Doors of the Night Read online

  IV--ALIAS THE RAT

  Billy Kane's face was impassive. The keen, alert brain was working withdesperate speed. There had come in a flash with the other's words avista, not quite clear, nor distinct, but a vista that seemed to promisethe way and the chance, not only of immediate escape from this placehere, but perhaps more than that--assistance, help, perhaps even refugeand temporary sanctuary from the police who, before morning, would bescouring every quarter of New York in an effort to capture him. Thisman, a thief, a criminal, one of the underworld himself, had obviouslymistaken him, Billy Kane, for another of his own ilk--for one known asthe Rat. His appearance, disreputable, blood-stained and mud-covered,had undoubtedly been a very large factor in bringing about the man'smistake, it was true; but that did not in any way apply to his, BillyKane's, _face_, and his face had been, and was still, full in thepitiless glare of the flashlight. Therefore he must to a very remarkableextent resemble this so-called Rat. And, moreover, this Rat must be afigure of some consequence in the underworld; for, even through theman's hoarse and amazed tones, Billy Kane's quick ear had caught a noteof almost cringing deference. And then Billy Kane's under jaw crept outa little, and his eyes narrowed. Well, for the moment, at least, hewould play the part--because he must.

  "Who in hell are you?" he demanded gruffly. "I can't see you behind thatlight."

  "I'm Whitie Jack," the other answered mechanically.

  "Whitie Jack, eh?" snapped Billy Kane. "Well, then"--his hand shot out,and pushed the flashlight roughly away--"take your cursed lamp out of myeyes? What are you playing at?"

  "Sure!" mumbled the man. "Sure--it's all right! Only youse gave me dejumps sneakin' in here. Bundy Morgan--de Rat! Wot's de idea?"

  Nothing perhaps would confirm the man more in his mistake than anallusion to the common enemy--the police. Billy Kane dropped into thevernacular. But the man's reference to "de swells youse used to know"had given him his cue. The Rat at one time had probably known quite adifferent station in life, and the Rat's speech therefore, even in thevernacular, would hardly be ungrammatical.

  "A coat," said Billy Kane tersely. "The bulls have got my costumespotted."

  "Swipe me!" Whitie Jack drew in his breath in a low whistle. "Debulls--eh? So dat's de lay! Well, youse wait a minute, an' I'll getyouse one. Youse look as though youse had blamed near cashed in! Yousehave spilled a lot of red out of dat shoulder, eh?"

  "It's pretty bad," answered Billy Kane laconically.

  "Sure!" said Whitie Jack again; and then, eagerly, the deference back inhis voice: "Well, youse wait a minute, Bundy, an' I'll get youse de bestcoat de old geezer's got--though dat's not sayin' much, for dere'snothin' here but a bunch of rags."

  The man was gone. Billy Kane leaned back against the wall. His handswept across his eyes. It seemed as though for hours he had been livingthrough some horrible and ghastly nightmare from which he could notawake. He was Billy Kane, whom the world, in the morning, would proclaimthe murderer of David Ellsworth; but he was also now Billy Kane, aliasBundy Morgan, alias the Rat! Again his hand swept across his eyes. Andthe Rat--who was the Rat? And what----

  Whitie Jack was back.

  "Here!" said Whitie Jack. "Here youse are!" He handed Billy Kane a coat,and his flashlight fell again on Billy Kane's shoulder. "Say, dat'sbad!" he jerked out; and then, irrelevantly, "Say, wouldn't it stingyouse--youse showin' up here! When did youse blow into town, Bundy?"

  "To-night," said Billy Kane.

  "Well, youse didn't take long in startin' something!" said Whitie Jackadmiringly. He helped Billy Kane on with the coat. "Was it a big one,Bundy?"

  "No," said Billy Kane. "Only a fight, but someone got _hurt_ in thefight--get me, Whitie? And the bulls are out for fair."

  Whitie Jack drew in his breath in a low, comprehensive whistle again.

  "Sing Sing, an' de juice route--eh?" he muttered. "Did dey spot whoyouse were?"

  "No," said Billy Kane.

  "Aw, well den, wot de hell!" observed Whitie Jack, with a sudden grin."Dat's easy! Youse have got a coat now, an' we'll beat it over for yerdump, an' dat's de end of it! You have got to get dat shoulder fixed,an' I'm some guy wid de bandage stuff---believe me!"

  Billy Kane did not answer for a moment. Well, why not? He had acceptedthe absent Rat's personality, why not the absent Rat's hospitality? Itwould afford him shelter for the moment, and he was living, feeling,groping his way now only from moment to moment. Also, and what was ofeven more urgent importance, he must somehow and in some way get hiswound dressed.

  The flashlight in Whitie Jack's hand was sweeping in a circle around theroom--in a sort of precautionary leave-taking survey of the place, as itwere. The room was evidently the proprietor's office; but from whatBilly Kane could see of it, it was bare and uninviting enough. He caughta glimpse of a rough table and a couple of chairs, and then theflashlight went out. But he was still staring, through the darkness now,toward the far end of the room--and it seemed that he could still seejust as vividly as though the light still played upon the spot. Therewas an old safe there, a large and cumbrous thing, long out of date, andthe door sagged on its hinges where it had been blown open, and thefloor around it was littered with the books and papers it had evidentlycontained.

  "That's a bum job you made, Whitie!" commented Billy Kane sarcastically."You're an artist, you are! What did you expect to get out of a pikerhang-out like this?"

  "Aw, forget it!" returned Whitie Jack. "It ain't so bum! I'd like to seeyouse crack a box in here wid soup, an' not wake de whole town up. Dat'swot I get mine for--a century note--see? Dere wasn't nothin' in de safe!Not a nickel! It's a stall--savvy? But, come on, Bundy, we'll beat itout of here, an' get youse fixed up."

  A stall! What did Whitie Jack mean? Whitie Jack, at Antonio Laverto'sinstigation, had blown open the safe, knowing beforehand that there wasnothing in it! What was Laverto's game? Billy Kane mechanically made hisway out along the passage, the flashlight winking in Whitie Jack's handbehind him. What was the game? Laverto was no fool, and there seemed anominous something back of it all, but he dared not press Whitie Jack, orappear too inquisitive. His own position now was precarious enough as itwas, and needed all his wits to see him through. For instance, they weregoing now to the Rat's quarters, to what was supposedly _his_, BillyKane's, quarters--and he had not the faintest idea where, or in whatdirection, those quarters might be! Billy Kane smiled grimly in thedarkness. But Whitie Jack evidently knew. Therefore Whitie Jack, withoutknowing it, must be made to act as _guide_!

  They were outside now. Whitie Jack had closed the door. Billy Kaneraised his hand to his head, smiled grimly again to himself in thedarkness, and stumbled heavily against his companion.

  "Wot's wrong?" whispered Whitie Jack anxiously. "Here, buck up, Bundy!"

  "I guess I'm bad--worse than I thought I was--my head's going round,"mumbled Billy Kane. "You'll have to help me, Whitie."

  "Sure, I will!" returned Whitie Jack encouragingly. He slipped his armthrough Billy Kane's. "Youse just buck up, Bundy! An' don't youse beafraid to throw yer weight on me. 'Taint far, an' we'll make it allright."

  Billy Kane, his object accomplished, leaned not lightly on Whitie Jack.Occasionally, as he walked along, he staggered and lurched, playing uphis role--but only when the street in his immediate neighborhood wasclear, and he ran no risk of attracting attention to himself and hiscompanion!

  It was not far, a few blocks; and then Whitie Jack, still unsuspectinglyacting as guide, was helping Billy Kane down the half dozen steps of oneof those cellar-like entrances to the basement of a low building in themiddle of a block.

  The building seemed to be a store of some kind, but it was closed, thedingy front window dark, and in the none too well lighted street BillyKane could not make out exactly what it was. At the bottom of the stepsthey halted--before a locked door--and for an instant again that grim,desperate smile twisted Billy Kane's lips. And then he laughed shortly,as his free hand fumbled in the pockets of the stolen coat.

  "Kick it
in, Whitie!" he growled. "I haven't got the key. I lost mycoat."

  "Nothin' doin'!" said Whitie Jack complacently. "I got de goods, ain'tI? Wot d'youse think!"

  From his pocket Whitie Jack produced a bunch of what were evidentlyskeleton keys; and, trying first one and then another, finally openedthe door. His flashlight played through into the interior, and indicateda chair that stood before a table.

  "Youse go over dere an' sit down, an' get yer coat an' shirt off, an'leave de rest to me," he directed.

  Billy Kane, lurching again, stumbled into the chair, as Whitie Jack,closing and locking the door, located an incandescent that hung from theceiling, and switched on the light.

  "Say, where do youse keep yer stuff?" demanded Whitie Jack. "A shirt'lldo--anything to tear up an' make a bandage wid, see?"

  Billy Kane did not answer. He did not know! Instead, he let his head saglimply forward, and fall on his crossed arms upon the table.

  "Aw, buck up, Bundy!" pleaded Whitie Jack anxiously. "Youse'll be allright in a minute. Dat's de boy! Buck up! It's all right! Leave it tome! I'll find something!"

  Still Billy Kane did not answer. His face hidden in his arms, he wasmaking a surreptitious, but none the less critical, survey of hissurroundings. It was a large room, evidently comprising the entirebasement of the building; and the single incandescent that it boastedseemed only to enhance, with its meager light, the sort of forbiddingsordidness, as it were, that pervaded the place. There were no windows.The walls had been boarded in with cheap lumber that had warped andbulged in spots, and the walls had been painted once--but so long agothat they had lost any distinctive color, and had faded into a murky,streaky yellow. The room was dirty and ill-kempt. A few old pieces ofcarpet were strewn about the floor, and for decoration prints fromvarious magazines and Sunday supplements were tacked here and therearound the walls. There was a bed in one corner; a wardrobe made byhanging a piece of old cretonne diagonally across another corner; a sinkat one side of the room; and, at the far end, a bureau, whoselooking-glass seemed to be abnormally large. Billy Kane studied thelooking-glass for a moment curiously. It seemed to reflect back someobject that he could not quite identify, something that glittered alittle in the light. And then Billy Kane smiled a sort of grimappreciation. Whitie Jack had left his keys hanging in the lock of thedoor--the mirror held in faithful focus the only entrance to the placethat the Rat's lair apparently possessed!

  And now the reflection of the door in the mirror was blotted out, andthe figure of Whitie Jack took its place. The man had crossed the roomfrom an apparently abortive search behind the cretonne hanging, and wasrummaging now in the drawers of the bureau. And then, with a grunt ofsatisfaction, and with what looked like a shirt and some underclothingflung over his arm, Whitie Jack made his way to the sink, filled a basinwith water, and returned to the table.

  Billy Kane raised his head heavily--and with well-simulated painfuleffort aided in the removal of his coat, vest and shirt.

  "Dat's de stuff, Bundy!" said Whitie Jack approvingly.

  It was a flesh wound, angry and nasty enough in appearance when theclotted blood was washed away, but still only a flesh wound. Whitie Jacksurveyed it judicially.

  "'Tain't so worse, Bundy!" he announced reassuringly. "Youse'll be allto de good in a day or so." He began to rip and tear the underclothinginto strips. "Youse'll need de shirt to wear, an' dis stuff'll do for debandages," he explained. "See?"

  "Yes," said Billy Kane.

  The man dressed the wound with amazing deftness, stepped back to observehis own work admiringly, and then, picking up the folded shirt, shook itout, and began to unbutton it.

  "Now den, Bundy," he said, "get dis on, an'----" He stopped. From whereit had been hidden in the folds of the shirt, a little black objectdropped to the floor. Whitie Jack stooped, picked it up, glanced at it,and tossed it on the table. "An' dat ain't so dusty a place to hide it,neither!" grinned Whitie Jack. "Now den, up wid yer arms, an' on wid deshirt."

  Billy Kane made no comment. The object Whitie Jack had picked up was ablack mask. He raised his arms, and with deliberate difficulty struggledinto the shirt.

  "How d'youse feel now?" inquired Whitie Jack.

  "Better," said Billy Kane. "You're an artist with the swab rags,Whitie."

  "Sure!" said Whitie Jack. "Well, I guess dat's all. Youse go to bed now,an' keep quiet. I'll tip de fleet off dat youse are back on de job."

  Billy Kane shook his head sharply.

  "I don't want anybody butting in around here to-night!" he said roughly.

  "No, sure, youse don't!" agreed Whitie Jack, with an oath for emphasis."Don't youse worry, I'll wise 'em up to dat. Dere won't be nobody aroundhere till youse says so--youse know dat, don't youse? I ain't neverheard of any guy huntin' trouble wid de Rat yet--an' I guess dat ain'tno con steer!"

  Billy Kane was standing up now. It seemed strange, almost incrediblystrange that this man, one who evidently knew the so-called Ratintimately and well, had accepted him, Billy Kane, without the slightestsuspicion that there could exist any question regarding his identity. Hehad been watching and on his guard all the time that Whitie Jack hadbeen dressing his wound, but though Whitie Jack had seen him under thefull glare of a flashlight, and again in this lighted room here, theirheads close together as the other had bent over him, Whitie Jack wasobviously possessed of no doubts that he, Billy Kane, was anyone otherthan the Rat! Well, it might be strange, but at least it was undeniablytrue; so true that now that vista, which he had glimpsed with WhitieJack's first words of mistaken recognition, was spreading out againbefore him, but more concretely now, opening a staggering possibility;so true that he dared not jeopardize anything by appearing tooinquisitive about Marco's, for instance--much as Marco's was still inhis mind! Marco's! No, he was not through with Marco's, for more reasonsthan one. There was some queer deviltry that Laverto was hatchingthere--at a quarter to eleven--and he meant to see it through. But,after all, even if he broached the subject again to Whitie Jack, who waspatently only a tool in the affair, what more could Whitie Jack tellhim, except the name of the man who had hired him to blow open an oldsafe whose contents were worthless--and that man's name he, Billy Kane,already knew. No, he was not through with Marco's! But he would gainnothing, save perhaps to excite suspicion, by speaking of it again toWhitie Jack.

  "Youse get to bed, an' get some sleep!" prompted Whitie Jack. "Youse canleave de mob to me."

  "Thanks, Whitie," said Billy Kane. He moved across the room, and flunghimself down on the bed. "I'm not going to forget this. You've handed methe glad paw to-night--and I'm not going to forget it."

  "Aw, dat's all right!" said Whitie Jack earnestly. "I knows youse ain't!An', say, youse can take it from me on de level dat I'd rather have haddis chance dan have a thousand long green bucks in me mitt dis minute.Say, I knows it, don't I, dat de Rat never forgets; an' I knows dere'sabout a million guys around here dat would give deir eye teeth for dechance dat came my way to-night!"

  It was strange again--but the servility in the man's tones that wascoupled with elation was genuine beyond doubt. The Rat wasunquestionably a character of prominence and power in the sordid realmwherein he appeared, by some at least, by this Whitie Jack for example,to be held in awe. That being so, it was obviously the Rat's prerogativeto command--Whitie Jack.

  "All right, Whitie--that goes!" said Billy Kane tersely. "And now, beatit! But before you go leave me your gun. I got cleaned out when I lostmy coat, and if anything comes of that little game of mine to-night Imight need your iron. Yes, and leave those keys, too--I've no other wayto lock the door."

  "Sure!" said Whitie Jack promptly. He took his revolver from his pocket,laid it on the table, and walked to the door. "Are youse sure dere'snothin' else youse wants, Bundy?"

  "No, that's all," said Billy Kane.

  "Well den, so long, Bundy!" said Whitie Jack. "I'll see youse in demornin'!"

  "So long, Whitie!" said Billy Kane.