Blindfolded Part 7

"You've led me a pretty chase," said d.i.c.ky. "If it hadn't been for Pork Chops here, I shouldn't have found you till the cows come home."

"Well, what's up now?" I asked.

"Why, you ought to know," said d.i.c.ky with evident surprise. "But you'd better be hurrying down to Borton's. The gang must be there by now."

I could only wonder who Borton might be, and where his place was, and what connection he might have with the mystery, as d.i.c.ky took me by the arm and hurried me out into the darkness. The chill night air served to nerve instead of depress my spirits, as the garrulous d.i.c.ky unconsciously guided me to the meeting-place, joyously narrating some amusing adventure of the day, while the heavy retainer stalked in silence behind.

Down near the foot of Jackson Street, where the smell of bilge-water and the wash of the sewers grew stronger, and the masts of vessels could just be seen in the darkness outlined against the sky, d.i.c.ky suddenly stopped and drew me into a doorway. Our retainer disappeared at the same instant, and the street was apparently deserted. Then out of the night the shape of a man approached with silent steps.

"Five-sixteen," croaked d.i.c.ky.

The man gave a visible start.

"Sixteen-five," he croaked in return.

"Any signs?" whispered d.i.c.ky.

"Six men went up stairs across the street. Every one of them did the sailor-drunk act."

"Sure they weren't sailors?"

"Well, when six coves goes up the same stairs trying the same dodge, all inside of ten minutes, I has a right to my suspicions. And Darby Meeker ain't been to sea yet that I knows on."

"Darby Meeker!" exclaimed d.i.c.ky in a whisper. And he drew a whistle under his breath. "What do you think of that, Wilton? I had no idea he was back from that wild-goose chase you sent him on."

"It looks bad," I admitted cautiously. "I dare say he isn't in good temper."

"You'll have to settle with him for that piece of business," said d.i.c.ky with a chuckle.

I failed to see the amusing side of the prospect. I wished I knew what Mr. Meeker looked like.

The guard had melted away into the darkness without another word, and we hurried forward with due caution. Just past the next corner was a lighted room, and the sound of voices broke the quiet. A triangular gla.s.s lantern projected from above the door, and such of the paint as had not weathered away made the announcement:

[Ill.u.s.tration: BORTON'S Meals Liquors Lodgings]

We pushed open the door and walked in. The room was large and dingy, the ceiling low. Tables were scattered about the sanded floor. A bar took up the side of the room next the entrance, and a general air of disreputability filled the place. The only attempts at ornament, unless the arrangement of various-colored bottles behind the bar came under that head, were the circles and festoons of dirty cut paper hanging from the ceiling.

About the room, some at the tables, some at the bar, were numbers of stout, rough-looking men, with a few Greek fishermen and two or three sailors.

Behind the bar sat a woman whose appearance in that place almost startled me. She might have been nearing seventy, and a hard and evil life had left its marks on her bent frame and her gaunt face. Her leathery cheeks were lined deep, and a hawk-like nose emphasized the unpleasant suggestions conveyed by her face and figure. But the most remarkable feature about her was her eyes. There was no trace of age in them. Bright and keen as the eyes of a rat, they gave me an unpleasant thrill as I felt her gaze fixed upon me when I entered the door, arm in arm with d.i.c.ky. It was as though they had pierced me through, and had laid bare something I would have concealed. It was a relief to pa.s.s beyond her into a recessed part of the room where her gaze might waste itself on the back of my head.

"Mother Borton's up late to-night," said d.i.c.ky thoughtfully, as he ordered wine.

"You can't blame her for thinking that this crowd needs watching," I suggested with as much of airiness as I could throw into my manner.

d.i.c.ky shook his head for a second, and then resumed his light-hearted, bantering way. Yet I could see that he was perplexed and anxious about something that had come to his attention on our arrival.

"You'll not want to attend to business till all the boys are here?"

asked d.i.c.ky.

"Not unless there's something to be done," I responded dryly.

d.i.c.ky gave me a quick glance.

"Of course," he said with a laugh that was not quite easy, "not unless there's something to be done. But I thought there was something."

"You've got a fine mind for thinking, d.i.c.ky," I replied. "You'd better cultivate it."

"Well, they say there's nothing like society for that sort of cultivation," said d.i.c.ky with another laugh. "They don't say what kind, but I've got a pretty good stock here to choose from." He was at his ease in banter again, but it struck unpleasantly on me that there was something behind.

"Oh, here's a queer friend," he said suddenly, looking to the door. "I'd better speak to him on the matter of countersigns."

"By all means," I said, turning in my chair to survey the new-comer.

I saw the face for an instant. The man wore a sou'wester, and he had drawn his thick, rough coat up as though he would hide his head under the collar. Cheek and chin I could see were covered by a thick blond beard. His movements were apparently clumsy, but his figure was lithe and sinuous. And his eyes! Once seen they never could be forgotten. At their glance, beard and sou'wester dropped away before my fancy, and I saw in my inner vision the man of the serpent glance who had chilled my spirit when I had first put foot in the city. It flashed on me in an instant that this was the same man disguised, who had ventured into the midst of his enemies to see what he might learn of their plans.

As I watched d.i.c.ky advance and greet the new-comer with apparent inquiry, a low harsh voice behind gave me a start of surprise.

"This is your wine, I think,"--and a lean, wrinkled arm pa.s.sed over my shoulder, and a wrinkled face came near my own.

I turned quickly. It was Mother Borton, leering at me with no apparent interest but in her errand.

"What are you doing here?" asked the crone in a voice still lower.

"You're not the one they take you to be, but you're none the less in danger. What are you doing with his looks, and in this place? Look out for that man you're with, and the other. Yes, sir," her voice rose. "A small bottle of the white; in a minute, sir."

I understood her as d.i.c.ky and the new-comer came to the table and took seats opposite. I commanded my face to give no sign of suspicion, but the warning put me on the alert. I had come on the supposition that I was to meet the band to which Henry Wilton belonged. Instead of being among friends, however, it seemed now that I was among enemies.

"It's all right," said d.i.c.ky carelessly. "He's been sent."

"That's lucky," said I with equal unconcern. "We may need an extra hand before morning."

The new-comer could not repress a triumphant flash in the serpent eyes.

"I'm the one for your job," he said hoa.r.s.ely, his face as impa.s.sive as a stone wall.

"What do you know about the job?" I asked suspiciously.

"Only what I've been told," he answered.

"And that is--"

"That it's a job for silence, secrecy, and--"

"Spondulicks," said d.i.c.ky with a laugh, as the other hesitated for a word.

"Just so," said the man.

"And what else?" I continued, pressing him firmly.