The Case and the Girl Part 13

The sinking sun was still above the sky-line of the buildings fronting on Milwaukee Avenue, when the two men alighted at the intersection of Gans Street. West hardly took the adventure seriously, being more influenced by curiosity than any other motive, but s.e.xton was deeply in earnest, in full faith they were upon the right trail. Doubtful as he was, West had neglected no precautions. The map a.s.sured him that they were invading a disorderly section of the city, where to be well-dressed would only invite suspicion, and might lead to trouble. To avoid this possibility, he had donned his most shabby suit, and wore a cap largely concealing his face. In one pocket of his jacket within easy reach lay hidden his service revolver loaded, and he had induced s.e.xton to accept a smaller weapon in case of emergency.

Gans Street was not inviting, the saloon on the corner being flanked by several small factories. The brick side-walk was in bad condition, and littered with junk of all kinds, while the road-way was entirely uncared for, and deeply rutted from heavy traffic. Half way down the block, was a tannery, closed now for the night, but with its odour yet permeating the entire atmosphere. Altogether, the scene was desolate and disagreeable enough, but the street was deserted of pedestrians, the factory doors tightly closed for the night.

The two men pressed their way through along the narrow pa.s.sage, finding less obstruction as they advanced, the second block being composed entirely of houses, largely of the tenement type, and apparently princ.i.p.ally populated by children. Wray Street, once attained, was of an entirely different character, being lined with homes, usually humble enough outwardly, yet the throughfare was clean, and the small yards had generally an appearance of neatness in marked contrast to its surroundings. 238 was a three story brick, on the corner, the second story evidently utilized for living purposes, and the ground floor occupied as a saloon. The upper story exhibited no signs of occupancy, the windows unwashed, and two of them boarded up. The saloon possessed a fairly respectable appearance, the lettering across the front window proclaiming it as "Mike's Place," and seemed to be doing some business, several entering and departing by way of its hospitable door, while the two lingered in uncertainty opposite. Standing there idly however did not appeal to West.

"Well, let's go over," he said impatiently. "There is nothing to be learned here."

It was an ordinary bar-room, and their entrance apparently aroused no special interest. Besides the man behind the bar, a rather rough looking foreigner, a Pole in West's judgment, three customers were in the place, two with feet upon the rail talking with the drink dispenser, and, one at a small table moodily contemplating a half emptied stein of beer. There were three other tables in the room, and the Captain with a swift glance about, drew out a chair and sat down, his action being imitated by s.e.xton. The bar-tender came forward around the end of the bar, while the man nearest shifted his position slightly so as to look them over, conversation instantly ceasing. Something indefinable in the fellow's att.i.tude, and steady stare, gave West a feeling of hostility, which was not dispelled by the gruff greeting of the bar-tender.

"Well, what is it you fellers want?"

"A stein apiece, and a sandwich--you serve them, don't you?"

"Sure; ham or beef?"

"Ham."

There was no cordiality, no welcome in either manner or speech. It was plainly evident the proprietor of the saloon felt no enthusiasm over his unknown customers. The eyes of the two men met understandingly, but the few words exchanged between them were entirely foreign to the situation.

Mike came back with the beer and sandwiches, pausing this time to wipe off the table, as an excuse for speech.

"You guys live 'round here?" he asked gruffly, "Don't remember ever seein' yer in here before."

"No," returned West indifferently, looking directly into the hard face.

"I'm a smoke inspector, an' we just dropped in on our way back to the office. Why?"

"Oh, nuthin'; only we don't get much trade outside the neighbourhood. I wish ter h.e.l.l ye'd get after that tannery; can't hardly breathe here sometimes."

"That's what we were looking after; had some complaints lately."

"Sure, I been kickin' 'bout it for a month. You fellers have another beer on me."

He walked back toward the bar, pausing an instant to whisper a word to the taller man who still stood there staring moodily at the table. What he said apparently determined action, for the fellow addressed, crossed the room to where West and s.e.xton sat, deliberately pulled up a vacant chair, and joined them.

"Bring me another, Mike," he ordered. "That is, if these gents don't object to my joining 'em awhile."

CHAPTER XIV

TRAPPED

West smiled pleasantly, glad the man had taken the initiative, thus naturally opening up a way for asking certain questions. Whatever his own immediate object might be in thus sc.r.a.ping an acquaintance made no difference. It would doubtless develop in time, but meanwhile here was the opportunity sought to discuss the affairs of the neighbourhood. Yet the subject must be approached with due caution. The very indifference of the bar-tender coupled with the evident desire of this hanger-on to form an acquaintance, served to reveal the real nature of "Mike's Place."

Plainly enough strangers were viewed with suspicion, and this was no ordinary saloon, catering to whatever trade drifted within its doors.

More than likely it was rather a thieves' hang-out, ever suspicious of the activity of the police.

Yet this fellow bore no outward semblance to the common conception of the under-world. Nor did his actions or words exhibit any motive other than ordinary good-fellowship. He was well dressed, easy of manner, with an exceptionally intelligent face, blue eyes meeting West's gaze frankly, a carefully trimmed moustache, with white teeth good humouredly showing when he smiled, and threads of grey in his hair. His very appearance invited confidence and comradeship, while his outspoken words increased this impression.

"Excuse my b.u.t.ting in," he explained genially. "But it's d.a.m.n dull around here tonight. n.o.body to talk with but a couple o' b.u.ms. You see I don't belong around here; just dropped in for a bit of business with Mike."

"I see," admitted West, puzzled, and wondering how far he dared venture.

"You can get lonelier in a big city than anywhere else."

"You bet you can. I like some one I can talk to; some guy with ideas. You see I run a broker's office down town, an' its pretty blame slow around a dump like this--you get me?"

"Sure; this seems to be a pretty quiet place."

"Quiet! h.e.l.l! it isn't always so quiet. I've dropped in here when it was lively enough, believe me. But tonight it's the limit. Fact is I come up for a little excitement, as much as anything else, but must have struck an off night. You're a smoke inspector, Mike says?"

West nodded.

"Know Fred Karvan, I suppose?"

"Oh, yes; friend of yours?"

"Used to be; we were kids together down on the southside. He's got a pretty soft job now; stands in strong with the City Hall, they tell me.

Mean to drop in and see him some of these days."

"You'll find him a mighty good fellow," a.s.serted West to whom the name was entirely unfamiliar.

"Well, I'm not so sure about that. He's got pretty stiff the last few years they tell me. But then you work under him, and ought to know. Head of your department, isn't he?"

"Yes, but I only meet him in a business way, of course."

"Sure; but that is the way you get to know them best. Been a soldier, haven't you?"

"Yes, but what made you think that?" in some surprise at the unexpected query. The man laughed, lighting a cigar carelessly.

"Oh, it has not been so long since, that the evidence is obliterated.

I've got a habit of noticing things. The way you sit, and square your shoulders told me you'd been in uniform; besides you're the right age.

Get across to France?"

"Had over a year there," wondering what the fellow could be angling after. "You didn't get in?"

"No; I was over the limit. I was thinking you might be interested in looking over a collection of war relics Mike has got stowed away here somewhere. He had two boys over there, and I reckon they must have put in most of their time gathering up souvenirs. Anyhow they brought back the greatest collection of war junk I've ever seen. Say, Mike, what did you do with those war relics the boys sent home?"

The fellow addressed leaned over the bar, his face glowing with sudden interest.

"They vas in the back-room, all spread out. Why you ask? The gentlemen would see them, what?"

"Yes; this one was a soldier himself. Maybe he can tell more about them than the boys could. How is it? You fellows like to see the things?"

West hesitated for just an instant, his eyes turning unconsciously toward s.e.xton, who had not spoken. He felt no suspicion, merely a vague doubt as to what this invitation might conceal. Yet it had all been natural enough, and promised an opportunity for him to learn something more of the place. An accident might reveal the very discovery he was eagerly seeking. Besides there could be no danger; both he and s.e.xton were armed, and apparently the invitation was innocently extended. To refuse to accept would be churlish.

"Certainly," he said at last, quaffing the last of his beer and rising to his feet. "It will be nothing new to me, I imagine, but we'll have a look."

The other man, who had been leaning against the bar, had disappeared, while the fellow at the table had seemingly fallen asleep. Mike came forward with a bunch of keys in his hand.