Doors of the Night Part 2

Get me? Before a quarter of eleven-that's all I care, and that's give you all the time you want.... Eh?... Yes-sure.... Good-night."

The grim smile was still on Billy Kane's lips, as he crouched back against the wall. The door of the telephone booth opened, and Laverto stuck his head out furtively. The little black eyes, staring out of the thin, swarthy face, glanced up and down the pa.s.sageway, and then the head seemed to shrink into the shoulders, the body to collapse, and, with legs twisted and dragging under him, there came the _flop-flop_ of the palms of the man's hands on the bare wooden flooring, as he started along the pa.s.sageway.

But Billy Kane was already at the side door of the saloon-and an instant later he had swung around the street corner, and was heading briskly back in the direction of the Bowery. He laughed shortly, as his hand automatically crept into his inside pocket. The two thousand dollars were still there-and they would stay there! His intuition, after all, had not been at fault. The man was a vicious and d.a.m.nable fraud, and, as a logical corollary to that fact, was moreover a dangerous and clever criminal. What was this "break" that was to be "pulled" at Marco's before a quarter of eleven?

Quite mechanically Billy Kane looked at his watch. He and David Ellsworth had dined early, and it was even now barely eight o'clock.

Billy Kane's face hardened, as he walked along, reached the Bowery, and, by the same route he had come, gained Washington Square, and swung onto a Fifth Avenue bus. Why Marco's? There was surely nothing worth while there! Marco's was little more than a rag shop. He happened to know Marco, because on the corner next to the tumble-down place that, as Laverto had said, Marco had rented a week or so ago, there was a small notion shop kept by an old Irish widow by the name of Clancy, where, more than once on his visits to the East Side, he had dropped in to buy a paper or a package of cigarettes. Why Marco's? It puzzled him. The old white-bearded, stoop-shouldered dealer did not seem to have much that was worth stealing!

The bus jolted on up the Avenue. Billy Kane shifted his position uneasily on the somewhat uncomfortably hard seat on the top of the bus.

His first impulse had been to confront Laverto on the spot, but quick on the heels of that impulse had come a better plan. With rope enough the man would hang himself. If there was anything in this Marco affair, a robbery as was indicated, Marco would obviously report it to the police as soon as it was discovered, and he, Billy Kane, being in possession of the evidence that would convict its author, would then be in a position to put an end, for a good many years at least, to Laverto's criminal career; and besides this, there was David Ellsworth-he did not want to wound or hurt the other's finer sensibilities, but that David Ellsworth should see Laverto for himself in the latter's true colors was essential, for it would and must make the old philanthropist in the future less the victim of that over-generous and spontaneous sympathy which was so easily excited by those who preyed upon him.

The thought of David Ellsworth brought back again the thought of David Ellsworth's anonymous letter. Billy Kane lighted a cigarette, and smoked it savagely. It was someone of the same breed as Antonio Laverto, and for the same reason that Laverto would soon have for revenge, who had written that letter. He was quite sure of that in his own mind. What else, indeed, could it be? Not David Ellsworth's explanation! That was entirely too chimerical! One by one he reviewed the cases where he had uncovered fraudulent attempts upon the old millionaire's charity during the past three months; but, while more than one was concerned with characters vicious, dissolute and criminal enough, not one seemed to dovetail into the niche in which he sought to fit it.

A second cigarette followed the first, and his mind was still busy with his problem, as he pressed the b.u.t.ton at the side of his seat, clambered down the circular iron ladder at the rear of the bus, stepped to the sidewalk as the bus drew up to the curb, and stood waiting for the bus to pa.s.s on-David Ellsworth's residence was on the first corner down the cross street on the other side of the Avenue. The bus creaked protestingly into motion, and Billy Kane, in the act of stepping from the curb to cross the Avenue, paused suddenly, instead, as a voice spoke behind him.

"Begging your pardon, Mr. Kane, sir, may I speak to you for a moment?"

Billy Kane turned around abruptly. He stared at the other in surprise.

It was Jackson, the footman.

"Why yes, of course. But what on earth are you doing out here, Jackson?"

he demanded a little sharply.

"I was waiting for you, sir," the man answered hurriedly. "I knew you'd gone out, Mr. Kane; and I knew I couldn't miss you here, sir, when you came back, as you always come by the Avenue, sir. And, begging your pardon again, sir, would you mind if we didn't stand here? You wouldn't take offense, sir, if we went in by the garage driveway where we could be alone for a minute, sir?"

Billy Kane eyed the man critically. Jackson, immaculate in his livery, appeared to be quite himself; but Jackson at times had been known to possess a greater fondness for a bottle than was good for him.

"What is it, Jackson?" he demanded still more sharply. "Did Mr.

Ellsworth send you here?"

"No, sir; he didn't," the man answered nervously. "But, if you please, Mr. Kane, sir, that is, if you don't mind, sir, I'd rather wait until--"

"Very well, Jackson!" Billy Kane interrupted curtly. "I suppose you have a reason for your rather strange request. Come along, then, and I'll listen to what you have to say."

"Thank you, sir," said the man earnestly.

They crossed the Avenue, pa.s.sed down the cross street, turned the corner, and a moment later, entering by the garage driveway, gained the courtyard in the rear of the house. It was dark here, there were no lights showing from the back of the house itself or from the garage; and here, close to the private entrance to the "office" and library, Billy Kane halted.

"Well, Jackson, what's it all about?" he inquired brusquely.

"If you please, Mr. Kane, sir"-the man's voice had taken on a curious, quavering note-"don't speak so loud. We-you-you might be heard, sir, from the servants' entrance over there. I-Mr. Kane, sir-Mr. Ellsworth has been murdered, and the money, sir, and the rubies are gone."

Billy Kane was conscious only that he had reached out and grasped the footman's arm. They were very black, the shadows of the house, and it was dark about him, but strange quick little red flashes seemed to dance and dart and shoot before his eyes; and in his brain the man's words kept repeating themselves over and over in an insistent sort of way, and the words seemed meaningless except that they were pregnant with an overwhelming and numbing horror.

"For G.o.d's sake, sir, let go my arm-you're breaking it!" moaned the footman in a whisper.

The man's voice seemed to clear Billy Kane's brain. David Ellsworth-murdered! The horror was still there, but now there came a fury beyond control, and a bitter grief that racked him to the soul.

David Ellsworth, his second father, the gentlest man and the kindest he had ever known-_murdered_! His hand dropped to his side, and, turning, he sprang up the few steps to the entrance just in front of him. He whipped out his key, opened the door, and stepped forward into the pa.s.sageway. At his right was the door to the stenographer's room, and beyond, opening from that room, was the door to the library. He felt for the door handle, for there was no light in the pa.s.sage, and, finding it, opened the door-and stood there rigid and motionless like a man turned to stone. Across the blackness of the intervening room the library door was partially open, and sprawled upon the floor lay the figure of a white-haired man, only the hair was blotched with a great crimson stain-and it was David Ellsworth. And something came choking into Billy Kane's throat, and a blinding mist before his eyes shut out the sight.

"In Heaven's name, don't go in there, sir!" Jackson was beside him again, whispering in his ear, and pulling the door softly shut. "Don't, sir-don't go-they'll get you!"

"Get-_me_! What do you mean?" Billy Kane whirled on the man.

"For the love of G.o.d, sir," pleaded Jackson, "don't speak so loud! I'm risking my neck for you, as it is, sir. There's a couple of plain-clothesmen waiting up in your room, sir, hiding there, and there's another two hiding in the front hall."

"Are you mad, Jackson!" Billy Kane's voice was low enough now in its blank amazement.

"I'm telling you the truth, sir," Jackson whispered tensely. "They've got you dead to rights, sir. There ain't a chance, except to run for it-and that's what I'd do, sir, if I were you, Mr. Kane. I didn't mean you to enter the house at all, but you acted so quick I couldn't stop you."

Billy Kane's two hands fell in an iron grip on the other's shoulders, and in the darkness he bent his head forward to stare into the man's face and eyes.

"You mean, Jackson," he said hoa.r.s.ely, "that _you_ believe I did that?"

The man wriggled himself free from Billy Kane's grip.

"It's not for me to say sir," he answered uneasily. "I-I can only tell you what they say."

"Tell me, then!" Billy Kane's voice, low as it was, was deadly in its even, monotonous tone.

"Yes, sir," said Jackson. "Keep your ear close to my lips, sir If anyone hears us, it's all up. They found him, Mr. Ellsworth, sir, lying there dead in the library with his head split open, about half an hour after you went out, sir. You were with him in the library after dinner alone, sir; and no one was with him after that, and-don't grip me again like that, sir, or I can't go on. You don't know your own strength, sir, Mr.

Kane."

"Go on, Jackson!" breathed Billy Kane. "I'm sorry! Go on!"

"Yes, sir; thank you, sir. It was Peters, the butler, sir, who found the body, and he sent for the police. Mrs. Ellsworth doesn't know anything about it yet, sir. They're afraid to tell her, she's so delicate and sick, sir. It was about half an hour after you went out, sir, as I said, that Peters went to see Mr. Ellsworth about something, and found him there like you just saw, sir. And then the police came, sir, and they figured that you did it before you went out, and that you went out to dispose of the money and jewels, sir, in some safe place, and maybe also as a sort of alibi like, so that they'd think it was done while you were away, sir, and that when you returned, if you did return, sir, you would profess horror and surprise, sir."

"Are you mad, Jackson!" Billy Kane said again.

"No, sir-you'll see, sir-they've got you dead to rights. Both the vault and safe doors were open, and the money and rubies gone, and on the floor of the vault, way in by the wall under the lower shelf, like it had fluttered in there without you noticing it, sir, was a card with the combinations on it, and it was in your handwriting, Mr. Kane, sir. And in Mr. Ellsworth's hand, clutched there tight, sir, was a little piece of black silk cord, and on the floor, under the table, sir, where it must have rolled without you knowing it, sir, was a black b.u.t.ton."

"I don't understand," said Billy Kane, a little numbly now. There had been something grotesquely absurd, something in the nature of a ghastly, hideous and ill-timed joke, something that was literally the phantasm of a diseased brain in the murmur of this man's voice whispering out of the darkness; but there was creeping upon him now a prescience as of some deadly and remorseless thing that was closing down, around and upon him with inexorable and crushing force. "I don't understand," he said again.

"Yes, sir." Jackson's low, guarded voice went on. "It's not for me to say, sir. You'll remember, Mr. Kane, that you were wearing a dinner jacket, and that before going out you went up to your room and changed.

I suppose it was excitement, sir, and you never noticed it, and it's not to be wondered at under the circ.u.mstances, sir. The b.u.t.ton had been pulled off the jacket, sir, and had taken the black silk loop with it.

And the b.u.t.ton had rolled under the library-table, Mr. Kane, sir, and the loop was clutched in Mr. Ellsworth's hand."

Billy Kane said no word. There was a strange whirling in his brain. Some insidious and abhorrent thing was obsessing his consciousness, but in some way it was not fully born yet, nor concrete, nor tangible. He raised his hand and brushed it across his eyes.

"But that's not all, Mr. Kane, sir." The whispering voice was coming out of the darkness again, and it seemed curiously fraught with implacability, as though, not content with its unendurable torture, it must torment the more. "They found a letter in the pocket of your dinner jacket, Mr. Kane. It was a letter addressed to Mr. Ellsworth, which the police figure you must have intercepted so that he wouldn't see it, you being the one who opens the mail, sir. It was a letter warning him to look out for you, sir."

And now it had come like a flash, the clearing of Billy Kane's brain, and now it was brutally clear, clear beyond any possibility of misunderstanding; and, as a man walking in a fog that had suddenly lifted, he found himself reeling, in the full consciousness of its horror, on the brink of a yawning chasm.

"My G.o.d!" he cried heavily. "This is d.a.m.nable! I--"

"Keep quiet, sir!" implored Jackson frantically. "They'll hear you! If you care anything about a chance for your life, don't make a sound. The police figured that you would do one of three things, sir. They figured that after you had hidden the loot somewhere, you would walk back here as though nothing had happened, and pretend innocence, not knowing about that b.u.t.ton and the cord, sir; and so there's a couple of them waiting for you in the front hall, sir. Or they thought that you might discover you had lost the card with the combinations written on it and remember the letter in your dinner-jacket pocket, sir, and try to get back un.o.bserved, just as you've come in now, sir, and hoping that the murder hadn't been discovered in the meantime, try to recover the card and the letter before you played any other game; and they meant to let you, sir, only, as I told you, there's a couple more hiding up in your room, and you couldn't step into the library without the fellows in front seeing you. Or they thought you might just simply make a break for it, make your getaway, sir, and never come back at all; and so there's an alarm out, and your description, sir, in every precinct in the city, and all the railway stations are being watched. But that's your only chance, sir, to run for it."

It was silent here in the great house, ominously, strangely silent; and the silence grew heavy, and grew _loud_ with great palpitating throbs that hammered at the ear drums-and then, in the distance, from the other side of the door in the long pa.s.sage leading to the front of the house, faint but nevertheless distinct, there came the sound of an approaching footstep.

"There's someone coming!" whispered Jackson wildly. "Run for it, sir-while you've got the chance!"