The Black Bag by Louis Joseph Vance
XIII
A PRIMER OF PROGRESSIVE CRIME
Without warning or presage the still evening air was smitten and madesoftly musical by the pealing of a distant chime, calling vespers to itsbrothers in Antwerp's hundred belfries; and one by one, far and near, theresponses broke out, until it seemed as if the world must be vibrantwith silver and brazen melody; until at the last the great bells in theCathedral spire stirred and grumbled drowsily, then woke to such ringingresonance as dwarfed all the rest and made it seem as nothing.
Like the beating of a mighty heart heard through the rushing clamor of thepulses, a single deep-throated bell boomed solemnly six heavy, rumblingstrokes.
Six o'clock! Kirkwood roused out of his dour brooding. The Amsterdamexpress would leave at 6:32, and he knew not from what station.
Striding swiftly across the promenade, he entered a small tobacco shop andmade inquiry of the proprietress. His command of French was tolerable; heexperienced no difficulty in comprehending the good woman's instructions.
Trains for Amsterdam, she said, left from the Gare Centrale, a mile or soacross the city. M'sieur had plenty of time, and to spare. There was thetram line, if m'sieur did not care to take a fiacre. If he would go by wayof the Vielle Bourse he would discover the tram cars of the Rue Kipdorp.M'sieur was most welcome....
Monsieur departed with the more haste since he was unable to repay thiscourtesy with the most trifling purchase; such slight matters annoyedKirkwood intensely. Perhaps it was well for him that he had the long walkto help him work off the fit of nervous exasperation into which he wasplunged every time his thoughts harked back to that jovial black-guard,Stryker.... He was quite calm when, after a brisk walk of some fifteenminutes, he reached the station.
A public clock reassured him with the information that he had the quarterof an hour's leeway; it was only seventeen minutes past eighteen o'clock(Belgian railway time, always confusing). Inquiring his way to theAmsterdam train, which was already waiting at the platform, he paced itslength, peering brazenly in at the coach windows, now warm with hope, nowshivering with disappointment, realizing as he could not but realize that,all else aside, his only chance of rehabilitation lay in meeting Calendar.But in none of the coaches or carriages did he discover any one evenremotely resembling the fat adventurer, his daughter, or Mulready.
Satisfied that they had not yet boarded the train, he stood aside, torturedwith forebodings, while anxiously scrutinizing each individual of thethrong of intending travelers.... Perhaps they had been delayed--by the_Alethea's_ lateness in making port very likely; perhaps they purposedtaking not this but a later train; perhaps they had already left the cityby an earlier, or had returned to England.
On time, the bell clanged its warning; the guards bawled theirs; doors werehastily opened and slammed; the trucks began to groan, couplings joltingas the engine chafed in constraint. The train and Kirkwood movedsimultaneously out of opposite ends of the station, the one to rattle andhammer round the eastern boundaries of the city and straighten out at topspeed on the northern route for the Belgian line, the other to strollmoodily away, idle hands in empty pockets, bound aimlessly anywhere--itdidn't matter!
Nothing whatever mattered in the smallest degree. Ere now the outlook hadbeen dark; but this he felt to be the absolute nadir of his misfortunes.Presently--after a while--as soon as he could bring himself to it--he wouldask the way and go to the American Consulate. But just now, low as the tideof chance had ebbed, leaving him stranded on the flats of vagabondage,low as showed the measure of his self-esteem, he could not tolerate theprospect of begging for assistance--help which would in all likelihood berefused, since his story was quite too preposterous to gain credence inofficial ears that daily are filled with the lamentations of those whosemotives do not bear investigation. And if he chose to eliminate the strangechain of events which had landed him in Antwerp, to base his plea solely onthe fact that he was a victim of the San Francisco disaster ... he himselfwas able to smile, if sourly, anticipating the incredulous consular smilewith which he would be shown the door.
No; that he would reserve as a last resort. True, he had already come tothe Jumping-off Place; to the Court of the Last Resort alone could he nowappeal. But ... not yet; after a while he could make his petition, after hehad made a familiar of the thought that he must armor himself with callousindifference to rebuff, to say naught of the waves of burning shame thatwould overwhelm him when he came to the point of asking charity.
He found himself, neither knowing nor caring how he had won thither, in thePlace Verte, the vast venerable pile of the Cathedral rising on his right,hotels and quaint Old-World dwellings with peaked roofs and gables anddormer windows, inclosing the other sides of the square. The chimes (hecould hear none but those of the Cathedral) were heralding the hour ofseven. Listless and preoccupied in contemplation of his wretched case hewandered purposelessly half round the square, then dropped into a bench onits outskirts.
It was some time later that he noticed, with a casual, indifferent eye, aporter running out of the Hotel de Flandre, directly opposite, and callinga fiacre in to the carriage block.
As languidly he watched a woman, very becomingly dressed, follow the porterdown to the curb.
The fiacre swung in, and the woman dismissed the porter before entering thevehicle; a proceeding so unusual that it fixed the onlooker's interest.He sat rigid with attention; the woman seemed to be giving explicitand lengthy directions to the driver, who nodded and gesticulated hiscomprehension.
The woman was Mrs. Hallam.
The first blush of recognition passed, leaving Kirkwood without anyamazement. It was an easy matter to account for her being where she was.Thrown off the scent by Kirkwood at Sheerness, the previous morning, shehad missed the day boat, the same which had ferried over those whom shepursued. Returning from Sheerness to Queensborough, however, she had takenthe night boat for Flushing and Antwerp,--and not without her plan, who wasnot a woman to waste her strength aimlessly; Kirkwood believed that shehad had from the first a very definite campaign in view. In that campaignQueensborough Pier had been the first strategic move; the journey toAntwerp, apparently, the second; and the American was impressed that he waswitnessing the inception of the third decided step.... The conclusion ofthis process of reasoning was inevitable: Madam would bear watching.
Thus was a magical transformation brought about. Instantaneously lassitudeand vain repinings were replaced by hopefulness and energy. In a twinklingthe young man was on his feet, every nerve a-thrill with excitement.
Mrs. Hallam, blissfully ignorant of this surveillance over her movements,took her place in the fiacre. The driver clucked to his horse, crackedhis whip, and started off at a slow trot: a pace which Kirkwood imitated,keeping himself at a discreet distance to the rear of the cab, but preparedto break into a run whenever it should prove necessary.
Such exertion, however, was not required of him. Evidently Mrs. Hallamwas in no great haste to reach her destination; the speed of the fiacreremained extremely moderate; Kirkwood found a long, brisk stride fastenough to keep it well in sight.
Round the green square, under the beautiful walls of Notre Dame d'Anvers,through Grande Place and past the Hotel de Ville, the cab proceeded, doggedby what might plausibly be asserted the most persistent and infatuated soulthat ever crossed the water; and so on into the Quai Van Dyck, turning tothe left at the old Steen dungeon and, slowing to a walk, moving soberly upthe drive.
Beyond the lip of the embankment, the Scheldt flowed, its broad shiningsurface oily, smooth and dark, a mirror for the incandescent glory of theskies. Over on the western bank old Tete de Flandre lifted up its grimcurtains and bastions, sable against the crimson, rampart and parapet edgedwith fire. Busy little side-wheeled ferry steamers spanked the watersnoisily and smudged the sunset with dark drifting trails of smoke; and everand anon a rowboat would slip out of shadow to glide languidly with thecurrent. Otherwise the life of the river was gone; and at their mooringsthe ships swung in gr
In the company of the latter the young man marked down the _Alethea_; asight which made him unconsciously clench both fists and teeth, remindinghim of that rare wag, Stryker....
To his way of thinking the behavior of the fiacre was quite unaccountable.Hardly had the horse paced off the length of two blocks on the Quai ereit was guided to the edge of the promenade and brought to a stop. And thedriver twisted the reins round his whip, thrust the latter in its socket,turned sidewise on the box, and began to smoke and swing his heels,surveying the panorama of river and sunset with complacency--a cabby, onewould venture, without a care in the world and serene in the assurance ofa generous _pour-boire_ when he lost his fare. But as for the latter, shemade no move; the door of the cab remained closed,--like its occupant'smind, a mystery to the watcher.
Twilight shadows lengthened, darkling, over the land; street-lights flashedup in long, radiant ranks. Across the promenade hotels and shops werelighted up; people began to gather round the tables beneath the awnings ofan open-air cafe. In the distance, somewhere, a band swung into the dreamyrhythm of a haunting waltz. Scattered couples moved slowly, arm in arm,along the riverside walk, drinking in the fragrance of the night. Overheadstars popped out in brilliance and dropped their reflections to swim lazilyon spellbound waters.... And still the fiacre lingered in inaction, stillthe driver lorded it aloft, in care-free abandon.
In the course of time this inertia, where he had looked for action, thisdull suspense when he had forecast interesting developments, wore upon thewatcher's nerves and made him at once impatient and suspicious. Now that hehad begun to doubt, he conceived it as quite possible that Mrs. Hallam (whowas capable of anything) should have stolen out of the cab by the otherand, to him, invisible door. To resolve the matter, finally, he tookadvantage of the darkness, turned up his coat collar, hunched up hisshoulders, hid his hands in pockets, pulled the visor of his cap wellforward over his eyes, and slouched past the fiacre.
Mrs. Hallam sat within. He could see her profile clearly silhouettedagainst the light; she was bending forward and staring fixedly out of thewindow, across the driveway. Mentally he calculated the direction of hergaze, then, moved away and followed it with his own eyes; and found himselfstaring at the facade of a third-rate hotel. Above its roof the gildedletters of a sign, catching the illumination from below, spelled out thetitle of "Hotel du Commerce."
Mrs. Hallam was interested in the Hotel du Commerce?
Thoughtfully Kirkwood fell back to his former point of observation, nowthe richer by another object of suspicion, the hostelry. Mrs. Hallam waswaiting and watching for some one to enter or to leave that establishment.It seemed a reasonable inference to draw. Well, then, so was Kirkwood, noless than the lady; he deemed it quite conceivable that their objects wereidentical.
He started to beguile the time by wondering what she would do, if...
Of a sudden he abandoned this line of speculation, and catching his breath,held it, almost afraid to credit the truth that for once his anticipationswere being realized under his very eyes.
Against the lighted doorway of the Hotel du Commerce, the figures of twomen were momentarily sketched, as they came hurriedly forth; and of thetwo, one was short and stout, and even at a distance seemed to bear himselfwith an accent of assertiveness, while the other was tall and heavy ofshoulder.
Side by side they marched in step across the embankment to the head of theQuai gangway, descending without pause to the landing-stage. Kirkwood,hanging breathlessly over the guard-rail, could hear their footfallsringing in hollow rhythm on the planks of the inclined way,--could evendiscern Calendar's unlovely profile in dim relief beneath one of thewaterside lights; and he recognized unmistakably Mulready's deep voice,grumbling inarticulately.
At the outset he had set after them, with intent to accost Calendar; buttheir pace had been swift and his irresolute. He hung fire on the issue,dreading to reveal himself, unable to decide which were the better course,to pursue the men, or to wait and discover what Mrs. Hallam was about. Inthe end he waited; and had his disappointment for recompense.
For Mrs. Hallam did nothing intelligible. Had she driven over to the hotel,hard upon the departure of the men, he would have believed that she wasseeking Dorothy, and would, furthermore, have elected to crowd theirinterview, if she succeeded in obtaining one with the girl. But she didnothing of the sort. For a time the fiacre remained as it had been eversince stopping; then, evidently admonished by his fare, the driverstraightened up, knocked out his pipe, disentangled reins and whip, andwheeled the equipage back on the way it had come, disappearing in a darkside street leading eastward from the embankment.
Kirkwood was, then, to believe that Mrs. Hallam, having taken all thattrouble and having waited for the two adventurers to appear, had beencontent with sight of them? He could hardly believe that of the woman; itwasn't like her.
He started across the driveway, after the fiacre, but it was lost in atangle of side streets before he could make up his mind whether it wasworth while chasing or not; and, pondering the woman's singular action, heretraced his steps to the promenade rail.
Presently he told himself he understood. Dorothy was no longer of herfather's party; he had a suspicion that Mulready's attitude had made itseem advisable to Calendar either to leave the girl behind, in England, orto segregate her from his associates in Antwerp. If not lodged in anotherquarter of the city, or left behind, she was probably traveling on ahead,to a destination which he could by no means guess. And Mrs. Hallam waslooking for the girl; if there were really jewels in that gladstone bag,Calendar would naturally have had no hesitation about intrusting them tohis daughter's care; and Mrs. Hallam avowedly sought nothing else. Howthe woman had found out that such was the case, Kirkwood did not stop toreckon; unless he explained it on the proposition that she was a person ofremarkable address. It made no matter, one way or the other; he had lostMrs. Hallam; but Calendar and Mulready he could put his finger on; they hadundoubtedly gone off to the _Alethea_ to confer again with Stryker,--thatwas, unless they proposed sailing on the brigantine, possibly at turn oftide that night.
Panic gripped his soul and shook it, as a terrier shakes a rat, when heconceived this frightful proposition.
In his confusion of mind he evolved spontaneously an entirely newhypothesis: Dorothy had already been spirited aboard the vessel; Calendarand his confederate, delaying to join her from enigmatic motives, were nowaboard; and presently the word would be, Up-anchor and away!
Were they again to elude him? Not, he swore, if he had to swim for it. Andhe had no wish to swim. The clothes he stood in, with what was left of hisself-respect, were all that he could call his own on that side of the NorthSea. Not a boatman on the Scheldt would so much as consider accepting threeEnglish pennies in exchange for boat-hire. In brief, it began to look as ifhe were either to swim or ... to steal a boat.
Upon such slender threads of circumstance depends our boasted moral health.In one fleeting minute Kirkwood's conception of the law of _meum et tuum_,its foundations already insidiously undermined by a series of cumulativemisfortunes, toppled crashing to its fall; and was not.
He was wholly unconscious of the change. Beneath him, in a space betweenthe quays bridged by the gangway, a number of rowboats, a putative score,lay moored for the night and gently rubbing against each other with thesoundless lift and fall of the river. For all that Kirkwood could determineto the contrary, the lot lay at the mercy of the public; nowhere about washe able to discern a figure in anything resembling a watchman.
Without a quiver of hesitation--moments were invaluable, if what he fearedwere true--he strode to the gangway, passed down, and with absolutenonchalance dropped into the nearest boat, stepping from one to anotheruntil he had gained the outermost. To his joy he found a pair of oarsstowed beneath the thwarts.
If he had paused to moralize--which he didn't--upon the discovery, he wouldhave laid it all at the door of his lucky star; an
Unhitching the painter he set one oar against the gunwale of the next boat,and with a powerful thrust sent his own (let us so call it for convenience)stern-first out upon the river; then sat him composedly down, fitted theoars to their locks, and began to pull straight across-stream, trusting tothe current to carry him down to the _Alethea_. He had already marked downthat vessel's riding-light; and that not without a glow of gratitude to seeit still aloft and in proper juxtaposition to the river-bank; proof that ithad not moved.
He pulled a good oar, reckoned his distance prettily, and shipping theblades at just the right moment, brought the little boat in under thebrigantine's counter with scarce a jar. An element of surprise he heldessential to the success of his plan, whatever that might turn out to be.
Standing up, he caught the brigantine's after-rail with both hands, one ofwhich held the painter of the purloined boat, and lifted his head abovethe deck line. A short survey of the deserted after-deck gave him furtherassurance. The anchor-watch was not in sight; he may have been keepingwell forward by Stryker's instructions, or he may have crept off for fortywinks. Whatever the reason for his absence from the post of duty, Kirkwoodwas relieved not to have him to deal with; and drawing himself gently inover the rail, made the painter fast, and stepped noiselessly over towardthe lighted oblong of the companionway. A murmur of voices from belowcomforted him with the knowledge that he had not miscalculated, this time;at last he stood within striking distance of his quarry.
The syllables of his surname ringing clearly in his ears and followed byStryker's fleeting laugh, brought him to a pause. He flushed hotly in thedarkness; the captain was retailing with relish some of his most successfulwitticisms at Kirkwood's expense.... "You'd ought to've seed the wye'elooked at me!" concluded the _raconteur_ in a gale of mirth.
Mulready laughed with him, if a little uncertainly. Calendar's chuckle wasnot audible, but he broke the pause that followed.
"I don't know," he said with doubting emphasis. "You say you landed himwithout a penny in his pocket? I don't call that a good plan at all. Ofcourse, he ain't a factor, but ... Well, it might've been as well to givehim his fare home. He might make trouble for us, somehow.... I don't mindtelling you, Cap'n, that you're an ass."
The tensity of certain situations numbs the sensibilities. Kirkwood hadnever in his weirdest dreams thought of himself as an eavesdropper; he didnot think of himself as such in the present instance; he merely listened,edging nearer the skylight, of which the wings were slightly raised, andkeeping as far as possible in shadow.
"Ow, I sye!" the captain was remonstrating, aggrieved. "'Ow was I to know'e didn't 'ave it in for you? First off, when 'e comes on board (I'll syethis for 'im, 'e's as plucky as they myke 'em), I thought 'e was from theYard. Then, when I see wot a bally hinnocent 'e was, I mykes up my mind'e's just some one you've been ply in' one of your little gymes on, and 'oowas lookin' to square 'is account. So I did 'im proper."
"Evidently," assented Calendar dryly. "You're a bit of a heavy-handedbrute, Stryker. Personally I'm kind of sorry for the boy; he wasn't a badsort, as his kind runs, and he was no fool, from what little I saw ofhim.... I wonder what he wanted."
"Possibly," Mulready chimed in suavely, "you can explain what you wantedof him, in the first place. How did you come to drag him into _this_business?"
"Oh, that!" Calendar laughed shortly. "That was partly accident, partlyinspiration. I happened to see his name on the Pless register; he'd puthimself down as from 'Frisco. I figured it out that he would be next doorto broke and getting desperate, ready to do anything to get home; andthought we might utilize him; to smuggle some of the stuff into the States.Once before, if you'll remember--no; that was before we got together,Mulready--I picked up a fellow-countryman on the Strand. He was down andout, jumped at the job, and we made a neat little wad on it."
"The more fool you, to take outsiders into your confidence," grumbledMulready.
"Ow?" interrogated Calendar, mimicking Stryker's accent inimitably. "Well,you've got a heap to learn about this game, Mul; about the first thingis that you must trust Old Man Know-it-all, which is me. I've run morediamonds into the States, in one way or another, in my time, than you everpinched out of the shirt-front of a toff on the Empire Prom., before theymade the graft too hot for you and you came to take lessons from me in thegentle art of living easy."
"Oh, cut that, cawn't you?"
"Delighted, dear boy.... One of the first principles, next to profiting bythe admirable example I set you, is to make the fellows in your own linetrust you. Now, if this boy had taken on with me, I could have got a bunchof the sparklers on my mere say-so, from old Morganthau up on FinsburyPavement. He does a steady business hoodwinking the Customs for the benefitof his American clients--and himself. And I'd've made a neat little profitbesides: something to fall back on, if this fell through. I don't mindhaving two strings to my bow."
"Yes," argued Mulready; "but suppose this Kirkwood had taken on with youand then peached?"
"That's another secret; you've got to know your man, be able to size himup. I called on this chap for that very purpose; but I saw at a glance hewasn't our man. He smelt a nigger in the woodpile and most politely toldme to go to the devil. But if he _had_ come in, he'd've died before hesquealed. I know the breed; there's honor among gentlemen that knocks thehonor of thieves higher'n a kite, the old saw to the contrary--nothingdoing.... You understand me, I'm sure, Mulready?" he concluded withenvenomed sweetness.
"I don't see yet how Kirkwood got anything to do with Dorothy."
"Miss Calendar to you, _Mister_ Mulready!" snapped Calendar. "There, there,now! Don't get excited.... It was when the Hallam passed me word that a manfrom the Yard was waiting on the altar steps for me, that Kirkwood came in.He was dining close by; I went over and worked on his feelings until heagreed to take Dorothy off my hands. If I had attempted to leave the placewith her, they'd've spotted me for sure.... My compliments to you, DickMulready."
There came the noise of chair legs scraped harshly on the cabin deck.Apparently Mulready had leaped to his feet in a rage.
"I've told you--" he began in a voice thick with passion.
"Oh, sit down!" Calendar cut in contemptuously. "Sit down, d'you hear?That's all over and done with. We understand each other now, and you won'ttry any more monkey-shines. It's a square deal and a square divide, sofar's I'm concerned; if we stick together there'll be profit enough for allconcerned. Sit down, Mul, and have another slug of the captain's bum rum."
Although Mulready consented to be pacified, Kirkwood got the impressionthat the man was far gone in drink. A moment later he heard him growl"Chin-chin!" antiphonal to the captain's "Cheer-o!"
"Now, then," Calendar proposed, "Mr. Kirkwood aside--peace be withhim!--let's get down to cases."
"Wot's the row?" asked the captain.
"The row, Cap'n, is the Hallam female, who has unexpectedly shown up inAntwerp, we have reason to believe with malicious intent and a privatedetective to add to the gaiety of nations."
"Wot's the odds? She carn't 'urt us without lyin' up trouble for 'erself."
"Damn little consolation to us when we're working it out in Dartmoor."
"Speak for yourself," grunted Mulready surlily.
"I do," returned Calendar easily; "we're both in the shadow of Dartmoor,Mul, my boy; since you choose to take the reference as personal. Sing Sing,however, yawns for me alone; it's going to keep on yawning, too, unless Imiss my guess. I love my native land most to death, _but_ ..."
"Ow, blow that!" interrupted the captain irritably. "Let's 'ear about the'Allam. Wot're you afryd of?"
"'Fraid she'll set up a yell when she finds out we're planting the loot,Cap'n. She's just that vindictive; you'd think she'd be satisfied
"Well?"
"Well, she's queered us here. We can't do anything if my lady is going tocamp on our trail and tell everybody we're shady customers, can we? Thequestion now before the board is: Where now,--and how?"
"Amsterdam," Mulready chimed in. "I told you that in the beginning."
"But how?" argued Calendar. "The Lord knows I'm willing but ... we can't goby rail, thanks to the Hallam. We've got to lose her first of all."
"But wot I'm arskin' is, wot's the matter with--"
"The _Alethea_, Cap'n? Nothing, so far as Dick and I are concerned. But mydutiful daughter is prejudiced; she's been so long without proper paternaldiscipline," Calendar laughed, "that she's rather high-spirited. Of courseI might overcome her objections, but the girl's no fool, and every ounceof pressure I bring to bear just now only helps make her more restless andsuspicious."
"You leave her to me," Mulready interposed, with a brutal laugh. "I'llguarantee to get her aboard, or..."
"Drop it, Dick!" Calendar advised quietly. "And go a bit easy with thatbottle for five minutes, can't you?"
"Well, then," Stryker resumed, apparently concurring in Calendar'sattitude, "w'y don't one of you tyke the stuff, go off quiet and dispose ofit to a proper fence, and come back to divide. I don't see w'y that--"
"Naturally you wouldn't," chuckled Calendar. "Few people besides the two ofus understand the depth of affection existing between Dick, here, andme. We just can't bear to get out of sight of each other. We're sureinseparable--since night before last. Odd, isn't it?"
"You drop it!" snarled Mulready, in accents so ugly that the listener wasstartled. "Enough's enough and--"
"There, there, Dick! All right; I'll behave," Calendar soothed him. "We'llforget and say no more about it."
"Well, see you don't."
"But 'as either of you a plan?" persisted Stryker.
"I have," replied Mulready; "and it's the simplest and best, if you couldonly make this long-lost parent here see it."
"Wot is it?"
Mulready seemed to ignore Calendar and address himself to the captain.He articulated with some difficulty, slurring his words to the point ofindistinctness at times.
"Simple enough," he propounded solemnly. "We've got the gladstone bag here;Miss Dolly's at the hotel--that's her papa's bright notion; he thinks she'sto be trusted ... Now then, what's the matter with weighing anchor andslipping quietly out to sea?"
"Leavin' the dootiful darter?"
"Cert'n'y. She's only a drag any way. 'Better off without her.... Then wecan wait our time and get highest market prices--"
"You forget, Dick," Calendar put it, "that there's a thousand in it foreach of us if she's kept out of England for six weeks. A thousand's fivethousand in the land I hail from; I can use five thousand in my business."
"Why can't you be content with what you've got?" demanded Mulreadywrathfully.
"Because I'm a seventh son of a seventh son; I can see an inch or twobeyond my nose. If Dorothy ever finds her way back to England she'll spoilone of the finest fields of legitimate graft I ever licked my lips to lookat. The trouble with you, Mul, is you're too high-toned. You want to playthe swell mobs-man from post to finish. A quick touch and a clean getawayfor yours. Now, that's all right; that has its good points, but you don'twant to underestimate the advantages of a good blackmailing connection....If I can keep Dorothy quiet long enough, I look to the Hallam and preciousFreddie to be a great comfort to me in my old age."
"Then, for God's sake," cried Mulready, "go to the hotel, get your brat bythe scruif of her pretty neck and drag her aboard. Let's get out of this."
"I won't," returned Calendar inflexibly.
The dispute continued, but the listener had heard enough. He had to getaway and think, could no longer listen; indeed, the voices of the threeblackguards below came but indistinctly to his ears, as if from a distance.He was sick at heart and ablaze with indignation by turns. Unconsciously hewas trembling violently in every limb; swept by alternate waves of heat andcold, feverish one minute, shivering the next. All of which phenomena weredue solely to the rage that welled inside his heart.
Stealthily he crept away to the rail, to stand grasping it and staringacross the water with unseeing eyes at the gay old city twinkling back withher thousand eyes of light. The cool night breeze, sweeping down unhinderedover the level Netherlands from the bleak North Sea, was comforting tohis throbbing temples. By degrees his head cleared, his rioting pulsessubsided, he could think; and he did.
Over there, across the water, in the dingy and disreputable Hotel duCommerce, Dorothy waited in her room, doubtless the prey of unnumberednameless terrors, while aboard the brigantine her fate was being decided bya council of three unspeakable scoundrels, one of whom, professing himselfher father, openly declared his intention of using her to further hisselfish and criminal ends.
His first and natural thought, to steal away to her and induce her toaccompany him back to England, Kirkwood perforce discarded. He couldhave wept over the realization of his unqualified impotency. He had nomoney,--not even cab-fare from the hotel to the railway station. Somethingsubtler, more crafty, had to be contrived to meet the emergency. And therewas one way, one only; he could see none other. Temporarily he must makehimself one of the company of her enemies, force himself upon them,ingratiate himself into their good graces, gain their confidence, then,when opportunity offered, betray them. And the power to make them toleratehim, if not receive him as a fellow, the knowledge of them and their plansthat they had unwittingly given him, was his.
And Dorothy, was waiting....
He swung round and without attempting to muffle his footfalls strode towardthe companionway. He must pretend he had just come aboard.
Subconsciously he had been aware, during his time of pondering, that thevoices in the cabin had been steadily gaining in volume, rising louder andyet more loud, Mulready's ominous, drink-blurred accents dominating theothers. There was a quarrel afoot; as soon as he gave it heed, Kirkwoodunderstood that Mulready, in the madness of his inflamed brain, was forcingthe issue while Calendar sought vainly to calm and soothe him.
The American arrived at the head of the companionway at a criticaljuncture. As he moved to descend some low, cool-toned retort of Calendar'sseemed to enrage his confederate beyond reason. He yelped aloud with wrath,sprang to his feet, knocking over a chair, and leaping back toward the footof the steps, flashed an adroit hand behind him and found his revolver.
"I've stood enough from you!" he screamed, his voice oddly clear in thatmoment of insanity. "You've played with me as long as you will, you hulkingAmerican hog! And now I'm going to show--"
As he held his fire to permit his denunciation to bite home, Kirkwood,appalled to find himself standing on the threshold of a tragedy, gatheredhimself together and launched through the air, straight for the madman'sshoulders.
As they went down together, sprawling, Mulready's head struck against atransom and the revolver fell from his limp fingers.