Doors of the Night Part 18

Billy Kane whirled, and dashed for the fence. As he straddled the top, he saw a figure, thrown into relief on the lighted street, speed past the head of the lane-and then, with a wry smile at a sudden realization of his own impotence, he dropped to the lane, and, instead of running now, made his way slowly and cautiously forward, hugged close against the wall. If he ran out of the lane into the arms of Vetter and Savnak, besides hampering the pursuit by distracting their attention from the fugitive, he invited the decidedly awkward and very natural suspicion of being connected with the thief himself; and the police would be very apt to listen with their tongues in their cheeks to any explanation that the Rat might offer to account for his presence in the lane at that particular moment! And if there was any one thing that he wished to avoid to-night, it was a complication with the police that would inevitably interfere with his freedom of action during the next few hours.

Came a wild cry now from both Vetter and Savnak from the front of the house; and then the two men, yelling at the top of their voices, both hatless, Savnak, apparently unconscious in his excitement that he was brandis.h.i.+ng his violin frantically in one hand and his bow in the other, tore madly down the street in pursuit of their quarry.

Billy Kane slipped out to the street. Doors of tenements and houses were beginning to open; heads were beginning to be thrust out through upper windows; the street was beginning to a.s.sume a state of pandemonium. A block down, the quarry, well in the lead of the old Hollander and the violinist, leaped suddenly into a waiting automobile, and vanished around the corner.

Billy Kane turned away. He felt a curiously chagrined resentment against this so-called Mole, that was quite apart from his angry resentment of the fact that the old Hollander had been victimized. He had expected something quite different from the Mole! Red Vallon-and she, too-had given the Mole a reputation for cleverness, craft and cunning; but, instead of having shown any cleverness, or even a shred of originality, the Mole, or his minion, had perpetrated nothing more than a bald, crude theft that any house-breaker, or broken-down old "lag" could have pulled off with equal lack of finesse! Well, anyway, for the moment so far as he was concerned, the affair was at an end, and he could only await developments. It all hinged on Red Vallon now-on Red Vallon, who proposed in turn to rob the robber-on Red Vallon, who, later on, would keep an appointment with him, Billy Kane, in the Rat's den!

As he turned a corner, Billy Kane consulted his watch. It was still early, just a trifle after eight-too early for that interview with Peters yet. He might as well go back to Two-finger Tasker's then. It was scarcely likely that _she_ was still there, but, if she were, so much the better! She could hardly hold him responsible for failure; and, in any case, she would realize that there was still the chance of recovering the stones by, in turn again, outwitting Red Vallon, if the gangster had been successful. If she were not there, Two-finger Tasker's was as good a place as any in which to put in the time.

He reached the dance hall, and found, as he had half expected, that she had already gone. He sat down at a table, ordered something from the waiter, and, apparently absorbed in the dancers, who had now begun to gather, he made a sort of grimly-rea.s.suring inventory of his equipment for the night's work that still lay ahead of him-his mask, his automatic, Whitie Jack's skeleton keys, were in his pockets. His lips twisted in a curious smile. The Mole, Vetter, the diamonds, the old violinist-all these seemed suddenly extraneous, incidents thrust upon him, dragged irrelevantly into his existence. They sank into inconsequential obtrusions in the face of the stake for which he was now about to play: his freedom, a clean name again, the end of this devil's tormenting masquerade, his life or, perhaps, another man's life-Peters'?

Half an hour pa.s.sed. Once more he looked at his watch. A few minutes later he consulted it again. And then at a quarter to nine he rose from the table, and left Two-finger Tasker's resort.

XV-THE ALIBI

Twenty minutes later, having satisfied himself that the immediate neighborhood was free of pa.s.sers-by for the moment, and that he had not been observed, he tried the street door of the tenement that had been the subject of Whitie Jack's earlier investigations. The door was unlocked, and he stepped silently into the vestibule, and closed the door softly behind him.

He stood for a moment listening, and taking critical note of his surroundings. A single incandescent burning here in the lower hall supplied ample illumination. The stairs were directly in front of him, and on the right of the hallway. There was a closed door, also on the right and just at the foot of the stairs, and from behind this there came the murmur of voices. There was no other sound.

He moved quietly forward, mounted the stairs, gained the landing, and, with more caution now, turned back along the hall, making for the door on the right-Peters' door, according to Whitie Jack-that, if in the same relative location as the one below, would be at the foot of the next flight of stairs. A faint light came up through the stair well, but the end of the hall itself beyond the second flight of stairs was in blackness. He nodded grimly in satisfaction. He would not need any light to find Peters' door!

His lips pressed hard together. He had reached the door now, and now he crouched against it, his ear to the panel. He listened intently. A sudden doubt came and tormented him and obsessed him. What, if by any chance Peters had someone with him! A bead of moisture oozed out on his forehead, and he brushed it hurriedly away. He was not so callous now!

Behind that door lay, literally, life and death; behind that door, if it proved necessary, he meant to take a man's life, a miserable life, it was true, a murderer's life, a life that had no claim to mercy, but still a man's life. Had he ever laid claim to being callous? But that did not mean that his resolution was being undermined. The issue to-night was clearly defined, ultimate, final, and he had accepted that issue, and he would see it through. His lips relaxed a little in a smile of self-mockery. Well, suppose Peters were _not_ alone he, Billy Kane, had only to wait until the visitor conjured up by his doubts had gone.

He steadied himself with a mental effort. His nerves were getting a little too high strung. To begin with, there wasn't anybody in there with Peters. He would have heard voices if there had been, and he had heard none. He glanced around him now, but the act was wholly one of exaggerated caution. Here at the end of the hall he could see nothing.

Opposite him was probably the door of the other apartment on this floor that Whitie Jack had said was unoccupied. There was no fear of interruption. He took his automatic from his pocket, tried the door cautiously, and finding it locked, knocked softly with his knuckles on the panel.

There was no response. He knocked again, a little louder, more insistently. There was still no response. Billy Kane was gnawing at his under lip now. Not only had Peters no visitor, but even Peters himself was not there! Out of the darkness it seemed as though a horde of mocking devils were suddenly jeering at him in unholy glee. He had somehow been very sure that everything to-night would go as he had planned, and, instead, there had been nothing so far but stark futility.

But the night was not ended yet! He thrust the automatic abruptly back into his pocket. There was still time for Peters to come. It was only a little after nine. And Peters would have a visitor after all-a visitor waiting there inside that room for him!

Billy Kane drew Whitie Jack's bunch of skeleton keys from his pocket, and, crouching now low down in front of the door, inserted one of the keys in the lock. It would not work. He tried another with the same result. He was not an adept at lock-picking as yet! He grinned without mirth at the mental reservation-and suddenly drew back from the door, retreating into the deeper blackness at the end of the hall. Here was Peters now, and Peters would have much less trouble in opening the door!

Footsteps were ascending the stairs. A figure, in the murky light from the stair well, gained the landing, and came forward along the hall.

Billy Kane's sudden smile held little of humor. It was not Peters. It was Whitie Jack's tenant of the third floor, Savnak, the old violin player, hugging his violin case under his arm, and as he came into the shadows, feeling out with his other hand for the banisters of the second flight of stairs. Fifteen feet away, flattened against the wall, himself secure from observation, in the darkness, Billy Kane, in a sort of grim philosophical resignation, watched what was now little more than a shadowy outline, as the other went on up the stairs to the third floor.

A door above slammed shut. Billy Kane returned to Peters' door. Again he tried a key, and still another, until, with a low-breathed e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n of satisfaction, he finally unlocked the door. He exchanged the keys for his automatic once more; and once more his hand on the doork.n.o.b, he held tense and motionless, listening. From below there came again the sound of footsteps on the stairs. It was Peters at last, probably; but, if it was Peters, Peters was _not_ alone. The footsteps of two men were on the stairs.

Futility again! The door was unlocked, but it availed him nothing at all now. He had meant to go in and wait for Peters, but it would be a fool play from any angle to go in there now if Peters had anybody with him.

Nor was there time to lock the door again. He had returned the bunch of keys to his pocket, and it would take a moment to sort out the right one, and there was not that moment to spare. The footsteps were already on the landing. Billy Kane drew back once more silently and swiftly to the front of the hall. He was tight-lipped now. It seemed as though every turn of the luck had gone against him. Peters was certain to notice that the door was unlocked. What effect would that have on Peters? What would the man do, and--

Billy Kane was staring down the hall in a numbed, dazed way. Two men had come into the radius of light from the stair well, and were moving quickly along the hall in his direction. He brushed his hand across his eyes. That little horde of devils were at their jeers of unholy mirth again. Peters! There was no such man as Peters! Peters was a myth! The whole cursed night was a series of d.a.m.nable hallucinations. This wasn't Peters-it was Red Vallon, and Birdie Rose.

Out of the darkness he watched them, his mind fogged. What were they doing here? Why had they become suddenly so quiet and stealthy as they went up that second flight of stairs-where Savnak had gone!

Savnak-Vetter-the diamonds-Red Vallon! He remembered the tribute paid to the Mole's cleverness, a tribute that, in his estimation as an eyewitness to the theft, had come far from being borne out in practice.

Was there something that he had not seen, something behind that bald, crude scene which he had witnessed? His brain was stumbling on, groping, striving for understanding. He remembered the code message-the Mole was to divert suspicion to someone else. Had the Mole in some way outwitted Red Vallon? Birdie Rose and Red Vallon obviously believed that the old violinist had the diamonds-there was no other possible explanation to account for their presence here hard on Savnak's trail. And if that were so, it would go hard with Savnak, very hard, indeed, when, believing Savnak was lying, Red Vallon failed to secure the stones. Red Vallon was not a man to trifle with; Red Vallon was perhaps the most dangerous and unscrupulous gangster in New York, and--

Billy Kane was creeping forward, and mounting the stairs step by step with infinite caution. They had disappeared now into Savnak's room, presumably.

He had no choice, had he? The man-handling they would give Savnak would be little short of murder. Murder! His lips tightened. There was to have been murder in that room below there-wasn't there? But that was different-one man was guilty, the other innocent. Much as it meant to him to settle with Peters, he had no choice but to let that go to-night now, if necessary-to let it go, if necessary, until to-morrow, or until he could formulate some other plan, for it was not likely that he could frustrate Red Vallon now, and still be left quietly to return to a reckoning with Peters.

His fingers closed in a sudden spasmodic clutch over the stock of his automatic. He had pa.s.sed Peters' door, and left it unlocked, and Peters might come in the meantime. Well, it didn't matter now! His own luck was out! The night had done nothing but toss him hither and thither like a shuttlec.o.c.k in mockery and sport. And at the last fate had played him this most scurvy trick of all. He could not stand aside and see an innocent man left to the mercy of a devil like Red Vallon, and so, instead of playing Billy Kane to Peters, he was playing the man in the mask to Red Vallon and Birdie Rose! And that jeering horde of imps out of the darkness were shrieking in his ears again!

He slid his mask over his face. He had reached the door over Peters'

flat, which Whitie Jack had described as Savnak's. Red Vallon had failed to close it tightly behind him-perhaps unwilling to risk the chance of any additional sound. It was slightly ajar. A dull glow of light, as though from an inner room, seeped through the aperture. Came a sharp, startled exclamation, and then Red Vallon's voice, snarling viciously:

"Come on! Come across! And come-_quick_!"

Billy Kane pushed the door open inch by inch, and suddenly slipped into the room. He was quite safe, providing he made no noise that would betray his presence. Across from him, at an angle that kept him out of the line of light, was the open door of what was obviously the front room of the apartment. Savnak had evidently been flung violently down into a chair; Birdie Rose's fingers were crooked, claw-like, within an inch of the violinist's throat; and Red Vallon, leaning on a table in front of the two, was leering at Savnak in ugly menace. Savnak was speaking, low and earnestly, but Billy Kane could not catch the man's words. Red Vallon interrupted the other with scant ceremony.

"Can that!" he snarled. "It don't go! That stagehand of yours ain't got the goods-_you_ got 'em. We're wise to your game. We know you, Birdie and me, and you know we know it. How long you been cultivating the old Dutchman, and waiting for something worth while like to-night to break loose? Pinochle and a violin! Pretty nifty, that violin stunt! It helped a lot-we got in the same as that b.o.o.b of yours did-while you was making enough noise fiddling to let an army in without being heard. Sure, you got a tricky nut on your shoulders, all right! It's too bad, though, you don't know enough not to stack up against a better crowd! And the guy turned out the gas to help him in his get-away, did he? Yes, he did-like h.e.l.l! That's where he slipped you the sparklers, old bucko! Well, we've got your number, ain't we? We hung around after that to give you a chance to finish out the play. We're with you there! Nothing suits us better than to have the police chasing some guy they don't know, and that ain't got the white ones anyhow! Come on now, come across!"

Billy Kane, like a man bewildered, mentally stunned, stood there motionless. A singsong refrain repeated itself crazily over and over again in his brain: "Savnak was the Mole! Savnak was the Mole!" He lifted his hand and swept it across his eyes. Savnak's face in there in that room was working in a sort of livid fury. Yes, of course-Savnak was the Mole. It was quite clear now, quite plain-and the Mole was not lacking quite so much after all in craft and cunning! So Red Vallon had been in Vetter's, too, had he? There came a sudden, grim set to Billy Kane's lips. Well, at least, the diamonds were _here_ now!

Savnak was speaking again.

"Who put you wise to this?" he demanded sullenly.

"I dunno!" said the gangster indifferently. "I got orders, that's all.

Mabbe some of our crowd piped you off making your play with Dutchy during the last month, and figured two and two made twenty-three-for you; or mabbe one of your own bunch whispered out loud. I dunno! Are you coming across without getting hurt, or aren't you?"

Billy Kane was moving softly toward the inner door. Savnak had apparently regained his composure. He looked from one to another of his captors, and forced a smile.

"Look here," he said ingratiatingly, "we're all in this. Suppose we play fair. I'm willing to split."

"D'ye hear that, Birdie?" jeered Red Vallon, with a nasty laugh. "He wants a split! Well, give him one-mabbe it'll help him to get a move on!

Twist his pipes a little more-that's the sort of split he won't argue over!"

Birdie Rose's two hands closed with a quick, ugly jerk on Savnak's throat. There was a gurgling cry.

"Wait!" Savnak choked out. "Wait! It's-it's all right, boys." He rubbed his throat, as Birdie Rose released him. "I know when I'm beaten." He shrugged his shoulders in a sort of philosophically fatalistic way, and, reaching into his inside coat pocket, threw Vetter's chamois pocketbook down on the table.

"That's the stuff!" grunted Red Vallon maliciously. "But seeing it's you, we'll just take a look at it to make sure you're _honest_!" He picked up the pocketbook, opened it, nodded and chuckled over the gleaming array of diamonds, and closed the pocketbook again. "Well, I guess that'll be all for to-night, _Mister_ Savnak, and--" His words ended in a sudden gasp.

Billy Kane was standing in the doorway, his automatic covering the men.

"Don't move, please, any of you!" Billy Kane's voice, gruffly unrecognizable, was facetiously debonair.

Birdie Rose's face had gone a pasty white; Savnak, hunched in his chair, stared helplessly; Red Vallon, his jaw dropped, still holding the pocketbook, found his voice.

"The man in the mask!" he mumbled.

"I was a little late for the tombola myself at Vetter's to-night," said Billy Kane coolly. "I understand you were all there. I only got as far as the back yard when the gathering broke up, and I was a little disappointed because I had a hunch that I held the winning number.

However, if you, there, with the pocketbook, whatever your name is, will just toss the prize over here, I'm willing to overlook any slight irregularity there might have been in the drawing."