CHAPTER XV
MR. SHAW DECIDES TO TALK
At the garage he found Burke faithful to his trust and with an alert eyeout for more five-dollar bills. The proprietor temporarily lost sight ofthese, however, in his sudden and vivid interest in the new patron'sappearance.
Laurie answered his questions with a word that definitely checked thefurther development of curiosity. Then, huddling over the stove, andwarming his icy, soaked feet, he curtly outlined his intentions. He wasgoing to change back into his own clothes, he explained, and he wouldwant his car at five o'clock sharp. This, he intimated, would give Burkea little more than half an hour in which to get his mental processesstarted again and to have the car ready.
Burke whistled inaudibly. Obviously the joke the lad had played had notpanned out to the young man's taste. Burke was sorry for that. Hisexperience had been that with these young "rounders" generosity wenthand in hand with success and its attendant exhilaration; and that whendepression set in, as it obviously had done in this instance, a suddenparalysis numbed the open palm.
However, even granting that this was so, he had already been largelyoverpaid for anything he had done or might still be expected to do. Henodded his response to the young man's instructions, and though he wasnot a subtle person, he succeeded in conveying at the same time a senseof his sympathy with the natural annoyance of a high-spirited practicaljoker whose joke had plainly miscarried. Ordinarily his attitude wouldhave amused Devon, but Laurie was far from his sense of humor just now.Still whistling softly, Burke departed, to make a final inspection ofthe car, leaving Laurie the sole occupant of the cramped and railed-incorner that represented the private office.
That young man was in the grip of a characteristic Devon rage, and as herapidly got back into his own clothing his fury mounted until the bloodpounded at his temples. He dared not let himself sum up the case againstShaw, though the manner in which he had been kicked out savored stronglyof contempt. Evidently Shaw didn't care where he was, so long as he wasoutside of the house.
Neither dared he sum up the case against Doris, though he could not fora moment banish from his mind the picture of her as she had stood withher back to him and his four assailants. Why had she stood thus?Because she was indifferent to any fate that befell him? Or because shewas numbed by her own misery? Crowding forward with these questions wasa sick fear for her, alone in that sinister house with four thugs and anold hag whose sole human quality seemed to be a sardonic sense of humorexercised at his, Laurie's, expense.
What might happen to her? What might be happening even now? And whatassurance had he that even if he again succeeded in entering the house,a very remote possibility, he could accomplish anything against Shaw andhis companions? Oh, if only he had waited and brought Rodney with him!Together, he felt, the two of them could have met and overcome aregiment of men like Shaw and his secretary.
A wild impulse came to him to take Burke with him in his second effort,but an appraising look at that seedy individual checked it. He wasconvinced that Burke could neither fight nor keep his mouth shut. Owingto his promise to Doris, police help, of course, was out of thequestion. No, he must go back alone. But this time there would be nosemi-ignominious departure. He would either bring Doris away, or hewould remain there with her. And if Shaw wanted trouble, he'd get it,and it would be the real thing.
That afternoon, on his first visit to The Cedars, his new instinct ofcaution had made him leave behind him the little revolver he hadbrought. He knew his own hot temperament too well to risk carrying it,and he had an arrogant faith in his own physical strength which, as arule, had been justified. Now, however, he retrieved the weapon, andwith a sudden tightening of the lips dropped it into his overcoatpocket.
When he was dressed he went out to look over his car. Burke, who wasevidently fascinated by the slender racer, rose from an admiringinspection of the engine as its owner approached.
"She's ready any minute now," he reported. "She's had gas, oil, and air,and I've put on the chains. Thought you'd want 'em, in this storm."
Laurie nodded and glanced out at the window. The storm had developedinto a blizzard. His optimism, somewhat numbed in the past hour,reasserted itself to suggest that nature was helping him to meet theodds against him in the old house down the road. He glanced at hiswatch. It was not yet quite five, but certainly there was darknessenough for his purposes. He could safely take the car into the side woodroad near The Cedars, and leave it there among the trees until he neededit. He handed Burke his final offering, the size of which whollydispelled that philosopher's pessimistic forebodings. Jumping into hiscar, he backed it out into the storm.
"Hey, there! what about these clo'es?" demanded Burke, indicating with athumb the abandoned heap of garments in the office.
"Eat 'em," briefly advised the occupant of the disappearing car. Burkeshook his head. Garage men are used to hectic human types and strangehappenings, but this particular type and incident were new to Burke. Hewas also interested in the discovery that the young fella wasn't goingto New York, now that his joke was played. He was going straight up theroad, in the wrong direction, and driving like the devil. Well, anyway,Burke had made a tidy bit on that joke, whatever it was. Gazingaffectionately at the latest crisp bill, he thought of his wife and theseventh, and nobly decided to forgive them both.
Laurie, his hot head cooled by the storm that beat against him, racedthrough the gathering darkness. He had the road to himself. In weatherlike this no one was abroad who could stay at home. He turned off intothe country road, already deep in snow-drifts, and swept on, through thelittle wood whose leafless birches now looked unfamiliar, even spectral,in the increasing gloom. Save for the soft purr of his engine, hisprogress made no sound. He drove as far as he dared, then stopped thecar off the road, in a clear space among the trees, and continued hisway on foot. He must leave the car there, and take the chance of havingit discovered. In the storm and darkness that chance seemed very remote.
He plunged on toward the house, knee-deep, now, in the drifts that sweptacross the narrow road. Soon the building was visible in its sombersetting, and as he stared at its dim outlines his heart leaped. In theright-hand corner, on the second floor, a light showed faintly throughdrawn shades. The sight filled him with an overwhelming relief. Until hesaw it, he had not realized how great his inner panic had been. Hestopped, drew a deep breath, and stood staring up at it.
The rest of the house looked black and uninhabited, but somewhere withinit, he was sure, Shaw and the blond secretary watched and waited. To theItalians he gave no thought. He was convinced that neither of them caredto come alone to close quarters with him; and this conviction was sostrong that the prompt retreat of the fellow with the rope had notsurprised him, either at the moment or in retrospect, though both menhad fought well under Shaw's eyes. If the Italians were again on guardin the grounds, it would be his job to choke them off before they couldwarn Shaw of his presence. Warning Shaw, he hoped, was about all theywere good for.
His plan, fully made, was very simple. He had no intention of riskinganother encounter if it could be avoided. His purpose was to get Dorisout of that house, back to New York, and in Louise Ordway's care withthe least possible difficulty and delay. That done, he could take up hislittle affair with Shaw. Even against the blond secretary he felt nopersonal rancor. The youth with the pursuing eyes and the chloroform wasmerely a wretched pawn in Shaw's game.
In Shaw's game! The phrase stuck, burning into his consciousness likethe vitriol he believed the beast would use if he dared. What _was_Shaw's game? Why was he so smugly sure of it? And why, oh, why, _why_,was Doris seemingly numb to its danger, yet anxious for his help? Forthe first time he gave definite shape to a reflection that for hours hadbeen trying to catch his attention, and from which he had restivelyturned. It was this:
When those four men, headed by Shaw, had entered that upper room, Dorishad not been surprised. She had expected them. Moreover, she had notbeen really afraid. Instead, she had worn a
look of flaming anger and ofsudden resolution. She had stepped forward as if to speak. Her verylips had been parted for speech. Then, Shaw had looked at her, andslowly she had turned away and stood staring out at the window, her backto the room and its tableau. In short, with one glance of his veiled,protruding eyes, Shaw had conquered her, and Laurie himself had seen,what no one could have made him believe, her instantaneous and completesubmission.
It was this revelation which had added the smoke barrage of doubt to thesituation, clouding his faculties and temporarily stifling his faith. Inthe face of this, how could he still trust? Yet he had promised totrust, to believe, "whatever happened." Those had been his own words,and she had wept and told him he was "wonderful"!
The deep breath he had drawn ended in a sigh. He was fighting more thanone storm, and in this instant he felt an indescribable weariness ofsoul and body. But not for a second did he hesitate in the course he haddecided on. Later, when Doris was safe, perhaps things would clear up.For the moment there was one thing, and one alone, to be done.
The trees around the house made the approach under their cover a fairlyeasy one. However, he moved slowly, missing no precaution. He hardlybelieved the zeal of the Italians would keep them out in the storm, butthey might have rigged up some sort of shelter, or, more probably, theymight be doing sentry-work at some of those dark windows.
Clinging close to the trees, he skirted the house, then approached itfrom the rear, and slipped along the side of the building, hugging thewall. As he noiselessly moved he listened, but no sound came frominside. When he reached the front right wing he stopped, and, lookingup, verified his swift impressions of the afternoon.
A wide veranda swung around the front and side of this wing, supportedby substantial pillars, up any one of which he knew he could climb likea cat. The roof of the veranda opened on the low French front windows ofthe up-stairs sitting-room. There was no question that within a fewmoments he himself could enter that sitting-room.
The real question, and again he carefully considered it, was how, oncein the room, he could get the girl out of it. _She_ could not climbrailings and slide down pillars. There was a window on the rear end ofthe wing, above what plainly served in summer-time as a verandadining-room. This end of the veranda was glassed in, and over it atrellis afforded a support for frozen vines that now shivered in thestorm. If he could get Doris out at that window, he might be able to gether down to the ground with the help of the trellis. But from what roomdid the window open, and how much of the upper hall would they have totraverse before reaching it? Not much, he fancied.
Again he looked around, and listened. There was no sound or motion, savethose caused by the storm. The next instant he was climbing the pillartoward the dimly lighted window. The ascent was not so easy as he hadpictured it. To his chagrin, he made several unsuccessful efforts beforehe finally drew himself over the top of the veranda roof, and, lyingflat in the snow, slowly recovered the breath exhausted by his efforts.
Lying thus, and stretching out an arm, he could almost touch the nearestwindow with his fingers, almost, but not quite. Still lying flat, hedragged himself a yard farther. His head was now in line with thewindow, but the close-drawn shade shut out all but the suggestion of theinner light. He hesitated a moment, then, very cautiously, tapped on thefrosty pane.
There was no response. He tapped again, and then a third time, twice insuccession and more compellingly. This time he thought he heard amovement in the room, but he was not sure.
He waited a moment, then softly signaled again. There was no questionnow about the movement in the room. He heard it distinctly, heard itapproach the window, heard it cease, then saw the curtain slowly drawn.The face of Doris looked out, at first vaguely, as if she had fanciedthe noise some manifestation of the storm. But in the next instant sheglanced down, saw him, and obviously checked an exclamation. In anothermoment she had opened the window, and without straightening up he hadslipped across the sill.
Neither spoke. Laurie was looking about the room, reassuringly empty,save for those two. He closed the window, drew the shade, and becameconscious that she held his hand and was drawing him urgently toward thefire. At the same time she answered his unasked question.
"They're all down in the kitchen, I think. Listen!"
She opened the door leading to the hall, and, going out, leaned over thestair-rail.
"Yes, they're still there," she reported when she came back. "All butone of the Italians. They're eating now, and after that I _think_they're planning to leave."
"Where's the hag?"
"Waiting on them."
She spoke detachedly, almost dully. As in the morning, she was notsurprised; but to-night there was in her manner a suggestion ofrepressed excitement which it had not held before.
"Have you a heavy coat?" he asked her.
"Yes."
"Get it and put it on, quick. Don't waste any time." He indicated thebuckled house-shoes she still wore. "And put on some real shoes, if youhave them."
Without replying, she disappeared. He followed her into the bedroom inwhich, during the hours of his presence that afternoon, the hag hadfound uneasy asylum. He indicated a door.
"Where does that lead?"
"Into a bath-room."
"There's a back window over the veranda. What room does that mean?"
"A bedroom off the hall."
"Good!"
She followed his thought. "But I don't think we can risk that. One ofthe Italians is patrolling the hall. That's why they haven't locked thedoor. I caught a glimpse of him just now, coming toward the foot of thestairs."
He stared at her frowningly, then, walking to the bed, stripped it withan arm-swing and seized the sheets.
"Then it's simply a question of lowering you from the front," he cried,curtly. "I'll lower you as far as I can, and we'll have to risk a dropof a few feet. Snow's safe."
As he spoke, he was hurriedly tearing and roping the sheets. "Used to dothis at school when I was a kid," he explained. "Quite like old times.Now get on the coat and shoes, please."
She needed the reminder. She was staring at this visitor, who had theface of the man she knew and the voice and manner of a stranger. Alltrace of young Devon's debonair indifference was gone. He had the coldeyes and set jaw of a determined man, busy at some task which wouldassuredly be done, but his air of detachment equaled her own.
When she was ready, and still with his new air of businesslikeconcentration on the job in hand, he adjusted the linen ropes, and aftera preliminary survey of the grounds, led her through the window and outon the veranda roof. Here he briefly told her what to do, suiting actionto words with entire efficiency, and assuming her unquestioningobedience as a matter of course.
The lowering was not the simple exercise he had expected, any more thanthe upward climb had been. Light as she was, it was clear that herunsupported weight would be a heavy drag upon a body resting insecurelyon a slippery roof with nothing more substantial than snow and ice tocling to. But eventually she was down, a little shaken but unhurt, andhe was beside her.
"Now, let's see how fast you can run," he suggested; and for the firsttime his whispered voice held a ring of the youth she knew. "Shaw'swatchers may suddenly begin to watch, or even to see something."
She responded to his changed tone with an uncontrollable gasp of relief,which he attributed to excitement.
"Don't worry. All right now, I think," he said, with an immediate returnto curtness. It steadied her as no other attitude on his part could havedone.
"Can you drive a Pierce Arrow?" he asked, as they plunged ahead throughthe snow-drifts.
"Yes."
"That's fine. That's great. I was afraid you couldn't." This was Laurieagain. He went on urgently. "If we're stopped or separated, do exactlyas I say. Don't lose an instant. Rush to my car. It's over there, amongthe trees. See?--there at the right. It's turned toward the road." Heindicated the spot. "Get in, go to the left at the first turn, drivefull speed to a garage a quar
ter of a mile down the main road. No matterwhat happens, don't stop till you reach it. Go into the garage, and waithalf an hour for me. If I'm not there then, drive on to New York and goto this address." He gave her a penciled slip he had prepared. "Mrs.Ordway is a good friend of mine. She'll take you in and look after you.Will you do that?"
"Yes." The word was so low that he had to bend his head to catch it.His voice softened still more.
"Don't worry. It will be all right. Only, some way, I can't believe thatShaw is letting us off as easily as this."
She stumbled, but he caught her. For a moment he supported her, and inthat moment, under the sense of her nearness and dearness andhelplessness, the hardness of the past hour disappeared. He did notunderstand her. Perhaps he would never understand her. But whatever shewas, she was all right.
Half leading, half carrying her, he got her to the car and into it. Hehad actually raised one foot to follow her when something stirred in theshadows near them, and the familiar, squat figure of Shaw stepped forth.
Though in his sudden appearance he had followed the dramatic instinctthat seemed so strong in him, he had wholly lost the effect of unleashedfury he had worn in the afternoon. He was even smiling with anaffectation of good-humored tolerance. He had the air of a man who, withthe game in his hands, can afford to be patient and affable.
"Oh, come now," he said easily, "don't leave us quite so soon! Sinceyou've come back for another visit, we've decided to keep you a while.You know, I warned you of that."
Laurie made a sign to Doris, which she instantly obeyed. Even before theindolent voice had finished speaking, she was at the wheel and the carhad started. Shaw, springing forward with goggling eyes and dropped jaw,found his way blocked by a man as new to him as he had been to Doris, aLaurence Devon who all in an instant had taken on the black rage hehimself had dropped. In the hands of this stranger was a revolver whichneatly covered Shaw's plump chest. Before this apparition, Shaw backedaway precipitately.
"Stand exactly where you are." Devon's voice was very quiet, but therewas a quality in it which added to the icy chill of the night. "I knowyou're not alone, but if any of your pals shows himself, I'll shoot himdead. If you move or utter one word, or cry out, I'll kill you. Do youunderstand?"
Shaw did understand. The look in his protruding eyes proved that. Thoseeyes shifted wildly, turning this way and that, as if in search of thehelp which lurked among those spectral trees. He himself stood asmotionless as one of them, and as he stood he moistened his thin lipswith the tip of a trembling tongue.
"Now," said Laurie, "I'm going to have the truth. I'm going to have itall, and I'm going to have it quick. If you don't tell it, I'll killyou. Probably I shall kill you anyway. But first you will answer twoquestions. What power have you got over Miss Mayo? And what are youtrying to do?"
Shaw hesitated. Again his protruding eyes turned wildly to the right andleft, as if in search of help. Still holding the revolver in his righthand, Laurie slowly reached out his left and seized the other's throatin the grip of his powerful young fingers.
"Keep still," he warned, as the other started to raise his hands. "Youthink the game isn't up, but it is. Now talk, and talk quick."
He tightened his grip on the thick, slippery throat. "I'm enjoyingthis," he rasped. "If you were anything but the snake you are, I'd giveyou a fighting chance. But a creature that uses chloroform and hiresthree thugs to help him in his dirty jobs--"
He increased the pressure on the thick neck. Shaw's face began topurple. His eyes bulged horribly. He choked, and with the act gave up.
"Hold on," he gurgled. "Listen."
The pressure on his throat slightly relaxed. With eyes closed, hecollapsed against the nearest tree-trunk. Laurie followed him, expectingsome treacherous move; but all the fight seemed out of the serpent. Hewas clutching at his coat and collar as if not yet able to breathe.
"I've had enough of this," he finally gasped out. "I'll tell youeverything."
Even as he spoke, Laurie observed that one of the clutching, clawinghands had apparently got hold of what it was seeking.
* * * * *
Doris, feeling her way through the blackness of the storm on theunfamiliar country road, heard above the wind the sound of a sharpexplosion which she thought meant a blown-out tire. She did not stop.Before her, only a short distance away, was the garage to which she washastening and where she was to wait for Laurie. To go on meant to take achance, but she had been ordered not to stop. There was a certainexhilaration in obeying that order. Crouched over the wheel, with headbent, and guessing at the turns she could not see, she pressed onthrough the storm.
The Girl in the Mirror Page 15