Doors of the Night Page 5

  V--THE SECOND-HAND DEALER

  The door closed behind Whitie Jack, the man's footsteps echoed back ashe climbed to the street, echoed faintly again from the pavement, andthen died away.

  Billy Kane got up from the bed, went to the door, locked it, and thenwalked down the length of the room--and standing in front of the mirrorstared into the glass in a grimly impersonal way. It was himself--BillyKane. His face was in no whit changed, except perhaps that there was aslight pallor there due to loss of blood, and that the lines weresharper and harder, as though he were, as indeed he was, under a tenseand heavy strain; but, with his collarless shirt, his trousers coveredwith mud and dirt, his whole appearance had taken on an aspect that wasat once sinister and forbidding.

  He laughed shortly, and turning abruptly from the mirror, crossed theroom again, and pushed aside the cretonne hanging. There were someclothes on the wall pegs here. He gathered them up, and took them nearerto the light for an inspection. They were old, somewhat greasy, andwholly disreputable. He laughed shortly again, as he changed into them.As the Rat, he might venture out, though he would do well to take carenot to be recognized, since Whitie Jack would have spread the reportthat he was wounded and in bed; but he could at least go out withoutinviting instant pursuit as the "murderer" of David Ellsworth. He wassafe now for the moment, safe until morning anyhow--and he could evenuse those hours, if he would, in an attempt to put as many miles aspossible between himself and New York! His hands clenched, and into thepallor of his face the red came burning hot. But he wasn't going to dothat! That "staggering possibility" was clear before his mind's eye now.He wasn't going to do that; he was going, instead--to play the Rat--toplay the cards that fate, if one believed in fate, had thrust into hishands--to take the chance, the one chance, _if the Rat did not come backtoo soon_, of clearing his own name, and of bringing to justice thehell-hounds, who had struck down that gentle gray-haired man who hadbeen his friend. His hands clenched harder, until, as they had done oncebefore that night, the nails bit into the palms. He, Billy Kane--themurderer of his father's friend, the murderer of the man who had trustedhim and loved him! It was getting him now with all its brutal andremorseless force! Broadcast over the country, by morning his name wouldhave become the synonym of all that was vile and hideous, and Billy Kanewould be known as one of the most revolting characters in the annals ofcrime--a foul and filthy thing who typified the dregs and lees of humandegradation--a thing from whom the friends of old would turn in horrorand in shame, and----

  Slowly his hands unclenched. The surge of fury that had been almostungovernable passed, and he knew again that cold, unnatural, deadlycalm. If he lived, the guilty man, or men, would pay! If he were takinga chance now, a desperate chance, he was taking a chance that no _man_could do otherwise than take. It was the chance to live--for one mightbetter otherwise be dead! A chance! He had picked up Whitie Jack'srevolver, and was twisting it in his fingers, and now he thrust itsuddenly into his pocket. A chance! He was taking no chance, indeed,save with the stake that was already flung upon the table--his life. Itwas the one way! As the Rat, doubtless well known to the authorities, hecould move under the very noses of the police at will without suspicionarising that he was Billy Kane; and as the Rat, if Whitie Jack was to berelied upon as a criterion, he would have the run of the underworld, andin the underworld were many secrets, and amongst those secrets wasperhaps the one he sought--the clue to Jackson's associates in themurder of David Ellsworth. He was not blinded to the difficulties ofthis picking up of the thread of another man's life; nor blinded to whatwas perhaps the greatest difficulty of all, the necessity of being ableto recognize those with whom he _should be_ acquainted, but even thatwas not insurmountable. He could see a way, he believed, to accomplisheven that.

  But all this was for to-morrow--and the to-morrows after that! To-nighthe was going out again--to Marco's. That was why he had changed hisclothes just now. A graver thing, the thought of merging his identitywith the Rat's, had impinged, obtruded itself, as it were, upon hismind. But he had not forgotten Marco's.

  He picked up his discarded vest, transferred the package of banknotesand his watch to the pockets of the one he now wore, and as he did so,he looked at the time. Laverto had said a quarter to eleven. It wasalmost that now. Billy Kane's eyes strayed over the table, and fell uponthe black mask. The mask, too, went into his pocket. It might prove amost valuable discovery, that mask--under certain circumstances even the_Rat's_ identity was not lightly to be disclosed.

  He collected the muddy garments he had taken off, and tucked them underthe mattress on the bed. It was not likely that anyone would come here,much less attempt to enter, in his absence; but he was fully aware thatnow, and from now on, his life depended upon his caution in everydetail. He extinguished the light, put on his hat, walked to the door,unlocked it--and stood for a moment hesitant. Was he a fool to take thisadded risk, when already his own back was against the wall, when alreadyhe was in desperate case himself? He shook his head in a sort ofexasperated remonstrance with himself for even his momentary hesitation,then opening the door, he locked it behind him, and crept cautiously upthe stairs to the street.

  Whitie Jack had been only a tool used for the stage-setting of somedeviltry that was to follow--at a quarter of eleven. That was obvious.He, Billy Kane, had intended that the police should be informed andshould deal with Laverto, and that he in person should give evidenceagainst Laverto; but he could no longer inform the police, no longergive evidence. He was wanted now himself for _murder_, and so upon himfell the moral obligation to prevent or render abortive, if he could, acrime that he knew was pending. And besides--his face hardened suddenly,as he moved swiftly along, evading the direct rays of the street lights,and keeping in the shadows--he had a personal account to settle withAntonio Laverto. If it had not been for the man's damnable impositionhaving succeeded to the extent that it had, he, Billy Kane, would nothave left the Ellsworth house to-night, and David Ellsworth would notnow----

  Billy Kane's hand, in his pocket, tightened over the butt of WhitieJack's revolver. Unconsciously he quickened his stride.

  Always hugging the shadows, his hat drawn far down over his face, givingthe passers-by he met as wide a berth as possible, Billy Kane coveredthe short distance that separated the Rat's den from Marco's. He slippedinto the lane unobserved, and for the second time that night crouchedagainst the door with the broken lock. But now, mindful of the door'stendency to squeak, he pushed it open cautiously an inch at a time. Andthen, with the door slightly open, he stood motionless, a puzzled andamazed expression on his face. Just exactly what he had expected to findhere, he was not prepared to say--but certainly not this! A faint lightcame through from the door of the back room into the hallway, and fromthe room there came a woman's voice that mingled a sort of pitifuldefiance with a sob.

  "It's not true! I tell you it's not true! The boy never did it!"

  "So!" It was a man's voice now, caustic and unrelenting. "Well, where ishe now, then?"

  "I don't know," the woman replied. "I haven't seen him since supper. Butthat's got nothing to do with it. That doesn't prove anything."

  "So!" It was the man again. "Well, maybe not! But I am not to be fooled!I am a poor man. I cannot afford to lose my money. So, it has nothing todo with it, eh? You say that because you are his mother, eh? But did hetell you at supper that I had discharged him this afternoon? Eh? Answerme that!"

  "N-no." The answer seemed to come reluctantly.

  Billy Kane pushed the outer door a little wider open and slippedthrough. Keeping close to the wall, he edged forward until he could seeinto the back room through its open door. A frown came and knitted hisbrows in hard furrows. He was frankly puzzled now. The woman, a tall,powerful, muscular woman of middle age, but curiously frail now inobvious fear and emotion, was Mrs. Clancy, who kept the little notionshop next door on the corner; and the other, bent-shouldered, in long,greasy black coat, with long, untrimmed and dirty white beard, whoseeyes were distorted behind the
heavy lenses of his steel-bowedspectacles, was Marco, the proprietor of the second-hand store. Marcowas apparently in a state of equal distress and excitement. Healternatively wrung his hands together and gesticulated furiously.

  "Eight hundred dollars!" he cried out wildly. "Do you hear, you, themother of that brat? Eight hundred dollars! All I have on earth! And itis gone! Stolen by that cursed young prison bird of yours! So he did nottell you, eh, that I discharged him this afternoon because I was sure hewas making little stealings from me all the time? But you are notsurprised, eh? Maybe he has stolen from you, too, eh?"

  The woman did not answer. She seemed to shiver suddenly, and then sankdown heavily in the chair before the table, near which she had beenstanding.

  Marco paced up and down the room, back and forth, from the table towhere the floor was littered with the erstwhile contents of the rifledsafe.

  Billy Kane's puzzled frown grew deeper. Evidently there _had_ been moneyin the safe, but in some way Laverto had got it before he had set WhitieJack at work upon a stall, and it was obvious that Laverto hadmaneuvered to plant the crime on the shoulders of this woman's son. Butwhat then had been Laverto's object in bringing Whitie Jack into it atall? It did not somehow seem to fit, or dovetail, or appear logical,or---- And then, with a sudden start, Billy Kane leaned tensely forward,his eyes fixed narrowly on Marco. Yes, it _did_ dovetail! He had itnow--all of it--all of the damnable, unscrupulous ingenuity of the plotthat had been hatched in Laverto's cunning brain. The frown was hiddennow by the mask which Billy Kane slipped quickly over his face, but hislips just showing beneath the edge of the mask were tight and hard.

  "I was a fool--a fool!" Marco cried out sharply. "A fool, ever to havetaken him in here as my clerk! I might have known! He has already beenin jail!"

  "It was only the reform school." Mrs. Clancy was wringing her handspiteously. "He is only a boy--only seventeen now. And he did not meanany harm even then--and--and since then he has been a good boy."

  "Has he?" Marco flung out a clenched fist and shook it in the air. "Hehas--eh? Well, then, where did he get this? Answer me that! Where did heget this?" Marco's closed hand opened, and he threw what looked to BillyKane like a little brooch, a miniature in a cheap setting, upon thetable. "That's you, ain't it? That's his mother's picture, ain't it? Doyou think I do not recognize it? That's you twenty years ago--eh? Didyou _give_ it to him--eh? Answer me that--did you _give_ it to him?"

  The woman had risen from her chair, and was swaying upon her feet.

  "Did you think I did not have reason to be pretty sure when I asked ifhe had not stolen from you, too?" Marco, apparently beside himself withrage, was gesticulating furiously again. "And you said I had no proof of_this_--eh?" He shook his fist in the direction of the safe. "Well, Ifound that brooch there on the floor where he must have dropped it outof his pocket when he blew my safe open, and he didn't know he'd droppedit in the dark, and then some of the papers he pulled out covered it.That's where I found it--under the papers! That's proof enough, ain'tit? I guess with his record it will satisfy the police--no matter whathis mother thinks!"

  A great sob came from the woman. The tears were rolling down her cheeks.

  "My boy!" she faltered. "It's true--I--I am afraid it's true. Oh, myboy--my boy--my fatherless boy!" She thrust out her hands in a suddenimploring gesture toward the other. "Listen! I will tell you all I know.I will show you that I am honest with you, and you will have mercy onus. To-night, after supper, I found that the little chamois bag in whichI keep the few little things I have like that brooch, and the money Itake in from the store during the day, was gone. Yes, I was afraid then.I was afraid. But he is all I have, and----"

  "And my eight hundred dollars, that he came over here and stoleafterwards, was all _I_ had!" screamed Marco. "You tell me only what ablind man could see for himself! Did I not put two and two togethermyself? He has run away now--eh--with all he could get? That he stolefrom you does not give me back my money. But the police will find him!Ha, ha! The police will find him, and when they do they will rememberthe reform school and he will get ten years--yes, yes, ten years--forthis!"

  "Listen!" Mrs. Clancy's voice choked. She brushed the tears from hercheeks with a trembling hand. "If--if I give you back the money, willyou let him go?"

  "Ha!" Marco stood stock still, staring at her. "What is that you say?You will give me back the money? You! Are you trying to make a fool ofme?"

  "No, no!" she cried. "I've got that much--it is my savings--it is in thebank. Listen! Oh, for God's sake, be merciful! Give him a chance! You'llget your money back, you won't lose anything, and--and you would theother way, because--because before they caught him he would perhaps havespent a lot of it."

  "That is true!" said Marco, in a milder tone; and then, a hint ofsuspicion in his voice: "What bank is it in? The bank down the street?"

  "Yes," she answered.

  "That is my bank, too," said Marco. He stared at the woman for a momentspeculatively, then his eyes circled the room, and he stared at thebroken safe. "Will you pay for my safe?" he demanded abruptly.

  "Yes," she agreed eagerly.

  "Fifty dollars," said Marco. "It would be fifty dollars."

  "Yes--oh, thank God!" She was crying again.

  "So!" Marco shrugged his shoulders. "Well, I will do it." He walked backtoward the safe, picked up a check book from amongst the debris on thefloor, tore out a blank check, dropped the book on the floor again, andreturned to the table. He pushed the slip of paper toward Mrs. Clancy,and pulled out a fountain pen from his pocket. "So! Well, make out acheck for eight hundred and fifty dollars." He shrugged his shouldersagain.

  It was slow work. Mrs. Clancy's hand trembled, and she stopped atintervals to wipe her eyes. Billy Kane edged closer to the door. It wasprobably all she had, the savings of years from the little shop, but thefear and strain was gone from her face, and her lips were quivering in asmile, as she signed her name at last, and handed the check to Marco.

  But now Billy Kane's revolver was in his hand--and suddenly, as Marcoheld the check close to his eyes to peer at it through his thick lenses,Billy Kane stepped forward across the threshold. And then Billy Kanespoke.

  "Drop that, Marco!" he said quietly.

  There was a cry of terror from the woman, as she whirled around,white-faced, clutching at her breast; it was echoed by a frightened gaspfrom Marco, and as though the slip of paper in his fingers had suddenlyturned to white hot iron, he snatched his hands back in a sort ofgrotesque jerk, and the check fluttered to the table.

  Billy Kane stepped toward the man.

  "You've made a mistake, Marco, haven't you?" he inquired coolly."Instead of this woman's son being the robber, are you sure itisn't--yourself?"

  The man shrank back.

  "What do you mean--myself?" he stammered hoarsely. And then, recoveringa little of his self-control: "Who are you? And what are you butting inhere for? What's your game to say I did that?" He jerked his hand towardthe safe. "You can't bluff old Marco, whatever you're up to! I was inMorgenfeldt's cafe all evening until half past ten, and I can prove it;and ten minutes after that I was pulling her"--he jerked his hand towardMrs. Clancy now--"out of her shop next door to show her what I had foundhere. She'll tell you so, too! I couldn't have come all the way fromMorgenfeldt's, and done all that, and blown that safe open in tenminutes, could I?"

  Billy Kane's smile was unpleasant.

  "Don't be in such a hurry to produce your alibi, Marco," he said evenly."It sounds suspicious--and it also accounts for a good deal. I thinkwe'll take a look through your pockets, Marco--not for the eighthundred"--Billy Kane's smile had grown still more uninviting--"but onthe chance that we may find something else. Put your hands up!"

  The man hesitated.

  Billy Kane's revolver muzzle came to a level with the other's eyes.

  "Put them up!" he ordered curtly; and, as the man obeyed now, he feltdeftly over the other's clothing, located a revolver, whipped it out,and laid it on the table behind
him. A moment later, also from the man'spocket, he took a chamois bag, which, too, he placed upon the table.

  Mrs. Clancy, with a startled cry, snatched at it.

  "Mary, Mother of Mercy, what does this mean!" she gasped out."It's--it's my bag!"

  "It means that our friend Marco here is a very versatile rogue," saidBilly Kane grimly. "You may put your hands down now, Marco, and"--he wasclipping off his words--"you won't need that beard, or those glasses anymore! Take them off!"

  The man had gone a sudden grayish white. Mechanically he obeyed--andcowered back, his eyes in terror fixed on Billy Kane's mask. _It wasAntonio Laverto._

  With a scream of rage, Mrs. Clancy rushed at the man.

  "You--you devil!" she shrilled. "You made me believe my boy was athief--God forgive me for it! And--ah, let me at him! I'm only a woman,but----"

  Billy Kane had stepped between them.

  "Wait!" he said. "There's a better way, Mrs. Clancy." He swung on theItalian. "If it hadn't been for your voice, Laverto--you see, I knowyou--you might have got away with it. I didn't recognize you at first.You're clever, damnably clever, I'll give you credit for that, if it'sany satisfaction to you. You must be a busy man! Are there any moreroles in your repertoire? Well, no matter! The Italian crippled beggar,and Marco the second-hand clothing dealer are enough for now--and enoughto put you where you belong!" His voice rasped suddenly. "You blotch onGod's earth!" he said between his teeth. "You knew Mrs. Clancy had alittle money, and you knew that her son had a reform school recordagainst him. And so, about two weeks ago, you rented this place next tohers that was then vacant, and you stocked it with a few old clothes,and you hired her son to act as clerk; and you hired him, not with anidea of doing any business, but as a necessary part of your plan toincriminate him in his mother's eyes, and also to enable you, withoutarousing suspicion by appearing to neglect business here, to attend toother irons equally as despicable that you had in the fire at the sametime--playing the flopper, for instance, up on Fifth Avenue. The wholeoutlay probably cost you but a few dollars--and in return you meant toget all of this woman's life savings. I say all, because you probablyfound out how much she had, and if she had had much more than eighthundred dollars you would have set your fake loss higher. And to-nightin some way--the details do not matter at this moment--you stole fromher that chamois bag, both to impress her with the belief that the boyhad stolen from her too, and also to secure spurious evidence to provethat he had been guilty of what you claimed had happened here."

  Billy Kane paused. His eyes had travelled to the wrecked safe--and sharpand quick had come the thought of Whitie Jack. He smiled grimly. He didnot want Whitie Jack to appear in this. He owed Whitie Jack a good dealto-night--and the "Rat" never forgot! His eyes came back to Marco. Theman was circling his lips with the tip of his tongue.

  "You're going up for this, Marco," Billy Kane said in level tones. "ButI'll give you a friendly tip--for reasons of my own. Maybe you didn'tpull this safe-cracking game yourself, maybe your alibi stands on thatcount; but, if it does, you got some tool to pull it off for you justfor that reason, and possibly also because you didn't know how to handlethe 'soup' yourself--and if it's one of the boys it won't help your caseany to snitch on him, for you're caught open and shut in this anyhow,and maybe, Laverto, some of his friends might remember it when you _gotout_ again! You get the idea, don't you? Yes, I see you do! Well, then,there's just one thing more. If this little game of yours had brokenright for you, Mrs. Clancy's son--to make it appear that he had runaway--would have had to disappear for several days, until you could havepulled up stakes here without exciting suspicion, and have pretended tomove away. Therefore, where is he now--Laverto?"

  There were beads of sweat on the man's forehead. His lips movedmumblingly.

  "_Where?_" Billy Kane's revolver edged viciously forward. "I didn't hearyou!"

  "Wong Yen's," the man whispered.

  Billy Kane's jaws snapped together. He had heard of Wong Yen's! It wasone of the most infamous Chinese underground dives in the Bad Lands.

  "Doped?" He bit off the word.

  "Yes," the man whispered again.

  Billy Kane turned to Mrs. Clancy.

  "He's yours now, Mrs. Clancy. You know the story, and you know where tosend them for your boy. I guess I can leave him to you. They say thefemale of the species is more deadly than the male! There's hisrevolver. Do you think you could march him out of the front door, andhand him over to the first officer you see?"

  There was a bitter, hard look on Mrs. Clancy's face. Big and brawny, shetowered over the cringing figure of the Italian--and the Italian shrankstill farther away from her, as she snatched up the weapon.

  "I can!" she said, and her short laugh was not a pleasant one. "And Ican shoot if I have to, and, faith, there'd be joy in the doin' of it;but you"--her voice broke suddenly--"I don't know who you are, and I oweyou----"

  Billy Kane was backing toward the rear door.

  "You'll pay it all, and more, Mrs. Clancy, when you hand him over to thepolice," he said quickly--and, stepping out into the passageway, he randown its length, whipping the mask from his face as he went; and inanother instant, from the lane, had gained the cross street.