The Wharf By The Docks Part 18

"You're coming to open the door now?" asked he.

"All right," said she.

Down went the trap-door, and the light and the old woman disappeared together. Max wished he had asked for a candle, although he doubted whether his request would have been complied with.

And at the end of another five minutes, which seemed like hours, he began to have other and graver doubts. He had gone back to his former place near the door, and he stood waiting, with more and more eagerness, more and more anxiety, for the promised appearance of Mrs. Higgs.

Surely, slow as her steps might be, she could have got down by this time.

He grew restless, uneasy. The old suspicions--which her appearance and the artful simplicity of her manner had allayed--rose up in his mind with fresh vigor. And, to add to his anxiety, he suddenly remembered the pretext Carrie had given to try to get him into the front room.

She had told him there were things of hers in there which she wanted. He had believed her, at least, implicitly. But now he knew that her pretext was a lie. She also, therefore, had been an accomplice in the plot to get him into this room.

As this thought came into his mind, he heard again the creaking of the boards, and this time it was accompanied by another sound, faint, intermittent, but unmistakable--the sound of the splashing of water close to his feet.

Turning quickly to the door, he raised his fist and brought it upon the boards with a sounding crash; at the same time he shouted for "Help!"

with all the strength of his lungs. He repeated the blow, the cry.

Again he heard, when he paused to listen, the faint splashing of the water, the creaking of the boards behind him. Then, just as he raised his hand for one more blow on the door, he felt it open a very little, pushing him back.

And at the same moment a voice whispered:

"Sh-sh!"

Very gradually the door was opened a little farther. A hand caught the sleeve of his coat. It was quite dark outside the door--as dark as in the front room.

"Sh-sh!" was whispered again in his ear, as he felt himself drawn through the narrow aperture.

He made no attempt to resist, for he knew, he felt, that the hand was Carrie's, and that this was rescue.

When he had pa.s.sed into the second room, Max was stopped by a warning pressure of the hand upon his arm, and then he felt the touch of Carrie's lips upon his ear, so close did she come before she uttered these words:

"Don't make a sound. Come slowly, very quietly, very carefully. You're all right."

He heard her close the door through which he had just come, and then he let her lead him, in silence and in the darkness, until they reached another door. This she opened with the same caution, and Max, pa.s.sing through with her, found himself, as he knew by the little step down onto the brick floor, in the outhouse.

"Who's that?" said a man's voice, startling Max, and confirming in an instant the suspicions he had had that the outrage to which he had been subjected was the work of a gang.

"It's me--Carrie," said the girl.

And opening the outer door, she drove Max out with a gentle push, and closed it between herself and him.

"Thank G.o.d!" was his first muttered exclamation, as he felt the welcome rush of cold night air and felt himself free again.

But the very next moment he turned back instinctively to the door and attempted to push it open. The latch was gone; he had broken it himself.

But the door was now locked against him.

Of course, this circ.u.mstance greatly increased the desire he had for one more interview, however short, with Carrie. He wanted to understand her position. Too much interested in the girl to wish to doubt her, grateful to her for contriving his escape, Max yet found it difficult to reconcile her actions with the honesty her words had caused him to believe in.

However, finding that the door was inexorably closed upon him, he saw that there was nothing for it but to take himself off into safer if less interesting regions as quickly as possible. So he got out on the wharf, through and over the timber, and was on the point of crossing to the door in the fence, when he saw a man come quickly through, lock the door behind him and make his way through the piles of timber with the easy, stealthy step of a man accustomed to do this sort of thing, and to do it at night.

Before the man got near him, Max, who had stepped back a little under the wall of one of the outhouses, was sure that the newcomer was of doubtful character. When the latter got out into the light thrown by the street-lamp outside the wharf, this impression was confirmed.

A little man, young, of slight and active build, with a fair mustache, blue eyes and curly, light hair, he was undoubtedly good-looking, although there was something mean and sinister about the expression of his face. Max could scarcely see all these details; but, as it was, he made out enough for him to experience an idiotic pang of something like jealousy, as he made up his mind on the instant that the object of the young man's visit was to see Carrie.

The visitor wore a light overcoat, and had a certain look of being well off, or, at least, well dressed.

And, suspicion getting the upper hand again, the thought darted through the mind of Max that it was strange to find so many persons--this was the third of whom he had knowledge--hovering about the shut-up house, when Carrie had represented herself to have been alone for two whole days.

Against his better judgment, Max followed the newcomer, step by step, at a safe distance, and raised himself on the timber in such a way as to be able to watch what followed.

The man in the light coat made his way with surprising neatness and celerity over the timber to the door of the outhouse, at which he gave two short knocks, a pause, and then two more.

After waiting for a few moments, the man repeated this signal, more loudly than before.

And then the door opened, and Max heard the voice of Carrie, though it was too dark for him to see her at that distance.

"You, d.i.c.k? Come in."

And the young man, without answering, availed himself of the invitation; and the door was shut.

Max stared down at the closed door in perplexity and dismay. In spite of all his adventures in that very doubtful house, or, perhaps, because of them, his interest in Carrie, of the blue eyes and the wonderful voice, was as strong as ever. Hovering between trust and mistrust, he told himself at this point that she was nothing in the world but the thieves'

decoy he had at first suspected. But in that case, why had he himself not been robbed? He wore a valuable watch; he had gold and notes in his purse. And no attempt had been made to relieve him of either the one or the other.

And the foolish fellow began to consider and to weigh one thing with the other, and to become more and more eager to see the girl again if it were only to upbraid her for her deceit, until he ended by slipping down to the ground, going boldly to the door of the outhouse, and giving two knocks, a pause, and two knocks more.

As he had expected, Carrie herself, after an interval of only a few seconds, opened the door.

There was a little light in the outhouse, and none outside; and Max, having taken a couple of steps to the left, she at first saw n.o.body. So she made a step forward. Max instantly put himself between her and the door.

On recognizing him, Carrie started, but uttered no sound, no word.

"I want to speak to you," said Max, in a low voice.

But all her boldness of their first interview, her coquetry of the second, her quiet caution of the third had disappeared. She was now frightened, shy, anxious to get away.

"Oh, why did you come back? Why did you come back? Go away at once and never come here again. Haven't you got a lesson?"

Her voice broke; her anxiety was visible. Max was touched, more interested than ever.

"I can't go away," he whispered back, "until I have spoken to you about something which is very serious. Can't you come out on the wharf, somewhere where we can talk without anybody over-hearing?"

"Oh, no, oh, no. I must go in. And you must go. Are you a _fool_,"

and she stamped her foot with sudden impatience, "to be so persistent?"

"A fool?" echoed Max, half to himself. "By Jove, I think I am. Look here," and he bent down so that he might whisper very close to her ear; "I must set the police on this place, you know; but I want you to get away out of it first."

She listened in silence. She waited for him to say more. But he was waiting on his side for the protests he expected. At last she laughed to herself derisively.