Doors of the Night Part 13

"Let go!" Billy Kane panted frantically. "The hall door-lock it! You don't understand!"

There was no answer from Merxler, save another hoa.r.s.e shout for help.

The boy was fighting like a demon. Here and there about the room they lurched, staggered, reeled, but Billy Kane was the stronger. It seemed only by inches, but still by inches they were nearing the hall door.

There was something of ghastly irony in this frenzied effort of the boy to bar his own road to safety; but there was something fine in it too, something that, even as he fought, found recognition in Billy Kane's mind. The boy, spendthrift though he might be, a fool with his money though he might be, was game to the core in standing by a man whom he believed to be his friend.

There was an uproar now from the interior of the house. There came the rush of feet along the hall. Another instant and they would be at the door. Ma.s.sing his strength for the effort, Billy Kane tore himself free, flung Merxler back, and plunged forward. The door was being opened now.

He hurled his weight against it.

"Quick, Merxler! Quick! The inside pocket of Karlin's coat!" he gasped out. "Quick!"

There was a yell of fury from the hall, as the door slammed shut, and Billy Kane turned the key-and then a crash upon it, and another, as human battering rams launched themselves madly against the panels. Over his shoulder Billy Kane saw Merxler standing hesitant, glancing in stupefaction alternately from the door to Karlin on the floor.

A panel cracked and splintered. Billy Kane's revolver roared like a cannon shot through the room. The bullet, aimed low, ripped along the threshold.

"Merxler, the inside pocket of Karlin's coat!" he said in deadly quiet.

"Man, are you mad! Hurry! They'll have us both in another minute!"

The revolver shot had checked the rush against the door for an instant, though only for an instant, but that instant was enough. Merxler, stung into action, had leapt to Karlin's side, and was bending over the man.

And then he was on his feet, staring wildly at the papers in his hand.

"Good G.o.d, what's this!" he cried out. "What's--"

"The French doors-the fence-run for it!" said Billy Kane tensely, and fired again. And the next instant the room was in darkness, as he switched off the light; and in another, with Merxler running now beside him, he had crossed the few feet of yard and was swinging himself over the fence.

From behind came the rip and tear and smash of the yielding door, shouts, yells, oaths, a confusion of noises; but Billy Kane had reached the cross street now, and, pulling the mask from his face, jerking his hat brim far over his eyes, turned in the opposite direction from that in which he had entered the lane, and, urging Merxler on, was running at top speed. At the next block they swerved again-and Billy Kane, with a restraining pressure on Merxler's arm, here dropped into a slower and less noticeable pace. There was little or no chance of pursuit now; no one, it seemed, had taken the immediate initiative of following them into the lane, yet Billy Kane made a wide detour before he finally reached his waiting taxi cab.

"Get in," he said to Merxler; and, crisply, to the chauffeur: "Drive as fast as you know how! Go up the street at the rear of The Purple Scarf!"

He followed Merxler into the cab.

Merxler drew his hand across his eyes in a dazed way, and laughed nervously.

"I can't see your face now, and you had a mask on before," he said jerkily. "This is a queer business! Who are you? What's it mean? Those securities were in my safe an hour ago-how did they get into Karlin's pocket? What was he doing with them?"

"Stoop over!" said Billy Kane quietly. He handed Merxler the forged letter, and flashed the ray of his lamp upon the paper.

His head bent forward, Merxler read the letter, and his face, already white under the ray, gradually took on a drawn, grayish pallor.

"I-I never wrote this," he faltered. "It's my handwriting, but I-I never wrote it."

"Nor your uncle this," said Billy Kane, the same grim, quiet intonation in his voice, as he placed the will in turn in Merxler's hand.

The light played on the paper, and over Merxler's face. Billy Kane sat drawn back in the shadows.

There was moisture on Merxler's forehead, as he looked up after a moment.

"My G.o.d," he whispered hoa.r.s.ely, "what does this mean?"

The flashlight was out. It was dark in the cab now, and the taxi rattled on traversing block after block. Billy Kane spoke swiftly, sketching the events of the night. Merxler did not move, save that at the end his hand sought and found and closed tight upon Billy Kane's arm.

It was Merxler in a new light who spoke.

"You've saved my life-and you haven't preached," he said slowly. "I'm a fool! I've played the fool-they never would have tried to get away with it if I hadn't played the fool all my life. I guess perhaps I've had my lesson tonight. But fool, or not"-his voice rasped suddenly, bitter hard-"Karlin will pay for this, or--"

"You will-yet!" Billy Kane cut in grimly. "You know too much, and you haven't a minute to lose. They lost their heads for a moment in the confusion and the darkness when we got away, but their one hope now will be to get you before you tell your story. They may figure that you will hesitate about telling it, as you would have to admit your presence at Jerry's gambling h.e.l.l-and they may figure that you wouldn't act anyway before morning. Do you understand? That's _their_ chance. Your chance is the police without a second's delay-you may even get Karlin before he regains consciousness, or before they try to move him, if you're quick enough. I know your story will sound strange with an unknown man in a mask running through it, but you have only to tell the truth. You have all the evidence you need. The police will know the Chipper, who forged the papers; and the police will know how to make those fake witnesses to the will squeal-it's a different proposition now with them than simply appearing before Karlin and a notary public and swearing to the signatures. Understand?"

"Yes," said Merxler tersely. "You're right-and I'll see it through. But you-you saved my life, and--"

"I get out here," said Billy Kane, and leaning forward suddenly, tapped sharply on the gla.s.s front. They had turned into the street that was not only in the rear of The Purple Scarf, but was equally in the rear of that secret entrance into the Rat's lair. He held out his hand to Merxler. "Good-night, Merxler-I--"

"But," Merxler cried, as the taxi stopped, "I can't let you go like this! I owe you too much. Who are you? What is your name? Where can I find you to--"

"I'm trying to find-myself," said Billy Kane, with grim whimsicality.

"Let it go at that!" He caught Merxler's hand in a hard grip.

"Good-night, Merxler-and good luck!" he said, and stepping quickly from the taxi, closed the door. He handed the chauffeur another bill. "Drive this gentleman to police headquarters-fast!" he ordered, and, turning, moved swiftly away down the street, hugging the shadows again, avoiding the rays of the street lamps.

He slipped into the lane, gained the shed, and from the shed made his way through the underground pa.s.sage to the secret door, listened here intently for a moment, then stepped through into the Rat's room, and groped forward toward the electric light that hung over the table.

It was strange! There was something almost mockingly ironic in it all!

It was like the night before again. In peril himself as grave as Merxler's, he had saved Merxler-and his own peril remained, was increased even, for the inner circle of this crime world that ranked him as a trusted confederate would be aroused now to an unbridled pitch of fury and excitement, seeking the unknown man in the mask who had foiled them to-night. Suspicious as they would be of every one, he now had that suspicion to combat, and he could ill afford that a breath of it should touch him. His all was at stake-Red Vallon, with the underworld at his heels, was enlisted now in a hunt for those rubies, which, if successful, must inevitably discover too the ident.i.ty of the man, or men, who had murdered David Ellsworth, and who had driven him, Billy Kane, into this d.a.m.nable exile! It was paramount, vital, that he should preserve his authority to keep the underworld at that work, the power to command, the--

Billy Kane switched on the electric light, and stood staring at the table, grim faced, his jaws locked tight together, his hand like a flash seeking his revolver in his pocket. His eyes lifted, and swept around the room. The swift, quick glance went unrewarded. The room was apparently as he had left it. He crossed quickly to the street door. It was still locked.

Again his eyes searched the room. He remembered that she had spoken of other secrets that the room possessed. What were they? Still another entrance? There was no sign of it! He knew only that someone had been here in his absence-and was now flaunting that visit in his face. Was it mockery? A warning? What?

It could not have been Red Vallon, or any of his pack. It was almost certain that Red Vallon had no knowledge of any secret entrance, and besides it was too soon for Red Vallon. Was it the woman? He shook his head. It was hardly likely, and his reason told him no-she had been outspoken enough that evening, and she had given no hint of _this_. Who then? And what was its meaning? Was it grim mockery? A grimmer warning?

What?

On the table, ostentatiously placed in full view, and identified beyond possibility of mistake by a piece cut from the corner of the original plush tray on which it and many of its fellows had rested, was one of the rubies stolen from David Ellsworth's vault!

XII-A CLUE

Billy Kane's eyes lifted from his plate, and fixed in a curiously introspective way on Whitie Jack's unhandsome and unshaven face across the little table. Twenty-four hours! He was out in the open now-"convalescent." Twenty-four hours-and as far as Red Vallon and Birdie Rose were concerned specifically, and the underworld generally, there had been not a shred of success. He had unleashed the underworld, but the underworld had picked up neither thread nor clue; the underground clearing houses for stolen goods, the "fences," had yielded up no single one of the rubies belonging to the Ellsworth collection; the lead that he had given Birdie Rose in respect of Jackson, the dead footman, had, up to the present at least, proved abortive.

Well, perhaps he, Billy Kane, would be more successful! The twenty-four hours had not been wholly fruitless. Perhaps before the night was out there would be a different story to tell-perhaps a grim and ugly story.

There was one clue which had developed, but a clue that was to be entrusted to neither Red Vallon, nor Birdie Rose, nor any of the pack.

Even they, case-hardened, steeped in crime though they were, might balk at pus.h.i.+ng that clue to its ultimate conclusion. They might weaken at the limit! He, Billy Kane, would not weaken, because, as between his own life and the life of one who he was already satisfied was a murderer, he would not fling his own life away! His life was at stake. Red Vallon's wasn't. Birdie Rose's wasn't. It made a difference in-the limit!

An attendant, in a dirty, beer-stained ap.r.o.n, sidled to the edge of the table. The man had been eager in his attentions, deferential, almost obsequious.

"Wot're youse for now, Bundy?" he inquired solicitously.

Billy Kane smiled, as he shook his head and jerked his hand by way of invitation toward Whitie Jack. He, Billy Kane, was the Rat, alias Bundy Morgan! He had never in his life before been in this none-too-reputable place run by one Two-finger Tasker, that combined at one and the same time a restaurant and dance hall of the lowest type, yet he found himself not only well known but an honored guest! He had known of the place by name and reputation; it was the sort of place that seemed naturally one the Rat would frequent, and he had told Red Vallon that he would "eat" here this evening. Red Vallon would have to make a report somewhere, and he, Billy Kane, had become none too sure of his own temporary quarters-that secret door, that underground pa.s.sage into the Rat's lair had not proved an altogether unmixed blessing! There was the Woman in Black, who had been an uninvited, unwelcome, and almost sinister visitor on two occasions already; and there was, far more disturbing still, the matter of that ruby from the Ellsworth collection which had found its way mysteriously to the table in that room-the single stone from the collection that had come to light since the murder two nights ago.

Whitie Jack accepted the unspoken invitation.