CHAPTER XVIII
UNDER COVER
The shed roof was below, and he struck it, fortunately feet first, butthe sharp slant of the boards sent him hurtling forward over the edgeinto a miscellaneous pile of boxes beneath, his body finally resting onthe hard ground. He lay there dazed, the breath knocked entirely out ofhim, bruised, and scarcely certain whether he was dead or alive. For themoment, he seemed to have lost all consciousness, unable to realize evenwhat had occurred in that upper room, or to comprehend the necessity ofimmediate flight. All about him was intense darkness, and, after thecrash of his fall, no sound broke the silence. He could see nothing, hearnothing to arouse his faculties; his flesh quivered with pain, althoughhe felt sure no bones were fractured, for he could move both arms andlimbs freely, while after the first shock, his mind returned to activity,dominated by the single conviction that he must get away from therebefore those men could get down stairs.
But how? He retained no strength, no ability to use his limbs sufficientto carry him away from the neighbourhood swiftly. He felt paralysed,numb, even his brain functioning strangely, the danger of his helplesscondition its only incentive to action. He endeavoured to rise, rollingpartially over in the effort which failed, but the movement, slight as itwas, left one hand dangling over an excavation at his right. His fingersexplored the edge of this opening cautiously, revealing a cellar-way,leading down into the basement. The opening was black, silent,mysterious, yet it was a hiding place. If he could manage to roll downthose steps into those depths below, he might hide there unseen, until heregained strength, until the first effort at pursuit had been abandoned.Then there might be a chance for escape.
West grasped the idea clearly enough. Those fellows would be thereswiftly. If they found him gone they would have no doubt but what helanded safely, and had made a get-away. They would search, of course,perhaps out into the alley, hoping he might have been injured, but it washardly probable they would think to explore the cellar. Even if they did,he could surely creep into some dark corner where he might escapeobservation. Anyway, crippled as he was, this offered the one and onlychance. He could not argue and debate; he must act.
He rolled over, and lowered himself down into the opening, locating thehalf-dozen broken and rotted steps with his feet. He made no attempt tostand, but simply slid down, finding a partially closed door at thebottom, the passage-way blocked by a litter, the exact nature of whichcould not be determined in the darkness. With some difficulty, and morethan ever conscious of his weakness, and the pain of bruises, he managedto crawl over this pile of debris, and crouch down finally in the intenseblackness within. He felt like a trapped rat, still gasping for breath,his body quivering from exertion.
Yet his retreat had been none too rapid. The silence above was broken bythe creak of an opening door, the sound of excited voices, and a suddengleam of light, finding entrance through the open cellar-way. Weststartled, crept back into a corner, every nerve alert at approachingperil. He recognized Hobart's voice, as the fellow plunged down the stepsfrom the first floor out into the yard.
"To hell, of course he's here!" he stormed. "My God, man, he dived outhead first; I saw him. He'll be dead as a door nail now. Come on withthat lantern, Turner. Where in thunder is the ladder--does any one know?"
"You think he lies on the roof?"
"Why not? That's where he must have struck, ain't it, Shorty? I don'tknow though; it is so steep he'd most likely roll off. Here, you, let metake the glim. There's nothing here in these boxes. Ah, there's theladder; climb up, Shorty, and see if the guy is stuck anywhere on theroof. Go on! What are you afraid of; if he's there, he's a stiff allright, believe me."
Turner's voice, hoarse and rumbling, came back from above.
"There ain't nuthin' up here, Jim. Damn me, if I don't believe the cussgot clean away. Gee, but he was sure a nervy guy all right."
"Nervy? Crazy, you mean. But he never took that fall without bustingsomething. The bird is lying about here somewhere. You make sure he ain'tup there, Shorty."
"Well, he ain't; I kin see every inch o' this roof. Perhaps he fell inbetween them barrels down there."
The two evidently searched thoroughly, the rays of the lantern dancingwildly about, while Hobart savagely cursed his companion, and reiteratedhis belief that no man could ever take that plunge, and escape unhurt.
"It couldn't be done, I tell you; maybe he could crawl, but that would beall. Why he went down head first; I saw him go out the window, and thatdrop would daze a cat. Say, Shorty, maybe the stiff dropped down intothis cellar-way. Let's take a look."
The light streamed in through the narrow opening, and some onescrambled cautiously down the rotted steps. West, drawing himselfsecurely back behind the protection of his barrel, saw the lanternthrust forward, and a face behind it peering in the shadows. The fellowdid not advance into the room, but Hobart did, pressing his way roughlypast, and standing there full in the glow of light, staring about intothe dim shadows. He evidently saw nothing to arouse suspicion, for hisvoice was angry with disgust.
"Not a damn sign here, Shorty. It looks like the fellow maybe did getaway. But it beats me how. There ain't no place now for us to look butthe alley."
"An' if he ain't there?"
"Then we'll hop this dump mighty sudden, I'm telling you. We'll slip outand leave Mike to explain how he got his coco cracked. With that guyloose, it won't be healthy for me hanging around here."
"He ain't got the goods on you, has he?"
"No, he ain't got the goods, but he is dead wise to some things, and hedidn't get out of that shindy up stairs without getting hurt. He'll besore all right, and will raise all the hell he can. It's safer to keepout of the way."
"An' what about that other buck, Hobart? It won't do to have him pickedup, if this guy gets the harness bulls to take a look around here."
"That ain't his style, Shorty; he won't spiel anything to the cops aboutthis row. He's an ex-soldier, a Captain, and he's nuts on the girl.That's why he dipped into this mess--trying to save her--see? Maybe hewon't be so keen now, after the song and dance she gave him up stairs.I'm half inclined to think the guy will drop out entirely, damn glad toget off alive, now he believes she is as rotten as the rest of us. But Iain't sure--maybe he is the kind that sticks. That's why I don't take anychances just now. Things ain't quite ripe for a get away--see?"
"Sure; she gave him some straight stuff, hey?"
"She certainly did; she's as smart as she is good looking. It somehowdon't strike me this guy is going to bother her any more. I'm figuringthat he's out of it."
"But his partner?"
"Oh, we'll leave him somewhere propped up against a door. Likely he'llnever know what happened to him, or where. He ain't nothing to be afraidof--just a butler with a cracked head. It's the other guy who has got thebrains. Come on; let's take a look out in the alley."
Their shadows vanished up the stairs, the glow of light disappearing, andleaving the cellar in impenetrable darkness. West did not venture tomove, however, content to wait until thoroughly assured the way forescape was clear. He had not learned much from this conversation, exceptto increase his conviction that a serious crime was being consummated.The full nature of this conspiracy was as obscure as ever; rendered evenmore doubtful indeed by the active participation of Natalie Coolidge.This was what puzzled and confused him the most. He could no longerquestion her direct interest in the affair, or her willingness to assistin overcoming his efforts. Even without the free testimony of the menthis fact was sufficiently clear. She had deliberately lied to him,attempted deceit, and then, when he refused to yield to her efforts, hadso reported to Hobart, and left him to his fate. It was manifestlyimpossible for him to believe in her any longer. Yet what could it allmean? How could she hope to benefit by such an association? Why could shethus shield the murderers of Percival Coolidge? What possible objectcould there be in the commission of this crime, except to gain possessionof her own fortune? It was all mystery to his mind; a new unanswerabl
equestion arising wherever he looked.
What strange influence could this man Hobart exercise over the girl? ToWest's judgment he was in no way the sort of man to appeal to NatalieCoolidge. He was of a low, cunning order, with some degree of outwardpolish, to be sure, yet inherently tough, and exhibiting marks of abirth-right which indelibly stamped him of a social class far below herown. Surely, she could not love the fellow, yet unquestionably hepossessed a mysterious power over her, difficult to explain through anyother hypothesis. If West had not known the young woman under differentconditions, he might have accepted this theory, and dismissed the wholematter from mind. But it was the haunting memory of that earlier NatalieCoolidge, the mistress of Fairlawn, which would not permit his completesurrender. She had seemed all that his dream of womanhood called for.Unconsciously, he had given her his heart, and he could not tear theremembrance from mind. There was something wrong, terribly wrong; what itwas he had no means of knowing, yet, there in the dark, he determined hewould know, would never be content until he learned the whole truth. Allhis hope, all his future, depended on the answer.
Hobart and Turner were absent for some little while; the sound of theirvoices ceased, but the distant flicker of the lantern enabled West totrace their progress up the alley, and then back again. They returned inno pleasant humour, convinced that their expected victim had escapedsafely, but made no further effort to search the yard. Hobart said enoughto make it plain that his immediate project was to disappear, leavingMike to his own devices. With this point settled the two tramped heavilyup the stairs, and disappeared within. West, confident at last, that theway was left clear, wriggled out from his place of concealment behind thebarrel, and stood erect. He felt stronger now, and in less pain,convinced that his injuries were in no degree serious. He could move hislimbs freely and his mind was active. The darkness was so intense he hadto grope his way forward, anxious to make no noise which might betrayhis presence. No doubt the basement could be reached in some way from thefloor above, and any unusual sound below might easily attract attention.
In the intensity of the gloom, his sense of direction failed, taking himsomewhat further back before he finally located the exact position ofthose outer steps. Then as he turned abruptly, his foot came in contactwith an obstacle on the floor. For an instant he could not determine whatit was; then, with a thrill of horror, he realized the presence of ahuman body. There was no sound, no movement, and West drew back fromcontact with the object, shrinking in horror. Then he gripped himselfsternly--whoever, whatever this was, he must know. Alive or dead he mustdetermine the truth. He bent over, feeling with his hands in thedarkness. Good God, the flesh was warm; it was no cold corpse he touched,but a living human being; ay! tied like a mummy, unable to move hand orfoot. Then, as suddenly, his groping fingers, eager enough now,discovered the cause of silence--the man was gagged, cruelly gagged,helpless to utter a sound.
The Case and the Girl Page 18