The amateur detective still wore his + rain-coat, but his hat he had exchanged for a cap, and, instead of a + collar, he had knotted around his bare neck a dirty kerchief. At the end + of the street they halted, and in some embarrassment Ford raised his voice + in the chorus of a song well known in the music-halls. It was a very good + voice, much too good for “open-air work,” as his companion had already + assured him, but, what was of chief importance to Ford, it carried as far + as he wished it to go. Already in Wimpole Street four coins of the realm, + flung to him from the highest windows, had testified to its power. From + the end of Sowell Street Ford moved slowly from house to house until he + was directly opposite the three in one of which he believed the girl to + be. “We will try the NEW songs here,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Night had fallen, and, except for the gas-lamps, the street was empty, and + in such darkness that even without his disguise Ford ran no risk of + recognition. His plan was not new. It dated from the days of Richard the + Lion-hearted. But if the prisoner were alert and intelligent, even though + she could make no answer, Ford believed through his effort she would gain + courage, would grasp that from the outside a friend was working toward + her. All he knew of the prisoner was that she came from Kentucky. Ford + fixed his eyes on the houses opposite, and cleared his throat. The man + struck the opening chords, and in a high barytone, and in a cockney accent + that made even the accompanist grin, Ford lifted his voice. + </p> + <p> + “The sun shines bright on my old Kentucky home,” he sang; “'tis summer, + and the darkies are gay.” + </p> + <p> + He finished the song, but there was no sign. For all the impression he had + made upon Sowell Street, he might have been singing in his chambers. “And + now the other,” commanded Ford. + </p> + <p> + The house-fronts echoed back the cheering notes of “Dixie.” Again Ford was + silent, and again The silence answered him. The accompanist glared + disgustedly at the darkened windows. + </p> + <p> + “They don't know them songs,” he explained professionally. “Give 'em, + 'Mollie Married the Marquis.'” + </p> + <p> + “I'll sing the first one again,” said Ford. Once more he broke into the + pathetic cadences of the “Old Kentucky Home.” But there was no response. + He was beginning to feel angry, absurd. He believed he had wasted precious + moments, and, even as he sang, his mind was already working upon a new + plan. The song ceased, unfinished. + </p> + <p> + “It's no use!” he exclaimed. Remembering himself, he added: “We'll try the + next street.” + </p> + <p> + But even as he spoke he leaped forward. Coming apparently from nowhere, + something white sank through the semi-darkness and fell at his feet. It + struck the pavement directly in front of the middle one of the three + houses. Ford fell upon it and clutched it in both hands. It was a woman's + glove. Ford raced back to the piano. + </p> + <p> + “Once more,” he cried, “play 'Dixie'!” + </p> + <p> + He shouted out the chorus exultantly, triumphantly. Had he spoken it in + words, the message could not have carried more clearly. + </p> + <p> + Ford now believed he had found the house, found the woman, and was eager + only to get rid of his companion and, in his own person, return to Sowell + Street. But, lest the man might suspect there was in his actions something + more serious than a practical joke, he forced himself to sing the new + songs in three different streets. Then, pretending to tire of his prank, + he paid the musician and left him. He was happy, exultant, tingling with + excitement. Good-luck had been with him, and, hoping that Gerridge's might + yet yield some clew to Pearsall, he returned there. Calling up the London + office of the REPUBLIC, he directed that one of his assistants, an English + lad named Cuthbert, should at once join him at that hotel. Cuthbert was + but just out of Oxford. He wished to become a writer of fiction, and, as a + means of seeing many kinds of life at first hand, was in training as a + “Pressman.” His admiration for Ford amounted to almost hero-worship; and + he regarded an “assignment” with his chief as a joy and an honor. Full of + enthusiasm, and as soon as a taxicab could bring him, he arrived at + Gerridge's, where, in a corner of the deserted coffee-room, Ford explained + the situation. Until he could devise a way to enter the Sowell Street + house. Cuthbert was to watch over it. + </p> + <p> + “The number of the house is forty,” Ford told him; “the name on the + door-plate, Dr. Prothero. Find out everything you can about him without + letting any one catch you at it. Better begin at the nearest chemist's. + Say you are on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and ask the man to mix + you a sedative, and recommend a physician. Show him Prothero's name and + address on a piece of paper, and say Prothero has been recommended to you + as a specialist on nervous troubles. Ask what he thinks of him. Get him to + talk. Then visit the trades-people and the public-houses in the + neighborhood, and say you are from some West End shop where Prothero, + wants to open an account. They may talk, especially if his credit is bad. + And, if you find out enough about him to give me a working basis, I'll try + to get into the house to-night. Meanwhile, I'm going to make another quick + search of this hotel for Pearsall. I'm not satisfied he has not been here. + For why should Miss Dale, with all the hotels in London to choose from, + have named this particular one, unless she had good reason for it? Now, + go, and meet me in an hour in Sowell Street.” + </p> + <p> + Cuthbert was at the door when he remembered he had brought with him from + the office Ford's mail and cablegrams. Among the latter was the one for + which Ford had asked. + </p> + <p> + “Wait,” he commanded. “This is about the girl. You had better know what it + says.” The cable read: + </p> + <p> + “Girl orphan, Dalesville named after her family, for three generations + mill-owners, father died four years ago, Pearsall brother-in-law until she + is twenty-one, which will be in three months. Girl well known, extremely + popular, lived Dalesville until last year, when went abroad with uncle, + since then reports of melancholia and nervous prostration, before that + health excellent—no signs insanity—none in family. Be careful + how handle Pearsall, was doctor, gave up practice to look after estate, is + prominent in local business and church circles, best reputation, beware + libel.” + </p> + <p> + For the benefit of Cuthbert, Ford had been reading the cable aloud. The + last paragraph seemed especially to interest him, and he read it twice, + the second time slowly, and emphasizing the word “doctor.” + </p> + <p> + “A doctor!” he repeated. “Do you see where that leads us? It may explain + several things. The girl was in good health until went abroad with her + uncle, and he is a medical man.” + </p> + <p> + The eyes of Cuthbert grew wide with excitement. + </p> + <p> + “You mean poison!” he whispered. “Slow poison!” + </p> + <p> + “Beware libel,” laughed Ford nervously, his own eyes lit with excitement. + “Suppose,” he exclaimed, “he has been using arsenic? He would have many + opportunities, and it's colorless, tasteless; and arsenic would account + for her depression and melancholia. The time when he must turn over her + money is very near, and, suppose he has spent the money, speculated with + it, and lost it, or that he still has it and wants to keep it? In three + months she will be of age, and he must make an accounting. The arsenic + does not work fast enough. So what does he do? To save himself from + exposure, or to keep the money, he throws her into this private + sanatorium, to make away with her.” + </p> + <p> + Ford had been talking in an eager whisper. While he spoke his cigar had + ceased to burn, and to light it, from a vase on the mantel he took a + spill, one of those spirals of paper that in English hotels, where the + proprietor is of a frugal mind, are still used to prevent extravagance in + matches. Ford lit the spill at the coal fire, and with his cigar puffed at + the flame. As he did so the paper unrolled. To the astonishment of + Cuthbert, Ford clasped it in both hands, blotted out the tiny flame, and, + turning quickly to a table, spread out the charred paper flat. After one + quick glance, Ford ran to the fireplace, and, seizing a handfull of the + spills, began rapidly to unroll them. Then he turned to Cuthbert and, + without speaking, showed him the charred spill. It was a scrap torn from + the front page of a newspaper. The half-obliterated words at which Ford + pointed were DALESVILLE COUR —— + </p> + <p> + “His torn paper!” said Ford. “The DALESVILLE COURIER. Pearsall HAS been in + this hotel!” He handed another spill to Cuthbert. + </p> + <p> + “From that one,” said Ford, “we get the date, December 3. Allowing three + weeks for the newspaper to reach London, Pearsall must have seen it just + three weeks ago, just when Miss Dale says he was in the hotel. The + landlord has lied to me.” + </p> + <p> + Ford rang for a waiter, and told him to ask Mr. Gerridge to come to the + smoking-room. + </p> + <p> + As Cuthbert was leaving it, Gerridge was entering it, and Ford was saying: + </p> + <p> + “It seems you've been lying to the police and to me. Unless you desire to + be an accessory to a murder, You had better talk quick!” + </p> + <p> + An hour later Ford passed slowly through Sowell Street in a taxicab, and, + finding Cuthbert on guard, signalled him to follow. In Wimpole Street the + cab drew up to the curb, and Cuthbert entered it. + </p> + <p> + “I have found Pearsall,” said Ford. “He is in No. 40 with Prothero.” + </p> + <p> + He then related to Cuthbert what had happened. Gerridge had explained that + when the Police called, his first thought was to protect the good name of + his hotel. He had denied any knowledge of Pearsall only because he no + longer was a guest, and, as he supposed Pearsall had passed out of his + life, he saw no reason, why, through an arrest and a scandal, his hotel + should be involved. Believing Ford to be in the secret service of the + police, he was now only too anxious to clear himself of suspicion by + telling all he knew. It was but little. Pearsall and his niece had been at + the hotel for three days. During that time the niece, who appeared to be + an invalid, remained in her room. On the evening of the third day, while + Pearsall was absent, a call from him had come for her by telephone, on + receiving which Miss Dale had at once left the hotel, apparently in great + agitation. That night she did not return, but in the morning Pearsall came + to collect his and her luggage and to settle his account. He explained + that a woman relative living at the Langham Hotel had been taken suddenly + ill, and had sent for him and his niece. Her condition had been so serious + that they had remained with her all night, and his niece still was at her + bedside. The driver of a four-wheeler, who for years had stood on the + cab-rank in front of Gerridge's, had driven Pearsall to the Langham. This + man was at the moment on the rank, and from him Ford learned what he most + wished to know. + </p> + <p> + The cabman remembered Pearsall, and having driven him to the Langham, for + the reason that immediately after setting him down there, and while + “crawling” for a fare in Portland Place, a whistle from the Langham had + recalled him, and the same luggage that had just been taken from the top + of his cab was Put back on it, and he was directed by the porter of the + hotel to take it to a house in Sowell Street. There a man-servant had + helped him unload the trunks and had paid him his fare. The cabman did not + remember the number of the house, but knew it was on the west side of the + street and in the middle of the block. + </p> + <p> + Having finished with Gerridge and the cab-man, Ford had at once gone to + the Langham Hotel, where, as he anticipated, nothing was known of Pearsall + or his niece, or of any invalid lady. But the hall-porter remembered the + American gentleman who had driven up with many pieces of luggage, and who, + although it was out of season, and many suites in the hotel were vacant, + had found none to suit him. He had then set forth on foot, having left + word that his trunks be sent after him. The address he gave was a house in + Sowell Street. + </p> + <p> + The porter recalled the incident because he and the cabman had grumbled + over the fact that in five minutes they had twice to handle the same + boxes. + </p> + <p> + “It is pretty evident,” said Ford, what Pearsall had in mind, but chance + was against him. He thought when he had unloaded his trunks at the Langham + and dismissed the cabman he had destroyed the link connecting him with + Gerridge's. He could not foresee that the same cabman would be loitering + in the neighborhood. He should have known that four-wheelers are not as + plentiful as they once were; and he should have given that particular one + more time to get away. His idea in walking to the Sowell Street house was + obviously to prevent the new cabman from seeing him enter it. But, just + where he thought he was clever, was just where he tripped. If he had + remained with his trunks he would have seen that the cabman was the same + one who had brought them and him from Craven Street, and he would have + given any other address in London than the one he did. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” said Ford, “that we have Pearsall where we want him, tell me + what you have learned about Prothero?” + </p> + <p> + Cuthbert smiled importantly, and produced a piece of paper scribbled over + with notes. + </p> + <p> + “Prothero,” he said, “seems to be THIS sort of man. If he made your coffee + for you, before you tasted it, you'd like him to drink a cup of it first.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <p> + “Prothero,” said Cuthbert, “is a man of mystery. As soon as I began asking + his neighbors questions, I saw he was of interest and that I was of + interest. I saw they did not believe I was an agent of a West End shop, + but a detective. So they wouldn't talk at all, or else they talked freely. + And from one of them, a chemist named Needham, I got all I wanted. He's + had a lawsuit against Prothero, and hates him. Prothero got him to invest + in a medicine to cure the cocaine habit. Needham found the cure was no + cure, but cocaine disguised. He sued for his money, and during the trial + the police brought in Prothero's record. Needham let me copy it, and it + seems to embrace every crime except treason. The man is a Russian Jew. He + was arrested and prosecuted in Warsaw, Vienna, Berlin, Belgrade; all over + Europe, until finally the police drove him to America. There he was an + editor of an anarchist paper, a blackmailer, a 'doctor' of hypnotism, a + clairvoyant, and a professional bigamist. His game was to open rooms as a + clairvoyant, and advise silly women how to invest their money. When he + found out which of them had the most money, he would marry her, take over + her fortune, and skip. In Chicago, he was tried for poisoning one wife, + and the trial brought out the fact that two others had died under + suspicious circumstances, and that there were three more unpoisoned but + anxious to get back their money. He was sentenced to ten years for bigamy, + but pardoned because he was supposed to be insane, and dying. Instead of + dying, he opened a sanatorium in New York to cure victims of the drug + habit. In reality, it was a sort of high-priced opium-den. The place was + raided, and he jumped his bail and came to this country. Now he is running + this private hospital in Sowell Street. Needham says it's a secret + rendezvous for dope fiends. But they are very high-class dope fiends, who + are willing to pay for seclusion, and the police can't get at him. I may + add that he's tall and muscular, with a big black beard, and hands that + could strangle a bull. In Chicago, during the poison trial, the newspapers + called him 'the Modern Bluebeard.”' + </p> + <p> + For a short time Ford was silent. But, in the dark corner of the cab, + Cuthbert could see that his cigar was burning briskly. + </p> + <p> + “Your friend seems a nice chap,” said Ford at last. “Calling on him will + be a real pleasure. I especially like what you say about his hands.” + </p> + <p> + “I have a plan,” began the assistant timidly, “a plan to get you into the + house-if you don't mind my making suggestions?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all!” exclaimed his chief heartily. + </p> + <p> + “Get me into the house by all means; that's what we're here for. The fact + that I'm to be poisoned or strangled after I get there mustn't discourage + us.'” + </p> + <p> + “I thought,” said Cuthbert, “I might stand guard outside, while you got in + as a dope fiend.” + </p> + <p> + Ford snorted indignantly. “Do I LOOK like a dope fiend?” he protested. + </p> + <p> + The voice of the assistant was one of discouragement. + </p> + <p> + “You certainly do not,” he exclaimed regretfully. “But it's the only plan + I could think of.” + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me,” said his chief testily, “that you are not so very + healthy-looking yourself. What's the matter with YOUR getting inside as a + dope fiend and MY standing guard?” + </p> + <p> + “But I wouldn't know what to do after I got inside,” complained the + assistant, “and you would. You are so clever.” + </p> + <p> + The expression of confidence seemed to flatter Ford. + </p> + <p> + “I might do this,” he said. “I might pretend I was recovering from a heavy + spree, and ask to be taken care of until I am sober. Or I could be a very + good imitation of a man on the edge of a nervous breakdown. I haven't been + five years in the newspaper business without knowing all there is to know + about nerves. That's it!” he cried. “I will do that! And if Mr. Bluebeard + Svengali, the Strangler of Paris person, won't take me in as a patient, + we'll come back with a couple of axes and BREAK in. But we'll try the + nervous breakdown first, and we'll try it now. I will be a naval officer,” + declared Ford. “I made the round-the-world cruise with our fleet as a + correspondent, and I know enough sea slang to fool a medical man. I am a + naval officer whose nerves have gone wrong. I have heard of his sanatorium + through——” “How,” asked Ford sharply, “have I heard of his + sanatorium?” + </p> + <p> + “You saw his advertisement in the DAILY WORLD,” prompted Cuthbert. “'Home + of convalescents; mental and nervous troubles cured.'” + </p> + <p> + “And,” continued Ford, “I have come to him for rest and treatment. My name + is Lieutenant Henry Grant. I arrived in London two weeks ago on the + MAURETANIA. But my name was not on the passenger-list, because I did not + want the Navy Department to know I was taking my leave abroad. I have been + stopping at my own address in Jermyn Street, and my references are + yourself, the Embassy, and my landlord. You will telephone him at once + that, if any one asks after Henry Grant, he is to say what you tell him to + say. And if any one sends for Henry Grant's clothes, he is to send MY + clothes.” + </p> + <p> + “But you don't expect to be in there as long as that?” exclaimed Cuthbert. + </p> + <p> + “I do not,” said Ford. “But, if he takes me in, I must make a bluff of + sending for my things. No; either I will be turned out in five minutes, or + if he accepts me as a patient I will be there until midnight. If I cannot + get the girl out of the house by midnight, it will mean that I can't get + out myself, and you had better bring the police and the coroner.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean it?” asked Cuthbert. + </p> + <p> + “I most certainly do!” exclaimed Ford. + </p> + <p> + “Until twelve I want a chance to get this story exclusively for our paper. + If she is not free by then it means I have fallen down on it, and you and + the police are to begin to batter in the doors.” + </p> + <p> + The two young men left the cab, and at some distance from each other + walked to Sowell Street. At the house of Dr. Prothero, Ford stopped and + rang the bell. From across the street Cuthbert saw the door open and the + figure of a man of almost gigantic stature block the doorway. For a moment + he stood there, and then Cuthbert saw him step to one side, saw Ford enter + the house and the door close upon him. Cuthbert at once ran to a + telephone, and, having instructed Ford's landlord as to the part he was to + play, returned to Sowell Street. There, in a state nearly approaching a + genuine nervous breakdown, he continued his vigil. + </p> + <p> + Even without his criminal record to cast a glamour over him, Ford would + have found Dr. Prothero, a disturbing person. His size was enormous, his + eyes piercing, sinister, unblinking, and the hands that could strangle a + bull, and with which as though to control himself, he continually pulled + at his black beard, were gigantic, of a deadly white, with fingers long + and prehensile. In his manner he had all the suave insolence of the + Oriental and the suspicious alertness of one constantly on guard, but + also, as Ford at once noted, of one wholly without fear. He had not been + over a moment in his presence before the reporter felt that to + successfully lie to such a man might be counted as a triumph. + </p> + <p> + Prothero opened the door into a little office leading off the hall, and + switched on the electric lights. For some short time, without any effort + to conceal his suspicion, he stared at Ford in silence. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” he said, at last. His tone was a challenge. + </p> + <p> + Ford had already given his assumed name and profession, and he now ran + glibly into the story he had planned. He opened his card-case and looked + into it doubtfully. “I find I have no card with me,” he said; “but I am, + as I told you, Lieutenant Grant, of the United States Navy. I am all right + physically, except for my nerves. They've played me a queer trick. If the + facts get out at home, it might cost me my commission. So I've come over + here for treatment.” + </p> + <p> + “Why to ME?” asked Prothero. + </p> + <p> + “I saw by your advertisement,” said the reporter, “that you treated for + nervous mental troubles. Mine is an illusion,” he went on. “I see things, + or, rather, always one thing-a battle-ship coming at us head on. For the + last year I've been executive officer of the KEARSARGE, and the + responsibility has been too much for me.” + </p> + <p> + “You see a battle-ship?” inquired the Jew. + </p> + <p> + “A phantom battle-ship,” Ford explained, “a sort OF FLYING DUTCHMAN. The + time I saw it I was on the bridge, and I yelled and telegraphed the + engine-room. I brought the ship to a full stop, and backed her. But it was + dirty weather, and the error was passed over. After that, when I saw the + thing coming I did nothing. But each time I think it is real.” Ford + shivered slightly and glanced about him. “Some day,” he added fatefully, + “it WILL be real, and I will NOT signal, and the ship will sink!” + </p> + <p> + In silence, Prothero observed his visitor closely. The young man seemed + sincere, genuine. His manner was direct and frank. He looked the part he + had assumed, as one used to authority. + </p> + <p> + “My fees are large,” said the Russian. + </p> + <p> + At this point, had Ford, regardless of terms, exhibited a hopeful + eagerness to at once close with him, the Jew would have shown him the + door. But Ford was on guard, and well aware that a lieutenant in the navy + had but few guineas to throw away on medicines. He made a movement as + though to withdraw. + </p> + <p> + “Then I am afraid,” he said, “I must go somewhere else.” + </p> + <p> + His reluctance apparently only partially satisfied the Jew. + </p> + <p> + Ford adopted opposite tactics. He was never without ready money. His paper + saw to it that in its interests he was always able at any moment to pay + for a special train across Europe, or to bribe the entire working staff of + a cable office. From his breast-pocket he took a blue linen envelope, and + allowed the Jew to see that it was filled with twenty-pound notes. “I have + means outside my pay,” said Ford. + </p> + <p> + “I would give almost any price to the man who can cure me.” The eyes of + the Russian flashed avariciously. + </p> + <p> + “I will arrange the terms to suit you,” he exclaimed. “Your case interests + me. Do you See this mirage only at sea?” + </p> + <p> + “In any open place,” Ford assured him. “In a park or public square, but of + course most frequently at sea.” + </p> + <p> + The quack waved his great hands as though brushing aside a curtain. + </p> + <p> + “I will remove the illusion,” he said, “and give you others more pretty.” + He smiled meaningfully—an evil, leering smile. “When will you come?” + he asked. Ford glanced about him nervously. + </p> + <p> + “I shall stay now,” he said. “I confess, in the streets and in my lodgings + I am frightened. You give me confidence. I want to stay near you. I feel + safe with you. If you will give me writing-paper, I will send for my + things.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment the Jew hesitated, and then motioned to a desk. As Ford + wrote, Prothero stood near him, and the reporter knew that over his + shoulder the Jew was reading what he wrote. Ford gave him the note, + unsealed, and asked that it be forwarded at once to his lodgings. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow,” he said, “I will call up our Embassy, and give my address to + our Naval Attache. + </p> + <p> + “I will attend to that,” said Prothero. + </p> + <p> + “From now you are in my hands, and you can communicate with the outside + only through me. You are to have absolute rest—no books, no letters, + no papers. And you will be fed from a spoon. I will explain my treatment + later. You will now go to your room, and you will remain there until you + are a well man.” + </p> + <p> + Ford had no wish to be at once shut off from the rest of the house. The + odor of cooking came through the hall, and seemed to offer an excuse for + delay. + </p> + <p> + “I smell food,” he laughed. “And I'm terrifically hungry. Can't I have a + farewell dinner before you begin feeding me from a spoon?” + </p> + <p> + The Jew was about to refuse, but, with his guilty knowledge of what was + going forward in the house, he could not be too sure of those he allowed + to enter it. He wanted more time to spend in studying this new patient, + and the dinner-table seemed to offer a place where he could do so without + the other suspecting he was under observation. + </p> + <p> + “My associate and I were just about to dine,” he said. “You will wait here + until I have another place laid, and you can join us.” + </p> + <p> + He departed, walking heavily down the hall, but almost at once Ford, whose + ears were alert for any sound, heard him returning, approaching stealthily + on tiptoe. If by this maneuver the Jew had hoped to discover his patient + in some indiscretion, he was unsuccessful, for he found Ford standing just + where he had left him, with his back turned to the door, and gazing with + apparent interest at a picture on the wall. The significance of the + incident was not lost upon the intruder. It taught him he was still under + surveillance, and that he must bear himself warily. Murmuring some excuse + for having returned, the Jew again departed, and in a few minutes Ford + heard his voice, and that of another man, engaged in low tones in what was + apparently an eager argument. + </p> + <p> + Only once was the voice of the other man raised sufficiently for Ford to + distinguish his words. “He is an American,” protested the voice; “that + makes it worse.” + </p> + <p> + Ford guessed that the speaker was Pearsall, and that against his + admittance to the house he was making earnest protest. A door, closing + with a bang, shut off the argument, but within a few minutes it was + evident the Jew had carried his point, for he reappeared to announce that + dinner was waiting. It was served in a room at the farther end of the + hall, and at the table, which was laid for three, Ford found a man already + seated. Prothero introduced him as “my associate,” but from his presence + in the house, and from the fact that he was an American, Ford knew that he + was Pearsall. + </p> + <p> + Pearsall was a man of fifty. He was tall, spare, with closely shaven face + and gray hair, worn rather long. He spoke with the accent of a Southerner, + and although to Ford he was studiously polite, he was obviously greatly + ill at ease. He had the abrupt, inattentive manners, the trembling fingers + and quivering lips, of one who had long been a slave to the drug habit, + and who now, with difficulty, was holding himself in hand. + </p> + <p> + Throughout the dinner, speaking to him as though, interested only as his + medical advisers, the Jew, and occasionally the American, sharply examined + and cross-examined their visitor. But they were unable to trip him in his + story, or to suggest that he was not just what he claimed to be. + </p> + <p> + When the dinner was finished, the three men, for different reasons, were + each more at his ease. Both Pearsall and Prothero believed from the new + patient they had nothing to fear, and Ford was congratulating himself that + his presence at the house was firmly secure. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” said Pearsall, “we should warn Mr. Grant that there are in the + house other patients who, like himself, are suffering from nervous + disorders. At times some silly neurotic woman becomes hysterical, and may + make an outcry or scream. He must not think ——” + </p> + <p> + “That's all right!” Ford reassured him cheerfully. “I expect that. In a + sanatorium it must be unavoidable.” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke, as though by a signal prearranged, there came from the upper + portion of the house a scream, long, insistent. + </p> + <p> + It was the voice of a woman, raised in appeal, in protest, shaken with + fear. Without for an instant regarding it, the two men fastened their eyes + upon the visitor. The hand of the Jew dropped quickly from his beard, and + slid to the inside pocket of his coat. With eyes apparently unseeing, Ford + noted the movement. + </p> + <p> + “He carries a gun,” was his mental comment, “and he seems perfectly + willing to use it.” Aloud, he said: “That, I suppose is one of them?” + </p> + <p> + Prothero nodded gravely, and turned to Pearsall. “Will you attend her?” he + asked. + </p> + <p> + As Pearsall rose and left the room, Prothero rose also. + </p> + <p> + “You will come with me,” he directed, “and I will see you settle in your + apartment. Your bag has arrived and is already there.” + </p> + <p> + The room to which the Jew led him was the front one on the second story. + It was in no way in keeping with a sanatorium, or a rest-cure. The walls + were hidden by dark blue hangings, in which sparkled tiny mirrors, the + floor was covered with Turkish rugs, the lights concealed inside lamps of + dull brass bedecked with crimson tassels. In the air were the odors of + stale tobacco-smoke, of cheap incense, and the sickly, sweet smell of + opium. To Ford the place suggested a cigar-divan rather than a bedroom, + and he guessed, correctly, that when Prothero had played at palmistry and + clairvoyance this had been the place where he received his dupes. But the + American expressed himself pleased with his surroundings, and while + Prothero remained in the room, busied himself with unpacking his bag. + </p> + <p> + On leaving him the Jew halted in the door and delivered himself of a + little speech. His voice was stern, sharp, menacing. + </p> + <p> + “Until you are cured,” he said, “you will not put your foot outside this + room. In this house are other inmates who, as you have already learned, + are in a highly nervous state. The brains of some are unbalanced. With my + associate and myself they are familiar, but the sight of a stranger + roaming through the halls might upset them. They might attack you, might + do you bodily injury. If you wish for anything, ring the electric bell + beside your bed and an attendant will come. But you yourself must not + leave the room.” + </p> + <p> + He closed the door, and Ford, seating himself in front of the coal fire, + hastily considered his position. He could not persuade himself that, + strategically, it was a satisfactory one. The girl he sought was on the + top or fourth floor, he on the second. To reach her he would have to pass + through Well-lighted halls, up two flights Of stairs and try to enter a + door that would undoubtedly be locked. On the other hand, instead of + wandering about in the rain outside the house, he was now established on + the inside, and as an inmate. Had there been time for a siege, he would + have been confident of success. But there was no time. The written call + for help had been urgent. Also, the scream he had heard, while the manner + of the two men had shown that to them it was a commonplace, was to him a + spur to instant action. In haste he knew there was the risk of failure, + but he must take that risk. + </p> + <p> + He wished first to assure himself that Cuthbert was within call, and to + that end put out the lights and drew aside the curtains that covered the + window. Outside, the fog was rolling between the house-fronts, both rain + and snow were falling heavily, and a solitary gas-lamp showed only a + deserted and dripping street. Cautiously Ford lit a match and for an + instant let the flame flare. He was almost at once rewarded by the sight + of an answering flame that flickered from a dark doorway. Ford closed the + window, satisfied that his line of communication with the outside world + was still intact. The faithful Cuthbert was on guard. + </p> + <p> + Ford rapidly reviewed each possible course of action. These were several, + but to lead any one of them to success, he saw that he must possess a + better acquaintance with the interior of the house. Especially was it + important that he should obtain a line of escape other than the one down + the stairs to the front door. The knowledge that in the rear of the house + there was a means of retreat by a servants' stairway, or over the roof of + an adjoining building, or by a friendly fire-escape, would at least, lend + him confidence in his adventure. Accordingly, in spite of Prothero's + threat, he determined at once to reconnoitre. In case of his being + discovered outside his room, he would explain his electric bell was out of + order, that when he rang no servant had answered, and that he had sallied + forth in search of one. To make this plausible, he unscrewed the cap of + the electric button in the wall, and with his knife cut off enough of the + wire to prevent a proper connection. He then replaced the cap and, opening + the door, stepped into the hall. + </p> + <p> + The upper part of the house was, sunk in silence, but rising from the + dining-room below, through the opening made by the stairs, came the voices + of Prothero and Pearsall. And mixed with their voices came also the sharp + hiss of water issuing from a siphon. The sound was reassuring. Apparently, + over their whiskey-and-soda the two men were still lingering at the + dinner-table. For the moment, then—so far, at least, as they were + concerned—the coast was clear. + </p> + <p> + Stepping cautiously, and keeping close to the wall, Ford ran lightly up + the stairs to the hall of the third floor. It was lit brightly by a + gas-jet, but no one was in sight, and the three doors opening upon it were + shut. At the rear of the hall was a window; the blind was raised, and + through the panes, dripping in the rain, Ford caught a glimpse of the + rigid iron rods of a fire-escape. His spirits leaped exultantly. If + necessary, by means of this scaling ladder, he could work entirely from + the outside. Greatly elated, he tiptoed past the closed doors and mounted + to the fourth floor. This also was lit by a gas-jet that showed at one end + of the hall a table on which were medicine-bottles and a tray covered by a + napkin; and at the other end, piled upon each other and blocking the + hall-window, were three steamer-trunks. Painted on each were the initials, + “D. D.” Ford breathed an exclamation. + </p> + <p> + “Dosia Dale,” he muttered, “I have found you!” He was again confronted by + three closed doors, one leading to a room that faced the street, another + opening upon a room in the rear of the house, and opposite, across the + hallway, still another door. He observed that the first two doors were + each fastened from the outside by bolts and a spring lock, and that the + key to each lock was in place. The fact moved him with indecision. If he + took possession of the keys, he could enter the rooms at his pleasure. On + the other hand, should their loss be discovered, an alarm would be raised + and he would inevitably come under suspicion. The very purpose he had in + view might be frustrated. He decided that where they were the keys would + serve him as well as in his pocket, and turned his attention to the third + door. This was not locked, and, from its position, Ford guessed it must be + an entrance to a servants' stairway. + </p> + <p> + Confident of this, he opened it, and found a dark, narrow landing, a + flight of steps mounting from the kitchen below, and, to his delight an + iron ladder leading to a trap-door. He could hardly forego a cheer. If the + trap-door were not locked, he had found a third line of retreat, a means + of escape by way of the roof, far superior to any he might attempt by the + main staircase and the street-door. + </p> + <p> + Ford stepped into the landing, closing the door behind him and though this + left him in complete darkness, he climbed the ladder, and with eager + fingers felt for the fastenings of the trap. He had feared to find a + padlock, but, to his infinite relief, his fingers closed upon two bolts. + Noiselessly, and smoothly, they drew back from their sockets. Under the + pressure of his hand the trap door lifted, and through the opening swept a + breath of chill night air. + </p> + <p> + Ford hooked one leg over a round of the ladder and, with hands frees moved + the trap to one side. An instant later he had scrambled to the roof, and, + after carefully replacing the trap, rose and looked about him. To his + satisfaction, he found that the roof upon which he stood ran level with + the roofs adjoining its to as far as Devonshire Street, where they + encountered the wall of an apartment house. This was of seven stories. On + the fifth story a row of windows, brilliantly lighted, opened upon the + roofs over which he planned to make his retreat. Ford chuckled with + nervous excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Before long,” he assured himself, “I will be visiting the man who owns + that flat. He will think I am a burglar. He will send for the police. + There is no one in the world I shall be so glad to see!” + </p> + <p> + Ford considered that running over roofs, even when their pitfalls were not + concealed by a yellow fog, was an awkward exercise, and decided that + before he made his dash for freedom, the part of a careful jockey would be + to take a preliminary canter over the course. Accordingly, among party + walls of brick, rain-pipes, chimney-pipes, and telephone wires, he felt + his way to the wall of the apartment house; and then, with a clearer idea + of the obstacles to be avoided, raced back to the point whence he had + started. + </p> + <p> + Next, to discover the exact position of the fire-escape, he dropped to his + knees and crawled to the rear edge of the roof. The light from the back + windows of the fourth floor showed him an iron ladder from the edge of the + roof to the platform of the fire-escape, and the platform itself, + stretching below the windows the width of the building. He gave a sigh of + satisfaction, but the same instant exclaimed with dismay. The windows + opening upon the fire-escape were closely barred. For a moment he was + unable to grasp why a fire-escape should be placed where escape was + impossible, until he recognized that the ladder must have been erected + first and the iron bars later; probably only since Miss Dale had been made + a prisoner. + </p> + <p> + But he now appreciated that in spite of the iron bars he was nearer that + prisoner than he had ever been. Should he return to the hall below, even + while he could unlock the doors, he was in danger of discovery by those + inside the house. But from the fire-escape only a window-pane would + separate him from the prisoner, and though the bars would keep him at + arm's-length, he might at least speak with her, and assure her that her + call for help had carried. He grasped the sides of the ladder and dropped + to the platform. As he had already seen that the window farthest to the + left was barricaded with trunks, he disregarded it, and passed quickly to + the two others. Behind both of these, linen shades were lowered, but, to + his relief, he found that in the middle window the lower sash, as though + for ventilation, was slightly raised, leaving an opening of a few inches. + Kneeling on the gridiron platform of the fire-escape, and pressing his + face against the bars, he brought his eyes level with this opening. Owing + to the lowered window-blind, he could see nothing in the room, nor could + he distinguish any sound until above the drip and patter of the rain there + came to him the peaceful ticking of a clock and the rattle of coal falling + to the fender. But of any sound that was human there was none. That the + room was empty, and that the girl was in the front of the house was + possible, and the temptation to stretch his hand through the bars and lift + the blind was almost compelling. If he did so, and the girl were inside, + she might make an outcry, or, guarding her, there might be an attendant, + who at once would sound the alarm. The risk was evident, but, encouraged + by the silence, Ford determined to take the chance. Slipping one hand + between the bars he caught the end of the blind, and, pulling it gently + down, let the spring draw it upward. Through an opening of six inches the + room lay open before him. He saw a door leading to another room, at one + side an iron cot, and in front of the coal fire, facing him, a girl seated + in a deep arm-chair. A book lay on her knees, and she was intently + reading. + </p> + <p> + The girl was young, and her face, in spite of an unnatural pallor and an + expression of deep melancholy, was one of extreme beauty. She wore over a + night-dress a long loose wrapper corded at the waist, and, as though in + readiness for the night, her black hair had been drawn back into smooth, + heavy braids. She made so sweet and sad a picture that Ford forgot his + errand, forgot his damp and chilled body, and for a moment in sheer + delight knelt, with his face pressed close to the bars, and gazed at her. + </p> + <p> + A movement on the part of the girl brought him to his senses. She closed + the book, and, leaning forward, rested her chin upon the hollow of her + hand and stared into the fire. Her look was one of complete and hopeless + misery. Ford did not hesitate. The girl was alone, but that at any moment + an attendant might join her was probable, and the rare chance that now + offered would be lost. He did not dare to speak, or by any sound attract + her attention, but from his breast-pocket he took the glove thrown to him + from the window, and, with a jerk, tossed it through the narrow opening. + It fell directly at her feet. She had not seen the glove approach, but the + slight sound it made in falling caused her to start and turn her eyes + toward it. Through the window, breathless, and with every nerve drawn + taut, Ford watched her. + </p> + <p> + For a moment, partly in alarm, partly in bewilderment, she sat motionless, + regarding the glove with eyes fixed and staring. Then she lifted them to + the ceiling, in quick succession to each of the closed doors, and then to + the window. In his race across the roofs Ford had lacked the protection of + a hat, and his hair was plastered across his forehead; his face was + streaked with soot and snow, his eyes shone with excitement. But at sight + of this strange apparition the girl made no sign. Her alert mind had in an + instant taken in the significance of the glove, and for her what followed + could have but one meaning. She knew that no matter in what guise he came + the man whose face was now pressed against the bars was a friend. + </p> + <p> + With a swift, graceful movement she rose to her feet, crossed quickly to + the window, and sank upon her knees. + </p> + <p> + “Speak in a whisper,” she said; “and speak quickly. You are in great + danger!” + </p> + <p> + That her first thought was of his safety gave Ford a thrill of shame and + pleasure. + </p> + <p> + Until now Miss Dosia Dale had been only the chief feature in a newspaper + story; the unknown quantity in a problem. She had meant no more to him + than had the initials on her steamer-trunk. Now, through her beauty, + through the distress in her eyes, through her warm and generous nature + that had disclosed itself with her first words, she became a living, + breathing, lovely, and lovable woman. All of the young man's chivalry + leaped to the call. He had gone back several centuries. In feeling, he was + a knight-errant rescuing beauty in distress from a dungeon cell. To the + girl, he was a reckless young person with a dirty face and eyes that gave + confidence. But, though a knight-errant, Ford was a modern knight-errant. + He wasted no time in explanations or pretty speeches. + </p> + <p> + “In two minutes,” he whispered, “I'll unlock your door. There's a ladder + outside your room to the roof. Once we get to the roof the rest's easy. + Should anything go wrong, I'll come back by this fire-escape. Wait at the + window until you see your door open. Do you understand?” + </p> + <p> + The girl answered with an eager nod. The color had flown to her cheek. Her + eyes flashed in excitement. A sudden doubt assailed Ford. + </p> + <p> + “You've no time to put on any more clothes,” he commanded. + </p> + <p> + “I haven't got any!” said the girl. + </p> + <p> + The knight-errant ran up the fire-escape, pulled himself over the edge of + the roof, and, crossing it, dropped through the trap to the landing of the + kitchen stairs. Here he expended the greater part of the two minutes he + had allowed himself in cautiously opening the door into the hall. He + accomplished this without a sound, and in one step crossed the hall to the + door that held Miss Dale a prisoner. + </p> + <p> + Slowly he drew back the bolts. Only the spring lock now barred him from + her. With thumb and forefinger he turned the key, pushed the door gently + open, and ran into the room. + </p> + <p> + At the same instant from behind him, within six feet of him, he heard the + staircase creak. A bomb bursting could not have shaken him more rudely. He + swung on his heel and found, blocking the door, the giant bulk of Prothero + regarding him over the barrel of his pistol. + </p> + <p> + “Don't move!” said the Jew. + </p> + <p> + At the sound of his voice the girl gave a cry of warning, and sprang + forward. + </p> + <p> + “Go back!” commanded Prothero. His voice was low and soft, and apparently + calm, but his face showed white with rage. + </p> + <p> + Ford had recovered from the shock of the surprise. He, also, was in a rage—a + rage of mortification and bitter disappointment. + </p> + <p> + “Don't point that gun at me!” he blustered. + </p> + <p> + The sound of leaping footsteps and the voice of Pearsall echoed from the + floor below. + </p> + <p> + “Have you got him?” he called. + </p> + <p> + Prothero made no reply, nor did he lower his pistol. When Pearsall was at + his side, without turning his head, he asked in the same steady tone: + </p> + <p> + “What shall we do with him?” + </p> + <p> + The face of Pearsall was white, and furious with fear. + </p> + <p> + “I told you——” he stormed. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind what you told me,” said the Jew. “What shall we do with him? + He knows!” + </p> + <p> + Ford's mind was working swiftly. He had no real fear of personal danger + for the girl or himself. The Jew, he argued, was no fool. He would not + risk his neck by open murder. And, as he saw it, escape with the girl + might still be possible. He had only to conceal from Prothero his + knowledge of the line of retreat over the house-tops, explain his + rain-soaked condition, and wait a better chance. + </p> + <p> + To this end he proceeded to lie briskly and smoothly. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I know,” he taunted. He pointed to his dripping garments. “Do + you know where I've been? In the street, placing my men. I have this house + surrounded. I am going to walk down those stairs with this young lady. If + you try to stop me I have only to blow my police-whistle——” + </p> + <p> + “And I will blow your brains out!” interrupted the Jew. It was a most + unsatisfactory climax. + </p> + <p> + “You have not been in the street,” said Prothero. “You are wet because you + hung out of your window signalling to your friend. Do you know why he did + not answer your second signal? Because he is lying in an area, with a + knife in him!” + </p> + <p> + “You lie!” cried Ford. + </p> + <p> + “YOU lie,” retorted the Jew quietly, “when you say your men surround this + house. You are alone. You are NOT in the police service, you are a + busybody meddling with men who think as little of killing you as they did + of killing your friend. My servant was placed to watch your window, saw + your signal, reported to me. And I found your assistant and threw him into + an area, with a knife in him!” + </p> + <p> + Ford felt the story was untrue. Prothero was trying to frighten him. Out + of pure bravado no sane man would boast of murder. But—and at the + thought Ford felt a touch of real fear—was the man sane? It was a + most unpleasant contingency. Between a fight with an angry man and an + insane man the difference was appreciable. From this new view-point Ford + regarded his adversary with increased wariness; he watched him as he would + a mad dog. He regretted extremely he had not brought his revolver. + </p> + <p> + With his automatic pistol still covering Ford, Prothero spoke to Pearsall. + </p> + <p> + “I found him,” he recited, as though testing the story he would tell + later, “prowling through my house at night. Mistaking him for a burglar, I + killed him. The kitchen window will be found open, with the lock broken, + showing how he gained an entrance. Why not?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Because,” protested Pearsall, in terror, “the man outside will tell——” + </p> + <p> + Ford shouted in genuine relief. + </p> + <p> + “Exactly!” he cried. “The man outside, who is not down an area with a + knife in him, but who at this moment is bringing the police—he will + tell!” + </p> + <p> + As though he had not been interrupted, Prothero continued thoughtfully: + </p> + <p> + “What they may say he expected to find here, I can explain away later. The + point is that I found a strange man, hatless, dishevelled, prowling in my + house. I called on him to halt; he ran, I fired, and unfortunately killed + him. An Englishman's home is his castle; an English jury——” + </p> + <p> + “An English jury,” said Ford briskly, “is the last thing you want to meet—— + It isn't a Chicago jury.” + </p> + <p> + The Jew flung back his head as though Ford had struck him in the face. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he purred, “you know that, too, do you?” The purr increased to a + snarl. “You know too much!” + </p> + <p> + For Pearsall, his tone seemed to bear an alarming meaning. He sprang + toward Prothero, and laid both hands upon his disengaged arm. + </p> + <p> + “For God's sake,” he pleaded, “come away! He can't hurt you—not + alive; but dead, he'll hang you—hang us both. We must go, now, this + moment.” He dragged impotently at the left arm of the giant. “Come!” he + begged. + </p> + <p> + Whether moved by Pearsall's words or by some thought of his own, Prothero + nodded in assent. He addressed himself to Ford. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what to do with you,” he said, “so I will consult with my + friend outside this door. While we talk, we will lock you in. We can hear + any move you make. If you raise the window or call I will open the door + and kill you—you and that woman!” + </p> + <p> + With a quick gesture, he swung to the door, and the spring lock snapped. + An instant later the bolts were noisily driven home. + </p> + <p> + When the second bolt shot into place, Ford turned and looked at Miss Dale. + </p> + <p> + “This is a hell of a note!” he said + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <p> + Outside the locked door the voices of the two men rose in fierce whispers. + But Ford regarded them not at all. With the swiftness of a squirrel caught + in a cage, he darted on tiptoe from side to side searching the confines of + his prison. He halted close to Miss Dale and pointed at the windows. + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever tried to loosen those bars?” he whispered. + </p> + <p> + The girl nodded and, in pantomime that spoke of failure, shrugged her + shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “What did you see?” demanded Ford hopefully. + </p> + <p> + The girl destroyed his hope with a shake of her head and a swift smile. + </p> + <p> + “Scissors,” she said; “but they found them and took them away.” Ford + pointed at the open grate. + </p> + <p> + “Where's the poker?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “They took that, too. I bent it trying to pry the bars. So they knew.” + </p> + <p> + The man gave her a quick, pleased glance, then turned his eyes to the door + that led into the room that looked upon the street. + </p> + <p> + “Is that door locked?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” the girl told him. “But the door from it into the hall is fastened, + like the other, with a spring lock and two bolts.” + </p> + <p> + Ford cautiously opened the door into the room adjoining, and, except for a + bed and wash-stand, found it empty. On tiptoe he ran to the windows. + Sowell Street was deserted. He returned to Miss Dale, again closing the + door between the two rooms. + </p> + <p> + “The nurse,” Miss Dale whispered, “when she is on duty, leaves that door + open so that she can watch me; when she goes downstairs, she locks and + bolts the door from that room to the hall. It's locked now.” + </p> + <p> + “What's the nurse like?” + </p> + <p> + The girl gave a shudder that seemed to Ford sufficiently descriptive. Her + lips tightened in a hard, straight line. + </p> + <p> + “She's not human,” she said. “I begged her to help me, appealed to her in + every way; then I tried a dozen times to get past her to the stairs.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + The girl frowned, and with a gesture signified her surroundings. + </p> + <p> + “I'm still here,” she said. + </p> + <p> + She bent suddenly forward and, with her hand on his shoulder, turned the + man so that he faced the cot. + </p> + <p> + “The mattress on that bed,” she whispered, “rests on two iron rods. They + are loose and can be lifted. I planned to smash the lock, but the noise + would have brought Prothero. But you could defend yourself with one of + them.” + </p> + <p> + Ford had already run to the cot and dropped to his knees. He found the + mattress supported on strips of iron resting loosely in sockets at the + head and foot. He raised the one nearer him, and then, after a moment of + hesitation, let it drop into place. + </p> + <p> + “That's fine!” he whispered. “Good as a crowbar.'” He shook his head in + sudden indecision. “But I don't just know how to use it. His automatic + could shoot six times before I could swing that thing on him once. And if + I have it in my hands when he opens the door, he'll shoot, and he may hit + you. But if I leave it where it is, he won't know I know it's there, and + it may come in very handy later.” + </p> + <p> + In complete disapproval the girl shook her head. Her eyes filled with + concern. “You must not fight him,” she ordered. “I mean, not for me. You + don't know the danger. The man's not sane. He won't give you a chance. + He's mad. You have no right to risk your life for a stranger. I'll not + permit it——” + </p> + <p> + Ford held up his hand for silence. With a jerk of his head he signified + the door. “They've stopped talking,” he whispered. + </p> + <p> + Straining to hear, the two leaned forward, but from the hall there came no + sound. The girl raised her eyebrows questioningly. + </p> + <p> + “Have they gone?” she breathed. + </p> + <p> + “If I knew that,” protested Ford, “we wouldn't be here!” + </p> + <p> + In answer to his doubt a smart rap, as though from the butt of a revolver, + fell upon the door. The voice of Prothero spoke sharply: + </p> + <p> + “You, who call yourself Grant!” he shouted. + </p> + <p> + Before answering, Ford drew Miss Dale and himself away from the line of + the door, and so placed the girl with her back to the wall that if the + door opened she would be behind it. “Yes,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “Pearsall and I,” called Prothero, “have decided how to dispose of you—of + both of you. He has gone below to make preparations. I am on guard. If you + try to break out or call for help, I'll shoot you as I warned you!” + </p> + <p> + “And I warn you,” shouted Ford, “if this lady and I do not instantly leave + this house, or if any harm comes to her, you will hang for it!” Prothero + laughed jeeringly. + </p> + <p> + “Who will hang me?” he mocked. + </p> + <p> + “My friends,” retorted Ford. “They know I am in this house. They know WHY + I am here. Unless they see Miss Dale and myself walk out of it in safety, + they will never let you leave it. Don't be a fool, Prothero!” he shouted. + “You know I am telling the truth. You know your only chance for mercy is + to open that door and let us go free.” + </p> + <p> + For over a minute Ford waited, but from the hall there was no answer. + </p> + <p> + After another minute of silence, Ford turned and gazed inquiringly at Miss + Dale. + </p> + <p> + “Prothero!” he called. + </p> + <p> + Again for a full minute he waited and again called, and then, as there + still was no reply, he struck the door sharply with his knuckles. On the + instant the voice of the Jew rang forth in an angry bellow. + </p> + <p> + “Keep away from that door!” he commanded. + </p> + <p> + Ford turned to Miss Dale and bent his head close to hers. + </p> + <p> + “Now, why the devil didn't he answer?” he whispered. “Was it because he + wasn't there; or is he planning to steal away and wants us to think that + even if he does not answer, he's still outside?” The girl nodded eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “This is it,” she whispered. “My uncle is a coward or rather he is very + wise, and has left the house. And Prothero means to follow, but he wants + us to think he's still on guard. If we only KNEW!” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + As though in answer to her thought, the voice of Prothero called to them. + </p> + <p> + “Don't speak to me again,” he warned. “If you do, I'll not answer, or I'll + shoot!” + </p> + <p> + Flattened against the wall, close to the hinges of the door, Ford replied + flippantly and defiantly: + </p> + <p> + “That makes conversation difficult, doesn't it?” he called. + </p> + <p> + There was a bursting report, and a bullet splintered the panel of the + door, flattened itself against the fireplace, and fell tinkling into the + grate. + </p> + <p> + “I hope I hit you!” roared the Jew. + </p> + <p> + Ford pressed his lips tightly together. Whatever happy retort may have + risen to them was forever lost. For an exchange of repartee, the moment + did not seem propitious. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps now,” jeered Prothero, “you'll believe I'm in earnest!” + </p> + <p> + Ford still resisted any temptation to reply. He grinned apologetically at + the girl and shrugged his shoulders. Her face was white, but it was white + from excitement, not from fear. + </p> + <p> + “What did I tell you?” she whispered. “He IS mad—quite mad!” + </p> + <p> + Ford glanced at the bullet-hole in the panel of the door. It was on a line + with his heart. He looked at Miss Dale; her shoulder was on a level with + his own, and her eyes were following his. + </p> + <p> + “In case he does that again,” said Ford, “we would be more comfortable + sitting down.” + </p> + <p> + With their shoulders against the wall, the two young people sank to the + floor. The position seemed to appeal to them as humorous, and, when their + eyes met, they smiled. + </p> + <p> + “To a spectator,” whispered Ford encouragingly, “we MIGHT appear to be + getting the worst of this. But, as a matter of fact, every minute Cuthbert + does not come means that the next minute may bring him.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't believe he was hurt?” asked the girl. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Ford. “I believe Prothero found him, and I believe there may + have been a fight. But you heard what Pearsall said: 'The man outside will + tell.' If Cuthbert's in a position to tell, he is not down an area with a + knife in him.” + </p> + <p> + He was interrupted by a faint report from the lowest floor, as though the + door to the street had been sharply slammed. Miss Dale showed that she + also had heard it. + </p> + <p> + “My uncle,” she said, “making his escape!” + </p> + <p> + “It may be,” Ford answered. + </p> + <p> + The report did not suggest to him the slamming of a door, but he saw no + reason for saying so to the girl. + </p> + <p> + With his fingers locked across his knees, Ford was leaning forward, his + eyes frowning, his lips tightly shut. At his side the girl regarded him + covertly. His broad shoulders, almost touching hers, his strong jaw + projecting aggressively, and the alert, observant eyes gave her + confidence. For three weeks she had been making a fight single-handed. But + she was now willing to cease struggling and relax. Quite happily she + placed herself and her safety in the keeping of a stranger. Half to + herself, half to the man, she murmured: “It is like 'The Sieur de + Maletroit's Door.”' + </p> + <p> + Without looking at her, Ford shook his head and smiled. + </p> + <p> + “No such luck,” he corrected grimly. “That young man was given a choice. + The moment he was willing to marry the girl he could have walked out of + the room free. I do not recall Prothero's saying I can escape death by any + such charming alternative.” The girl interrupted quickly. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said; “you are not at all like that young man. He stumbled in by + chance. You came on purpose to help me. It was fine, unselfish.” + </p> + <p> + “It was not,” returned Ford. “My motive was absolutely selfish. It was not + to help you I came, but to be able to tell about it later. It is my + business to do that. And before I saw you, it was all in the day's work. + But after I saw you it was no longer a part of the day's work; it became a + matter of a life time.” + </p> + <p> + The girl at his side laughed softly and lightly. “A lifetime is not long,” + she said, “when you are locked in a room and a madman is shooting at you. + It may last only an hour.” + </p> + <p> + “Whether it lasts an hour or many years,” said Ford, “it can mean to me + now only one thing——” He turned quickly and looked in her face + boldly and steadily: “You,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The girl did not avoid his eyes, but returned his glance with one as + steady as his own. “You are an amusing person,” she said. “Do you feel it + is necessary to keep up my courage with pretty speeches?” + </p> + <p> + “I made no pretty speech,” said Ford. “I proclaimed a fact. You are the + most charming person that ever came into my life, and whether Prothero + shoots us up, or whether we live to get back to God's country, you will + never leave it.” + </p> + <p> + The girl pretended to consider his speech critically. “It would be almost + a compliment,” she said, “if it were intelligent, but when you know + nothing of me—it is merely impertinent.” + </p> + <p> + “I know this much of you,” returned Ford, calmly; “I know you are fine and + generous, for your first speech to me, in spite of your own danger, was + for my safety. I know you are brave, for I see you now facing death + without dismay.” + </p> + <p> + He was again suddenly halted by, two sharp reports. They came from the + room directly below them. It was no longer possible to pretend to + misinterpret their significance. + </p> + <p> + “Prothero!” exclaimed Ford, “and his pistol!” + </p> + <p> + They waited breathlessly for what might follow: an outcry, the sound of a + body falling, a third pistol-shot. But throughout the house there was + silence. + </p> + <p> + “If you really think we are in such danger,” declared Miss Dale, “we are + wasting time!” + </p> + <p> + “We are NOT wasting time,” protested Ford; “we are really gaining time, + for each minute Cuthbert and the police are drawing nearer, and to move + about only invites a bullet. And, what is of more importance,” he went on + quickly, as though to turn her mind from the mysterious pistol-shots, + “should we get out of this alive, I shall already have said what under + ordinary conditions I might not have found the courage to tell you in many + months.” He waited as though hopeful of a reply, but Miss Dale remained + silent. “They say,” continued Ford, “when a man is drowning his whole life + passes in review. We are drowning, and yet I find I can see into the past + no further than the last half-hour. I find life began only then, when I + looked through the bars of that window and found YOU!” + </p> + <p> + With the palm of her hand the girl struck the floor sharply. “This is + neither the time,” she exclaimed, “nor the place to——” + </p> + <p> + “I did not choose the place,” Ford pointed out. “It was forced upon me + with a gun. But the TIME is excellent. At such a time one speaks only what + is true.” + </p> + <p> + “You certainly have a strange sense of humor,” she said, “but when you are + risking your life to help me, how can I be angry?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course you can't,” Ford agreed heartily; “you could not be so + conventional.” + </p> + <p> + “But I AM conventional!” protested Miss Dale. “And I am not USED to having + young men tell me they have 'come into my life to stay'—certainly + not young men who come into my life by way of a trap-door, and without an + introduction, without a name, without even a hat! It's absurd! It's not + real! It's a nightmare!” + </p> + <p> + “The whole situation is absurd!” Ford declared. “Here we are in the heart + of London, surrounded by telephones, taxicabs, police—at least, hope + we are surrounded by police and yet we are crawling around the floor on + our hands and knees dodging bullets. I wish it were a nightmare. But, as + it's not”—he rose to his feet—“I think I'll try——” + </p> + <p> + He was interrupted by a sharp blow upon the door and the voice of + Prothero. + </p> + <p> + “You, navy officer!” he panted. “Come to the door! Stand close to it so + that I needn't shout. Come, quick!” + </p> + <p> + Ford made no answer. Motioning to Miss Dale to remain where she was, he + ran noiselessly to the bed, and from beneath the mattress lifted one of + the iron bars upon which it rested. Grasping it at one end, he swung the + bar swiftly as a man tests the weight of a baseball bat. As a weapon it + seemed to satisfy him, for he smiled. Then once more he placed himself + with his back to the wall. “Do you hear me?” roared Prothero. + </p> + <p> + “I hear you!” returned Ford. “If you want to talk to me, open the door and + come inside.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me,” called Prothero. “If I open the door you may act the fool, + and I will have to shoot you, and I have made up my mind to let you live. + You will soon have this house to yourselves. In a few moments I will leave + it, but where I am going I'll need money, and I want the bank-notes in + that blue envelope.” Ford swung the iron club in short half-circles. + </p> + <p> + “Come in and get them!” he called. + </p> + <p> + “Don't trifle with me!” roared the Jew, “I may change my mind. Shove the + money through the crack under the door.” + </p> + <p> + “And get shot!” returned Ford. “Not bit like it!” + </p> + <p> + “If, in one minute,” shouted Prothero, “I don't see the money coming + through that crack, I'll begin shooting through this door, and neither of + you will live!” + </p> + <p> + Resting the bar in the crook of his elbow, Ford snatched the bank-notes + from the envelope, and, sticking them in his pocket, placed the empty + envelope on the floor. Still keeping out of range, and using his iron bar + as a croupier uses his rake, he pushed the envelope across the carpet and + under the door. When half of it had disappeared from the other side of the + door, it was snatched from view. + </p> + <p> + An instant later there was a scream of anger and on a line where Ford + would have been, had he knelt to shove the envelope under the door, three + bullets splintered through the panel. + </p> + <p> + At the same moment the girl caught him by the wrist. Unheeding the attack + upon the door, her eyes were fixed upon the windows. With her free hand + she pointed at the one at which Ford had first appeared. The blind was + still raised a few inches, and they saw that the night was lit with a + strange and brilliant radiance. The storm had passed, and from all the + houses that backed upon the one in which they were prisoners lights blazed + from every window, and in each were crowded many people, and upon the + roof-tops in silhouette from the glare of the street lamps below, and in + the yards and clinging to the walls that separated them, were hundreds of + other dark, shadowy groups changing and swaying. And from them rose the + confused, inarticulate, terrifying murmur of a mob. It was as though they + were on a race-track at night facing a great grandstand peopled with an + army of ghosts. With the girl at his side, Ford sprang to the window and + threw up the blind, and as they clung to the bars, peering into the night, + the light in the room fell full upon them. And in an instant from the + windows opposite, from the yards below, and from the house-tops came a + savage, exultant yell of welcome, a confusion of cries' orders, + entreaties, a great roar of warning. At the sound, Ford could feel the + girl at his side tremble. + </p> + <p> + “What does it mean?” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “Cuthbert has raised the neighborhood!” shouted Ford jubilantly. “Or else”—he + cried in sudden enlightenment—“those shots we heard.” + </p> + <p> + The girl stopped him with a low cry of fear. She thrust her arms between + the bars and pointed. In the yard below them was the sloping roof of the + kitchen. It stretched from the house to the wall of the back yard. Above + the wall from the yard beyond rose a ladder, and, face down upon the roof, + awry and sprawling, were the motionless forms of two men. Their shining + capes and heavy helmets proclaimed their calling. + </p> + <p> + “The police!” exclaimed Ford. “And the shots we thought were for those in + the house were for THEM! This is what has happened,” he whispered eagerly: + “Prothero attacked Cuthbert. Cuthbert gets away and goes to the police. He + tells them you are here a prisoner, that I am here probably a prisoner, + and of the attack upon himself. The police try to make an entrance from + the street—that was the first shot we heard—and are driven + back; then they try to creep in from the yard, and those poor devils were + killed.” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke a sudden silence had fallen, a silence as startling as had + been the shout of warning. Some fresh attack upon the house which the + prisoners could not see, but which must be visible to those in the houses + opposite was going forward. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps they are on the roof,”' whispered Ford joyfully. “They'll be + through the trap in a minute, and you'll be free!” + </p> + <p> + “No!” said the girl. + </p> + <p> + She also spoke in a whisper, as though she feared Prothero might hear her. + And with her hand she again pointed. Cautiously above the top of the + ladder appeared the head and shoulders of a man. He wore a policeman's + helmet, but, warned by the fate of his comrades, he came armed. Balancing + himself with his left hand on the rung of the ladder, he raised the other + and pointed a revolver. It was apparently at the two prisoners, and Miss + Dale sprang to one side. + </p> + <p> + “Standstill!” commanded Ford. “He knows who YOU are! You heard that yell + when they saw you? They know you are the prisoner, and they are glad + you're still alive. That officer is aiming at the window BELOW us. He's + after the men who murdered his mates.” + </p> + <p> + From the window directly beneath them came the crash of a rifle, and from + the top of the ladder the revolver of the police officer blazed in the + darkness. Again the rifle crashed, and the man on the ladder jerked his + hands above his head and pitched backward. Ford looked into the face of + the girl and found her eyes filled with horror. + </p> + <p> + “Where is my uncle, Pearsall?” she faltered. “He has two rifles—for + shooting in Scotland. Was that a rifle that——” Her lips + refused to finish the question. + </p> + <p> + “It was a rifle,” Ford stammered, “but probably Prothero——” + </p> + <p> + Even as he spoke the voice of the Jew rose in a shriek from the floor + below them, but not from the window below them. The sound was from the + front room opening on Sowell Street. In the awed silence that had suddenly + fallen his shrieks carried sharply. They were more like the snarls and + ravings of an animal than the outcries of a man. + </p> + <p> + “Take THAT!” he shouted, with a flood of oaths, “and THAT, and THAT!” + </p> + <p> + Each word was punctuated by the report of his automatic, and to the + amazement of Ford, was instantly answered from Sowell Street by a + scattered volley of rifle and pistol shots. + </p> + <p> + “This isn't a fight,” he cried, “it's a battle!” + </p> + <p> + With Miss Dale at his side, he ran into the front room, and, raising the + blind, appeared at the window. And instantly, as at the other end of the + house, there was, at sight of the woman's figure, a tumult of cries, a + shout of warning, and a great roar of welcome. From beneath them a man ran + into the deserted street, and in the glare of the gas-lamp Ford saw his + white, upturned face. He was without a hat and his head was circled by a + bandage. But Ford recognized Cuthbert. “That's Ford!” he cried, pointing. + “And the girl's with him!” He turned to a group of men crouching in the + doorway of the next house to the one in which Ford was imprisoned. “The + girl's alive!” he shouted. + </p> + <p> + “The girl's alive!” The words were caught up and flung from window to + window, from house-top to house-top, with savage, jubilant cheers. Ford + pushed Miss Dale forward. + </p> + <p> + “Let them see you,” he said, “and you will never see a stranger sight.” + </p> + <p> + Below them, Sowell Street, glistening with rain and snow, lay empty, but + at either end of it, held back by an army of police, were black masses of + men, and beyond them more men packed upon the tops of taxicabs and + hansoms, stretching as far as the street-lamps showed, and on the roofs + shadowy forms crept cautiously from chimney to chimney; and in the windows + of darkened rooms opposite, from behind barricades of mattresses and + upturned tables, rifles appeared stealthily, to be lost in a sudden flash + of flame. And with these flashes were others that came from windows and + roofs with the report of a bursting bomb, and that, on the instant, turned + night into day, and then left the darkness more dark. + </p> + <p> + Ford gave a cry of delight. + </p> + <p> + “They're taking flash-light photographs,” he cried jubilantly. “Well done, + you Pressmen!” The instinct of the reporter became compelling. “If they're + alive to develop those photographs to-night,” he exclaimed eagerly, + “Cuthbert will send them by special messenger, in time to catch the + MAURETANIA and the REPUBLIC will have them by Sunday. I mayn't be alive to + see them,” he added regretfully, “but what a feature for the Sunday + supplement!” + </p> + <p> + As the eyes of the two prisoners became accustomed to the darkness, they + saw that the street was not, as at first they had supposed, entirely + empty. Directly below them in the gutter, where to approach it was to + invite instant death from Prothero's pistol, lay the dead body of a + policeman, and at the nearer end of the street, not fifty yards from them, + were three other prostrate forms. But these forms were animate, and alive + to good purpose. From a public-house on the corner a row of yellow lamps + showed them clearly. Stretched on pieces of board, and mats commandeered + from hallways and cabs, each of the three men lay at full length, nursing + a rifle. Their belted gray overcoats, flat, visored caps, and the set of + their shoulders marked them for soldiers. + </p> + <p> + “For the love of Heaven!” exclaimed Ford incredulously, “they've called + out the Guards!” + </p> + <p> + As unconcernedly as though facing the butts at a rifle-range, the three + sharp-shooters were firing point-blank at the windows from which Prothero + and Pearsall were waging their war to the death upon the instruments of + law and order. Beside them, on his knees in the snow, a young man with the + silver hilt of an officer's sword showing through the slit in his + greatcoat, was giving commands; and at the other end of the street, a + brother officer in evening dress was directing other sharp-shooters, + bending over them like the coach of a tug-of-war team, pointing with + white-gloved fingers. On the side of the street from which Prothero was + firing, huddled in a doorway, were a group of officials, inspectors of + police, fire chiefs in brass helmets, more officers of the Guards in + bear-skins, and, wrapped in a fur coat, the youthful Horne Secretary. Ford + saw him wave his arm, and at his bidding the cordon of police broke, and + slowly forcing its way through the mass of people came a huge touring-car, + its two blazing eyes sending before it great shafts of light. The driver + of the car wasted no time in taking up his position. Dashing half-way down + the street, he as swiftly backed the automobile over the gutter and up on + the sidewalk, so that the lights in front fell full on the door of No. 40. + Then, covered by the fire from the roofs, he sprang to the lamps and + tilted them until they threw their shafts into the windows of the third + story. Prothero's hiding-place was now as clearly exposed as though it + were held in the circle of a spot-light, and at the success of the + maneuver the great mob raised an applauding cheer. But the triumph was + brief. In a minute the blazing lamps had been shattered by bullets, and + once more, save for the fierce flashes from rifles and pistols, Sowell + Street lay in darkness. + </p> + <p> + Ford drew Miss Dale back into the room. + </p> + <p> + “Those men below,” he said, “are mad. Prothero's always been mad, and your + Pearsall is mad with drugs. And the sight of blood has made them maniacs. + They know they now have no chance to live. There's no fear or hope to hold + them, and one life more or less means nothing. If they should return here——” + </p> + <p> + He hesitated, but the girl nodded quickly. “I understand,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to try to break down the door and get to the roof,” explained + Ford. “My hope is that this attack will keep them from hearing, and——” + </p> + <p> + “No,” protested the girl. “They will hear you, and they will kill you.” + </p> + <p> + “They may take it into their crazy heads to do that, anyway,” protested + Ford, “so the sooner I get you away, the better. I've only to smash the + panels close to the bolts, put my arm through the hole, and draw the bolts + back. Then, another blow on the spring lock when the firing is loudest, + and we are in the hall. Should anything happen to me, you must know how to + make your escape alone. Across the hall is a door leading to an iron + ladder. That ladder leads to a trap-door. The trap-door is open. When you + reach the roof, run westward toward a lighted building.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not going without you,” said Miss Dale quietly; “not after what you + have done for me.” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't done anything for you yet,” objected Ford. “But in case I get + caught I mean to make sure there will be others on hand who will.” + </p> + <p> + He pulled his pencil and a letter from his pocket, and on the back of the + envelope wrote rapidly: “I will try to get Miss Dale up through the trap + in the roof. You can reach the roof by means of the apartment house in + Devonshire Street. Send men to meet her.” + </p> + <p> + In the groups of officials half hidden in the doorway farther down the + street, he could make out the bandaged head of Cuthbert. “Cuthbert!” he + called. Weighting the envelope with a coin, he threw it into the air. It + fell in the gutter, under a lamp-post, and full in view, and at once the + two madmen below splashed the street around it with bullets. But, + indifferent to the bullets, a policeman sprang from a dark areaway and + flung himself upon it. The next moment he staggered. Then limping, but + holding himself erect, he ran heavily toward the group of officials. The + Home Secretary snatched the envelope from him, and held it toward the + light. + </p> + <p> + In his desire to learn if his message had reached those on the outside, + Ford leaned far over the sill of the window. His imprudence was all but + fatal. From the roof opposite there came a sudden yell of warning, from + directly below him a flash, and a bullet grazed his forehead and shattered + the window-pane above him. He was deluged with a shower of broken glass. + Stunned and bleeding, he sprang back. + </p> + <p> + With a cry of concern, Miss Dale ran toward him. + </p> + <p> + “It's nothing!” stammered Ford. “It only means I must waste no more time.” + He balanced his iron rod as he would a pikestaff, and aimed it at the + upper half of the door to the hall. + </p> + <p> + “When the next volley comes,” he said, “I'll smash the panel.” + </p> + <p> + With the bar raised high, his muscles on a strain, he stood alert and + poised, waiting for a shot from the room below to call forth an answering + volley from the house-tops. But no sound came from below. And the + sharp-shooters, waiting for the madmen to expose themselves, held their + fire. + </p> + <p> + Ford's muscles relaxed, and he lowered his weapon. He turned his eyes + inquiringly to the girl. “What's THIS mean?” he demanded. Unconsciously + his voice had again dropped to a whisper. + </p> + <p> + “They're short of ammunition,” said the girl, in a tone as low as his own; + “or they are coming HERE.” + </p> + <p> + With a peremptory gesture, Ford waved her toward the room adjoining and + then ran to the window. + </p> + <p> + The girl was leaning forward with her face close to the door. She held the + finger of one hand to her lips. With the other hand she beckoned. Ford ran + to her side. + </p> + <p> + “Some one is moving in the hall,” she whispered. “Perhaps they are + escaping by the roof? No,” she corrected herself. “They seem to be running + down the stairs again. Now they are coming back. Do you hear?” she asked. + “It sounds like some one running up and down the stairs. What can it + mean?” + </p> + <p> + From the direction of the staircase Ford heard a curious creaking sound as + of many light footsteps. He gave a cry of relief. + </p> + <p> + “The police!” he shouted jubilantly. “They've entered through the roof, + and they're going to attack in the rear. You're SAFE!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + He sprang away from the door and, with two swinging blows, smashed the + broad panel. And then, with a cry, he staggered backward. Full in his + face, through the break he had made, swept a hot wave of burning cinders. + Through the broken panel he saw the hall choked with smoke, the steps of + the staircase and the stair-rails wrapped in flame. + </p> + <p> + “The house is on fire!” he cried. “They've taken to the roof and set fire + to the stairs behind them!” With the full strength of his arms and + shoulders he struck and smashed the iron bar against the door. But the + bolts held, and through each fresh opening he made in the panels the + burning cinders, drawn by the draft from the windows, swept into the room. + From the street a mighty yell of consternation told them the fire had been + discovered. Miss Dale ran to the window, and the yell turned to a great + cry of warning. The air was rent with frantic voices. “Jump!” cried some. + “Go back!” entreated others. The fire chief ran into the street directly + below her and shouted at her through his hands. “Wait for the life-net!” + he commanded. “Wait for the ladders!” + </p> + <p> + “Ladders!” panted Ford. “Before they can get their engines through that + mob——” + </p> + <p> + Through the jagged opening in the door he thrust his arm and jerked free + the upper bolt. An instant later he had kicked the lower panel into + splinters and withdrawn the second bolt, and at last, under the savage + onslaught of his iron bar, the spring lock flew apart. The hall lay open + before him. On one side of it the burning staircase was a well of flame; + at his feet, the matting on the floor was burning fiercely. He raced into + the bedroom and returned instantly, carrying a blanket and a towel + dripping with water. He pressed the towel across the girl's mouth and + nostrils. “Hold it there!” he commanded. Blinded by the bandage, Miss Dale + could see nothing, but she felt herself suddenly wrapped in the blanket + and then lifted high in Ford's arms. She gave a cry of protest, but the + next instant he was running with her swiftly while the flames from the + stair-well scorched her hair. She was suddenly tumbled to her feet, the + towel and blanket snatched away, and she saw Ford hanging from an iron + ladder holding out his hand. She clasped it, and he drew her after him, + the flames and cinders pursuing and snatching hungrily. + </p> + <p> + But an instant later the cold night air smote her in the face, from + hundreds of hoarse throats a yell of welcome greeted her, and she found + herself on the roof, dazed and breathless, and free. + </p> + <p> + At the same moment the lifting fire-ladder reached the sill of the + third-story window, and a fireman, shielding his face from the flames, + peered into the blazing room. What he saw showed him there were no lives + to rescue. Stretched on the floor, with their clothing in cinders and the + flames licking at the flesh, were the bodies of the two murderers. + </p> + <p> + A bullet-hole in the forehead of each showed that self-destruction and + cremation had seemed a better choice than the gallows and a grave of + quick-lime. + </p> + <p> + On the roof above, two young people stood breathing heavily and happily, + staring incredulously into each other's eyes. Running toward them across + the roofs, stumbling and falling, were many blue-coated, helmeted angels + of peace and law and order. + </p> + <p> + “How can I tell you?” whispered the girl quickly. “How can I ever thank + you? And I was angry,” she exclaimed, with self-reproach. “I did not + understand you.” She gave a little sigh of content. “Now I think I do.” + </p> + <p> + He took her hand, and she did not seem to know that he held it. + </p> + <p> + “And,” she cried, in wonder, “I DON'T EVEN KNOW YOUR NAME!” + </p> + <p> + The young man seemed to have lost his confidence. For a moment he was + silent. “The name's all right!” he said finally. His voice was still a + little shaken, a little tremulous. “I only hope you'll like it. It's got + to last you a long time!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Lost House, by Richard Harding Davis + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LOST HOUSE *** + +***** This file should be named 1807-h.htm or 1807-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/0/1807/ + +Produced by Aaron Cannon, and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Lost House + +Author: Richard Harding Davis + +Posting Date: October 15, 2008 [EBook #1807] +Release Date: May, 1999 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LOST HOUSE *** + + + + +Produced by Aaron Cannon + + + + + +THE LOST HOUSE + +by Richard Harding Davis + + + + +I + +It was a dull day at the chancellery. His Excellency the American +Ambassador was absent in Scotland, unveiling a bust to Bobby Burns, +paid for by the numerous lovers of that poet in Pittsburg; the First +Secretary was absent at Aldershot, observing a sham battle; the Military +Attache was absent at the Crystal Palace, watching a foot-ball match; +the Naval Attache was absent at the Duke of Deptford's, shooting +pheasants; and at the Embassy, the Second Secretary, having lunched +leisurely at the Artz, was now alone, but prepared with his life to +protect American interests. Accordingly, on the condition that the story +should not be traced back to him, he had just confided a State secret to +his young friend, Austin Ford, the London correspondent of the New York +REPUBLIC. + +"I will cable it," Ford reassured him, "as coming from a Hungarian +diplomat, temporarily residing in Bloomsbury, while en route to his post +in Patagonia. In that shape, not even your astute chief will suspect its +real source. And further from the truth than that I refuse to go." + +"What I dropped in to ask," he continued, "is whether the English are +going to send over a polo team next summer to try to bring back the +cup?" + +"I've several other items of interest," suggested the Secretary. + +"The week-end parties to which you have been invited," Ford objected, +"can wait. Tell me first what chance there is for an international polo +match." + +"Polo," sententiously began the Second Secretary, who himself was a +crackerjack at the game, "is a proposition of ponies! Men can be trained +for polo. But polo ponies must be born. Without good ponies----" + +James, the page who guarded the outer walls, of the chancellery, +appeared in the doorway. + +"Please, Sir, a person," he announced, "with a note for the Ambassador, +he says it's important." + +"Tell him to leave it," said the Secretary. "Polo ponies----" + +"Yes, Sir," interrupted the page. "But 'e won't leave it, not unless he +keeps the 'arf-crown." + +"For Heaven's sake!" protested the Second Secretary, "then let him keep +the half-crown. When I say polo ponies, I don't mean----" + +James, although alarmed at his own temerity, refused to accept the +dismissal. "But, please, Sir," he begged; "I think the 'arf-crown is for +the Ambassador." + +The astonished diplomat gazed with open eyes. + +"You think--WHAT!" he exclaimed. + +James, upon the defensive, explained breathlessly. + +"Because, Sir," he stammered, "it was INSIDE the note when it was thrown +out of the window." + +Ford had been sprawling in a soft leather chair in front of the open +fire. With the privilege of an old school-fellow and college classmate, +he had been jabbing the soft coal with his walking-stick, causing it to +burst into tiny flames. His cigarette drooped from his lips, his hat +was cocked over one eye; he was a picture of indifference, merging upon +boredom. But at the words of the boy his attitude both of mind and body +underwent an instant change. It was as though he were an actor, and the +words "thrown from the window" were his cue. It was as though he were +a dozing fox-terrier, and the voice of his master had whispered in his +ear: "Sick'em!" + +For a moment, with benign reproach, the Second Secretary regarded the +unhappy page, and then addressed him with laborious sarcasm. + +"James," he said, "people do not communicate with ambassadors in notes +wrapped around half-crowns and hurled from windows. That is the way one +corresponds with an organ-grinder." Ford sprang to his feet. + +"And meanwhile," he exclaimed angrily, "the man will get away." + +Without seeking permission, he ran past James, and through the empty +outer offices. In two minutes he returned, herding before him an +individual, seedy and soiled. In appearance the man suggested that +in life his place was to support a sandwich-board. Ford reluctantly +relinquished his hold upon a folded paper which he laid in front of the +Secretary. + +"This man," he explained, "picked that out of the gutter in Sowell +Street, It's not addressed to any one, so you read it!" + +"I thought it was for the Ambassador!" said the Secretary. + +The soiled person coughed deprecatingly, and pointed a dirty digit at +the paper. "On the inside," he suggested. The paper was wrapped around +a half-crown and folded in at each end. The diplomat opened it +hesitatingly, but having read what was written, laughed. + +"There's nothing in THAT," he exclaimed. He passed the note to Ford. The +reporter fell upon it eagerly. + +The note was written in pencil on an unruled piece of white paper. The +handwriting was that of a woman. What Ford read was: + +"I am a prisoner in the street on which this paper is found. The house +faces east. I think I am on the top story. I was brought here three +weeks ago. They are trying to kill me. My uncle, Charles Ralph Pearsall, +is doing this to get my money. He is at Gerridge's Hotel in Craven +Street, Strand. He will tell you I am insane. My name is Dosia Pearsall +Dale. My home is at Dalesville, Kentucky, U. S. A. Everybody knows me +there, and knows I am not insane. If you would save a life take this at +once to the American Embassy, or to Scotland Yard. For God's sake, help +me." + +When he had read the note, Ford continue to study it. Until he was quite +sure his voice would not betray his interest, he did not raise his eyes. + +"Why," he asked, "did you say that there's nothing in this?" + +"Because," returned the diplomat conclusively, "we got a note like that, +or nearly like it, a week ago, and----" + +Ford could not restrain a groan. "And you never told me!" + +"There wasn't anything to tell," protested the diplomat. "We handed +it over to the police, and they reported there was nothing in it. They +couldn't find the man at that hotel, and, of course, they couldn't find +the house with no more to go on than----" + +"And so," exclaimed Ford rudely, "they decided there was no man, and no +house!" + +"Their theory," continued the Secretary patiently, "is that the girl is +confined in one of the numerous private sanatoriums in Sowell Street, +that she is insane, that because she's under restraint she IMAGINES +the nurses are trying to kill her and that her relatives are after +her money. Insane people are always thinking that. It's a very common +delusion." + +Ford's eyes were shining with a wicked joy. "So," he asked +indifferently, "you don't intend to do anything further?" + +"What do you want us to do?" cried his friend. "Ring every door-bell in +Sowell Street and ask the parlor-maid if they're murdering a lady on the +top story?" + +"Can I keep the paper?" demanded Ford. "You can keep a copy of it," +consented the Secretary. "But if you think you're on the track of a big +newspaper sensation, I can tell you now you're not. That's the work of a +crazy woman, or it's a hoax. You amateur detectives----" + +Ford was already seated at the table, scribbling a copy of the message, +and making marginal notes. + +"Who brought the FIRST paper?" he interrupted. + +"A hansom-cab driver." + +"What became of HIM?" snapped the amateur detective. + +The Secretary looked inquiringly at James. "He drove away," said James. + +"He drove away, did he?"' roared Ford. "And that was a week ago! Ye +gods! What about Dalesville, Kentucky? Did you cable any one there?" + +The dignity of the diplomat was becoming ruffled. + +"We did not!" he answered. "If it wasn't true that her uncle was at that +hotel, it was probably equally untrue that she had friends in America." + +"But," retorted his friend, "you didn't forget to cable the State +Department that you all went in your evening clothes to bow to the new +King? You didn't neglect to cable that, did you?" + +"The State Department," returned the Secretary, with withering reproof, +"does not expect us to crawl over the roofs of houses and spy down +chimneys to see if by any chance an American citizen is being murdered." + +"Well," exclaimed Ford, leaping to his feet and placing his notes in +his pocket, "fortunately, my paper expects me to do just that, and if it +didn't, I'd do it anyway. And that is exactly what I am going to do now! +Don't tell the others in the Embassy, and, for Heaven's sake, don't tell +the police. Jimmy, get me a taxi. And you," he commanded, pointing at +the one who had brought the note, "are coming with me to Sowell Street, +to show me where you picked up that paper." + +On the way to Sowell Street Ford stopped at a newspaper agency, and +paid for the insertion that afternoon of the same advertisement in three +newspapers. It read: "If hansom-cab driver who last week carried note, +found in street, to American Embassy will mail his address to X. X. X., +care of GLOBE, he will be rewarded." + +From the nearest post-office he sent to his paper the following cable: +"Query our local correspondent, Dalesville, Kentucky, concerning Dosia +Pearsall Dale. Is she of sound mind, is she heiress. Who controls +her money, what her business relations with her uncle Charles Ralph +Pearsall, what her present address. If any questions, say inquiries come +from solicitors of Englishman who wants to marry her. Rush answer." + +Sowell Street is a dark, dirty little thoroughfare, running for only +one block, parallel to Harley Street. Like it, it is decorated with the +brass plates of physicians and the red lamps of surgeons, but, just as +the medical men in Harley Street, in keeping with that thoroughfare, +are broad, open, and with nothing to conceal, so those of Sowell Street, +like their hiding-place, shrink from observation, and their lives are as +sombre, secret, and dark as the street itself. + +Within two turns of it Ford dismissed the taxicab. Giving the soiled +person a half-smoked cigarette, he told him to walk through Sowell +Street, and when he reached the place where he had picked up the paper, +to drop the cigarette as near that spot as possible. He then was to turn +into Weymouth Street and wait until Ford joined him. At a distance of +fifty feet Ford followed the man, and saw him, when in the middle of +the block, without apparent hesitation, drop the cigarette. The house in +front of which it fell was marked, like many others, by the brass +plate of a doctor. As Ford passed it he hit the cigarette with his +walking-stick, and drove it into an area. When he overtook the man, Ford +handed him another cigarette. "To make sure," he said, "C4 go back +and drop this in the place you found the paper." For a moment the man +hesitated. + +"I might as well tell you," Ford continued, "that I knocked that last +cigarette so far from where you dropped it that you won't be able to use +it as a guide. So, if you don't really know where you found the paper, +you'll save my time by saying so." Instead of being confused by the +test, the man was amused by it. He laughed appreciatively admitted. +"You've caught me out fair, governor," "I want the 'arf-crown, and I +dropped the cigarette as near the place as I could. But I can't do it +again. It was this way," he explained. "I wasn't taking notice of the +houses. I was walking along looking into the gutter for stumps. I see +this paper wrapped about something round. 'It's a copper,' I thinks, +'jucked out of a winder to a organ-grinder.' I snatches it, and runs. +I didn't take no time to look at the houses. But it wasn't so far from +where I showed you; about the middle house in the street and on the left +'and side." + +Ford had never considered the man as a serious element in the problem. +He believed him to know as little of the matter as he professed to know. +But it was essential he should keep that little to himself. + +"No one will pay you for talking," Ford pointed out, "and I'll pay you +to keep quiet. So, if you say nothing concerning that note, at the end +of two weeks, I'll leave two pounds for you with James, at the Embassy." + +The man, who believed Ford to be an agent of the police, was only too +happy to escape on such easy terms. After Ford had given him a pound on +account, they parted. + +From Wimpole Street the amateur detective went to the nearest public +telephone and called up Gerridge's Hotel. He considered his first step +should be to discover if Mr. Pearsall was at that hotel, or had ever +stopped there. When the 'phone was answered, he requested that a message +be delivered to Mr. Pearsall. + +"Please tell him," he asked, "that the clothes he ordered are ready to +try on." + +He was informed that no one by that name was at the hotel. In a voice of +concern Ford begged to know when Mr. Pearsall had gone away, and had he +left any address. + +"He was with you three weeks ago," Ford insisted. "He's an American +gentleman, and there was a lady with him. She ordered a riding-habit of +us: the same time he was measured for his clothes." + +After a short delay, the voice from the hotel replied that no one of the +name of Pearsall had been at the hotel that winter. + +In apparent great disgust Ford rang off, and took a taxicab to his rooms +in Jermyn Street. There he packed a suit-case and drove to Gerridge's. +It was a quiet, respectable, "old-established" house in Craven Street, +a thoroughfare almost entirely given over to small family hotels much +frequented by Americans. + +After he had registered and had left his bag in his room, Ford returned +to the office, and in an assured manner asked that a card on which he +had written "Henry W. Page, Dalesville, Kentucky," should be taken to +Mr. Pearsall. + +In a tone of obvious annoyance the proprietor returned the card, saying +that there was no one of that name in the hotel, and added that no such +person had ever stopped there. Ford expressed the liveliest distress. + +"He TOLD me I'd find him here," he protested., "he and his niece." With +the garrulousness of the American abroad, he confided his troubles to +the entire staff of the hotel. "We're from the same town," he explained. +"That's why I must see him. He's the only man in London I know, and I've +spent all my money. He said he'd give me some he owes me, as soon as I +reached London. If I can't get it, I'll have to go home by Wednesday's +steamer." And, complained bitterly, "I haven't seen the Tower, +nor Westminster Abbey." + +In a moment, Ford's anxiety to meet Mr. Pearsall was apparently lost +in a wave of self-pity. In his disappointment he appealing, pathetic +figure. + +Real detectives and rival newspaper men, even while they admitted Ford +obtained facts that were denied them, claimed that they were given him +from charity. Where they bullied, browbeat, and administered a third +degree, Ford was embarrassed, deprecatory, an earnest, ingenuous, +wide-eyed child. What he called his "working" smile begged of you not +to be cross with him. His simplicity was apparently so hopeless, his +confidence in whomever he addressed so complete, that often even the +man he was pursuing felt for him a pitying contempt. Now as he stood +uncertainly in the hall of the hotel, his helplessness moved the proud +lady clerk to shake her cylinders of false hair sympathetically, +the German waiters to regard his predicament with respect; even the +proprietor, Mr. Gerridge himself, was ill at ease. Ford returned to his +room, on the second floor of the hotel, and sat down on the edge of the +bed. + +In connecting Pearsall with Gerridge's, both the police and himself had +failed. Of this there were three possible explanations: that the girl +who wrote the letter was in error, that the letter was a hoax, that the +proprietor of the hotel, for some reason, was protecting Pearsall, and +had deceived both Ford and Scotland Yard. On the other hand, without +knowing why the girl believed Pearsall would be found at Gerridge's, +it was reasonable to assume that in so thinking she had been purposely +misled. The question was, should he or not dismiss Gerridge's as a +possible clew, and at once devote himself to finding the house in Sowell +Street? He decided for the moment at least, to leave Gerridge's out of +his calculations, but, as an excuse for returning there, to still retain +his room. He at once started toward Sowell Street, and in order to find +out if any one from the hotel were following him, he set forth on foot. +As soon as he made sure he was not spied upon, he covered the remainder +of the distance in a cab. + +He was acting on the supposition that the letter was no practical joke, +but a genuine cry for help. Sowell Street was a scene set for such +an adventure. It was narrow, mean-looking, the stucco house-fronts, +soot-stained, cracked, and uncared-for, the steps broken and unwashed. +As he entered it a cold rain was falling, and a yellow fog that rolled +between the houses added to its dreariness. It was now late in the +afternoon, and so overcast the sky that in many rooms the gas was lit +and the curtains drawn. + +The girl, apparently from observing the daily progress of the sun, had +written she was on the west side of the street and, she believed, in +an upper story. The man who picked up the note had said he had found +it opposite the houses in the middle of the block. Accordingly, Ford +proceeded on the supposition that the entire east side of the street, +the lower stories of the west side, and the houses at each end were +eliminated. The three houses in the centre of the row were outwardly +alike. They were of four stories. Each was the residence of a physician, +and in each, in the upper stories, the blinds were drawn. From the front +there was nothing to be learned, and in the hope that the rear might +furnish some clew, Ford hastened to Wimpole Street, in which the houses +to the east backed upon those to the west in Sowell Street. These houses +were given over to furnished lodgings, and under the pretext of renting +chambers, it was easy for Ford to enter them, and from the apartments +in the rear to obtain several hasty glimpses of the backs of the three +houses in Sowell Street. But neither from this view-point did he gather +any fact of interest. In one of the three houses in Sowell Street +iron bars were fastened across the windows of the fourth floor, but in +private sanatoriums this was neither unusual nor suspicious. The bars +might cover the windows of a nursery to prevent children from falling +out, or the room of some timid householder with a lively fear of +burglars. + +In a quarter of an hour Ford was again back in Sowell Street no wiser +than when he had entered it. From the outside, at least, the three +houses under suspicion gave no sign. In the problem before him there was +one point that Ford found difficult to explain. It was the only one that +caused him to question if the letter was genuine. What puzzled him was +this: Why, if the girl were free to throw two notes from the window, did +she not throw them out by the dozen? If she were able to reach a window, +opening on the street, why did she not call for help? Why did she not, +by hurling out every small article the room contained, by screams, by +breaking the window-panes, attract a crowd, and, through it, the police? +That she had not done so seemed to show that only at rare intervals +was she free from restraint, or at liberty to enter the front room that +opened on the street. Would it be equally difficult, Ford asked himself, +for one in the street to communicate with her? What signal could he give +that would draw an answering signal from the girl? + +Standing at the corner, hidden by the pillars of a portico, the water +dripping from his rain-coat, Ford gazed long and anxiously at the blank +windows of the three houses. Like blind eyes staring into his, they told +no tales, betrayed no secret. Around him the commonplace life of the +neighborhood proceeded undisturbed. Somewhere concealed in the single +row of houses a girl was imprisoned, her life threatened; perhaps even +at that moment she was facing her death. While, on either side, shut +from her by the thickness only of a brick wall, people were talking, +reading, making tea, preparing the evening meal, or, in the street +below, hurrying by, intent on trivial errands. Hansom cabs, prowling +in search of a fare, passed through the street where a woman was being +robbed of a fortune, the drivers occupied only with thoughts of a +possible shilling; a housemaid with a jug in her hand and a shawl over +her bare head, hastened to the near-by public-house; the postman made +his rounds, and delivered comic postal-cards; a policeman, shedding +water from his shining cape, halted, gazed severely at the sky, and, +unconscious of the crime that was going forward within the sound of his +own footsteps, continued stolidly into Wimpole Street. + +A hundred plans raced through Ford's brain; he would arouse the street +with a false alarm of fire and lead the firemen, with the tale of a +smoking chimney, to one of the three houses; he would feign illness, +and, taking refuge in one of them, at night would explore the premises; +he would impersonate a detective, and insist upon his right to search +for stolen property. As he rejected these and a dozen schemes as +fantastic, his brain and eyes were still alert for any chance advantage +that the street might offer. But the minutes passed into an hour, and +no one had entered any of the three houses, no one had left them. In the +lower stories, from behind the edges of the blinds, lights appeared, +but of the life within there was no sign. Until he hit upon a plan of +action, Ford felt there was no longer anything to be gained by remaining +in Sowell Street. Already the answer to his cable might have arrived at +his rooms; at Gerridge's he might still learn something of Pearsall. +He decided to revisit both these places, and, while so engaged, to send +from his office one of his assistants to cover the Sowell Street houses. +He cast a last, reluctant look at the closed blinds, and moved away. As +he did so, two itinerant musicians dragging behind them a small street +piano on wheels turned the corner, and, as the rain had now ceased, one +of them pulled the oil-cloth covering from the instrument and, +seating himself on a camp-stool at the curb, opened the piano. After +a discouraged glance at the darkened windows, the other, in a hoarse, +strident tenor, to the accompaniment of the piano, began to sing. The +voice of the man was raucous, penetrating. It would have reached the +recesses of a tomb. + +"She sells sea-shells on the sea-shore," the vocalist wailed. "The +shells she sells are sea-shells, I'm sure." + +The effect was instantaneous. A window was flung open, and an indignant +householder with one hand frantically waved the musicians away, and with +the other threw them a copper coin. + +At the same moment Ford walked quickly to the piano and laid a +half-crown on top of it. + +"Follow me to Harley Street," he commanded. "Don't hurry. Take your +time. I want you to help me in a sort of practical joke. It's worth a +sovereign to you." + +He passed on quickly. When he glanced behind him, he saw the two men, +fearful lest the promised fortune might escape them, pursuing him at a +trot. At Harley Street they halted, breathless. + +"How long," Ford demanded of the one who played the piano, "will it take +you to learn the accompaniment to a new song?" + +"While you're whistling it," answered the man eagerly. + +"And I'm as quick at a tune as him," assured the other anxiously. "I can +sing----" + +"You cannot," interrupted Ford. "I'm going to do the singing myself. +Where is there a public-house near here where we can hire a back room, +and rehearse?" + +Half an hour later, Ford and the piano-player entered Sowell Street +dragging the piano behind them. The amateur detective still wore his +rain-coat, but his hat he had exchanged for a cap, and, instead of a +collar, he had knotted around his bare neck a dirty kerchief. At the +end of the street they halted, and in some embarrassment Ford raised his +voice in the chorus of a song well known in the music-halls. It was a +very good voice, much too good for "open-air work," as his companion +had already assured him, but, what was of chief importance to Ford, it +carried as far as he wished it to go. Already in Wimpole Street four +coins of the realm, flung to him from the highest windows, had testified +to its power. From the end of Sowell Street Ford moved slowly from house +to house until he was directly opposite the three in one of which he +believed the girl to be. "We will try the NEW songs here," he said. + +Night had fallen, and, except for the gas-lamps, the street was empty, +and in such darkness that even without his disguise Ford ran no risk of +recognition. His plan was not new. It dated from the days of Richard +the Lion-hearted. But if the prisoner were alert and intelligent, even +though she could make no answer, Ford believed through his effort she +would gain courage, would grasp that from the outside a friend was +working toward her. All he knew of the prisoner was that she came from +Kentucky. Ford fixed his eyes on the houses opposite, and cleared his +throat. The man struck the opening chords, and in a high barytone, and +in a cockney accent that made even the accompanist grin, Ford lifted his +voice. + +"The sun shines bright on my old Kentucky home," he sang; "'tis summer, +and the darkies are gay." + +He finished the song, but there was no sign. For all the impression he +had made upon Sowell Street, he might have been singing in his chambers. +"And now the other," commanded Ford. + +The house-fronts echoed back the cheering notes of "Dixie." Again Ford +was silent, and again The silence answered him. The accompanist glared +disgustedly at the darkened windows. + +"They don't know them songs," he explained professionally. "Give 'em, +'Mollie Married the Marquis.'" + +"I'll sing the first one again," said Ford. Once more he broke into the +pathetic cadences of the "Old Kentucky Home." But there was no response. +He was beginning to feel angry, absurd. He believed he had wasted +precious moments, and, even as he sang, his mind was already working +upon a new plan. The song ceased, unfinished. + +"It's no use!" he exclaimed. Remembering himself, he added: "We'll try +the next street." + +But even as he spoke he leaped forward. Coming apparently from nowhere, +something white sank through the semi-darkness and fell at his feet. +It struck the pavement directly in front of the middle one of the +three houses. Ford fell upon it and clutched it in both hands. It was a +woman's glove. Ford raced back to the piano. + +"Once more," he cried, "play 'Dixie'!" + +He shouted out the chorus exultantly, triumphantly. Had he spoken it in +words, the message could not have carried more clearly. + +Ford now believed he had found the house, found the woman, and was +eager only to get rid of his companion and, in his own person, return to +Sowell Street. But, lest the man might suspect there was in his actions +something more serious than a practical joke, he forced himself to sing +the new songs in three different streets. Then, pretending to tire of +his prank, he paid the musician and left him. He was happy, exultant, +tingling with excitement. Good-luck had been with him, and, hoping that +Gerridge's might yet yield some clew to Pearsall, he returned there. +Calling up the London office of the REPUBLIC, he directed that one of +his assistants, an English lad named Cuthbert, should at once join him +at that hotel. Cuthbert was but just out of Oxford. He wished to become +a writer of fiction, and, as a means of seeing many kinds of life at +first hand, was in training as a "Pressman." His admiration for Ford +amounted to almost hero-worship; and he regarded an "assignment" with +his chief as a joy and an honor. Full of enthusiasm, and as soon as a +taxicab could bring him, he arrived at Gerridge's, where, in a corner of +the deserted coffee-room, Ford explained the situation. Until he could +devise a way to enter the Sowell Street house. Cuthbert was to watch +over it. + +"The number of the house is forty," Ford told him; "the name on the +door-plate, Dr. Prothero. Find out everything you can about him without +letting any one catch you at it. Better begin at the nearest chemist's. +Say you are on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and ask the man to mix +you a sedative, and recommend a physician. Show him Prothero's name and +address on a piece of paper, and say Prothero has been recommended to +you as a specialist on nervous troubles. Ask what he thinks of him. Get +him to talk. Then visit the trades-people and the public-houses in the +neighborhood, and say you are from some West End shop where Prothero, +wants to open an account. They may talk, especially if his credit is +bad. And, if you find out enough about him to give me a working basis, +I'll try to get into the house to-night. Meanwhile, I'm going to make +another quick search of this hotel for Pearsall. I'm not satisfied he +has not been here. For why should Miss Dale, with all the hotels in +London to choose from, have named this particular one, unless she had +good reason for it? Now, go, and meet me in an hour in Sowell Street." + +Cuthbert was at the door when he remembered he had brought with him from +the office Ford's mail and cablegrams. Among the latter was the one for +which Ford had asked. + +"Wait," he commanded. "This is about the girl. You had better know what +it says." The cable read: + +"Girl orphan, Dalesville named after her family, for three generations +mill-owners, father died four years ago, Pearsall brother-in-law until +she is twenty-one, which will be in three months. Girl well known, +extremely popular, lived Dalesville until last year, when went abroad +with uncle, since then reports of melancholia and nervous prostration, +before that health excellent--no signs insanity--none in family. Be +careful how handle Pearsall, was doctor, gave up practice to look +after estate, is prominent in local business and church circles, best +reputation, beware libel." + +For the benefit of Cuthbert, Ford had been reading the cable aloud. The +last paragraph seemed especially to interest him, and he read it twice, +the second time slowly, and emphasizing the word "doctor." + +"A doctor!" he repeated. "Do you see where that leads us? It may explain +several things. The girl was in good health until went abroad with her +uncle, and he is a medical man." + +The eyes of Cuthbert grew wide with excitement. + +"You mean poison!" he whispered. "Slow poison!" + +"Beware libel," laughed Ford nervously, his own eyes lit with +excitement. "Suppose," he exclaimed, "he has been using arsenic? He +would have many opportunities, and it's colorless, tasteless; and +arsenic would account for her depression and melancholia. The time when +he must turn over her money is very near, and, suppose he has spent +the money, speculated with it, and lost it, or that he still has it and +wants to keep it? In three months she will be of age, and he must make +an accounting. The arsenic does not work fast enough. So what does he +do? To save himself from exposure, or to keep the money, he throws her +into this private sanatorium, to make away with her." + +Ford had been talking in an eager whisper. While he spoke his cigar had +ceased to burn, and to light it, from a vase on the mantel he took a +spill, one of those spirals of paper that in English hotels, where the +proprietor is of a frugal mind, are still used to prevent extravagance +in matches. Ford lit the spill at the coal fire, and with his +cigar puffed at the flame. As he did so the paper unrolled. To the +astonishment of Cuthbert, Ford clasped it in both hands, blotted out +the tiny flame, and, turning quickly to a table, spread out the charred +paper flat. After one quick glance, Ford ran to the fireplace, and, +seizing a handfull of the spills, began rapidly to unroll them. Then he +turned to Cuthbert and, without speaking, showed him the charred +spill. It was a scrap torn from the front page of a newspaper. The +half-obliterated words at which Ford pointed were DALESVILLE COUR ---- + +"His torn paper!" said Ford. "The DALESVILLE COURIER. Pearsall HAS been +in this hotel!" He handed another spill to Cuthbert. + +"From that one," said Ford, "we get the date, December 3. Allowing three +weeks for the newspaper to reach London, Pearsall must have seen it +just three weeks ago, just when Miss Dale says he was in the hotel. The +landlord has lied to me." + +Ford rang for a waiter, and told him to ask Mr. Gerridge to come to the +smoking-room. + +As Cuthbert was leaving it, Gerridge was entering it, and Ford was +saying: + +"It seems you've been lying to the police and to me. Unless you desire +to be an accessory to a murder, You had better talk quick!" + +An hour later Ford passed slowly through Sowell Street in a taxicab, +and, finding Cuthbert on guard, signalled him to follow. In Wimpole +Street the cab drew up to the curb, and Cuthbert entered it. + +"I have found Pearsall," said Ford. "He is in No. 40 with Prothero." + +He then related to Cuthbert what had happened. Gerridge had explained +that when the Police called, his first thought was to protect the good +name of his hotel. He had denied any knowledge of Pearsall only because +he no longer was a guest, and, as he supposed Pearsall had passed out +of his life, he saw no reason, why, through an arrest and a scandal, his +hotel should be involved. Believing Ford to be in the secret service of +the police, he was now only too anxious to clear himself of suspicion by +telling all he knew. It was but little. Pearsall and his niece had been +at the hotel for three days. During that time the niece, who appeared +to be an invalid, remained in her room. On the evening of the third +day, while Pearsall was absent, a call from him had come for her by +telephone, on receiving which Miss Dale had at once left the hotel, +apparently in great agitation. That night she did not return, but in the +morning Pearsall came to collect his and her luggage and to settle his +account. He explained that a woman relative living at the Langham Hotel +had been taken suddenly ill, and had sent for him and his niece. Her +condition had been so serious that they had remained with her all night, +and his niece still was at her bedside. The driver of a four-wheeler, +who for years had stood on the cab-rank in front of Gerridge's, had +driven Pearsall to the Langham. This man was at the moment on the rank, +and from him Ford learned what he most wished to know. + +The cabman remembered Pearsall, and having driven him to the Langham, +for the reason that immediately after setting him down there, and while +"crawling" for a fare in Portland Place, a whistle from the Langham had +recalled him, and the same luggage that had just been taken from the top +of his cab was Put back on it, and he was directed by the porter of the +hotel to take it to a house in Sowell Street. There a man-servant had +helped him unload the trunks and had paid him his fare. The cabman did +not remember the number of the house, but knew it was on the west side +of the street and in the middle of the block. + +Having finished with Gerridge and the cab-man, Ford had at once gone +to the Langham Hotel, where, as he anticipated, nothing was known of +Pearsall or his niece, or of any invalid lady. But the hall-porter +remembered the American gentleman who had driven up with many pieces of +luggage, and who, although it was out of season, and many suites in the +hotel were vacant, had found none to suit him. He had then set forth on +foot, having left word that his trunks be sent after him. The address he +gave was a house in Sowell Street. + +The porter recalled the incident because he and the cabman had grumbled +over the fact that in five minutes they had twice to handle the same +boxes. + +"It is pretty evident," said Ford, what Pearsall had in mind, but chance +was against him. He thought when he had unloaded his trunks at the +Langham and dismissed the cabman he had destroyed the link connecting +him with Gerridge's. He could not foresee that the same cabman would be +loitering in the neighborhood. He should have known that four-wheelers +are not as plentiful as they once were; and he should have given that +particular one more time to get away. His idea in walking to the Sowell +Street house was obviously to prevent the new cabman from seeing him +enter it. But, just where he thought he was clever, was just where he +tripped. If he had remained with his trunks he would have seen that the +cabman was the same one who had brought them and him from Craven Street, +and he would have given any other address in London than the one he did. + +"And now," said Ford, "that we have Pearsall where we want him, tell me +what you have learned about Prothero?" + +Cuthbert smiled importantly, and produced a piece of paper scribbled +over with notes. + +"Prothero," he said, "seems to be THIS sort of man. If he made your +coffee for you, before you tasted it, you'd like him to drink a cup of +it first." + + + + +II + +"Prothero," said Cuthbert, "is a man of mystery. As soon as I began +asking his neighbors questions, I saw he was of interest and that I was +of interest. I saw they did not believe I was an agent of a West End +shop, but a detective. So they wouldn't talk at all, or else they talked +freely. And from one of them, a chemist named Needham, I got all I +wanted. He's had a lawsuit against Prothero, and hates him. Prothero got +him to invest in a medicine to cure the cocaine habit. Needham found +the cure was no cure, but cocaine disguised. He sued for his money, and +during the trial the police brought in Prothero's record. Needham let me +copy it, and it seems to embrace every crime except treason. The man is +a Russian Jew. He was arrested and prosecuted in Warsaw, Vienna, +Berlin, Belgrade; all over Europe, until finally the police drove him to +America. There he was an editor of an anarchist paper, a blackmailer, a +'doctor' of hypnotism, a clairvoyant, and a professional bigamist. His +game was to open rooms as a clairvoyant, and advise silly women how to +invest their money. When he found out which of them had the most money, +he would marry her, take over her fortune, and skip. In Chicago, he was +tried for poisoning one wife, and the trial brought out the fact that +two others had died under suspicious circumstances, and that there +were three more unpoisoned but anxious to get back their money. He was +sentenced to ten years for bigamy, but pardoned because he was supposed +to be insane, and dying. Instead of dying, he opened a sanatorium in +New York to cure victims of the drug habit. In reality, it was a sort of +high-priced opium-den. The place was raided, and he jumped his bail and +came to this country. Now he is running this private hospital in Sowell +Street. Needham says it's a secret rendezvous for dope fiends. But they +are very high-class dope fiends, who are willing to pay for seclusion, +and the police can't get at him. I may add that he's tall and muscular, +with a big black beard, and hands that could strangle a bull. In +Chicago, during the poison trial, the newspapers called him 'the Modern +Bluebeard."' + +For a short time Ford was silent. But, in the dark corner of the cab, +Cuthbert could see that his cigar was burning briskly. + +"Your friend seems a nice chap," said Ford at last. "Calling on him will +be a real pleasure. I especially like what you say about his hands." + +"I have a plan," began the assistant timidly, "a plan to get you into +the house-if you don't mind my making suggestions?" + +"Not at all!" exclaimed his chief heartily. + +"Get me into the house by all means; that's what we're here for. The +fact that I'm to be poisoned or strangled after I get there mustn't +discourage us.'" + +"I thought," said Cuthbert, "I might stand guard outside, while you got +in as a dope fiend." + +Ford snorted indignantly. "Do I LOOK like a dope fiend?" he protested. + +The voice of the assistant was one of discouragement. + +"You certainly do not," he exclaimed regretfully. "But it's the only +plan I could think of." + +"It seems to me," said his chief testily, "that you are not so very +healthy-looking yourself. What's the matter with YOUR getting inside as +a dope fiend and MY standing guard?" + +"But I wouldn't know what to do after I got inside," complained the +assistant, "and you would. You are so clever." + +The expression of confidence seemed to flatter Ford. + +"I might do this," he said. "I might pretend I was recovering from a +heavy spree, and ask to be taken care of until I am sober. Or I could +be a very good imitation of a man on the edge of a nervous breakdown. +I haven't been five years in the newspaper business without knowing all +there is to know about nerves. That's it!" he cried. "I will do that! +And if Mr. Bluebeard Svengali, the Strangler of Paris person, won't take +me in as a patient, we'll come back with a couple of axes and BREAK in. +But we'll try the nervous breakdown first, and we'll try it now. I will +be a naval officer," declared Ford. "I made the round-the-world cruise +with our fleet as a correspondent, and I know enough sea slang to fool +a medical man. I am a naval officer whose nerves have gone wrong. I have +heard of his sanatorium through----" "How," asked Ford sharply, "have I +heard of his sanatorium?" + +"You saw his advertisement in the DAILY WORLD," prompted Cuthbert. +"'Home of convalescents; mental and nervous troubles cured.'" + +"And," continued Ford, "I have come to him for rest and treatment. My +name is Lieutenant Henry Grant. I arrived in London two weeks ago on the +MAURETANIA. But my name was not on the passenger-list, because I did not +want the Navy Department to know I was taking my leave abroad. I have +been stopping at my own address in Jermyn Street, and my references are +yourself, the Embassy, and my landlord. You will telephone him at once +that, if any one asks after Henry Grant, he is to say what you tell him +to say. And if any one sends for Henry Grant's clothes, he is to send MY +clothes." + +"But you don't expect to be in there as long as that?" exclaimed +Cuthbert. + +"I do not," said Ford. "But, if he takes me in, I must make a bluff of +sending for my things. No; either I will be turned out in five minutes, +or if he accepts me as a patient I will be there until midnight. If I +cannot get the girl out of the house by midnight, it will mean that +I can't get out myself, and you had better bring the police and the +coroner." + +"Do you mean it?" asked Cuthbert. + +"I most certainly do!" exclaimed Ford. + +"Until twelve I want a chance to get this story exclusively for our +paper. If she is not free by then it means I have fallen down on it, and +you and the police are to begin to batter in the doors." + +The two young men left the cab, and at some distance from each other +walked to Sowell Street. At the house of Dr. Prothero, Ford stopped and +rang the bell. From across the street Cuthbert saw the door open and +the figure of a man of almost gigantic stature block the doorway. For a +moment he stood there, and then Cuthbert saw him step to one side, saw +Ford enter the house and the door close upon him. Cuthbert at once ran +to a telephone, and, having instructed Ford's landlord as to the part +he was to play, returned to Sowell Street. There, in a state nearly +approaching a genuine nervous breakdown, he continued his vigil. + +Even without his criminal record to cast a glamour over him, Ford would +have found Dr. Prothero, a disturbing person. His size was enormous, his +eyes piercing, sinister, unblinking, and the hands that could strangle a +bull, and with which as though to control himself, he continually pulled +at his black beard, were gigantic, of a deadly white, with fingers long +and prehensile. In his manner he had all the suave insolence of the +Oriental and the suspicious alertness of one constantly on guard, but +also, as Ford at once noted, of one wholly without fear. He had not +been over a moment in his presence before the reporter felt that to +successfully lie to such a man might be counted as a triumph. + +Prothero opened the door into a little office leading off the hall, and +switched on the electric lights. For some short time, without any effort +to conceal his suspicion, he stared at Ford in silence. + +"Well?" he said, at last. His tone was a challenge. + +Ford had already given his assumed name and profession, and he now ran +glibly into the story he had planned. He opened his card-case and looked +into it doubtfully. "I find I have no card with me," he said; "but I am, +as I told you, Lieutenant Grant, of the United States Navy. I am all +right physically, except for my nerves. They've played me a queer trick. +If the facts get out at home, it might cost me my commission. So I've +come over here for treatment." + +"Why to ME?" asked Prothero. + +"I saw by your advertisement," said the reporter, "that you treated +for nervous mental troubles. Mine is an illusion," he went on. "I see +things, or, rather, always one thing-a battle-ship coming at us head on. +For the last year I've been executive officer of the KEARSARGE, and the +responsibility has been too much for me." + +"You see a battle-ship?" inquired the Jew. + +"A phantom battle-ship," Ford explained, "a sort OF FLYING DUTCHMAN. +The time I saw it I was on the bridge, and I yelled and telegraphed the +engine-room. I brought the ship to a full stop, and backed her. But it +was dirty weather, and the error was passed over. After that, when I saw +the thing coming I did nothing. But each time I think it is real." Ford +shivered slightly and glanced about him. "Some day," he added fatefully, +"it WILL be real, and I will NOT signal, and the ship will sink!" + +In silence, Prothero observed his visitor closely. The young man seemed +sincere, genuine. His manner was direct and frank. He looked the part he +had assumed, as one used to authority. + +"My fees are large," said the Russian. + +At this point, had Ford, regardless of terms, exhibited a hopeful +eagerness to at once close with him, the Jew would have shown him the +door. But Ford was on guard, and well aware that a lieutenant in the +navy had but few guineas to throw away on medicines. He made a movement +as though to withdraw. + +"Then I am afraid," he said, "I must go somewhere else." + +His reluctance apparently only partially satisfied the Jew. + +Ford adopted opposite tactics. He was never without ready money. His +paper saw to it that in its interests he was always able at any moment +to pay for a special train across Europe, or to bribe the entire working +staff of a cable office. From his breast-pocket he took a blue +linen envelope, and allowed the Jew to see that it was filled with +twenty-pound notes. "I have means outside my pay," said Ford. + +"I would give almost any price to the man who can cure me." The eyes of +the Russian flashed avariciously. + +"I will arrange the terms to suit you," he exclaimed. "Your case +interests me. Do you See this mirage only at sea?" + +"In any open place," Ford assured him. "In a park or public square, but +of course most frequently at sea." + +The quack waved his great hands as though brushing aside a curtain. + +"I will remove the illusion," he said, "and give you others more +pretty." He smiled meaningfully--an evil, leering smile. "When will you +come?" he asked. Ford glanced about him nervously. + +"I shall stay now," he said. "I confess, in the streets and in my +lodgings I am frightened. You give me confidence. I want to stay near +you. I feel safe with you. If you will give me writing-paper, I will +send for my things." + +For a moment the Jew hesitated, and then motioned to a desk. As Ford +wrote, Prothero stood near him, and the reporter knew that over his +shoulder the Jew was reading what he wrote. Ford gave him the note, +unsealed, and asked that it be forwarded at once to his lodgings. + +"To-morrow," he said, "I will call up our Embassy, and give my address +to our Naval Attache. + +"I will attend to that," said Prothero. + +"From now you are in my hands, and you can communicate with the outside +only through me. You are to have absolute rest--no books, no letters, +no papers. And you will be fed from a spoon. I will explain my treatment +later. You will now go to your room, and you will remain there until you +are a well man." + +Ford had no wish to be at once shut off from the rest of the house. The +odor of cooking came through the hall, and seemed to offer an excuse for +delay. + +"I smell food," he laughed. "And I'm terrifically hungry. Can't I have a +farewell dinner before you begin feeding me from a spoon?" + +The Jew was about to refuse, but, with his guilty knowledge of what was +going forward in the house, he could not be too sure of those he allowed +to enter it. He wanted more time to spend in studying this new patient, +and the dinner-table seemed to offer a place where he could do so +without the other suspecting he was under observation. + +"My associate and I were just about to dine," he said. "You will wait +here until I have another place laid, and you can join us." + +He departed, walking heavily down the hall, but almost at once Ford, +whose ears were alert for any sound, heard him returning, approaching +stealthily on tiptoe. If by this maneuver the Jew had hoped to discover +his patient in some indiscretion, he was unsuccessful, for he found Ford +standing just where he had left him, with his back turned to the +door, and gazing with apparent interest at a picture on the wall. The +significance of the incident was not lost upon the intruder. It taught +him he was still under surveillance, and that he must bear himself +warily. Murmuring some excuse for having returned, the Jew again +departed, and in a few minutes Ford heard his voice, and that of another +man, engaged in low tones in what was apparently an eager argument. + +Only once was the voice of the other man raised sufficiently for Ford to +distinguish his words. "He is an American," protested the voice; "that +makes it worse." + +Ford guessed that the speaker was Pearsall, and that against his +admittance to the house he was making earnest protest. A door, closing +with a bang, shut off the argument, but within a few minutes it was +evident the Jew had carried his point, for he reappeared to announce +that dinner was waiting. It was served in a room at the farther end of +the hall, and at the table, which was laid for three, Ford found a man +already seated. Prothero introduced him as "my associate," but from his +presence in the house, and from the fact that he was an American, Ford +knew that he was Pearsall. + +Pearsall was a man of fifty. He was tall, spare, with closely shaven +face and gray hair, worn rather long. He spoke with the accent of +a Southerner, and although to Ford he was studiously polite, he was +obviously greatly ill at ease. He had the abrupt, inattentive manners, +the trembling fingers and quivering lips, of one who had long been +a slave to the drug habit, and who now, with difficulty, was holding +himself in hand. + +Throughout the dinner, speaking to him as though, interested only as +his medical advisers, the Jew, and occasionally the American, sharply +examined and cross-examined their visitor. But they were unable to trip +him in his story, or to suggest that he was not just what he claimed to +be. + +When the dinner was finished, the three men, for different reasons, were +each more at his ease. Both Pearsall and Prothero believed from the new +patient they had nothing to fear, and Ford was congratulating himself +that his presence at the house was firmly secure. + +"I think," said Pearsall, "we should warn Mr. Grant that there are in +the house other patients who, like himself, are suffering from nervous +disorders. At times some silly neurotic woman becomes hysterical, and +may make an outcry or scream. He must not think ----" + +"That's all right!" Ford reassured him cheerfully. "I expect that. In a +sanatorium it must be unavoidable." + +As he spoke, as though by a signal prearranged, there came from the +upper portion of the house a scream, long, insistent. + +It was the voice of a woman, raised in appeal, in protest, shaken with +fear. Without for an instant regarding it, the two men fastened their +eyes upon the visitor. The hand of the Jew dropped quickly from his +beard, and slid to the inside pocket of his coat. With eyes apparently +unseeing, Ford noted the movement. + +"He carries a gun," was his mental comment, "and he seems perfectly +willing to use it." Aloud, he said: "That, I suppose is one of them?" + +Prothero nodded gravely, and turned to Pearsall. "Will you attend her?" +he asked. + +As Pearsall rose and left the room, Prothero rose also. + +"You will come with me," he directed, "and I will see you settle in your +apartment. Your bag has arrived and is already there." + +The room to which the Jew led him was the front one on the second story. +It was in no way in keeping with a sanatorium, or a rest-cure. The walls +were hidden by dark blue hangings, in which sparkled tiny mirrors, the +floor was covered with Turkish rugs, the lights concealed inside lamps +of dull brass bedecked with crimson tassels. In the air were the odors +of stale tobacco-smoke, of cheap incense, and the sickly, sweet smell of +opium. To Ford the place suggested a cigar-divan rather than a bedroom, +and he guessed, correctly, that when Prothero had played at palmistry +and clairvoyance this had been the place where he received his dupes. +But the American expressed himself pleased with his surroundings, and +while Prothero remained in the room, busied himself with unpacking his +bag. + +On leaving him the Jew halted in the door and delivered himself of a +little speech. His voice was stern, sharp, menacing. + +"Until you are cured," he said, "you will not put your foot outside this +room. In this house are other inmates who, as you have already learned, +are in a highly nervous state. The brains of some are unbalanced. With +my associate and myself they are familiar, but the sight of a stranger +roaming through the halls might upset them. They might attack you, might +do you bodily injury. If you wish for anything, ring the electric bell +beside your bed and an attendant will come. But you yourself must not +leave the room." + +He closed the door, and Ford, seating himself in front of the coal fire, +hastily considered his position. He could not persuade himself that, +strategically, it was a satisfactory one. The girl he sought was on the +top or fourth floor, he on the second. To reach her he would have to +pass through Well-lighted halls, up two flights Of stairs and try +to enter a door that would undoubtedly be locked. On the other hand, +instead of wandering about in the rain outside the house, he was now +established on the inside, and as an inmate. Had there been time for a +siege, he would have been confident of success. But there was no time. +The written call for help had been urgent. Also, the scream he had +heard, while the manner of the two men had shown that to them it was a +commonplace, was to him a spur to instant action. In haste he knew there +was the risk of failure, but he must take that risk. + +He wished first to assure himself that Cuthbert was within call, and to +that end put out the lights and drew aside the curtains that covered the +window. Outside, the fog was rolling between the house-fronts, both rain +and snow were falling heavily, and a solitary gas-lamp showed only a +deserted and dripping street. Cautiously Ford lit a match and for an +instant let the flame flare. He was almost at once rewarded by the sight +of an answering flame that flickered from a dark doorway. Ford closed +the window, satisfied that his line of communication with the outside +world was still intact. The faithful Cuthbert was on guard. + +Ford rapidly reviewed each possible course of action. These were +several, but to lead any one of them to success, he saw that he must +possess a better acquaintance with the interior of the house. Especially +was it important that he should obtain a line of escape other than the +one down the stairs to the front door. The knowledge that in the rear of +the house there was a means of retreat by a servants' stairway, or over +the roof of an adjoining building, or by a friendly fire-escape, would +at least, lend him confidence in his adventure. Accordingly, in spite of +Prothero's threat, he determined at once to reconnoitre. In case of his +being discovered outside his room, he would explain his electric bell +was out of order, that when he rang no servant had answered, and that he +had sallied forth in search of one. To make this plausible, he unscrewed +the cap of the electric button in the wall, and with his knife cut off +enough of the wire to prevent a proper connection. He then replaced the +cap and, opening the door, stepped into the hall. + +The upper part of the house was, sunk in silence, but rising from the +dining-room below, through the opening made by the stairs, came the +voices of Prothero and Pearsall. And mixed with their voices came also +the sharp hiss of water issuing from a siphon. The sound was reassuring. +Apparently, over their whiskey-and-soda the two men were still lingering +at the dinner-table. For the moment, then--so far, at least, as they +were concerned--the coast was clear. + +Stepping cautiously, and keeping close to the wall, Ford ran lightly +up the stairs to the hall of the third floor. It was lit brightly by a +gas-jet, but no one was in sight, and the three doors opening upon it +were shut. At the rear of the hall was a window; the blind was raised, +and through the panes, dripping in the rain, Ford caught a glimpse of +the rigid iron rods of a fire-escape. His spirits leaped exultantly. If +necessary, by means of this scaling ladder, he could work entirely +from the outside. Greatly elated, he tiptoed past the closed doors and +mounted to the fourth floor. This also was lit by a gas-jet that showed +at one end of the hall a table on which were medicine-bottles and a tray +covered by a napkin; and at the other end, piled upon each other and +blocking the hall-window, were three steamer-trunks. Painted on each +were the initials, "D. D." Ford breathed an exclamation. + +"Dosia Dale," he muttered, "I have found you!" He was again confronted +by three closed doors, one leading to a room that faced the street, +another opening upon a room in the rear of the house, and opposite, +across the hallway, still another door. He observed that the first two +doors were each fastened from the outside by bolts and a spring lock, +and that the key to each lock was in place. The fact moved him with +indecision. If he took possession of the keys, he could enter the rooms +at his pleasure. On the other hand, should their loss be discovered, an +alarm would be raised and he would inevitably come under suspicion. The +very purpose he had in view might be frustrated. He decided that where +they were the keys would serve him as well as in his pocket, and turned +his attention to the third door. This was not locked, and, from its +position, Ford guessed it must be an entrance to a servants' stairway. + +Confident of this, he opened it, and found a dark, narrow landing, a +flight of steps mounting from the kitchen below, and, to his delight an +iron ladder leading to a trap-door. He could hardly forego a cheer. If +the trap-door were not locked, he had found a third line of retreat, a +means of escape by way of the roof, far superior to any he might attempt +by the main staircase and the street-door. + +Ford stepped into the landing, closing the door behind him and though +this left him in complete darkness, he climbed the ladder, and with +eager fingers felt for the fastenings of the trap. He had feared to +find a padlock, but, to his infinite relief, his fingers closed upon +two bolts. Noiselessly, and smoothly, they drew back from their sockets. +Under the pressure of his hand the trap door lifted, and through the +opening swept a breath of chill night air. + +Ford hooked one leg over a round of the ladder and, with hands frees +moved the trap to one side. An instant later he had scrambled to the +roof, and, after carefully replacing the trap, rose and looked about +him. To his satisfaction, he found that the roof upon which he stood ran +level with the roofs adjoining its to as far as Devonshire Street, +where they encountered the wall of an apartment house. This was of +seven stories. On the fifth story a row of windows, brilliantly lighted, +opened upon the roofs over which he planned to make his retreat. Ford +chuckled with nervous excitement. + +"Before long," he assured himself, "I will be visiting the man who owns +that flat. He will think I am a burglar. He will send for the police. +There is no one in the world I shall be so glad to see!" + +Ford considered that running over roofs, even when their pitfalls were +not concealed by a yellow fog, was an awkward exercise, and decided that +before he made his dash for freedom, the part of a careful jockey would +be to take a preliminary canter over the course. Accordingly, among +party walls of brick, rain-pipes, chimney-pipes, and telephone wires, +he felt his way to the wall of the apartment house; and then, with a +clearer idea of the obstacles to be avoided, raced back to the point +whence he had started. + +Next, to discover the exact position of the fire-escape, he dropped to +his knees and crawled to the rear edge of the roof. The light from the +back windows of the fourth floor showed him an iron ladder from the edge +of the roof to the platform of the fire-escape, and the platform itself, +stretching below the windows the width of the building. He gave a sigh +of satisfaction, but the same instant exclaimed with dismay. The windows +opening upon the fire-escape were closely barred. For a moment he was +unable to grasp why a fire-escape should be placed where escape was +impossible, until he recognized that the ladder must have been erected +first and the iron bars later; probably only since Miss Dale had been +made a prisoner. + +But he now appreciated that in spite of the iron bars he was nearer that +prisoner than he had ever been. Should he return to the hall below, even +while he could unlock the doors, he was in danger of discovery by those +inside the house. But from the fire-escape only a window-pane would +separate him from the prisoner, and though the bars would keep him at +arm's-length, he might at least speak with her, and assure her that +her call for help had carried. He grasped the sides of the ladder and +dropped to the platform. As he had already seen that the window farthest +to the left was barricaded with trunks, he disregarded it, and passed +quickly to the two others. Behind both of these, linen shades were +lowered, but, to his relief, he found that in the middle window the +lower sash, as though for ventilation, was slightly raised, leaving +an opening of a few inches. Kneeling on the gridiron platform of the +fire-escape, and pressing his face against the bars, he brought his eyes +level with this opening. Owing to the lowered window-blind, he could see +nothing in the room, nor could he distinguish any sound until above the +drip and patter of the rain there came to him the peaceful ticking of +a clock and the rattle of coal falling to the fender. But of any sound +that was human there was none. That the room was empty, and that the +girl was in the front of the house was possible, and the temptation +to stretch his hand through the bars and lift the blind was almost +compelling. If he did so, and the girl were inside, she might make an +outcry, or, guarding her, there might be an attendant, who at once would +sound the alarm. The risk was evident, but, encouraged by the silence, +Ford determined to take the chance. Slipping one hand between the bars +he caught the end of the blind, and, pulling it gently down, let the +spring draw it upward. Through an opening of six inches the room lay +open before him. He saw a door leading to another room, at one side an +iron cot, and in front of the coal fire, facing him, a girl seated in a +deep arm-chair. A book lay on her knees, and she was intently reading. + +The girl was young, and her face, in spite of an unnatural pallor and an +expression of deep melancholy, was one of extreme beauty. She wore over +a night-dress a long loose wrapper corded at the waist, and, as though +in readiness for the night, her black hair had been drawn back into +smooth, heavy braids. She made so sweet and sad a picture that Ford +forgot his errand, forgot his damp and chilled body, and for a moment +in sheer delight knelt, with his face pressed close to the bars, and +gazed at her. + +A movement on the part of the girl brought him to his senses. She closed +the book, and, leaning forward, rested her chin upon the hollow of her +hand and stared into the fire. Her look was one of complete and hopeless +misery. Ford did not hesitate. The girl was alone, but that at any +moment an attendant might join her was probable, and the rare chance +that now offered would be lost. He did not dare to speak, or by any +sound attract her attention, but from his breast-pocket he took the +glove thrown to him from the window, and, with a jerk, tossed it through +the narrow opening. It fell directly at her feet. She had not seen the +glove approach, but the slight sound it made in falling caused her to +start and turn her eyes toward it. Through the window, breathless, and +with every nerve drawn taut, Ford watched her. + +For a moment, partly in alarm, partly in bewilderment, she sat +motionless, regarding the glove with eyes fixed and staring. Then she +lifted them to the ceiling, in quick succession to each of the closed +doors, and then to the window. In his race across the roofs Ford had +lacked the protection of a hat, and his hair was plastered across his +forehead; his face was streaked with soot and snow, his eyes shone with +excitement. But at sight of this strange apparition the girl made no +sign. Her alert mind had in an instant taken in the significance of the +glove, and for her what followed could have but one meaning. She knew +that no matter in what guise he came the man whose face was now pressed +against the bars was a friend. + +With a swift, graceful movement she rose to her feet, crossed quickly to +the window, and sank upon her knees. + +"Speak in a whisper," she said; "and speak quickly. You are in great +danger!" + +That her first thought was of his safety gave Ford a thrill of shame and +pleasure. + +Until now Miss Dosia Dale had been only the chief feature in a newspaper +story; the unknown quantity in a problem. She had meant no more to him +than had the initials on her steamer-trunk. Now, through her beauty, +through the distress in her eyes, through her warm and generous nature +that had disclosed itself with her first words, she became a living, +breathing, lovely, and lovable woman. All of the young man's chivalry +leaped to the call. He had gone back several centuries. In feeling, he +was a knight-errant rescuing beauty in distress from a dungeon cell. To +the girl, he was a reckless young person with a dirty face and eyes +that gave confidence. But, though a knight-errant, Ford was a modern +knight-errant. He wasted no time in explanations or pretty speeches. + +"In two minutes," he whispered, "I'll unlock your door. There's a ladder +outside your room to the roof. Once we get to the roof the rest's easy. +Should anything go wrong, I'll come back by this fire-escape. Wait at +the window until you see your door open. Do you understand?" + +The girl answered with an eager nod. The color had flown to her cheek. +Her eyes flashed in excitement. A sudden doubt assailed Ford. + +"You've no time to put on any more clothes," he commanded. + +"I haven't got any!" said the girl. + +The knight-errant ran up the fire-escape, pulled himself over the edge +of the roof, and, crossing it, dropped through the trap to the landing +of the kitchen stairs. Here he expended the greater part of the two +minutes he had allowed himself in cautiously opening the door into the +hall. He accomplished this without a sound, and in one step crossed the +hall to the door that held Miss Dale a prisoner. + +Slowly he drew back the bolts. Only the spring lock now barred him from +her. With thumb and forefinger he turned the key, pushed the door gently +open, and ran into the room. + +At the same instant from behind him, within six feet of him, he heard +the staircase creak. A bomb bursting could not have shaken him more +rudely. He swung on his heel and found, blocking the door, the giant +bulk of Prothero regarding him over the barrel of his pistol. + +"Don't move!" said the Jew. + +At the sound of his voice the girl gave a cry of warning, and sprang +forward. + +"Go back!" commanded Prothero. His voice was low and soft, and +apparently calm, but his face showed white with rage. + +Ford had recovered from the shock of the surprise. He, also, was in a +rage--a rage of mortification and bitter disappointment. + +"Don't point that gun at me!" he blustered. + +The sound of leaping footsteps and the voice of Pearsall echoed from the +floor below. + +"Have you got him?" he called. + +Prothero made no reply, nor did he lower his pistol. When Pearsall was +at his side, without turning his head, he asked in the same steady tone: + +"What shall we do with him?" + +The face of Pearsall was white, and furious with fear. + +"I told you----" he stormed. + +"Never mind what you told me," said the Jew. "What shall we do with him? +He knows!" + +Ford's mind was working swiftly. He had no real fear of personal danger +for the girl or himself. The Jew, he argued, was no fool. He would not +risk his neck by open murder. And, as he saw it, escape with the girl +might still be possible. He had only to conceal from Prothero his +knowledge of the line of retreat over the house-tops, explain his +rain-soaked condition, and wait a better chance. + +To this end he proceeded to lie briskly and smoothly. + +"Of course I know," he taunted. He pointed to his dripping garments. +"Do you know where I've been? In the street, placing my men. I have this +house surrounded. I am going to walk down those stairs with this young +lady. If you try to stop me I have only to blow my police-whistle----" + +"And I will blow your brains out!" interrupted the Jew. It was a most +unsatisfactory climax. + +"You have not been in the street," said Prothero. "You are wet because +you hung out of your window signalling to your friend. Do you know why +he did not answer your second signal? Because he is lying in an area, +with a knife in him!" + +"You lie!" cried Ford. + +"YOU lie," retorted the Jew quietly, "when you say your men surround +this house. You are alone. You are NOT in the police service, you are +a busybody meddling with men who think as little of killing you as they +did of killing your friend. My servant was placed to watch your window, +saw your signal, reported to me. And I found your assistant and threw +him into an area, with a knife in him!" + +Ford felt the story was untrue. Prothero was trying to frighten him. +Out of pure bravado no sane man would boast of murder. But--and at the +thought Ford felt a touch of real fear--was the man sane? It was a most +unpleasant contingency. Between a fight with an angry man and an insane +man the difference was appreciable. From this new view-point Ford +regarded his adversary with increased wariness; he watched him as he +would a mad dog. He regretted extremely he had not brought his revolver. + +With his automatic pistol still covering Ford, Prothero spoke to +Pearsall. + +"I found him," he recited, as though testing the story he would tell +later, "prowling through my house at night. Mistaking him for a burglar, +I killed him. The kitchen window will be found open, with the lock +broken, showing how he gained an entrance. Why not?" he demanded. + +"Because," protested Pearsall, in terror, "the man outside will +tell----" + +Ford shouted in genuine relief. + +"Exactly!" he cried. "The man outside, who is not down an area with a +knife in him, but who at this moment is bringing the police--he will +tell!" + +As though he had not been interrupted, Prothero continued thoughtfully: + +"What they may say he expected to find here, I can explain away later. +The point is that I found a strange man, hatless, dishevelled, prowling +in my house. I called on him to halt; he ran, I fired, and unfortunately +killed him. An Englishman's home is his castle; an English jury----" + +"An English jury," said Ford briskly, "is the last thing you want to +meet---- It isn't a Chicago jury." + +The Jew flung back his head as though Ford had struck him in the face. + +"Ah!" he purred, "you know that, too, do you?" The purr increased to a +snarl. "You know too much!" + +For Pearsall, his tone seemed to bear an alarming meaning. He sprang +toward Prothero, and laid both hands upon his disengaged arm. + +"For God's sake," he pleaded, "come away! He can't hurt you--not alive; +but dead, he'll hang you--hang us both. We must go, now, this moment." +He dragged impotently at the left arm of the giant. "Come!" he begged. + +Whether moved by Pearsall's words or by some thought of his own, +Prothero nodded in assent. He addressed himself to Ford. + +"I don't know what to do with you," he said, "so I will consult with +my friend outside this door. While we talk, we will lock you in. We can +hear any move you make. If you raise the window or call I will open the +door and kill you--you and that woman!" + +With a quick gesture, he swung to the door, and the spring lock snapped. +An instant later the bolts were noisily driven home. + +When the second bolt shot into place, Ford turned and looked at Miss +Dale. + +"This is a hell of a note!" he said + + + + +III + +Outside the locked door the voices of the two men rose in fierce +whispers. But Ford regarded them not at all. With the swiftness of +a squirrel caught in a cage, he darted on tiptoe from side to side +searching the confines of his prison. He halted close to Miss Dale and +pointed at the windows. + +"Have you ever tried to loosen those bars?" he whispered. + +The girl nodded and, in pantomime that spoke of failure, shrugged her +shoulders. + +"What did you see?" demanded Ford hopefully. + +The girl destroyed his hope with a shake of her head and a swift smile. + +"Scissors," she said; "but they found them and took them away." Ford +pointed at the open grate. + +"Where's the poker?" he demanded. + +"They took that, too. I bent it trying to pry the bars. So they knew." + +The man gave her a quick, pleased glance, then turned his eyes to the +door that led into the room that looked upon the street. + +"Is that door locked?" + +"No," the girl told him. "But the door from it into the hall is +fastened, like the other, with a spring lock and two bolts." + +Ford cautiously opened the door into the room adjoining, and, except for +a bed and wash-stand, found it empty. On tiptoe he ran to the windows. +Sowell Street was deserted. He returned to Miss Dale, again closing the +door between the two rooms. + +"The nurse," Miss Dale whispered, "when she is on duty, leaves that door +open so that she can watch me; when she goes downstairs, she locks and +bolts the door from that room to the hall. It's locked now." + +"What's the nurse like?" + +The girl gave a shudder that seemed to Ford sufficiently descriptive. +Her lips tightened in a hard, straight line. + +"She's not human," she said. "I begged her to help me, appealed to her +in every way; then I tried a dozen times to get past her to the stairs." + +"Well?" + +The girl frowned, and with a gesture signified her surroundings. + +"I'm still here," she said. + +She bent suddenly forward and, with her hand on his shoulder, turned the +man so that he faced the cot. + +"The mattress on that bed," she whispered, "rests on two iron rods. They +are loose and can be lifted. I planned to smash the lock, but the noise +would have brought Prothero. But you could defend yourself with one of +them." + +Ford had already run to the cot and dropped to his knees. He found the +mattress supported on strips of iron resting loosely in sockets at the +head and foot. He raised the one nearer him, and then, after a moment of +hesitation, let it drop into place. + +"That's fine!" he whispered. "Good as a crowbar.'" He shook his head in +sudden indecision. "But I don't just know how to use it. His automatic +could shoot six times before I could swing that thing on him once. And +if I have it in my hands when he opens the door, he'll shoot, and he may +hit you. But if I leave it where it is, he won't know I know it's there, +and it may come in very handy later." + +In complete disapproval the girl shook her head. Her eyes filled with +concern. "You must not fight him," she ordered. "I mean, not for me. You +don't know the danger. The man's not sane. He won't give you a chance. +He's mad. You have no right to risk your life for a stranger. I'll not +permit it----" + +Ford held up his hand for silence. With a jerk of his head he signified +the door. "They've stopped talking," he whispered. + +Straining to hear, the two leaned forward, but from the hall there came +no sound. The girl raised her eyebrows questioningly. + +"Have they gone?" she breathed. + +"If I knew that," protested Ford, "we wouldn't be here!" + +In answer to his doubt a smart rap, as though from the butt of a +revolver, fell upon the door. The voice of Prothero spoke sharply: + +"You, who call yourself Grant!" he shouted. + +Before answering, Ford drew Miss Dale and himself away from the line of +the door, and so placed the girl with her back to the wall that if the +door opened she would be behind it. "Yes," he answered. + +"Pearsall and I," called Prothero, "have decided how to dispose of +you--of both of you. He has gone below to make preparations. I am on +guard. If you try to break out or call for help, I'll shoot you as I +warned you!" + +"And I warn you," shouted Ford, "if this lady and I do not instantly +leave this house, or if any harm comes to her, you will hang for it!" +Prothero laughed jeeringly. + +"Who will hang me?" he mocked. + +"My friends," retorted Ford. "They know I am in this house. They know +WHY I am here. Unless they see Miss Dale and myself walk out of it in +safety, they will never let you leave it. Don't be a fool, Prothero!" he +shouted. "You know I am telling the truth. You know your only chance for +mercy is to open that door and let us go free." + +For over a minute Ford waited, but from the hall there was no answer. + +After another minute of silence, Ford turned and gazed inquiringly at +Miss Dale. + +"Prothero!" he called. + +Again for a full minute he waited and again called, and then, as there +still was no reply, he struck the door sharply with his knuckles. On the +instant the voice of the Jew rang forth in an angry bellow. + +"Keep away from that door!" he commanded. + +Ford turned to Miss Dale and bent his head close to hers. + +"Now, why the devil didn't he answer?" he whispered. "Was it because he +wasn't there; or is he planning to steal away and wants us to think +that even if he does not answer, he's still outside?" The girl nodded +eagerly. + +"This is it," she whispered. "My uncle is a coward or rather he is very +wise, and has left the house. And Prothero means to follow, but he wants +us to think he's still on guard. If we only KNEW!" she exclaimed. + +As though in answer to her thought, the voice of Prothero called to +them. + +"Don't speak to me again," he warned. "If you do, I'll not answer, or +I'll shoot!" + +Flattened against the wall, close to the hinges of the door, Ford +replied flippantly and defiantly: + +"That makes conversation difficult, doesn't it?" he called. + +There was a bursting report, and a bullet splintered the panel of the +door, flattened itself against the fireplace, and fell tinkling into the +grate. + +"I hope I hit you!" roared the Jew. + +Ford pressed his lips tightly together. Whatever happy retort may have +risen to them was forever lost. For an exchange of repartee, the moment +did not seem propitious. + +"Perhaps now," jeered Prothero, "you'll believe I'm in earnest!" + +Ford still resisted any temptation to reply. He grinned apologetically +at the girl and shrugged his shoulders. Her face was white, but it was +white from excitement, not from fear. + +"What did I tell you?" she whispered. "He IS mad--quite mad!" + +Ford glanced at the bullet-hole in the panel of the door. It was on a +line with his heart. He looked at Miss Dale; her shoulder was on a level +with his own, and her eyes were following his. + +"In case he does that again," said Ford, "we would be more comfortable +sitting down." + +With their shoulders against the wall, the two young people sank to +the floor. The position seemed to appeal to them as humorous, and, when +their eyes met, they smiled. + +"To a spectator," whispered Ford encouragingly, "we MIGHT appear to +be getting the worst of this. But, as a matter of fact, every minute +Cuthbert does not come means that the next minute may bring him." + +"You don't believe he was hurt?" asked the girl. + +"No," said Ford. "I believe Prothero found him, and I believe there may +have been a fight. But you heard what Pearsall said: 'The man outside +will tell.' If Cuthbert's in a position to tell, he is not down an area +with a knife in him." + +He was interrupted by a faint report from the lowest floor, as though +the door to the street had been sharply slammed. Miss Dale showed that +she also had heard it. + +"My uncle," she said, "making his escape!" + +"It may be," Ford answered. + +The report did not suggest to him the slamming of a door, but he saw no +reason for saying so to the girl. + +With his fingers locked across his knees, Ford was leaning forward, his +eyes frowning, his lips tightly shut. At his side the girl regarded +him covertly. His broad shoulders, almost touching hers, his strong +jaw projecting aggressively, and the alert, observant eyes gave her +confidence. For three weeks she had been making a fight single-handed. +But she was now willing to cease struggling and relax. Quite happily +she placed herself and her safety in the keeping of a stranger. Half +to herself, half to the man, she murmured: "It is like 'The Sieur de +Maletroit's Door."' + +Without looking at her, Ford shook his head and smiled. + +"No such luck," he corrected grimly. "That young man was given a choice. +The moment he was willing to marry the girl he could have walked out of +the room free. I do not recall Prothero's saying I can escape death by +any such charming alternative." The girl interrupted quickly. + +"No," she said; "you are not at all like that young man. He stumbled in +by chance. You came on purpose to help me. It was fine, unselfish." + +"It was not," returned Ford. "My motive was absolutely selfish. It was +not to help you I came, but to be able to tell about it later. It is my +business to do that. And before I saw you, it was all in the day's work. +But after I saw you it was no longer a part of the day's work; it became +a matter of a life time." + +The girl at his side laughed softly and lightly. "A lifetime is not +long," she said, "when you are locked in a room and a madman is shooting +at you. It may last only an hour." + +"Whether it lasts an hour or many years," said Ford, "it can mean to me +now only one thing----" He turned quickly and looked in her face boldly +and steadily: "You," he said. + +The girl did not avoid his eyes, but returned his glance with one as +steady as his own. "You are an amusing person," she said. "Do you feel +it is necessary to keep up my courage with pretty speeches?" + +"I made no pretty speech," said Ford. "I proclaimed a fact. You are the +most charming person that ever came into my life, and whether Prothero +shoots us up, or whether we live to get back to God's country, you will +never leave it." + +The girl pretended to consider his speech critically. "It would be +almost a compliment," she said, "if it were intelligent, but when you +know nothing of me--it is merely impertinent." + +"I know this much of you," returned Ford, calmly; "I know you are fine +and generous, for your first speech to me, in spite of your own danger, +was for my safety. I know you are brave, for I see you now facing death +without dismay." + +He was again suddenly halted by, two sharp reports. They came from +the room directly below them. It was no longer possible to pretend to +misinterpret their significance. + +"Prothero!" exclaimed Ford, "and his pistol!" + +They waited breathlessly for what might follow: an outcry, the sound of +a body falling, a third pistol-shot. But throughout the house there was +silence. + +"If you really think we are in such danger," declared Miss Dale, "we are +wasting time!" + +"We are NOT wasting time," protested Ford; "we are really gaining time, +for each minute Cuthbert and the police are drawing nearer, and to move +about only invites a bullet. And, what is of more importance," he went +on quickly, as though to turn her mind from the mysterious pistol-shots, +"should we get out of this alive, I shall already have said what under +ordinary conditions I might not have found the courage to tell you in +many months." He waited as though hopeful of a reply, but Miss Dale +remained silent. "They say," continued Ford, "when a man is drowning his +whole life passes in review. We are drowning, and yet I find I can see +into the past no further than the last half-hour. I find life began only +then, when I looked through the bars of that window and found YOU!" + +With the palm of her hand the girl struck the floor sharply. "This is +neither the time," she exclaimed, "nor the place to----" + +"I did not choose the place," Ford pointed out. "It was forced upon me +with a gun. But the TIME is excellent. At such a time one speaks only +what is true." + +"You certainly have a strange sense of humor," she said, "but when you +are risking your life to help me, how can I be angry?" + +"Of course you can't," Ford agreed heartily; "you could not be so +conventional." + +"But I AM conventional!" protested Miss Dale. "And I am not USED +to having young men tell me they have 'come into my life to +stay'--certainly not young men who come into my life by way of a +trap-door, and without an introduction, without a name, without even a +hat! It's absurd! It's not real! It's a nightmare!" + +"The whole situation is absurd!" Ford declared. "Here we are in the +heart of London, surrounded by telephones, taxicabs, police--at least, +hope we are surrounded by police and yet we are crawling around +the floor on our hands and knees dodging bullets. I wish it were +a nightmare. But, as it's not"--he rose to his feet--"I think I'll +try----" + +He was interrupted by a sharp blow upon the door and the voice of +Prothero. + +"You, navy officer!" he panted. "Come to the door! Stand close to it so +that I needn't shout. Come, quick!" + +Ford made no answer. Motioning to Miss Dale to remain where she was, he +ran noiselessly to the bed, and from beneath the mattress lifted one of +the iron bars upon which it rested. Grasping it at one end, he swung the +bar swiftly as a man tests the weight of a baseball bat. As a weapon it +seemed to satisfy him, for he smiled. Then once more he placed himself +with his back to the wall. "Do you hear me?" roared Prothero. + +"I hear you!" returned Ford. "If you want to talk to me, open the door +and come inside." + +"Listen to me," called Prothero. "If I open the door you may act the +fool, and I will have to shoot you, and I have made up my mind to let +you live. You will soon have this house to yourselves. In a few moments +I will leave it, but where I am going I'll need money, and I want the +bank-notes in that blue envelope." Ford swung the iron club in short +half-circles. + +"Come in and get them!" he called. + +"Don't trifle with me!" roared the Jew, "I may change my mind. Shove the +money through the crack under the door." + +"And get shot!" returned Ford. "Not bit like it!" + +"If, in one minute," shouted Prothero, "I don't see the money coming +through that crack, I'll begin shooting through this door, and neither +of you will live!" + +Resting the bar in the crook of his elbow, Ford snatched the bank-notes +from the envelope, and, sticking them in his pocket, placed the empty +envelope on the floor. Still keeping out of range, and using his iron +bar as a croupier uses his rake, he pushed the envelope across the +carpet and under the door. When half of it had disappeared from the +other side of the door, it was snatched from view. + +An instant later there was a scream of anger and on a line where Ford +would have been, had he knelt to shove the envelope under the door, +three bullets splintered through the panel. + +At the same moment the girl caught him by the wrist. Unheeding the +attack upon the door, her eyes were fixed upon the windows. With her +free hand she pointed at the one at which Ford had first appeared. The +blind was still raised a few inches, and they saw that the night was lit +with a strange and brilliant radiance. The storm had passed, and from +all the houses that backed upon the one in which they were prisoners +lights blazed from every window, and in each were crowded many people, +and upon the roof-tops in silhouette from the glare of the street lamps +below, and in the yards and clinging to the walls that separated them, +were hundreds of other dark, shadowy groups changing and swaying. And +from them rose the confused, inarticulate, terrifying murmur of a mob. +It was as though they were on a race-track at night facing a great +grandstand peopled with an army of ghosts. With the girl at his side, +Ford sprang to the window and threw up the blind, and as they clung to +the bars, peering into the night, the light in the room fell full upon +them. And in an instant from the windows opposite, from the yards below, +and from the house-tops came a savage, exultant yell of welcome, a +confusion of cries' orders, entreaties, a great roar of warning. At the +sound, Ford could feel the girl at his side tremble. + +"What does it mean?" she cried. + +"Cuthbert has raised the neighborhood!" shouted Ford jubilantly. "Or +else"--he cried in sudden enlightenment--"those shots we heard." + +The girl stopped him with a low cry of fear. She thrust her arms between +the bars and pointed. In the yard below them was the sloping roof of the +kitchen. It stretched from the house to the wall of the back yard. Above +the wall from the yard beyond rose a ladder, and, face down upon the +roof, awry and sprawling, were the motionless forms of two men. Their +shining capes and heavy helmets proclaimed their calling. + +"The police!" exclaimed Ford. "And the shots we thought were for those +in the house were for THEM! This is what has happened," he whispered +eagerly: "Prothero attacked Cuthbert. Cuthbert gets away and goes to the +police. He tells them you are here a prisoner, that I am here probably +a prisoner, and of the attack upon himself. The police try to make an +entrance from the street--that was the first shot we heard--and are +driven back; then they try to creep in from the yard, and those poor +devils were killed." + +As he spoke a sudden silence had fallen, a silence as startling as had +been the shout of warning. Some fresh attack upon the house which the +prisoners could not see, but which must be visible to those in the +houses opposite was going forward. + +"Perhaps they are on the roof,"' whispered Ford joyfully. "They'll be +through the trap in a minute, and you'll be free!" + +"No!" said the girl. + +She also spoke in a whisper, as though she feared Prothero might hear +her. And with her hand she again pointed. Cautiously above the top +of the ladder appeared the head and shoulders of a man. He wore a +policeman's helmet, but, warned by the fate of his comrades, he came +armed. Balancing himself with his left hand on the rung of the ladder, +he raised the other and pointed a revolver. It was apparently at the two +prisoners, and Miss Dale sprang to one side. + +"Standstill!" commanded Ford. "He knows who YOU are! You heard that yell +when they saw you? They know you are the prisoner, and they are glad +you're still alive. That officer is aiming at the window BELOW us. He's +after the men who murdered his mates." + +From the window directly beneath them came the crash of a rifle, and +from the top of the ladder the revolver of the police officer blazed in +the darkness. Again the rifle crashed, and the man on the ladder jerked +his hands above his head and pitched backward. Ford looked into the face +of the girl and found her eyes filled with horror. + +"Where is my uncle, Pearsall?" she faltered. "He has two rifles--for +shooting in Scotland. Was that a rifle that----" Her lips refused to +finish the question. + +"It was a rifle," Ford stammered, "but probably Prothero----" + +Even as he spoke the voice of the Jew rose in a shriek from the floor +below them, but not from the window below them. The sound was from +the front room opening on Sowell Street. In the awed silence that had +suddenly fallen his shrieks carried sharply. They were more like the +snarls and ravings of an animal than the outcries of a man. + +"Take THAT!" he shouted, with a flood of oaths, "and THAT, and THAT!" + +Each word was punctuated by the report of his automatic, and to the +amazement of Ford, was instantly answered from Sowell Street by a +scattered volley of rifle and pistol shots. + +"This isn't a fight," he cried, "it's a battle!" + +With Miss Dale at his side, he ran into the front room, and, raising the +blind, appeared at the window. And instantly, as at the other end of the +house, there was, at sight of the woman's figure, a tumult of cries, a +shout of warning, and a great roar of welcome. From beneath them a man +ran into the deserted street, and in the glare of the gas-lamp Ford saw +his white, upturned face. He was without a hat and his head was circled +by a bandage. But Ford recognized Cuthbert. "That's Ford!" he cried, +pointing. "And the girl's with him!" He turned to a group of men +crouching in the doorway of the next house to the one in which Ford was +imprisoned. "The girl's alive!" he shouted. + +"The girl's alive!" The words were caught up and flung from window to +window, from house-top to house-top, with savage, jubilant cheers. Ford +pushed Miss Dale forward. + +"Let them see you," he said, "and you will never see a stranger sight." + +Below them, Sowell Street, glistening with rain and snow, lay empty, but +at either end of it, held back by an army of police, were black masses +of men, and beyond them more men packed upon the tops of taxicabs and +hansoms, stretching as far as the street-lamps showed, and on the roofs +shadowy forms crept cautiously from chimney to chimney; and in the +windows of darkened rooms opposite, from behind barricades of mattresses +and upturned tables, rifles appeared stealthily, to be lost in a sudden +flash of flame. And with these flashes were others that came from +windows and roofs with the report of a bursting bomb, and that, on the +instant, turned night into day, and then left the darkness more dark. + +Ford gave a cry of delight. + +"They're taking flash-light photographs," he cried jubilantly. "Well +done, you Pressmen!" The instinct of the reporter became compelling. +"If they're alive to develop those photographs to-night," he exclaimed +eagerly, "Cuthbert will send them by special messenger, in time to catch +the MAURETANIA and the REPUBLIC will have them by Sunday. I mayn't be +alive to see them," he added regretfully, "but what a feature for the +Sunday supplement!" + +As the eyes of the two prisoners became accustomed to the darkness, they +saw that the street was not, as at first they had supposed, entirely +empty. Directly below them in the gutter, where to approach it was to +invite instant death from Prothero's pistol, lay the dead body of a +policeman, and at the nearer end of the street, not fifty yards from +them, were three other prostrate forms. But these forms were animate, +and alive to good purpose. From a public-house on the corner a row of +yellow lamps showed them clearly. Stretched on pieces of board, and mats +commandeered from hallways and cabs, each of the three men lay at full +length, nursing a rifle. Their belted gray overcoats, flat, visored +caps, and the set of their shoulders marked them for soldiers. + +"For the love of Heaven!" exclaimed Ford incredulously, "they've called +out the Guards!" + +As unconcernedly as though facing the butts at a rifle-range, the +three sharp-shooters were firing point-blank at the windows from which +Prothero and Pearsall were waging their war to the death upon the +instruments of law and order. Beside them, on his knees in the snow, a +young man with the silver hilt of an officer's sword showing through the +slit in his greatcoat, was giving commands; and at the other end of +the street, a brother officer in evening dress was directing other +sharp-shooters, bending over them like the coach of a tug-of-war team, +pointing with white-gloved fingers. On the side of the street from which +Prothero was firing, huddled in a doorway, were a group of officials, +inspectors of police, fire chiefs in brass helmets, more officers of +the Guards in bear-skins, and, wrapped in a fur coat, the youthful Horne +Secretary. Ford saw him wave his arm, and at his bidding the cordon of +police broke, and slowly forcing its way through the mass of people came +a huge touring-car, its two blazing eyes sending before it great +shafts of light. The driver of the car wasted no time in taking up his +position. Dashing half-way down the street, he as swiftly backed the +automobile over the gutter and up on the sidewalk, so that the lights +in front fell full on the door of No. 40. Then, covered by the fire from +the roofs, he sprang to the lamps and tilted them until they threw their +shafts into the windows of the third story. Prothero's hiding-place +was now as clearly exposed as though it were held in the circle of a +spot-light, and at the success of the maneuver the great mob raised an +applauding cheer. But the triumph was brief. In a minute the blazing +lamps had been shattered by bullets, and once more, save for the fierce +flashes from rifles and pistols, Sowell Street lay in darkness. + +Ford drew Miss Dale back into the room. + +"Those men below," he said, "are mad. Prothero's always been mad, and +your Pearsall is mad with drugs. And the sight of blood has made them +maniacs. They know they now have no chance to live. There's no fear +or hope to hold them, and one life more or less means nothing. If they +should return here----" + +He hesitated, but the girl nodded quickly. "I understand," she said. + +"I'm going to try to break down the door and get to the roof," explained +Ford. "My hope is that this attack will keep them from hearing, and----" + +"No," protested the girl. "They will hear you, and they will kill you." + +"They may take it into their crazy heads to do that, anyway," protested +Ford, "so the sooner I get you away, the better. I've only to smash the +panels close to the bolts, put my arm through the hole, and draw the +bolts back. Then, another blow on the spring lock when the firing is +loudest, and we are in the hall. Should anything happen to me, you must +know how to make your escape alone. Across the hall is a door leading to +an iron ladder. That ladder leads to a trap-door. The trap-door is open. +When you reach the roof, run westward toward a lighted building." + +"I am not going without you," said Miss Dale quietly; "not after what +you have done for me." + +"I haven't done anything for you yet," objected Ford. "But in case I get +caught I mean to make sure there will be others on hand who will." + +He pulled his pencil and a letter from his pocket, and on the back of +the envelope wrote rapidly: "I will try to get Miss Dale up through the +trap in the roof. You can reach the roof by means of the apartment house +in Devonshire Street. Send men to meet her." + +In the groups of officials half hidden in the doorway farther down the +street, he could make out the bandaged head of Cuthbert. "Cuthbert!" he +called. Weighting the envelope with a coin, he threw it into the air. It +fell in the gutter, under a lamp-post, and full in view, and at once +the two madmen below splashed the street around it with bullets. But, +indifferent to the bullets, a policeman sprang from a dark areaway and +flung himself upon it. The next moment he staggered. Then limping, but +holding himself erect, he ran heavily toward the group of officials. The +Home Secretary snatched the envelope from him, and held it toward the +light. + +In his desire to learn if his message had reached those on the outside, +Ford leaned far over the sill of the window. His imprudence was all but +fatal. From the roof opposite there came a sudden yell of warning, +from directly below him a flash, and a bullet grazed his forehead and +shattered the window-pane above him. He was deluged with a shower of +broken glass. Stunned and bleeding, he sprang back. + +With a cry of concern, Miss Dale ran toward him. + +"It's nothing!" stammered Ford. "It only means I must waste no more +time." He balanced his iron rod as he would a pikestaff, and aimed it at +the upper half of the door to the hall. + +"When the next volley comes," he said, "I'll smash the panel." + +With the bar raised high, his muscles on a strain, he stood alert +and poised, waiting for a shot from the room below to call forth an +answering volley from the house-tops. But no sound came from below. And +the sharp-shooters, waiting for the madmen to expose themselves, held +their fire. + +Ford's muscles relaxed, and he lowered his weapon. He turned his eyes +inquiringly to the girl. "What's THIS mean?" he demanded. Unconsciously +his voice had again dropped to a whisper. + +"They're short of ammunition," said the girl, in a tone as low as his +own; "or they are coming HERE." + +With a peremptory gesture, Ford waved her toward the room adjoining and +then ran to the window. + +The girl was leaning forward with her face close to the door. She held +the finger of one hand to her lips. With the other hand she beckoned. +Ford ran to her side. + +"Some one is moving in the hall," she whispered. "Perhaps they are +escaping by the roof? No," she corrected herself. "They seem to be +running down the stairs again. Now they are coming back. Do you hear?" +she asked. "It sounds like some one running up and down the stairs. What +can it mean?" + +From the direction of the staircase Ford heard a curious creaking sound +as of many light footsteps. He gave a cry of relief. + +"The police!" he shouted jubilantly. "They've entered through the roof, +and they're going to attack in the rear. You're SAFE!" he cried. + +He sprang away from the door and, with two swinging blows, smashed the +broad panel. And then, with a cry, he staggered backward. Full in +his face, through the break he had made, swept a hot wave of burning +cinders. Through the broken panel he saw the hall choked with smoke, the +steps of the staircase and the stair-rails wrapped in flame. + +"The house is on fire!" he cried. "They've taken to the roof and set +fire to the stairs behind them!" With the full strength of his arms and +shoulders he struck and smashed the iron bar against the door. But the +bolts held, and through each fresh opening he made in the panels the +burning cinders, drawn by the draft from the windows, swept into the +room. From the street a mighty yell of consternation told them the fire +had been discovered. Miss Dale ran to the window, and the yell turned +to a great cry of warning. The air was rent with frantic voices. "Jump!" +cried some. "Go back!" entreated others. The fire chief ran into the +street directly below her and shouted at her through his hands. "Wait +for the life-net!" he commanded. "Wait for the ladders!" + +"Ladders!" panted Ford. "Before they can get their engines through that +mob----" + +Through the jagged opening in the door he thrust his arm and jerked +free the upper bolt. An instant later he had kicked the lower panel into +splinters and withdrawn the second bolt, and at last, under the savage +onslaught of his iron bar, the spring lock flew apart. The hall lay open +before him. On one side of it the burning staircase was a well of flame; +at his feet, the matting on the floor was burning fiercely. He raced +into the bedroom and returned instantly, carrying a blanket and a towel +dripping with water. He pressed the towel across the girl's mouth and +nostrils. "Hold it there!" he commanded. Blinded by the bandage, Miss +Dale could see nothing, but she felt herself suddenly wrapped in the +blanket and then lifted high in Ford's arms. She gave a cry of protest, +but the next instant he was running with her swiftly while the flames +from the stair-well scorched her hair. She was suddenly tumbled to her +feet, the towel and blanket snatched away, and she saw Ford hanging from +an iron ladder holding out his hand. She clasped it, and he drew her +after him, the flames and cinders pursuing and snatching hungrily. + +But an instant later the cold night air smote her in the face, from +hundreds of hoarse throats a yell of welcome greeted her, and she found +herself on the roof, dazed and breathless, and free. + +At the same moment the lifting fire-ladder reached the sill of the +third-story window, and a fireman, shielding his face from the flames, +peered into the blazing room. What he saw showed him there were no lives +to rescue. Stretched on the floor, with their clothing in cinders and +the flames licking at the flesh, were the bodies of the two murderers. + +A bullet-hole in the forehead of each showed that self-destruction and +cremation had seemed a better choice than the gallows and a grave of +quick-lime. + +On the roof above, two young people stood breathing heavily and happily, +staring incredulously into each other's eyes. Running toward them across +the roofs, stumbling and falling, were many blue-coated, helmeted angels +of peace and law and order. + +"How can I tell you?" whispered the girl quickly. "How can I ever thank +you? And I was angry," she exclaimed, with self-reproach. "I did not +understand you." She gave a little sigh of content. "Now I think I do." + +He took her hand, and she did not seem to know that he held it. + +"And," she cried, in wonder, "I DON'T EVEN KNOW YOUR NAME!" + +The young man seemed to have lost his confidence. For a moment he was +silent. "The name's all right!" he said finally. His voice was still a +little shaken, a little tremulous. "I only hope you'll like it. It's got +to last you a long time!" + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Lost House, by Richard Harding Davis + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LOST HOUSE *** + +***** This file should be named 1807.txt or 1807.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/0/1807/ + +Produced by Aaron Cannon + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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His Excellency the American +Ambassador was absent in Scotland, unveiling a bust to Bobby Burns, +paid for by the numerous lovers of that poet in Pittsburg; the +First Secretary was absent at Aldershot, observing a sham battle; +the Military Attache was absent at the Crystal Palace, watching a +foot-ball match; the Naval Attache was absent at the Duke of +Deptford's, shooting pheasants; and at the Embassy, the Second +Secretary, having lunched leisurely at the Artz, was now alone, but +prepared with his life to protect American interests. Accordingly, +on the condition that the story should not be traced back to him, +he had just confided a State secret to his young friend, Austin +Ford, the London correspondent of the New York REPUBLIC. + +"I will cable it," Ford reassured him, "as coming from a Hungarian +diplomat, temporarily residing in Bloomsbury, while en route to his +post in Patagonia. In that shape, not even your astute chief will +suspect its real source. And further from the truth than that I +refuse to go." + +"What I dropped in to ask," he continued, "is whether the English +are going to send over a polo team next summer to try to bring back +the cup?" + +"I've several other items of interest," suggested the Secretary. + +"The week-end parties to which you have been invited," Ford +objected, "can wait. Tell me first what chance there is for an +international polo match." + +"Polo," sententiously began the Second Secretary, who himself was +a crackerjack at the game, "is a proposition of ponies! Men can be +trained for polo. But polo ponies must be born. Without good +ponies----" + +James, the page who guarded the outer walls, of the chancellery, +appeared in the doorway. + +"Please, Sir, a person," he announced, with a note for the +Ambassador says it's important." + +"Tell him to leave it, said the Secretary. "Polo ponies----" + +"Yes, Sir," interrupted the page. "But 'e won't leave it, not +unless he keeps the 'arf-crown." + +"For Heaven's sake!" protested the Second Secretary, "then let him +keep the half-crown. When I say polo ponies, I don't mean----" + +James, although alarmed at his own temerity, refused to accept the +dismissal. "But, please, Sir," he begged; "I think the 'arf-crown +is for the Ambassador." + +The astonished diplomat gazed with open eyes. + +"You think--WHAT!" he exclaimed. + +James, upon the defensive, explained breathlessly. + +"Because, Sir," he stammered, "it was INSIDE the note when it was +thrown out of the window." + +Ford had been sprawling in a soft leather chair in front of the +open fire. With the privilege of an old school-fellow and college +classmate, he bad been jabbing the soft coal with his +walking-stick, causing it to burst into tiny flames. His cigarette +drooped from his lips, his hat was cocked over one eye; he was a +picture of indifference, merging upon boredom. But at the words of +the boy his attitude both of mind and body underwent an instant +change. It was as though he were an actor, and the words "thrown +from the window " were his cue. It was as though he were a dozing +fox-terrier, and the voice of his master had whispered in his ear: +Sick'em!" + +For a moment, with benign reproach, the Second Secretary regarded +the unhappy page, and then addressed him with laborious sarcasm. + +"James," he said, "people do not communicate with ambassadors in +notes wrapped around half-crowns and hurled from windows. That is +the way one corresponds with an organ-grinder." Ford sprang to his +feet. + +"And meanwhile," he exclaimed angrily, "the man will get away." + +Without seeking permission, he ran past James, and through the +empty outer offices. In two minutes he returned, herding before him +an individual, seedy and soiled. In appearance the man suggested +that in life his place was to support a sandwich-board. Ford +reluctantly relinquished his hold upon a folded paper which he laid +in front of the Secretary. + +"This man," he explained, "picked that out of the gutter in Sowell +Street, It's not addressed to any one, so you read it!" + +I thought it was for the Ambassador!" said the Secretary. + +The soiled person coughed deprecatingly, and pointed a dirty digit +at the paper. "On the inside," he suggested. The paper was wrapped +around a half-crown and folded in at each end. The diplomat opened +it hesitatingly, but having read what was written, laughed. + +"There's nothing in THAT," he exclaimed. He passed the note to +Ford. The reporter fell upon it eagerly. + +The note was written in pencil on an unruled piece of white paper. +The handwriting was that of a woman. What Ford read was: + +"I am a prisoner in the street on which this paper is found. The +house faces east. I think I am on the top story. I was brought here +three weeks ago. They are trying to kill me. My uncle, Charles +Ralph Pearsall, is doing this to get my money. He is at Gerridge's +Hotel in Craven Street, Strand. He will tell you I am insane. My +name is Dosia Pearsall Dale. My home is at Dalesville, Kentucky, U. +S. A. Everybody knows me there, and knows I am not insane. If you +would save a life take this at once to the American Embassy, or to +Scotland Yard. For God's sake, help me." + +When he had read the note, Ford continue to study it. Until he was +quite sure his voice would not betray his interest, he did not +raise his eyes. + +"Why," he asked, "did you say that there's nothing in this?" + +"Because," returned the diplomat conclusively, "we got a note like +that, or nearly like it, a week ago, and----" + +Ford could not restrain a groan. "And you never told me!" + +"There wasn't anything to tell," protested the diplomat. "We handed +it over to the police, and they reported there was nothing in it. +They couldn't find the man at that hotel, and, of course, they +couldn't find the house with no more to go on than----" + +"And so," exclaimed Ford rudely, "they decided there was no man, +and no house!" + +"Their theory," continued the Secretary patiently, "is that the +girl is confined in one of the numerous private sanatoriums in +Sowell Street, that she is insane, that because she's under +restraint she IMAGINES the nurses are trying to kill her and that +her relatives are after her money. Insane people are always +thinking that. It's a very common delusion." + +Ford's eyes were shining with a wicked joy. "So," he asked +indifferently, "you don't intend to do anything further?" + +"What do you want us to do?" cried his friend. "Ring every +door-bell in Sowell Street and ask the parlor-maid if they're +murdering a lady on the top story?" + +"Can I keep the paper?" demanded Ford. "You can keep a copy of it," +consented the Secretary. "But if you think you're on the track of +a big newspaper sensation, I can tell you now you're not. That's +the work of a crazy woman, or it's a hoax. You amateur +detectives----" + +Ford was already seated at the table, scribbling a copy of the +message, and making marginal notes. + +"Who brought the FIRST paper ?" he interrupted. + +"A hansom-cab driver." + +"What became of HIM? " snapped the amateur detective. + +The Secretary looked inquiringly at James. "He drove away," said +James. + +"He drove away, did he?"' roared Ford. "And that was a week ago! Ye +gods! What about Dalesville, Kentucky? Did you cable any one +there?" + +The dignity of the diplomat was becoming ruffled. + +"We did not!" he answered. "If it wasn't true that her uncle was at +that hotel, it was probably equally untrue that she had friends in +America." + +"But," retorted his friend, "you didn't forget to cable the State +Department that you all went in your evening clothes to bow to the +new King? You didn't neglect to cable that, did you?" + +"The State Department," returned the Secretary, with withering +reproof, "does not expect us to crawl over the roofs of houses and +spy down chimneys to see if by any chance an American citizen is +being murdered." + +"Well," exclaimed Ford, leaping to his feet and placing his notes +in his pocket, "fortunately, my paper expects me to do just that, +and if it didn't, I'd do it anyway. And that is exactly what I am +going to do now! Don't tell the others in the Embassy, and, for +Heaven's sake, don't tell the police. Jimmy, get me a taxi. And +you," he commanded, pointing at the one who had brought the note, +are coming with me to Sowell Street, to show me where you picked up +that paper." + +On the way to Sowell Street Ford stopped at a newspaper agency, and +paid for the insertion that afternoon of the same advertisement in +three newspapers. It read: "If hansom-cab driver who last week +carried note, found in street, to American Embassy will mail his +address to X. X. X., care of GLOBE, he will be rewarded." + +From the nearest post-office he sent to his paper the following +cable: "Query our local correspondent, Dalesville, Kentucky, +concerning Dosia Pearsall Dale. Is she of sound mind, is she +heiress. Who controls her money, what her business relations with +her uncle Charles Ralph Pearsall, what her present address. If any +questions, say inquiries come from solicitors of Englishman who +wants to marry her. Rush answer. + +Sowell Street is a dark, dirty little thoroughfare, running for +only one block, parallel to Harley Street. Like it, it is decorated +with the brass plates of physicians and the red lamps of surgeons, +but, just as the medical men in Harley Street, in keeping with that +thoroughfare, are broad, open, and with nothing to conceal, so +those of Sowell Street, like their hiding-place, shrink from +observation, and their lives are as sombre, secret, and dark as the +street itself. + +Within two turns of it Ford dismissed the taxicab. Giving the +soiled person a half-smoked cigarette, he told him to walk through +Sowell Street, and when he reached the place where he had picked up +the paper, to drop the cigarette as near that spot as possible. He +then was to turn into Weymouth Street and wait until Ford joined +him. At a distance of fifty feet Ford followed the man, and saw +him, when in the middle of the block, without apparent hesitation, +drop the cigarette. The house in front of which it fell was marked, +like many others, by the brass plate of a doctor. As Ford passed it +he hit the cigarette with his walking-stick, and drove it into an +area. When he overtook the man, Ford handed him another cigarette. +"To make sure," he said, C4 go back and " drop this in the place +you found the paper. For a moment the man hesitated. + +"I might as well tell you," Ford continued, "that I knocked that +last cigarette so far from where you dropped it that you won't be +able to use it as a guide. So, if you don't really know where you +found the paper, you'll save my time by saying so." Instead of +being confused by the test, the man was amused by it. He laughed +appreciatively admitted. "You've caught me out fair, governor," "I +Want the 'arf-crown, and I dropped the cigarette as near the place +as I could. But I can't do it again. It was this way," he +explained. "I wasn't taking notice of the houses. I was walking +along looking into the gutter for stumps. I see this paper wrapped +about something round. 'It's a copper,' I thinks, 'jucked out of a +winder to a organ-grinder.' I snatches it, and runs. I didn't take +no time to look at the houses. But it wasn't so far from where I +showed you; about the middle house in the street and on the left +'and side." + +Ford had never considered the man as a serious element in the +problem. He believed him to know as little of the matter as he +professed to know. But it was essential he should keep that little +to himself. + +"No one will pay you for talking," Ford pointed out, "and I'll pay +you to keep quiet. So, if you say nothing concerning that note, at +the end of two weeks, I'll leave two pounds for you with James, at +the Embassy." + +The man, who believed Ford to be an agent of the police, was only +too happy to escape on such easy terms. After Ford had given him a +pound on account, they parted. + +From Wimpole Street the amateur detective went to the nearest +public telephone and called up Gerridge's Hotel. He considered his +first step should be to discover if Mr. Pearsall was at that hotel, +or had ever stopped there. When the 'phone was answered, he +requested that a message be delivered to Mr. Pearsall. + +"Please tell him," he asked, "that the clothes he ordered are ready +to try on." + +He was informed that no one by that name was at the hotel. In a +voice of concern Ford begged to know when Mr. Pearsall had gone +away, and had he left any address. + +He was with you three weeks ago," Ford insisted. "He's an American +gentleman, and there was a lady with him. She ordered a +riding-habit of us: the same time he was measured for his clothes." + +After a short delay, the voice from the hotel replied that no one +of the name of Pearsall had been at the hotel that winter. + +In apparent great disgust Ford rang off, and took a taxicab to his +rooms in Jermyn Street. There he packed a suit-case and drove to +Gerridge's. It was a quiet, respectable, "old- established" house +in Craven Street, a thoroughfare almost entirely given over to +small family hotels much frequented by Americans. + +After he had registered and had left his bag in his room, Ford +returned to the office, and in an assured manner asked that a card +on which he had written "Henry W. Page, Dalesville, Kentucky," +should be taken to Mr. Pearsall. + +In a tone of obvious annoyance the proprietor returned the card, +saying that there was no one of that name in the hotel, and added +that no such person had ever stopped there. Ford expressed the +liveliest distress. + +"He TOLD me I'd find him here," he protested., "he and his niece." +With the garrulousness of the American abroad, he confided his +troubles to the entire staff of the hotel. "We're from the same +town," he explained. "That's why I must see him. He's the only man +in London I know, and I've spent all my money. He said he'd give me +some he owes me, as soon as I reached London. If I can't get it, +I'll have to go home by Wednesday's steamer. And, complained +bitterly, "I haven't seen the nor the Tower, nor Westminster +Abbey." + +In a moment, Ford's anxiety to meet Mr. Pearsall was apparently +lost in a wave of self-pity. In his disappointment he appealing, +pathetic figure. + +Real detectives and rival newspaper men, even while they admitted +Ford obtained facts that were denied them, claimed that they were +given him from charity. Where they bullied, browbeat, and +administered a third degree, Ford was embarrassed, deprecatory, an +earnest, ingenuous, wide-eyed child. What he called his "working" +smile begged of you not to be cross with him. His simplicity was +apparently so hopeless, his confidence in whomever he addressed so +complete, that often even the man he was pursuing felt for him a +pitying contempt. Now as he stood uncertainly in the hall of the +hotel, his helplessness moved the proud lady clerk to shake her +cylinders of false hair sympathetically, the German waiters to +regard his predicament with respect; even the proprietor, Mr. +Gerridge himself, was ill at ease. Ford returned to his room, on +the second floor of the hotel, and sat down on the edge of the bed. + +In connecting Pearsall with Gerridge's, both the police and himself +had failed. Of this there were three possible explanations: that +the girl who wrote the letter was in error, that the letter was a +hoax, that the proprietor of the hotel, for some reason, was +protecting Pearsall, and had deceived both Ford and Scotland Yard. +On the other hand, without knowing why the girl believed Pearsall +would be found at Gerridge's, it was reasonable to assume that in +so thinking she had been purposely misled. The question was, should +he or not dismiss Gerridge's as a possible clew, and at once devote +himself to finding the house in Sowell Street? He decided for the +moment at least, to leave Gerridge's out of his calculations, but, +as an excuse for returning there, to still retain his room. He at +once started toward Sowell Street, and in order to find out if any +one from the hotel were following him, he set forth on foot. As +soon as he made sure he was not spied upon, he covered the +remainder of the distance in a cab. + +He was acting on the supposition that the letter was no practical +joke, but a genuine cry for help. Sowell Street was a scene set for +such an adventure. It was narrow, mean- looking, the stucco +house-fronts, soot-stained, cracked, and uncared-for, the steps +broken and unwashed. As he entered it a cold rain was falling, and +a yellow fog that rolled between the houses added to its +dreariness. It was now late in the afternoon, and so overcast the +sky that in many rooms the gas was lit and the curtains drawn. + +The girl, apparently from observing the daily progress of the sun, +had written she was on the west side of the street and, she +believed, in an upper story. The man who picked up the note had +said he had found it opposite the houses in the middle of the +block. Accordingly, Ford proceeded on the supposition that the +entire east side of the street, the lower stories of the west side, +and the houses at each end were eliminated. The three houses in the +centre of the row were outwardly alike. They were of four stories. +Each was the residence of a physician, and in each, in the upper +stories, the blinds were drawn. From the front there was nothing to +be learned, and in the hope that the rear might furnish some clew, +Ford hastened to Wimpole Street, in which the houses to the east +backed upon those to the west in Sowell Street. These houses were +given over to furnished lodgings, and under the pretext of renting +chambers, it was easy for Ford to enter them, and from the +apartments in the rear to obtain several hasty glimpses of the +backs of the three houses in Sowell Street. But neither from this +view-point did he gather any fact of interest. In one of the three +houses in Sowell Street iron bars were fastened across the windows +of the fourth floor, but in private sanatoriums this was neither +unusual nor suspicious. The bars might cover the windows of a +nursery to prevent children from falling out, or the room of some +timid householder with a lively fear of burglars. + +In a quarter of an hour Ford was again back in Sowell Street no +wiser than when he had entered it. From the outside, at least, the +three houses under suspicion gave no sign. In the problem before +him there was one point that Ford found difficult to explain. It +was the only one that caused him to question if the letter was +genuine. What puzzled him was this: Why, if the girl were free to +throw two notes from the window, did she not throw them out by the +dozen? If she were able to reach a window, opening on the street, +why did she not call for help? Why did she not, by hurling out +every small article the room contained, by screams, by breaking the +window-panes, attract a crowd, and, through it, the police? That +she had not done so seemed to show that only at rare intervals was +she free from restraint, or at liberty to enter the front room that +opened on the street. Would it be equally difficult, Ford asked +himself, for one in the street to communicate with her? What signal +could he give that would draw an answering signal from the girl? + +Standing at the corner, hidden by the pillars of a portico, the +water dripping from his rain-coat, Ford gazed long and anxiously at +the blank windows of the three houses. Like blind eyes staring into +his, they told no tales, betrayed no secret. Around him the +commonplace life of the neighborhood proceeded undisturbed. +Somewhere concealed in the single row of houses a girl was +imprisoned, her life threatened; perhaps even at that moment she +was facing her death. While, on either side, shut from her by the +thickness only of a brick wall, people were talking, reading, +making tea, preparing the evening meal, or, in the street below, +hurrying by, intent on trivial errands. Hansom cabs, prowling in +search of a fare, passed through the street where a woman was being +robbed of a fortune, the drivers occupied only with thoughts of a +possible shilling; a housemaid with a jug in her hand and a shawl +over her bare head, hastened to the near-by public- house; the +postman made his rounds, and delivered comic postal-cards; a +policeman, shedding water from his shining cape, halted, gazed +severely at the sky, and, unconscious of the crime that was going +forward within the sound of his own footsteps, continued stolidly +into Wimpole Street. + +A hundred plans raced through Ford's brain; he would arouse the +street with a false alarm of fire and lead the firemen, with the +tale of a smoking chimney, to one of the three houses; he would +feign illness, and, taking refuge in one of them, at night would +explore the premises; he would impersonate a detective, and insist +upon his right to search for stolen property. As he rejected these +and a dozen schemes as fantastic, his brain and eyes were still +alert for any chance advantage that the street might offer. But the +minutes passed into an hour, and no one had entered any of the +three houses, no one had left them. In the lower stories, from +behind the edges of the blinds, lights appeared, but of the life +within there was no sign. Until he hit upon a plan of action, Ford +felt there was no longer anything to be gained by remaining in +Sowell Street. Already the answer to his cable might have arrived +at his rooms; at Gerridge's he might still learn something of +Pearsall. He decided to revisit both these places, and, while so +engaged, to send from his office one of his assistants to cover the +Sowell Street houses. He cast a last, reluctant look at the closed +blinds, and moved away. As he did so, two itinerant musicians +dragging behind them a small street piano on wheels turned the +corner, and, as the rain had now ceased, one of them pulled the +oil-cloth covering from the instrument and, seating himself on a +camp- stool at the curb, opened the piano. After a discouraged +glance at the darkened windows, the other, in a hoarse, strident +tenor, to the accompaniment of the piano, began to sing. The voice +of the man was raucous, penetrating. It would have reached the +recesses of a tomb. + +"She sells sea-shells on the sea-shore," the vocalist wailed. "The +shells she sells are sea-shells, I'm sure." + +The effect was instantaneous. A window was flung open, and an +indignant householder with one hand frantically waved the musicians +away, and with the other threw them a copper coin. + +At the same moment Ford walked quickly to the piano and laid a +half-crown on top of it. + +"Follow me to Harley Street," he commanded. "Don't hurry. Take your +time. I want you to help me in a sort of practical joke. It's worth +a sovereign to you." + +He passed on quickly. When he glanced behind him, he saw the two +men, fearful lest the promised fortune might escape them, pursuing +him at a trot. At Harley Street they halted, breathless. + +"How long," Ford demanded of the one who played the piano, "will it +take you to learn the accompaniment to a new song?" + +"While you're whistling it," answered the man eagerly. + +"And I'm as quick at a tune as him," assured the other anxiously. +"I can sing----" + +"You cannot," interrupted Ford. "I'm going to do the singing +myself. Where is there a public-house near here where we can hire +a back room, and rehearse?" + +Half an hour later, Ford and the piano-player entered Sowell Street +dragging the piano behind them. The amateur detective still wore +his rain-coat, but his hat he had exchanged for a cap, and, instead +of a collar, he had knotted around his bare neck a dirty kerchief. +At the end of the street they halted, and in some embarrassment +Ford raised his voice in the chorus of a song well known in the +music-halls. It was a very good voice, much too good for "open-air +work," as his companion had already assured him, but, what was of +chief importance to Ford, it carried as far as he wished it to go. +Already in Wimpole Street four coins of the realm, flung to him +from the highest windows, had testified to its power. From the end +of Sowell Street Ford moved slowly from house to house until he was +directly opposite the three in one of which he believed the girl to +be. "We will try the NEW songs here," he said. + +Night had fallen, and, except for the gas-lamps, the street was +empty, and in such darkness that even without his disguise Ford ran +no risk of recognition. His plan was not new. It dated from the +days of Richard the Lion-hearted. But if the prisoner were alert +and intelligent, even though she could make no answer, Ford +believed through his effort she would gain courage, would grasp +that from the outside a friend was working toward her. All he knew +of the prisoner was that she came from Kentucky. Ford fixed his +eyes on the houses opposite, and cleared his throat. The man struck +the opening chords, and in a high barytone, and in a cockney accent +that made even the accompanist grin, Ford lifted his voice. + +"The sun shines bright on my old Kentucky home," he sang; "'tis +summer, and the darkies are gay." + +He finished the song, but there was no sign. For all the impression +he had made upon Sowell Street, he might have been singing in his +chambers. "And now the other," commanded Ford. + +The house-fronts echoed back the cheering notes of "Dixie." Again +Ford was silent, and again The silence answered him. The +accompanist glared disgustedly at the darkened windows. + +"They don't know them songs," he explained professionally. "Give +'em, 'Mollie Married the Marquis.'" + +"I'll sing the first one again," said Ford. Once more he broke into +the pathetic cadences of the "Old Kentucky Home." But there was no +response. He was beginning to feel angry, absurd. He believed he +bad wasted precious moments, and, even as he sang, his mind was +already working upon a new plan. The song ceased, unfinished. + +"It's no use!" he exclaimed. Remembering himself, he added: "We'll +try the next street." + +But even as he spoke he leaped forward. Coming apparently from +nowhere, something white sank through the semi-darkness and fell at +his feet. It struck the pavement directly in front of the middle +one of the three houses. Ford fell upon it and clutched it in both +hands. It was a woman's glove. Ford raced back to the piano. + +"Once more," he cried, "play 'Dixie'!" + +He shouted out the chorus exultantly, triumphantly. Had he spoken +it in words, the message could not have carried more clearly. + +Ford now believed he had found the house, found the woman, and was +eager only to get rid of his companion and, in his own person, +return to Sowell Street. But, lest the man might suspect there was +in his actions something more serious than a practical joke, he +forced himself to sing the new songs in three different streets. +Then, pretending to tire of his prank, he paid the musician and +left him. He was happy, exultant, tingling with excitement. +Good-luck had been with him, and, hoping that Gerridge's might yet +yield some clew to Pearsall, he returned there. Calling up the +London office of the REPUBLIC, he directed that one of his +assistants, an English lad named Cuthbert, should at once join him +at that hotel. Cuthbert was but just out of Oxford. He wished to +become a writer of fiction, and, as a means of seeing many kinds of +life at first hand, was in training as a "Pressman." His admiration +for Ford amounted to almost hero-worship; and he regarded an +"assignment" with his chief as a joy and an honor. Full of +enthusiasm, and as soon as a taxicab could bring him, he arrived at +Gerridge's, where, in a corner of the deserted coffee-room, Ford +explained the situation. Until he could devise a way to enter the +Sowell Street house. Cuthbert was to watch over it. + +"The number of the house is forty," Ford told him; "the name on the +door-plate, Dr. Prothero. Find out everything you can about him +without letting any one catch you at it. Better begin at the +nearest chemist's. Say you are on the verge of a nervous breakdown, +and ask the man to mix you a sedative, and recommend a physician. +Show him Prothero's name and address on a piece of paper, and say +Prothero has been recommended to you as a specialist on nervous +troubles. Ask what he thinks of him. Get him to talk. Then visit +the trades-people and the public-houses in the neighborhood, and +say you are from some West End shop where Prothero, wants to open +an account. They may talk, especially if his credit is bad. And, if +you find out enough about him to give me a working basis, I'll try +to get into the house to-night. Meanwhile, I'm going to make +another quick search of this hotel for Pearsall. I'm not satisfied +he has not been here. For why should Miss Dale, with all the hotels +in London to choose from, have named this particular one, unless +she had good reason for it? Now, go, and meet me in an hour in +Sowell Street." + +Cuthbert was at the door when he remembered he had brought with him +from the office Ford's mail and cablegrams. Among the latter was +the one for which Ford had asked. + +"Wait," he commanded. "This is about the girl. You had better know +what it says." The cable read: + +"Girl orphan, Dalesville named after her family, for three +generations mill-owners, father died four years ago, Pearsall +brother-in-law until she is twenty-one, which will be in three +months. Girl well known, extremely popular, lived Dalesville until +last year, when went abroad with uncle, since then reports of +melancholia and nervous prostration, before that health +excellent--no signs insanity--none in family. Be careful how handle +Pearsall, was doctor, gave up practice to look after estate, is +prominent in local business and church circles, best reputation, +beware libel." + +For the benefit of Cuthbert, Ford had been reading the cable aloud. +The last paragraph seemed especially to interest him, and he read +it twice, the second time slowly, and emphasizing the word +"doctor." + +"A doctor!" he repeated. "Do you see where that leads us? It may +explain several things. The girl was in good health until went +abroad with her uncle, and he is a medical man." + +The eyes of Cuthbert grew wide with excitement. + +"You mean poison!" he whispered. "Slow poison!" + +"Beware libel," laughed Ford nervously, his own eyes lit with +excitement. "Suppose," he exclaimed, "he has been using arsenic? He +would have many opportunities, and it's colorless, tasteless; and +arsenic would account for her depression and melancholia. The time +when he must turn over her money is very near, and, suppose he has +spent the money, speculated with it, and lost it, or that he still +has it and wants to keep it? In three months she will be of age, +and he must make an accounting. The arsenic does not work fast +enough. So what does he do? To save himself from exposure, or to +keep the money, he throws her into this private sanatorium, to make +away with her." + +Ford had been talking in an eager whisper. While he spoke his cigar +had ceased to burn, and to light it, from a vase on the mantel he +took a spill, one of those spirals of paper that in English hotels, +where the proprietor is of a frugal mind, are still used to prevent +extravagance in matches. Ford lit the spill at the coal fire, and +with his cigar puffed at the flame. As he did so the paper +unrolled. To the astonishment of Cuthbert, Ford clasped it in both +hands, blotted out the tiny flame, and, turning quickly to a table, +spread out the charred paper flat. After one quick glance, Ford ran +to the fireplace, and, seizing a handfull of the spills, began +rapidly to unroll them. Then he turned to Cuthbert and, without +speaking, showed him the charred spill. It was a scrap torn from +the front page of a newspaper. The half- obliterated words at which +Ford pointed were DALESVILLE COUR ---- + +"His torn paper!" said Ford. "The DALESVILLE COURIER. Pearsall HAS +been in this hotel!" He handed another spill to Cuthbert. + +"From that one," said Ford, "we get the date, December 3. Allowing +three weeks for the newspaper to reach London, Pearsall must have +seen it just three weeks ago, just when Miss Dale says he was in +the hotel. The landlord has lied to me." + +Ford rang for a waiter, and told him to ask Mr. Gerridge to come to +the smoking-room. + +As Cuthbert was leaving it, Gerridge was entering it, and Ford was +saying: + +"It seems you've been lying to the police and to me. Unless you +desire to he an accessory to a murder, You had better talk quick!" + +An hour later Ford passed slowly through Sowell Street in a +taxicab, and, finding Cuthbert on guard, signalled him to follow. +in Wimpole Street the cab drew up to the curb, and Cuthbert entered +it. + +"I have found Pearsall," said Ford. "He is in No. 40 with +Prothero." + +He then related to Cuthbert what had happened. Gerridge had +explained that when the Police called, his first thought was to +protect the good name of his hotel. He had denied any knowledge of +Pearsall only because he no longer was a guest, and, as he supposed +Pearsall had passed out of his life, he saw no reason, why, through +an arrest and a scandal, his hotel should be involved. Believing +Ford to be in the secret service of the police, he was now only too +anxious to clear himself of suspicion by telling all he knew. It +was but little. Pearsall and his niece had been at the hotel for +three days. During that time the niece, who appeared to be an +invalid, remained in her room. On the evening of the third day, +while Pearsall was absent, a call from him had come for her by +telephone, on receiving which Miss Dale had at once left the hotel, +apparently in great agitation. That night she did not return, but +in the morning Pearsall came to collect his and her luggage and to +settle his account. He explained that a woman relative living at +the Langham Hotel had been taken suddenly ill, and had sent for him +and his niece. Her condition had been so serious that they had +remained with her all night, and his niece still was at her +bedside. The driver of a four-wheeler, who for years had stood on +the cab-rank in front of Gerridge's, had driven Pearsall to the +Langham. This man was at the moment on the rank, and from him Ford +learned what he most wished to know. + +The cabman remembered Pearsall, and having driven him to the +Langham, for the reason that immediately after setting him down +there, and while "crawling" for a fare in Portland Place, a whistle +from the Langham had recalled him, and the same luggage that had +just been taken from the top of his cab was Put back on it, and he +was directed by the porter of the hotel to take it to a house in +Sowell Street. There a man- servant had helped him unload the +trunks and had paid him his fare. The cabman did not remember the +number of the house, but knew it was on the west side of the street +and in the middle of the block. + +Having finished with Gerridge and the cab-man, Ford had at once +gone to the Langham Hotel, where, as he anticipated, nothing was +known of Pearsall or his niece, or of any invalid lady. But the +hall-porter remembered the American gentleman who had driven up +with many pieces of luggage, and who, although it was out of +season, and many suites in the hotel were vacant, had found none to +suit him. He had then set forth on foot, having left word that his +trunks be sent after him. The address he gave was a house in Sowell +Street. + +The porter recalled the incident because he and the cabman had +grumbled over the fact that in five minutes they had twice to +handle the same boxes. + +"It is pretty evident," said Ford, what Pearsall had in mind, but +chance was against him. He thought when he had unloaded his trunks +at the Langham and dismissed the cabman he had destroyed the link +connecting him with Gerridge's. He could not foresee that the same +cabman would be loitering in the neighborhood. He should have known +that four-wheelers are not as plentiful as they once were; and he +should have given that particular one more time to get away. His +idea in walking to the Sowell Street house was obviously to prevent +the new cabman from seeing him enter it. But, just where he thought +he was clever, was just where he tripped. If he had remained with +his trunks he would have seen that the cabman was the same one who +had brought them and him from Craven Street, and he would have +given any other address in London than the one he did. + +"And now," said Ford, "that we have Pearsall where we want him, +tell me what you have learned about Prothero?" + +Cuthbert smiled importantly, and produced a piece of paper +scribbled over with notes. + +"Prothero," he said, "seems to be THIS sort of man. If he made your +coffee for you, before you tasted it, you'd like him to drink a cup +of it first." + + II + + "Prothero," said Cuthbert, "is a man of mystery. As soon as I +began asking his neighbors questions, I saw he was of interest and +that I was of interest. I saw they did not believe I was an agent +of a West End shop, but a detective. So they wouldn't talk at all, +or else they talked freely. And from one of them, a chemist named +Needham, I got all I wanted. He's had a lawsuit against Prothero, +and hates him. Prothero got him to invest in a medicine to cure the +cocaine habit. Needham found the cure was no cure, but cocaine +disguised. He sued for his money, and during the trial the police +brought in Prothero's record. Needham let me copy it, and it seems +to embrace every crime except treason. The man is a Russian Jew. He +was arrested and prosecuted in Warsaw, Vienna, Berlin, Belgrade; +all over Europe, until finally the police drove him to America. +There he was an editor of an anarchist paper, a blackmailer, a +'doctor' of hypnotism, a clairvoyant, and a professional bigamist. +His game was to open rooms as a clairvoyant, and advise silly women +how to invest their money. When he found out which of them had the +most money, he would marry her, take over her fortune, and skip. In +Chicago, he was tried for poisoning one wife, and the trial brought +out the fact that two others had died under suspicious +circumstances, and that there were three more unpoisoned but +anxious to get back their money. He was sentenced to ten years for +bigamy, but pardoned because he was supposed to be insane, and +dying. Instead of dying, he opened a sanatorium in New York to cure +victims of the drug habit. In reality, it was a sort of high-priced +opium-den. The place was raided, and he jumped his bail and came to +this country. Now he is running this private hospital in Sowell +Street. Needham says it's a secret rendezvous for dope fiends. But +they are very high-class dope fiends, who are willing to pay for +seclusion, and the police can't get at him. I may add that he's +tall and muscular, with a big black beard, and hands that could +strangle a bull. In Chicago, during the poison trial, the +newspapers called him 'the Modern Bluebeard."' + +For a short time Ford was silent. But, in the dark corner of the +cab, Cuthbert could see that his cigar was burning briskly. + +"Your friend seems a nice chap," said Ford at last. " Calling on +him will be a real pleasure. I especially like what you say about +his hands." + +"I have a plan," began the assistant timidly, "a plan to get you +into the house-if you don't mind my making suggestions?" + +"Not at all!" exclaimed his chief heartily. + +"Get me into the house by all means; that's what we're here for. +The fact that I'm to be poisoned or strangled after I get there +mustn't discourage us.'" + +"I thought," said Cuthbert, "I might stand guard outside, while you +got in as a dope fiend." + +Ford snorted indignantly. "Do I LOOK like a dope fiend?" he +protested. + +The voice of the assistant was one of discouragement. + +"You certainly do not," he exclaimed regretfulIy. "But it's the +only plan I could think of." + +"It seems to me," said his chief testily, "that you are not so very +healthy-looking yourself. What's the matter with YOUR getting +inside as a dope fiend and MY standing guard?" + +"But I wouldn't know what to do after I got inside," complained the +assistant, "and you would. You are so clever." + +The expression of confidence seemed to flatter Ford. + +"I might do this," he said. "I might pretend I was recovering from +a heavy spree, and ask to be taken care of until I am sober. Or I +could be a very good imitation of a man on the edge of a nervous +breakdown. I haven't been five years in the newspaper business +without knowing all there is to know about nerves. That's it!" he +cried. "I will do that! And if Mr. Bluebeard Svengali, the +Strangler of Paris person, won't take me in as a patient, we'll +come back with a couple of axes and BREAK in. But we'll try the +nervous breakdown first, and we'll try it now. I will be a naval +officer," declared Ford. "I made the round-the-world cruise with +our fleet as a correspondent, and I know enough sea slang to fool +a medical man. I am a naval officer whose nerves have gone wrong. +I have heard of his sanatorium through----" "How," asked Ford +sharply, "have I heard of his sanatorium?" + +"You saw his advertisement in the DAILY WORLD," prompted Cuthbert. +"'Home of convalescents; mental and nervous troubles cured.'" + +"And," continued Ford, "I have come to him for rest and treatment. +My name is Lieutenant Henry Grant. I arrived in London two weeks +ago on the MAURETANIA. But my name was not on the passenger-list, +because I did not want the Navy Department to know I was taking my +leave abroad. I have been stopping at my own address in Jermyn +Street, and my references are yourself, the Embassy, and my +landlord. You will telephone him at once that, if any one asks +after Henry Grant, he is to say what you tell him to say. And if +any one sends for Henry Grant's clothes, he is to send MY clothes." + +"But you don't expect to be in there as long as that?" exclaimed +Cuthbert. + +"I do not," said Ford. "But, if he takes me in, I must make a bluff +of sending for my things. No; either I will be turned out in five +minutes, or if he accepts me as a patient I will be there until +midnight. If I cannot get the girl out of the house by midnight, it +will mean that I can't get out myself, and you had better bring the +police and the coroner." + +"Do you mean it?" asked Cuthbert. + +"I most certainly do!" exclaimed Ford. + +Until twelve I want a chance to get this story exclusively for our +paper. If she is not free by then it means I have fallen down on +it, and you and the police are to begin to batter in the doors." + +The two young men left the cab, and at some distance from each +other walked to Sowell Street. At the house of Dr. Prothero, Ford +stopped and rang the bell. From across the street Cuthbert saw the +door open and the figure of a man of almost gigantic stature block +the doorway. For a moment he stood there, and then Cuthbert saw him +step to one side, saw Ford enter the house and the door close upon +him. Cuthbert at once ran to a telephone, and, having instructed +Ford's landlord as to the part he was to play, returned to Sowell +Street. There, in a state nearly approaching a genuine nervous +breakdown, he continued his vigil. + +Even without his criminal record to cast a glamour over him, Ford +would have found Dr. Prothero, a disturbing person. His size was +enormous, his eyes piercing, sinister, unblinking, and the hands +that could strangle a bull, and with which as though to control +himself, he continually pulled at his black beard, were gigantic, +of a deadly white, with fingers long and prehensile. In his manner +he had all the suave insolence of the Oriental and the suspicious +alertness of one constantly on guard, but also, as Ford at once +noted, of one wholly without fear. He had not been over a moment in +his presence before the reporter felt that to successfully lie to +such a man might be counted as a triumph. + +Prothero opened the door into a little office leading off the hall, +and switched on the electric lights. For some short time, without +any effort to conceal his suspicion, he stared at Ford in silence. + +"Well?" he said, at last. His tone was a challenge. + +Ford had already given his assumed name and profession, and he now +ran glibly into the story he had planned. He opened his card-case +and looked into it doubtfully. "I find I have no card with me," he +said; but I am, as I told you, Lieutenant Grant, of the United +States Navy. I am all right physically, except for my nerves. +They've played me a queer trick. If the facts get out at home, it +might cost me my commission. So I've come over here for treatment." + +"Why to ME?" asked Prothero. + +"I saw by your advertisement," said the reporter, "that you treated +for nervous mental troubles. Mine is an illusion," he went on. "I +see things, or, rather, always one thing-a battle-ship coming at us +head on. For the last year I've been executive officer of the +KEARSARGE, and the responsibility has been too much for me." + +"You see a battle-ship?" inquired the Jew. + +"A phantom battle-ship," Ford explained, "a sort OF FLYING +DUTCHMAN. The time I saw it I was on the bridge, and I yelled and +telegraphed the engine-room. I brought the ship to a full stop, and +backed her. But it was dirty weather, and the error was passed +over. After that, when I saw the thing coming I did nothing. But +each time I think it is real." Ford shivered slightly and glanced +about him. "Some day," he added fatefully, it WILL be real, and I +will NOT signal, and the ship will sink!" + +In silence, Prothero observed his visitor closely. The young man +seemed sincere, genuine. His manner was direct and frank. He looked +the part he had assumed, as one used to authority. + +"My fees are large," said the Russian. + +At this point, had Ford, regardless of terms, exhibited a hopeful +eagerness to at once close with him, the Jew would have shown him +the door. But Ford was on guard, and well aware that a lieutenant +in the navy had but few guineas to throw away on medicines. He made +a movement as though to withdraw. + +"Then I am afraid," he said, "I must go somewhere else." + +His reluctance apparently only partially satisfied the Jew. + +Ford adopted opposite tactics. He was never without ready money. +His paper saw to it that in its interests he was always able at any +moment to pay for a special train across Europe, or to bribe the +entire working staff of a cable office. From his breast-pocket he +took a blue linen envelope, and allowed the Jew to see that it was +filled with twenty- pound notes. "I have means outside my pay," +said Ford. + +I would give almost any price to the man who can cure me." The eyes +of the Russian flashed avariciously. + +"I will arrange the terms to suit you," he exclaimed. "Your case +interests me. Do you See this-mirage only at sea?" + +"In any open place," Ford assured him. "In a park or public square, +but of course most frequently at sea." + +The quack waved his great hands as though brushing aside a curtain. + +"I will remove the illusion," he said, "and give you others more +pretty." He smiled meaningfully--an evil, leering smile. "When will +you come?" he asked. Ford glanced about him nervously. + +"I shall stay now," he said. " I confess, in the streets and in my +lodgings I am frightened. You give me confidence. I want to stay +near you. I feel safe with you. If you will give me writing-paper, +I will send for my things." + +For a moment the Jew hesitated, and then motioned to a desk. As +Ford wrote, Prothero stood near him, and the reporter knew that +over his shoulder the Jew was reading what he wrote. Ford gave him +the note, unsealed, and asked that it be forwarded at once to his +lodgings. + +"To-morrow," he said, "I will call up our Embassy, and give my +address to our Naval Attache. + +"I will attend to that," said Prothero. + +From now you are in my hands, and you can communicate with the +outside only through me. You are to have absolute rest-- no books, +no letters, no papers. And you will be fed from a spoon. I will +explain my treatment later. You will now go to your room, and you +will remain there until you are a well man." + +Ford had no wish to be at once shut off from the rest of the house. +The odor of cooking came through the hall, and seemed to offer an +excuse for delay. + +"I smell food," he laughed. "And I'm terrifically hungry. Can't I +have a farewell dinner before you begin feeding me from a spoon?" + +The Jew was about to refuse, but, with his guilty knowledge of what +was going forward in the house, he could not be too sure of those +he allowed to enter it. He wanted more time to spend in studying +this new patient, and the dinner-table seemed to offer a place +where he could do so without the other suspecting he was under +observation. + +"My associate and I were just about to dine," he said. "You will +wait here until I have another place laid, and you can join us." + +He departed, walking heavily down the hall, but almost at once +Ford, whose ears were alert for any sound, heard him returning, +approaching stealthily on tiptoe. If by this maneuver the Jew had +hoped to discover his patient in some indiscretion, he was +unsuccessful, for he found Ford standing just where he had left +him, with his back turned to the door, and gazing with apparent +interest at a picture on the wall. The significance of the incident +was not lost upon the intruder. It taught him he was still under +surveillance, and that he must bear himself warily. Murmuring some +excuse for having returned, the Jew again departed, and in a few +minutes Ford heard his voice, and that of another man, engaged in +low tones in what was apparently an eager argument. + +Only once was the voice of the other man raised sufficiently for +Ford to distinguish his words. "He is an American," protested the +voice; "that makes it worse." + +Ford guessed that the speaker was Pearsall, and that against his +admittance to the house he was making earnest protest. A door, +closing with a bang, shut off the argument, but within a few +minutes it was evident the Jew had carried his point, for he +reappeared to announce that dinner was waiting. It was served in a +room at the farther end of the hall, and at the table, which was +laid for three, Ford found a man already seated. Prothero +introduced him as "my associate," but from his presence in the +house, and from the fact that he was an American, Ford knew that he +was Pearsall. + +Pearsall was a man of fifty. He was tall, spare, with closely +shaven face and gray hair, worn rather long. He spoke with the +accent of a Southerner, and although to Ford he was studiously +polite, he was obviously greatly ill at ease. He had the abrupt, +inattentive manners, the trembling fingers and quivering lips, of +one who had long been a slave to the drug habit, and who now, with +difficulty, was holding himself in hand. + +Throughout the dinner, speaking to him as though, interested only +as his medical advisers, the Jew, and occasionally the American, +sharply examined and cross-examined their visitor. But they were +unable to trip him in his story, or to suggest that he was not just +what he claimed to be. + +When the dinner was finished, the three men, for different reasons, +were each more at his ease. Both Pearsall and Prothero believed +from the new patient they had nothing to fear, and Ford was +congratulating himself that his presence at the house was firmly +secure. + +"I think," said Pearsall, "we should warn Mr. Grant that there are +in the house other patients who, like himself, are suffering from +nervous disorders. At times some silly neurotic woman becomes +hysterical, and may make an outcry or scream. He must not think +----" + +"That's all right!" Ford reassured him cheerfully. " I expect that. +In a sanatorium it must be unavoidable." + +As he spoke, as though by a signal prearranged, there came from the +upper portion of the house a scream, long, insistent. + +It was the voice of a woman, raised in appeal , in protest, shaken +with fear. Without for an instant regarding it, the two men +fastened their eyes upon the visitor. The hand of the Jew dropped +quickly from his beard, and slid to the inside pocket of his coat. +With eyes apparently unseeing, Ford noted the movement. + +"He carries a gun," was his mental comment, "and he seems perfectly +willing to use it." Aloud, he said: "That, I suppose is one of +them?" + +Prothero nodded gravely, and turned to Pearsall. "Will you attend +her?" he asked. + +As Pearsall rose and left the room, Prothero rose also. + +"You will come with me," he directed, "and I will see you settle in +your apartment. Your bag has arrived and is already there." + +The room to which the Jew led him was the front one on the second +story. It was in no way in keeping with a sanatorium, or a +rest-cure. The walls were hidden by dark blue hangings, in which +sparkled tiny mirrors, the floor was covered with Turkish rugs, the +lights concealed inside lamps of dull brass bedecked with crimson +tassels. In the air were the odors of stale tobacco-smoke, of cheap +incense, and the sickly, sweet smell of opium. To Ford the place +suggested a cigar-divan rather than a bedroom, and he guessed, +correctly, that when Prothero had played at palmistry and +clairvoyance this had been the place where he received his dupes. +But the American expressed himself pleased with his surroundings, +and while Prothero remained in the room, busied himself with +unpacking his bag. + +On leaving him the Jew halted in the door and delivered himself of +a little speech. His voice was stern, sharp, menacing. + +"Until you are cured," he said, "you will not put your foot outside +this room. In this house are other inmates who, as you have already +learned, are in a highly nervous state. The brains of some are +unbalanced. With my associate and myself they are familiar, but the +sight of a stranger roaming through the halls might upset them. +They might attack you, might do you bodily injury. If you wish for +anything, ring the electric bell beside your bed and an attendant +will come. But you yourself must not leave the room." + +He closed the door, and Ford, seating himself in front of the coal +fire, hastily considered his position. He could not persuade +himself that, strategically, it was a satisfactory one. The girl he +sought was on the top or fourth floor, he on the second. To reach +her he would have to pass through Well- lighted halls, up two +flights Of stairs and try to enter a door that would undoubtedly be +locked. On the other hand, instead of wandering about in the rain +outside the house, he was now established on the inside, and as an +inmate. Had there been time for a siege, he would have been +confident of success. But there was no time. The written call for +help had been urgent. Also, the scream he had heard, while the +manner of the two men had shown that to them it was a commonplace, +was to him a spur to instant action. In haste he knew there was the +risk of failure, but he must take that risk. + +He wished first to assure himself that Cuthbert was within call, +and to that end put out the lights and drew aside the curtains that +covered the window. Outside, the fog was rolling between the +house-fronts, both rain and snow were falling heavily, and a +solitary gas-lamp showed only a deserted and dripping street. +Cautiously Ford lit a match and for an instant let the flame flare. +He was almost at once rewarded by the sight of an answering flame +that flickered from a dark doorway. Ford closed the window, +satisfied that his line of communication with the outside world was +still intact. The faithful Cuthbert was on guard. + +Ford rapidly reviewed each possible course of action. These were +several, but to lead any one of them to success, he saw that he +must possess a better acquaintance with the interior of the house. +Especially was it important that he should obtain a line of escape +other than the one down the stairs to the front door. The knowledge +that in the rear of the house there was a means of retreat by a +servants' stairway, or over the roof of an adjoining building, or +by a friendly fire- escape, would at least, lend him confidence in +his adventure. Accordingly, in spite of Prothero's threat, he +determined at once to reconnoitre. In case of his being discovered +outside his room, he would explain his electric bell was out of +order, that when he rang no servant had answered, and that he had +sallied forth in search of one. To make this plausible, he +unscrewed the cap of the electric button in the wall, and with his +knife cut off enough of the wire to prevent a proper connection. He +then replaced the cap and, opening the door, stepped into the hall. + +The upper part of the house was, sunk in silence, but rising from +the dining-room below, through the opening made by the stairs, came +the voices of Prothero and Pearsall. And mixed with their voices +came also the sharp hiss of water issuing from a siphon. The sound +was reassuring. Apparently, over their whiskey-and-soda the two men +were still lingering at the dinner-table. For the moment, then--so +far, at least, as they were concerned --the coast was clear. + +Stepping cautiously, and keeping close to the wall, Ford ran +lightly up the stairs to the hall of the third floor. It was lit +brightly by a gas-jet, but no one was in sight, and the three doors +opening upon it were shut. At the rear of the hall was a window; +the blind was raised, and through the panes, dripping in the rain, +Ford caught a glimpse of the rigid iron rods of a fire-escape. His +spirits leaped exultantly. If necessary, by means of this scaling +ladder, he could work entirely from the outside. Greatly elated, he +tiptoed past the closed doors and mounted to the fourth floor. This +also was lit by a gas-jet that showed at one end of the hall a +table on which were medicine-bottles and a tray covered by a +napkin; and at the other end, piled upon each other and blocking +the hall-window, were three steamer- trunks. Painted on each were +the initials, "D. D." Ford breathed an exclamation. + +"Dosia Dale," he muttered, "I have found you!" He was again +confronted by three closed doors, one leading to a room that faced +the street, another opening upon a room in the rear of the house, +and opposite, across the hallway, still another door. He observed +that the first two doors were each fastened from the outside by +bolts and a spring lock, and that the key to each lock was in +place. The fact moved him with indecision. If he took possession of +the keys, he could enter the rooms at his pleasure. On the other +hand, should their loss be discovered, an alarm would be raised and +he would inevitably come under suspicion. The very purpose he had +in view might be frustrated. He decided that where they were the +keys would serve him as well as in his pocket, and turned his +attention to the third door. This was not locked, and, from its +position, Ford guessed it must be an entrance to a servants' +stairway. + +Confident of this, he opened it, and found a dark, narrow landing, +a flight of steps mounting from the kitchen below, and, to his +delight an iron ladder leading to a trap-door. He could hardly +forego a cheer. If the trap-door were not locked, he had found a +third line of retreat, a means of escape by way of the roof, far +superior to any he might attempt by the main staircase and the +street-door. + +Ford stepped into the landing, closing the door behind him and +though this left him in complete darkness, he climbed the ladder, +and with eager fingers felt for the fastenings of the trap. He had +feared to find a padlock, but, to his infinite relief, his fingers +closed upon two bolts. Noiselessly, and smoothly, they drew back +from their sockets. Under the pressure of his hand the trap door +lifted, and through the opening swept a breath of chill night air. + +Ford hooked one leg over a round of the ladder and, with hands +frees moved the trap to one side. An instant later he had scrambled +to the roof, and, after carefully replacing the trap, rose and +looked about him. To his satisfaction, he found that the roof upon +which he stood ran level with the roofs adjoining its to as far as +Devonshire Street, where they encountered the wall of an apartment +house. This was of seven stories. On the fifth story a row of +windows, brilliantly lighted, opened upon the roofs over which he +planned to make his retreat. Ford chuckled with nervous excitement. + +"Before long," he assured himself, I will be visiting the man who +owns that flat. He will think I am a burglar. He will send for the +police. There is no one in the world I shall be so glad to see!" + +Ford considered that running over roofs, even when their pitfalls +were not concealed by a yellow fog, was an awkward exercise, and +decided that before he made his dash for freedom, the part of a +careful jockey would be to take a preliminary canter over the +course. Accordingly, among party walls of brick, rain-pipes, +chimney-pipes, and telephone wires, he felt his way to the wall of +the apartment house; and then, with a clearer idea of the obstacles +to be avoided, raced back to the point whence he had started. + +Next, to discover the exact position of the fire-escape, he dropped +to his knees and crawled to the rear edge of the roof. The light +from the back windows of the fourth floor showed him an iron ladder +from the edge of the roof to the platform of the fire-escape, and +the platform itself, stretching below the windows the width of the +building. He gave a sigh of satisfaction, but the same instant +exclaimed with dismay. The windows opening upon the fire-escape +were closely barred. For a moment he was unable to grasp why a +fire-escape should be placed where escape was impossible, until he +recognized that the ladder must have been erected first and the +iron bars later; probably only since Miss Dale had been made a +prisoner. + +But he now appreciated that in spite of the iron bars he was nearer +that prisoner than he had ever been. Should he return to the hall +below, even while he could unlock the doors, he was in danger of +discovery by those inside the house. But from the fire-escape only +a window-pane would separate him from the prisoner, and though the +bars would keep him at arm's-length, he might at least speak with +her, and assure her that her call for help had carried. He grasped +the sides of the ladder and dropped to the platform. As he had +already seen that the window farthest to the left was barricaded +with trunks, he disregarded it, and passed quickly to the two +others. Behind both of these, linen shades were lowered, but, to +his relief, he found that in the middle window the lower sash, as +though for ventilation, was slightly raised, leaving an opening of +a few inches. Kneeling on the gridiron platform of the fire-escape, +and pressing his face against the bars, he brought his eyes level +with this opening. Owing to the lowered window-blind, he could see +nothing in the room, nor could he distinguish any sound until above +the drip and patter of the rain there came to him the peaceful +ticking of a clock and the rattle of coal falling to the fender. +But of any sound that was human there was none. That the room was +empty, and that the girl was in the front of the house was +possible, and the temptation to stretch his hand through the bars +and lift the blind was almost compelling. If he did so, and the +girl were inside, she might make an outcry, or, guarding her, there +might be an attendant, who at once would sound the alarm. The risk +was evident, but, encouraged by the silence, Ford determined to +take the chance. Slipping one hand between the bars he caught the +end of the blind, and, pulling it gently down, let the spring draw +it upward. Through an opening of six inches the room lay open +before him. He saw a door leading to another room, at one side an +iron cot, and in front of the coal fire, facing him, a girl seated +in a deep arm-chair. A book lay on her knees, and she was intently +reading. + +The girl was young, and her face, in spite of an unnatural pallor +and an expression of deep melancholy, was one of extreme beauty. +She wore over a night-dress a long loose wrapper corded at the +waist, and, as though in readiness for the night, her black hair +had been drawn back into smooth, heavy braids. She made so sweet +and sad a picture that Ford forgot his errand, forgot his damp and +chilled body, arid for a moment in sheer delight knelt, with his +face pressed close to the bars, and gazed at her. + +A movement on the part of the girl brought him to his senses. She +closed the book, and, leaning forward, rested her chin upon the +hollow of her hand and stared into the fire. Her look was one of +complete and hopeless misery. Ford did not hesitate. The girl was +alone, but that at any moment an attendant might join her was +probable, and the rare chance that now offered would be lost. He +did not dare to speak, or by any sound attract her attention, but +from his breast- pocket he took the glove thrown to him from the +window, and, with a jerk, tossed it through the narrow opening. It +fell directly at her feet. She had not seen the glove approach, but +the slight sound it made in falling caused her to start and turn +her eyes toward it. Through the window, breathless, and with every +nerve drawn taut, Ford watched her. + +For a moment, partly in alarm, partly in bewilderment, she sat +motionless, regarding the glove with eyes fixed and staring. Then +she lifted them to the ceiling, in quick succession to each of the +closed doors, and then to the window. In his race across the roofs +Ford had lacked the protection of a hat, and his hair was plastered +across his forehead; his face was streaked with soot and snow, his +eyes shone with excitement. But at sight of this strange apparition +the girl made no sign. Her alert mind had in an instant taken in +the significance of the glove, and for her what followed could have +but one meaning. She knew that no matter in what guise he came the +man whose face was now pressed against the bars was a friend. + +With a swift, graceful movement she rose to her feet, crossed +quickly to the window, and sank upon her knees. + +"Speak in a whisper," she said; "and speak quickly. You are in +great danger!" + +That her first thought was of his safety gave Ford a thrill of +shame and pleasure. + +Until now Miss Dosia Dale had been only the chief feature in a +newspaper story; the unknown quantity in a problem. She had meant +no more to him than had the initials on her steamer- trunk. Now, +through her beauty, through the distress in her eyes, through her +warm and generous nature that had disclosed itself with her first +words, she became a living, breathing, lovely, and lovable woman. +All of the young man's chivalry leaped to the call. He had gone +back several centuries. In feeling, he was a knight-errant rescuing +beauty in distress from a dungeon cell. To the girl, he was a +reckless young person with a dirty face and eyes that gave +confidence. But, though a knight-errant, Ford was a modern +knight-errant. He wasted no time in explanations or pretty +speeches. + +"In two minutes," he whispered, " I'll unlock your door. There's a +ladder outside your room to the roof. Once we get to the roof the +rest's easy. Should anything go wrong, I'll come back by this +fire-escape. Wait at the window until you see your door open. Do +you understand?" + +The girl answered with an eager nod. The color had flown to her +cheek. Her eyes flashed in excitement. A sudden doubt assailed +Ford. + +"You've no time to put on any more clothes," he commanded. + +"I haven't got any!" said the girl. + +The knight-errant ran up the fire-escape, pulled himself over the +edge of the roof, and, crossing it, dropped through the trap to the +landing of the kitchen stairs. Here he expended the greater part of +the two minutes he had allowed himself in cautiously opening the +door into the hall. He accomplished this without a sound, and in +one step crossed the hall to the door that held Miss Dale a +prisoner. + +Slowly he drew back the bolts. Only the spring lock now barred him +from her. With thumb and forefinger he turned the key, pushed the +door gently open, and ran into the room. + +At the same instant from behind him, within six feet of him, he +heard the staircase creak. A bomb bursting could not have shaken +him more rudely. He swung on his heel and found, blocking the door, +the giant bulk of Prothero regarding him over the barrel of his +pistol. + +"Don't move!" said the Jew. + +At the sound of his voice the girl gave a cry of warning, and +sprang forward. + +"Go back!" commanded Prothero. His voice was low and soft, and +apparently calm, but his face showed white with rage. + +Ford had recovered from the shock of the surprise. He, also, was in +a rage--a rage of mortification and bitter disappointment. + +"Don't point that gun at me!" he blustered. + +The sound of leaping footsteps and the voice of Pearsall echoed +from the floor below. + +"Have you got him?" he called. + +Prothero made no reply, nor did he lower his pistol. When Pearsall +was at his side, without turning his head, he asked in the same +steady tone: + +"What shall we do with him?" + +The face of Pearsall was white, and furious with fear. + +"I told you----" he stormed. + +"Never mind what you told me," said the Jew. "What shall we do with +him? He knows!" + +Ford's mind was working swiftly. He had no real fear of personal +danger for the girl or himself. The Jew, he argued, was no fool. He +would not risk his neck by open murder. And, as he saw it, escape +with the girl might still be possible. He had only to conceal from +Prothero his knowledge of the line of retreat over the house-tops, +explain his rain-soaked condition, and wait a better chance. + +To this end he proceeded to lie briskly and smoothly. + +"Of course I know," he taunted. He pointed to his dripping +garments. "Do you know where I've been? In the street, placing my +men. I have this house surrounded. I am going to walk down those +stairs with this young lady. If you try to stop me I have only to +blow my police-whistle----" + +"And I will blow your brains out!" interrupted the Jew. It was a +most unsatisfactory climax. + +"You have not been in the street," said Prothero. "You are wet +because you hung out of your window signalling to your friend. Do +you know why he did not answer your second signal? Because he is +lying in an area, with a knife in him!" + +"You lie!" cried Ford. + +"YOU lie," retorted the Jew quietly, "when you say your men +surround this house. You are alone. You are NOT in the police +service, you are a busybody meddling with men who think as little +of killing you as they did of killing your friend. My servant was +placed to watch your window, saw your signal, reported to me. And +I found your assistant and threw him into an area, with a knife in +him!" + +Ford felt the story was untrue. Prothero was trying to frighten +him. Out of pure bravado no sane man would boast of murder. +But--and at the thought Ford felt a touch of real fear--was the man +sane? It was a most unpleasant contingency. Between a fight with an +angry man and an insane man the difference was appreciable. From +this new view-point Ford regarded his adversary with increased +wariness; he watched him as he would a mad dog. He regretted +extremely he had not brought his revolver. + +With his automatic pistol still covering Ford, Prothero spoke to +Pearsall. + +"I found him," he recited, as though testing the story he would +tell later, "prowling through my house at night. Mistaking him for +a burglar, I killed him. The kitchen window will be found open, +with the lock broken, showing how he gained an entrance. "Why not?" +he demanded. + +"Because," protested Pearsall, in terror, "the man outside will +tell----" + +Ford shouted in genuine relief. + +Exactly !" he cried. "The man outside, who is not down an area with +a knife in him, but who at this moment is bringing the police -he +will tell!" + +As though he had not been interrupted, Prothero continued +thoughtfully: + +"What they may say he expected to find here, I can explain away +later. The point is that I found a strange man, hatless, +dishevelled, prowling in my house. I called on him to halt; he ran, +I fired, and unfortunately killed him. An Englishman's home is his +castle; an English jury----" + +"An English jury," said Ford briskly, "is the last thing you want +to meet---- It isn't a Chicago jury." + +The Jew flung back his head as though Ford had struck him in the +face. + +"Ah!" he purred, "you know that, too, do you?" The purr increased +to a snarl. "You know too much!" + +For Pearsall, his tone seemed to bear an alarming meaning. He +sprang toward Prothero, and laid both hands upon his disengaged +arm. + +"For God's sake," he pleaded, "come away! He can't hurt you-- not +alive; but dead, he'll hang you--hang us both. We must go, now, +this moment." He dragged impotently at the left arm of the giant. +"Come!" he begged. + +Whether moved by Pearsall's words or by some thought of his own, +Prothero nodded in assent. He addressed himself to Ford. + +"I don't know what to do with you," he said, "so I will consult +with my friend outside this door. While we talk, we will lock you +in. We can hear any move you make. If you raise the window or call +I will open the door and kill you--you and that woman!" + +With a quick gesture, he swung to the door, and the spring lock +snapped. An instant later the bolts were noisily driven home. + +When the second bolt shot into place, Ford turned and looked at +Miss Dale. + +This is a hell of a note!" he said + + + + + + III + + Outside the locked door the voices of the two men rose in fierce +whispers. But Ford regarded them not at all. With the swiftness of +a squirrel caught in a cage, he darted on tiptoe from side to side +searching the confines of his prison. He halted close to Miss Dale +and pointed at the windows. + +"Have you ever tried to loosen those bars?" he whispered. + +The girl nodded and, in pantomime that spoke of failure, shrugged +her shoulders. + +"What did you see?" demanded Ford hopefully. + +The girl destroyed his hope with a shake of her head and a swift +smile. + +"Scissors," she said; "but they found them and took them away." +Ford pointed at the open grate. + +"Where's the poker?" he demanded. + +"They took that, too. I bent it trying to pry the bars. So they +knew." + +The man gave her a quick, pleased glance, then turned his eyes to +the door that led into the room that looked upon the street. + +"Is that door locked?" + +"No," the girl told him. "But the door from it into the hall is +fastened, like the other, with a spring lock and two bolts." + +Ford cautiously opened the door into the room adjoining, and, +except for a bed and wash-stand, found it empty. On tiptoe he ran +to the windows. Sowell Street was deserted. He returned to Miss +Dale, again closing the door between the two rooms. + +"The nurse," Miss Dale whispered, "when she is on duty, leaves that +door open so that she can watch me; when she goes downstairs, she +locks and bolts the door from that room to the hall. It's locked +now." + +"What's the nurse like?" + +The girl gave a shudder that seemed to Ford sufficiently +descriptive. Her lips tightened in a hard, straight line. + +"She's not human," she said. "I begged her to help me, appealed to +her in every way; then I tried a dozen times to get past her to the +stairs." + +"Well?" + +The girl frowned, and with a gesture signified her surroundings. + +"I'm still here," she said. + +She bent suddenly forward and, with her hand on his shoulder, +turned the man so that he faced the cot. + +"The mattress on that bed," she whispered, rests on two iron rods. +They are loose and can be lifted. I planned to smash the lock, but +the noise would have brought Prothero. But you could defend +yourself with one of them." + +Ford had already run to the cot and dropped to his knees. He found +the mattress supported on strips of iron resting loosely in sockets +at the head and foot. He raised the one nearer him, and then, after +a moment of hesitation, let it drop into place. + +"That's fine!" he whispered. "Good as a crowbar.'" He shook his +head in sudden indecision. "But I don't just know how to use it. +His automatic could shoot six times before I could swing that thing +on him once. And if I have it in my hands when he opens the door, +he'll shoot, and he may hit you. But if I leave it where it is, he +won't know I know it's there, and it may come in very handy later." + +In complete disapproval the girl shook her head. Her eyes filled +with concern. "You must not fight him," she ordered. I mean, not +for me. You don't know the danger. The man's not sane. He won't +give you a chance. He's mad. You have no right to risk your life +for a stranger. I'll not permit it----" + +Ford held up his hand for silence. With a jerk of his head he +signified the door. "They've stopped talking," he whispered. + +Straining to hear, the two leaned forward, but from the hall there +came no sound. The girl raised her eyebrows questioningly. + +"Have they gone?" she breathed. + +"If I knew that," protested Ford, "we wouldn't be here!" + +In answer to his doubt a smart rap, as though from the butt of a +revolver, fell upon the door. The voice of Prothero spoke sharply: + +"You, who call yourself Grant!" he shouted. + +Before answering, Ford drew Miss Dale and himself away from the +line of the door, and so placed the girl with her back to the wall +that if the door opened she would be behind it. "Yes," he answered. + +"Pearsall and I" called Prothero, "have decided how to dispose of +you--of both of you. He has gone below to make preparations. I am +on guard. If you try to break out or call for help, I'll shoot you +as I warned you!" + +"And I warn you," shouted Ford, "if this lady and I do not +instantly leave this house, or if any harm comes to her, you will +hang for it!" Prothero laughed jeeringly. + +"Who will hang me?" he mocked. + +"My friends," retorted Ford. "They know I am in this house. They +know WHY I am here. Unless they see Miss Dale and myself walk out +of it in safety, they will never let you leave it. Don't be a fool, +Prothero!" he shouted. "You know I am telling the truth. You know +your only chance for mercy is to open that door and let us go +free." + +For over a minute Ford waited, but from the hall there was no +answer. + +After another minute of silence, Ford turned and gazed inquiringly +at Miss Dale. + +"Prothero!" he called. + +Again for a full minute he waited and again called, and then, as +there still was no reply, he struck the door sharply with his +knuckles. On the instant the voice of the Jew rang forth in an +angry bellow. + +"Keep away from that door!" he commanded. + +Ford turned to Miss Dale and bent his head close to hers. + +"Now, why the devil didn't he answer?" he whispered. "Was it +because he wasn't there; or is he planning to steal away and wants +us to think that even if he does not answer, he's still outside?" +The girl nodded eagerly. + +"This is it," she whispered. "My uncle is a coward or rather he is +very wise, and has left the house. And Prothero means to follow, +but he wants us to think he's still on guard. If we only KNEW!" she +exclaimed. + +As though in answer to her thought, the voice of Prothero called to +them. + +"Don't speak to me again," he warned. "If you do, I'll not answer, +or I'll shoot!" + +Flattened against the wall, close to the hinges of the door, Ford +replied flippantly and defiantly: + +"That makes conversation difficult, doesn't it?" he called. + +There was a bursting report, and a bullet splintered the panel of +the door, flattened itself against the fireplace, and fell tinkling +into the grate. + +"I hope I hit you!" roared the Jew. + +Ford pressed his lips tightly together. Whatever happy retort may +have risen to them was forever lost. For an exchange of repartee, +the moment did not seem propitious. + +"Perhaps now," jeered Prothero, "you'll believe I'm in earnest!" + +Ford still resisted any temptation to reply. He grinned +apologetically at the girl and shrugged his shoulders. Her face was +white, but it was white from excitement, not from fear. + +"What did I tell you?" she whispered. "He IS mad--quite mad!" + +Ford glanced at the bullet-hole in the panel of the door. It was on +a line with his heart. He looked at Miss Dale; her shoulder was on +a level with his own, and her eyes were following his. + +"In case he does that again," said Ford, "we would be more +comfortable sitting down." + +With their shoulders against the wall, the two young people sank to +the floor. The position seemed to appeal to them as humorous, and, +when their eyes met, they smiled. + +"To a spectator," whispered Ford encouragingly, "we MIGHT appear to +be getting the worst of this. But, as a matter of fact, every +minute Cuthbert does not come means that the next minute may bring +him." + +"You don't believe he was hurt?" asked the girl. + +"No," said Ford. "I believe Prothero found him, and I believe there +may have been a fight. But you heard what Pearsall said: 'The man +outside will tell.' If Cuthbert's in a position to tell, he is not +down an area with a knife in him." + +He was interrupted by a faint report from the lowest floor, as +though the door to the street had been sharply slammed. Miss Dale +showed that she also had heard it. + +"My uncle," she said, "making his escape !" + +"It may be," Ford answered. + +The report did not suggest to him the slamming of a door, but he +saw no reason for saying so to the girl. + +With his fingers locked across his knees, Ford was leaning forward, +his eyes frowning, his lips tightly shut. At his side the girl +regarded him covertly. His broad shoulders, almost touching hers, +his strong jaw projecting aggressively, and the alert, observant +eyes gave her confidence. For three weeks she had been making a +fight single-handed. But she was now willing to cease struggling +and relax. Quite happily she placed herself and her safety in the +keeping of a stranger. Half to herself, half to the man, she +murmured: "It is like 'The Sieur de Maletroit's Door."' + +Without looking at her, Ford shook his head and smiled. + +"No such luck," he corrected grimly. "That young man was given a +choice. The moment he was willing to marry the girl he could have +walked out of the room free. I do not recall Prothero's saying I +can escape death by any such charming alternative." The girl +interrupted quickly. + +"No," she said; "you are not at all like that young man. He +stumbled in by chance. You came on purpose to help me. It was fine, +unselfish." + +"It was not," returned Ford. "My motive was absolutely selfish. It +was not to help you I came, but to be able to tell about it later. +It is my business to do that. And before I saw you, it was all in +the day's work. But after I saw you it was no longer a part of the +day's work; it became a matter of a life time." + +The girl at his side laughed softly and lightly. "A lifetime is not +long," she said, "when you are locked in a room and a madman is +shooting at you. It may last only an hour." + +"Whether it lasts an hour or many years, said Ford, "it can mean to +me now only one thing----" He turned quickly and looked in her face +boldly and steadily: "You," he said. + +The girl did not avoid his eyes, but returned his glance with one +as steady as his own. "You are an amusing person," she said. "Do +you feel it is necessary to keep up my courage with pretty +speeches?" + +"I made no pretty speech," said Ford. "I proclaimed a fact. You are +the most charming person that ever came into my life, and whether +Prothero shoots us up, or whether we live to get back to God's +country, you will never leave it." + +The girl pretended to consider his speech critically. "It would be +almost a compliment," she said, "if it were intelligent, but when +you know nothing of me--it is merely impertinent." + +"I know this much of you, " returned Ford, calmly; "I know you are +fine and generous, for your first speech to me, in spite of your +own danger, was for my safety. I know you are brave, for I see you +now facing death without dismay." + +He was again suddenly halted by, two sharp reports. They came from +the room directly below them. It was no longer possible to pretend +to misinterpret their significance. + +"Prothero!" exclaimed Ford, "and his pistol!" + +They waited breathlessly for what might follow: an outcry, the +sound of a body falling, a third pistol-shot. But throughout the +house there was silence. + +"If you really think we are in such danger," declared Miss Dale, +"we are wasting time!" + +"We are NOT wasting time," protested Ford; "we are really gaining +time, for each minute Cuthbert and the police are drawing nearer, +and to move about only invites a bullet. And, what is of more +importance," he went on quickly, as though to turn her mind from +the mysterious pistol-shots, "should we get out of this alive, I +shall already have said what under ordinary conditions I might not +have found the courage to tell you in many months." He waited as +though hopeful of a reply, but Miss Dale remained silent. "They +say," continued Ford, "when a man is drowning his whole life passes +in review. We are drowning, and yet I find I can see into the past +no further than the last half-hour. I find life began only then, +when I looked through the bars of that window and found YOU!" + +With the palm of her hand the girl struck the floor sharply. "This +is neither the time," she exclaimed, "nor the place to----" + +"I did not choose the place," Ford pointed out. "It was forced upon +me with a gun. But the TIME is excellent. At such a time one speaks +only what is true." + +"You certainly have a strange sense of humor," she said, "but when +you are risking your life to help me, how can I be angry?" + +"Of course you can't," Ford agreed heartily; "you could not be so +conventional." + +"But I AM conventional!" protested Miss Dale. "And I am not USED to +having young men tell me they have 'come into my life to +stay'--certainly not young men who come into my life by way of a +trap-door, and without an introduction, without a name, without +even a hat! It's absurd! It's not real! It's a nightmare!" + +"The whole situation is absurd!" Ford declared. "Here we are in the +heart of London, surrounded by telephones, taxicabs, police--at +least, hope we are surrounded by police and yet we are crawling +around the floor on our hands and knees dodging bullets. I wish it +were a nightmare. But, as it's not"--he rose to his feet--"I think +I'll try----" + +He was interrupted by a sharp blow upon the door and the voice of +Prothero. + +"You, navy officer!" he panted. "Come to the door! Stand close to +it so that I needn't shout. Come, quick!" + +Ford made no answer. Motioning to Miss Dale to remain where she +was, he ran noiselessly to the bed, and from beneath the mattress +lifted one of the iron bars upon which it rested. Grasping it at +one end, he swung the bar swiftly as a man tests the weight of a +baseball bat. As a weapon it seemed to satisfy him, for he smiled. +Then once more he placed himself with his back to the wall. "Do you +hear me?" roared Prothero. + +"I hear you!" returned Ford. "If you want to talk to me, open the +door and come inside." + +"Listen to me," called Prothero. "If I open the door you may act +the fool, and I will have to shoot you, and I have made up my mind +to let you live. You will soon have this house to yourselves. In a +few moments I will leave it, but where I am going I'll need money, +and I want the bank-notes in that blue envelope." Ford swung the +iron club in short half-circles. + +"Come in and get them!" he called. + +"Don't trifle with me!" roared the Jew, "I may change my mind. +Shove the money through the crack under the door." + +"And get shot!" returned Ford. "Not bit like it!" + +"If, in one minute," shouted Prothero, "I don't see the money +coming through that crack, I'll begin shooting through this door, +and neither of you will live!" + +Resting the bar in the crook of his elbow, Ford snatched the +bank-notes from the envelope, and, sticking them in his pocket, +placed the empty envelope on the floor. Still keeping out of range, +and using his iron bar as a croupier uses his rake, he pushed the +envelope across the carpet and under the door. When half of it had +disappeared from the other side of the door, it was snatched from +view. + +An instant later there was a scream of anger and on a line where +Ford would have been, had he knelt to shove the envelope under the +door, three bullets splintered through the panel. + +At the same moment the girl caught him by the wrist. Unheeding the +attack upon the door, her eyes were fixed upon the windows. With +her free hand she pointed at the one at which Ford had first +appeared. The blind was still raised a few inches, and they saw +that the night was lit with a strange and brilliant radiance. The +storm had passed, and from all the houses that backed upon the one +in which they were prisoners lights blazed from every window, and +in each were crowded many people, and upon the roof-tops in +silhouette from the glare of the street lamps below, and in the +yards and clinging to the walls that separated them, were hundreds +of other dark, shadowy groups changing and swaying. And from them +rose the confused, inarticulate, terrifying murmur of a mob. It was +as though they were on a race-track at night facing a great +grandstand peopled with an army of ghosts. With the girl at his +side, Ford sprang to the window and threw up the blind, and as they +clung to the bars, peering into the night, the light in the room +fell full upon them. And in an instant from the windows opposite, +from the yards below, and from the house-tops came a savage, +exultant yell of welcome, a confusion of cries' orders, entreaties, +a great roar of warning. At the sound, Ford could feel the girl at +his side tremble. + +"What does it mean?" she cried. + +"Cuthbert has raised the neighborhood!" shouted Ford jubilantly. +"Or else"--he cried in sudden enlightenment-- "those shots we +heard." + +The girl stopped him with a low cry of fear. She thrust her arms +between the bars and pointed. In the yard below them was the +sloping roof of the kitchen. It stretched from the house to the +wall of the back yard. Above the wall from the yard beyond rose a +ladder, and, face down upon the roof, awry and sprawling. were the +motionless forms of two men. Their shining capes and heavy helmets +proclaimed their calling. + +"The police!" exclaimed Ford. "And the shots we thought were for +those in the house were for THEM! This is what has happened," he +whispered eagerly: " Prothero attacked Cuthbert. Cuthbert gets away +and goes to the police. He tells them you are here a prisoner, that +I am here probably a prisoner, and of the attack upon himself. The +police try to make an entrance from the street--that was the first +shot we heard--and are driven back; then they try to creep in from +the yard, and those poor devils were killed." + +As he spoke a sudden silence had fallen, a silence as startling as +had been the shout of warning. Some fresh attack upon the house +which the prisoners could not see, but which must be visible to +those in the houses opposite was going forward. + +"Perhaps they are on the roof,"' whispered Ford joyfully. "They'll +be through the trap in a minute, and you'll be free!" + +"No!" said the girl. + +She also spoke in a whisper, as though she feared Prothero might +hear her. And with her hand she again pointed. Cautiously above the +top of the ladder appeared the head and shoulders of a man. He wore +a policeman's helmet, but, warned by the fate of his comrades, he +came armed. Balancing himself with his left hand on the rung of the +ladder, he raised the other and pointed a revolver. It was +apparently at the two prisoners, and Miss Dale sprang to one side. + +"Standstill!" commanded Ford. "He knows who YOU are! You heard that +yell when they saw you? They know you are the prisoner, and they +are glad you're still alive. That officer is aiming at the window +BELOW us. He's after the men who murdered his mates." + +From the window directly beneath them came the crash of a rifle, +and from the top of the ladder the revolver of the police officer +blazed in the darkness. Again the rifle crashed, and the man on the +ladder jerked his hands above his head and pitched backward. Ford +looked into the face of the girl and found her eyes filled with +horror. + +"Where is my uncle, Pearsall?" she faltered. "He has two +rifles--for shooting in Scotland. Was that a rifle that----" Her +lips refused to finish the question. + +"It was a rifle," Ford stammered, "but probably Prothero----" + +Even as he spoke the voice of the Jew rose in a shriek from the +floor below them, but not from the window below them. The sound was +from the front room opening on Sowell Street. In the awed silence +that had suddenly fallen his shrieks carried sharply. They were +more like the snarls and ravings of an animal than the outcries of +a man. + +"Take THAT!" he shouted, with a flood of oaths, "and THAT, and +THAT!" + +Each word was punctuated by the report of his automatic, and to the +amazement of Ford, was instantly answered from Sowell Street by a +scattered volley of rifle and pistol shots. + +"This isn't a fight," he cried, "it's a battle!" + +With Miss Dale at his side, he ran into the front room, and, +raising the blind, appeared at the window. And instantly, as at the +other end of the house, there was, at sight of the woman's figure, +a tumult of cries, a shout of warning, and a great roar of welcome. +From beneath them a man ran into the deserted street, and in the +glare of the gas-lamp Ford saw his white, upturned face. He was +without a hat and his head was circled by a bandage. But Ford +recognized Cuthbert. "That's Ford!" he cried, pointing. "And the +girl's with him!" He turned to a group of men crouching in the +doorway of the next house to the one in which Ford was imprisoned. +"The girl's alive!" he shouted. + +"The girl's alive!" The words were caught up and flung from window +to window, from house-top to house-top, with savage, jubilant +cheers. Ford pushed Miss Dale forward. + +"Let them see you," he said, "and you will never see a stranger +sight." + +Below them, Sowell Street, glistening with rain and snow, lay +empty, but at either end of it, held back by an army of police, +were black masses of men, and beyond them more men packed upon the +tops of taxicabs and hansoms, stretching as far as the street-lamps +showed, and on the roofs shadowy forms crept cautiously from +chimney to chimney; and in the windows of darkened rooms opposite, +from behind barricades of mattresses and upturned tables, rifles +appeared stealthily, to be lost in a sudden flash of flame. And +with these flashes were others that came from windows and roofs +with the report of a bursting bomb, and that, on the instant, +turned night into day, and then left the darkness more dark. + +Ford gave a cry of delight. + +"They're taking flash-light photographs" he cried jubilantly. "Well +done, you Pressmen!" The instinct of the reporter became +compelling. "If they're alive to develop those photographs +to-night," he exclaimed eagerly, "Cuthbert will send them by +special messenger, in time to catch the MAURETANIA and the REPUBLIC +will have them by Sunday. I mayn't be alive to see them," he added +regretfully, "but what a feature for the Sunday supplement!" + +As the eyes of the two prisoners became accustomed to the darkness, +they saw that the street was not, as at first they had supposed, +entirely empty. Directly below them in the gutter, where to +approach it was to invite instant death from Prothero's pistol, lay +the dead body of a policeman, and at the nearer end of the street, +not fifty yards from them, were three other prostrate forms. But +these forms were animate, and alive to good purpose. From a +public-house on the corner a row of yellow lamps showed them +clearly. Stretched on pieces of board, and mats commandeered from +hallways and cabs, each of the three men lay at full length, +nursing a rifle. Their belted gray overcoats, flat, visored caps, +and the set of their shoulders marked them for soldiers. + +"For the love of Heaven!" exclaimed Ford incredulously, "they've +called out the Guards!" + +As unconcernedly as though facing the butts at a rifle-range, the +three sharp-shooters were firing point-blank at the windows from +which Prothero and Pearsall were waging their war to the death upon +the instruments of law and order. Beside them, on his knees in the +snow, a young man with the silver hilt of an officer's sword +showing through the slit in his greatcoat, was giving commands; and +at the other end of the street, a brother officer in evening dress +was directing other sharp-shooters, bending over them like the +coach of a tug-of-war team, pointing with white-gloved fingers. On +the side of the street from which Prothero was firing, huddled in +a doorway, were a group of officials, inspectors of police, fire +chiefs in brass helmets, more officers of the Guards in bear-skins, +and, wrapped in a fur coat, the youthful Horne Secretary. Ford saw +him wave his arm, and at his bidding the cordon of police broke, +and slowly forcing its way through the mass of people came a huge +touring-car, its two blazing eyes sending before it great shafts of +light. The driver of the car wasted no time in taking up his +position. Dashing half-way down the street, he as swiftly backed +the automobile over the gutter and up on the sidewalk, so that the +lights in front fell full on the door of No. 40. Then, covered by +the fire from the roofs, he sprang to the lamps and tilted them +until they threw their shafts into the windows of the third story. +Prothero's hiding-place was now as clearly exposed as though it +were held in the circle of a spot-light, and at the success of the +maneuver the great mob raised an applauding cheer. But the triumph +was brief. In a minute the blazing lamps had been shattered by +bullets, and once more, save for the fierce flashes from rifles and +pistols, Sowell Street lay in darkness. + +Ford drew Miss Dale back into the room. + +"Those men below," he said, "are mad. Prothero's always been mad, +and your Pearsall is mad with drugs. And the sight of blood has +made them maniacs. They know they now have no chance to live. +There's no fear or hope to hold them, and one life more or less +means nothing. If they should return here----" + +He hesitated, but the girl nodded quickly. I understand," she said. + +"I'm going to try to break down the door and get to the roof," +explained Ford. "My hope is that this attack will keep them from +hearing, and----" + +"No," protested the girl. "They will hear you, and they will kill +you." + +"They may take it into their crazy heads to do that, anyway," +protested Ford, "so the sooner I get you away, the better. I've +only to smash the panels close to the bolts, put my arm through the +hole, and draw the bolts back. Then, another blow on the spring +lock when the firing is loudest, and we are in the hall. Should +anything happen to me, you must know how to make your escape alone. +Across the hall is a door leading to an iron ladder. That ladder +leads to a trap-door. The trap- door is open. When you reach the +roof, run westward toward a lighted building." + +"I am not going without you," said Miss Dale quietly; "not after +what you have done for me." + +"I haven't done anything for you yet," objected Ford. "But in case +I get caught I mean to make sure there will be others on hand who +will." + +He pulled his pencil and a letter from his pocket, and on the back +of the envelope wrote rapidly: "I will try to get Miss Dale up +through the trap in the roof. You can reach the roof by means of +the apartment house in Devonshire Street. Send men to meet her." + +In the groups of officials half hidden in the doorway farther down +the street, he could make out the bandaged head of Cuthbert. +"Cuthbert!" he called. Weighting the envelope with a coin, he threw +it into the air. It fell in the gutter, under a lamp-post, and full +in view, and at once the two madmen below splashed the street +around it with bullets. But, indifferent to the bullets, a +policeman sprang from a dark areaway and flung himself upon it. The +next moment he staggered. Then limping, but holding himself erect, +he ran heavily toward the group of officials. The Home Secretary +snatched the envelope from him, and held it toward the light. + +In his desire to learn if his message had reached those on the +outside, Ford leaned far over the sill of the window. His +imprudence was all but fatal. From the roof opposite there came a +sudden yell of warning, from directly below him a flash, and a +bullet grazed his forehead and shattered the window-pane above him. +He was deluged with a shower of broken glass. Stunned and bleeding, +he sprang back. + +With a cry of concern, Miss Dale ran toward him. + +"It's nothing!" stammered Ford. "It only means I must waste no more +time." He balanced his iron rod as he would a pikestaff, and aimed +it at the upper half of the door to the hall. + +"When the next volley comes," he said, "I'll smash the panel." + +With the bar raised high, his muscles on a strain, he stood alert +and poised, waiting for a shot from the room below to call forth an +answering volley from the house-tops. But no sound came from below. +And the sharp-shooters, waiting for the madmen to expose +themselves, held their fire. + +Ford's muscles relaxed, and he lowered his weapon. He turned his +eyes inquiringly to the girl. "What's THIS mean?" he demanded. +Unconsciously his voice had again dropped to a whisper. + +"They're short of ammunition," said the girl, in a tone as low as +his own; "or they are coming HERE." + +With a peremptory gesture, Ford waved her toward the room adjoining +and then ran to the window. + +The girl was leaning forward with her face close to the door. She +held the finger of one hand to her lips. With the other hand she +beckoned. Ford ran to her side. + +"Some one is moving in the hall," she whispered. "Perhaps they are +escaping by the roof? No, "she corrected herself. "They seem to be +running down the stairs again. Now they are coming back. Do you +hear?" she asked. " It sounds like some one running up and down the +stairs. What can it mean?" + +From the direction of the staircase Ford heard a curious creaking +sound as of many light footsteps. He gave a cry of relief. + +"The police!" he shouted jubilantly. "They've entered through the +roof, and they're going to attack in the rear. You're SAFE!" he +cried. + +He sprang away from the door and, with two swinging blows, smashed +the broad panel. And then, with a cry, he staggered backward. Full +in his face, through the break he had made, swept a hot wave of +burning cinders. Through the broken panel he saw the hall choked +with smoke, the steps of the staircase and the stair-rails wrapped +in flame. + +"The house is on fire!" he cried. "They've taken to the roof and +set fire to the stairs behind them!" With the full strength of his +arms and shoulders he struck and smashed the iron bar against the +door. But the bolts held, and through each fresh opening he made in +the panels the burning cinders, drawn by the draft from the +windows, swept into the room. From the street a mighty yell of +consternation told them the fire had been discovered. Miss Dale ran +to the window, and the yell turned to a great cry of warning. The +air was rent with frantic voices. "Jump!" cried some. "Go back!" +entreated others. The fire chief ran into the street directly below +her and shouted at her through his hands. "Wait for the life- net!" +he commanded. "Wait for the ladders!" + +"Ladders!" panted Ford. "Before they can get their engines through +that mob----" + +Through the jagged opening in the door he thrust his arm and jerked +free the upper bolt. An instant later he had kicked the lower panel +into splinters and withdrawn the second bolt, and at last, under +the savage onslaught of his iron bar, the spring lock flew apart. +The hall lay open before him. On one side of it the burning +staircase was a well of flame; at his feet, the matting on the +floor was burning fiercely. He raced into the bedroom and returned +instantly, carrying a blanket and a towel dripping with water. He +pressed the towel across the girl's mouth and nostrils. "Hold it +there!" he commanded. Blinded by the bandage, Miss Dale could see +nothing, but she felt herself suddenly wrapped in the blanket and +then lifted high in Ford's arms. She gave a cry of protest, but the +next instant he was running with her swiftly while the flames from +the stair-well scorched her hair. She was suddenly tumbled to her +feet, the towel and blanket snatched away, and she saw Ford hanging +from an iron ladder holding out his hand. She clasped it, and he +drew her after him, the flames and cinders pursuing and snatching +hungrily. + +But an instant later the cold night air smote her in the face, from +hundreds of hoarse throats a yell of welcome greeted her, and she +found herself on the roof, dazed and breathless, and free. + +At the same moment the lifting fire-ladder reached the sill of the +third-story window, and a fireman, shielding his face from the +flames, peered into the blazing room. What he saw showed him there +were no lives to rescue. Stretched on the floor, with their +clothing in cinders and the flames licking at the flesh, were the +bodies of the two murderers. + +A bullet-hole in the forehead of each showed that self- destruction +and cremation had seemed a better choice than the gallows and a +grave of quick-lime. + +On the roof above, two young people stood breathing heavily and +happily, staring incredulously into each other's eyes. Running +toward them across the roofs, stumbling and falling, were many +blue-coated, helmeted angels of peace and law and order. + +"How can I tell you?" whispered the girl quickly. "How can I ever +thank you? And I was angry," she exclaimed, with self- reproach. "I +did not understand you." She gave a little sigh of content. "Now I +think I do." + +He took her hand, and she did not seem to know that he held it. + +"And," she cried, in wonder, "I DON'T EVEN KNOW YOUR NAME!" + +The young man seemed to have lost his confidence. For a moment he +was silent. "The name's all right!" he said finally. His voice was +still a little shaken, a little tremulous. "I only hope you'll like +it. It's got to last you a long time!" + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg Etext The Lost House by Richard Harding Davis + diff --git a/old/lsths10.zip b/old/lsths10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ffeffa7 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/lsths10.zip |