by J. T. Edson
‘You wouldn’t be thinking of walking out while the lady’s still talking, now would you, me bucko?’ the smaller of the doorkeepers inquired quietly, but in a tone which suggested an answer in the affirmative would be unwelcome, as he and his companion moved inwards to block the entrance. He was also the much more expensively attired of the pair and his bearing was one of authority. ‘Now that wouldn’t be polite at all.’
‘That it wouldn’t, I’d be the last to deny,’ the dissident agreed, halting and thrusting open his jacket to hook his thumbs into the waistband of his trousers behind his back. He had identified his challenger as Phineas Branigan, controller of the hard-cases who served the local politicians in a number of clandestine ways. ‘And under normal circumstances Patrick Aloysious Murphy’d be the last to do it. But my bladder’s close to busting and I don’t think the O’Malley’d take it kind if I was to widdle on his floor, nor the lady for that matter.’
‘It’d not be the first time that’d happened,’ the second doorkeeper grinned, starting to step aside. ‘But it’s not us’d be making you do it.’
‘You’ll not be finding it outside,’ Branigan stated, without duplicating his underling’s actions. ‘It’s along to the left there.’
‘Then that’s where I’ll be going,’ the dissident answered, displaying a cheerfulness he was far from feeling. Turning and walking in the direction he had been indicated, he thought, ‘And I hope there’s another way out of it when I get there.’
Unaware that the person in whom he was interested had no intention of making further comments, the bogus priest was conscious of the audience’s increasing unrest. It warned him that Vera had lost their interest. A desire to avoid antagonizing him was all that prevented a mass exodus, or the kind of hostile reaction which would otherwise have been accorded to an unpopular entertainer regardless of sex. Instead, there was growing evidence of their dissatisfaction. They coughed, moved on their seats, shuffled their feet and began to mutter among themselves. Seeing that the woman was showing annoyance and knowing she could be just as tactless as himself when aroused, he decided to yield to the inevitable.
‘I’d better go and stop her before she makes things any worse,’ “Devlin” informed the artist, wanting to establish that that blame for the fiasco was not attributable to him. Walking from the wings, he raised his hands in a gesture which brought silence to the audience. Then, ignoring the startled and resentful look thrown his way by the actress as she stopped speaking, he addressed them. ‘Well, that’s all for this evening, lads. It’s been enjoyable as you’ll all be agreeing, but Miss Gorr-Kauphin’s getting tired. So let’s hear a cheer for her, then off you can go and drink her health.’
Even as the audience were starting to comply with a vigor that was mainly due to the prospect of carrying out the final part of their “priest’s” instructions, Fourmies glanced at the door which gave access to the dressing-rooms in the basement. Two further members of their party were down there and he wondered if one of them might be the traitor.
Gorr-Kauphin had not closed the door properly when going through it in a huff and, being badly fitted, it had begun to creep open. For a few seconds, the artist failed to appreciate the implications of the flickering red glow which emanated from somewhere along the basement’s passage. Then he realized what the sight must mean.
‘Au feu!’ Fourmies shrieked, so agitated and alarmed that he instinctively reverted to his native tongue. Dashing on to the stage, he continued to speak hurriedly in French, ‘Quickly! There’s a fire in the dressing-rooms!’
‘What the he— What’s that?’ “Devlin” snapped, revising the question just in time to avoid using words unbefitting a member of the clergy, the warning having been delivered in such haste that he found his knowledge of the French language unable to decipher it.
‘He said there’s a fire in t…’ Vera began, incensed by the interruption of her peroration before she could conclude the points she had wanted to put over. Then the full import of Fourmies’s outburst struck her and, starting to run towards the wings, she shouted, ‘Come on! There’s a fire in the dressing-rooms!’
Sharing the woman’s apprehension over the possible consequences, the impostor paid not the slightest attention to the excitement that her behavior and announcement were causing among the audience. Oblivious of the yells of ‘Fire!’ and other manifestations of alarm ringing in his ears, he rushed after her followed by the artist.
Two – You’re Not A Man!
There was no lessening of Colin Gorr-Kauphin’s sense of grievance against “Father Matthew Devlin” as he stamped angrily down the stairs into the basement of O’Malley’s Grand Emerald Isle Theater. Rather it was increasing as he continued to brood upon it. He had reached the bottom before he realized that all was not as it should be.
Even though the performers giving the show that night were of a higher echelon in the entertainment world than usually trod the boards of the establishment, or at least claimed to be, the management had not attempted to supply them with any better accommodation and facilities. Apart from the light thrown through the open door of the dressing-room to which he was going in search in solace, the passage had no illumination. Even the lantern by the door at the top of the second flight of stairs, which gave access to the alley at the rear of the building, was no longer lit.
A feeling of malicious pleasure began to creep through Gorr-Kauphin. If the orders given by “Devlin” had been carried out correctly, the door of that particular dressing-room should have been closed. Because of its important contents, the person inside was only to admit the bogus priest, Raoul Fourmies, Vera Gorr-Kauphin or her brother. He was also supposed to prevent everybody else from even looking in.
Although Marcel Tinville was another frequent sufferer under the humiliating lash of “Devlin”s’ tongue and might be counted upon to lend a sympathetic ear to complaints about him, the young actor was unable to resist the temptation to show the other at fault. Advancing on tiptoe and without a sound, he reached the dressing-room undetected. On looking through the door, he discovered with a sensation of alarm that the sole occupant was not the person upon whom he had intended to burst in and startle. Nor was the stranger’s behavior indicative of casual or innocent intent.
Standing at the dressing table, facing away from the door, the intruder was bending over and just raising the lid of the sturdy brown leather trunk that was responsible for the precautions. The last time Gorr-Kauphin had seen it, the trunk had been on the floor in the corner of the room. What was more, the dainty, rolled parasol, a black, hooded cloak-like Kerry coat—neither of which struck him as being in any way significant—or the fair-sized Mason jar, 9 its top removed and filled with an opaque, thickish liquid, alongside the piece of baggage belonged to any member of his party.
Any slight possibility that the intruder might have entered the dressing-room by accident, or in error, was ruled out by the fact that the trunk had been secured with two locks when Gorr-Kauphin had left to take part in the performance. As he knew and had resented, the only keys were in the possession of his sister and “Devlin” and never left their respective persons.
Realizing that the intruder must be up to no good, the actor was on the point of yelling to raise the alarm when other points began to attract his attention. They suggested to him that it might be advantageous if he was to adopt a more positive line of action.
Clad in an open necked black shirt, with matching tight fitting riding breeches and Hessian boots, 10 the stranger was shorter and more slender than Gorr-Kauphin. There was a mirror on the dressing-table, but being bent over to examine the contents of the trunk allowed only the top of a head with short black hair to be reflected in the fly-specked and cracked glass.
Although the actor had a cutthroat razor in the right side pocket of his jacket, he decided against removing and opening it. Taking into consideration the disparity in their respective sizes and that his presence was still unsuspected, he felt certain he could grab
and hold the intruder without needing the weapon. “Devlin” did not know he had started to carry it and he had no wish to divulge the information. Once he had a grip on the stranger, he could shout to summon assistance and need not betray his secret armament.
Drawing these conclusions, the actor suddenly remembered Tinville and wondered where he might be. Deciding that he must have gone to relieve himself at the toilet, Gorr-Kauphin was amused by the thought of his consternation when he discovered how his neglect of duty had so nearly been exploited. What was more, the actor knew his own standing would be much enhanced by having circumvented a robbery that would have had a most adverse effect upon their plans.
Faced with similar circumstances, a less self-centered person—or one with greater discernment—would have been more concerned by thoughts of how the intruder had gained admission, or why that particular dressing-room had been selected. It was not the nearest to either of the passage’s doors and others were in use. Furthermore, apart from the two locks—which were often fitted on such baggage—there was nothing about the trunk’s outside appearance to indicate that its contents would be worth the trouble of breaking into it.
Thinking of nothing more than the acclaim he would receive when he made his capture and of Tinville’s mortification, Gorr-Kauphin stepped through the door. Employing all the stealth he could muster, he crossed the room. Drawing closer to his intended victim, he held his breath lest it be heard and betray his coming. Then, seeing that the other was beginning to straighten up and the head was lifting, he sprang the remaining distance and threw his arms around the slender shoulders.
Even as the actor was starting to pin the intruder’s arms with his own, his hands came into contact with two mounds of flesh he had not expected to encounter. At the same moment, he saw the other’s face for the first time. As was the case with the portions of the human anatomy he was touching, the sight of it came as a considerable surprise. He had believed he was dealing with a boy, or a youth in the middle ’teens at most, but realized that was not so.
The discoveries made by Gorr-Kauphin were so unexpected that he did not continue with his intention of pinioning the intruder’s arms. Instead, he loosened his hold a little. Not much, but sufficiently to have a disastrous effect upon his hopes of gaining his fellow conspirators’ approbation.
Surging erect with speed and surprising strength, the intruder took full advantage of the chance inadvertently being offered by the actor. Curving forward, the black clad buttocks thrust back sharply to strike him and, making him pull away a little, caused his arms to open even more. Powered by a twisting writhe of the partially liberated torso, the left elbow was propelled against his chest hard enough to break his attempted rear bear hug completely. As he began to withdraw, his assailant pivoted. Around whipped a clenched right fist to connect against the side of his jaw with a force that sent him staggering at a tangent.
‘Y… You …!’ Gorr-Kauphin gasped, as his involuntary retreat was brought to a halt by the wall at the right side of the door. He was so amazed that he could neither think nor do anything more sensible and positive than to go on, ‘You’re not a man!’
‘Why how clever of you-all to guess,’ was the mocking reply, in a decidedly feminine voice whose accent was that of a well-bred and educated Southron.
Not more than five foot seven in height, with a slim figure that was—as Gorr-Kauphin’s hands had discovered to his consternation—far from flat-chested and skinny, the speaker was an exceptionally beautiful young woman. There was no suggestion of fear in her demeanor as she met his furious gaze, only a wary alertness and grim determination.
If the actor had been confronted by a man, or even a youth, the intruder’s obvious ability at self protection and the readiness to employ it would have caused him to run outside calling for help. Opposed by a woman, particularly one smaller than himself, his vicious, bullying nature would not allow him to do so. Letting out a snarl of rage, he pushed himself away from the wall and reached for the razor.
Although Gorr-Kauphin was expecting his display of aggression to cow the woman into terrified submissiveness, such a state failed to materialize. It produced exactly the opposite effect. By the time he had taken three steps towards her, before the razor was in his reaching fingers, she was coming to meet him.
Leaping into the air with the grace of a ballerina performing a pirouette, the intruder’s next action was more akin to that of an exponent of the style of fist and foot boxing devised by the French and called savate. As she was twisting around in mid-flight, her left leg delivered a kick to the center of the actor’s chest. Slender she might be, but she was possessed of the steel-like yet supple strength of a professional dancer. The impact robbed him of his breath and pitched him out of the dressing-room to the far side of the passage.
Alighting with the same agility which had characterized all her movements, the young woman sprang back to the dressing-table. Looking at the wad of paper money and cloth bags holding what she suspected to be gold coins, a considerable sum which had brought her to the theater, she gave a sigh of resignation. She had hoped to carry it away with her, or at least appropriate a substantial portion, but realized neither would now be possible. On her arrival, she had found the trunk too heavy for her to be able to carry it any great distance at speed. In fact, she had needed all her far from inconsiderable strength to lift it on to the table so as to make sure she had been told the truth about its contents. Despite the skill she had acquired in such matters, picking open the two locks had already caused the delay which had made her presence detected. To remain any longer could bring about her capture, with what she did not doubt would be dire and probably fatal consequences.
Aware of the sinister purpose to which the money was to be put, the female intruder was determined to prevent it from being used. Although hoping that the need to employ it would not arise, she had come to the dressing-room prepared to cope with such an eventuality as she was now facing.
Picking up the open Mason jar, the young woman tilted it and distributed the contents over the money in the trunk. There were several small chunks of some yellowish-white substance in the liquid and they began to smoke as it drained away to expose them to the air. Then they burst into flames which spread with a rapidity that suggested the fluid from the jar was also highly inflammable.
Knowing such a conflagration would result when the jar was emptied, the woman was wasting no time. Dropping the container into the trunk as soon as it had served its purpose, she snatched up the Kerry coat and parasol. Either of them ought to have suggested to the actor when he first saw them that they were items which were unlikely to belong to a man, but they had not. Without waiting to don the former, or attempting to open the latter, she turned her back on the trunk and its burning contents to run from the room.
On reaching the wall and being prevented by it from falling, Gorr-Kauphin was hanging there in close to a condition of suspended animation. Sucking in air to replenish his lungs, he watched the young woman leave the dressing-room and dart towards the stairs which led to the rear exit. Then, seeing the flames rising from the trunk, he realized that she must have caused them. The appreciation produced a sensation of extreme apprehension. He knew that he would be considered even more culpable than the absent Tinville for any losses incurred to his party’s finances. While his companion’s neglect of duty had permitted the intruder to enter and wreak the havoc, he would be held responsible for failing to capture her personally, or raise the alarm so others more competent could attend to it.
Fear of what would be done to him when “Devlin” heard of how he had behaved provided the actor with the incentive he needed to overcome the pain he was suffering and his natural cowardice. Trying to yell for help, his depleted lungs could produce only a feeble croaking that was drowned by the applause from the auditorium which was—although he did not know it—greeting the “priest’s” announcement of the show being over. With a sickening emotion assailing him, he realized that he must tr
y to apprehend the intruder unaided.
Reaching the far from pleasant conclusion, Gorr-Kauphin remembered he was armed. His right hand had left the pocket empty when he was kicked from the dressing-room, but he returned it to grasp and take out the razor. It would be a most effective weapon, he told himself as he opened the blade, particularly as the woman had the Kerry coat hanging over her left arm and was carrying what he assumed to be a harmless piece of feminine frippery, the parasol, in her right hand.
Watching the intruder ascending the stairs as he was running along the passage, the actor felt his apprehension changing to smug satisfaction. She had a lead on him, but that was not important under the prevailing conditions. As a precaution against unauthorized visitors, “Devlin” had insisted that—in addition to the door being locked—its bolts at the top and bottom must be secured. So she would be delayed while slipping them, turning the key in the lock and opening the door. Before she could accomplish the task, he would arrive and attack her from the rear.
There was an important flaw in Gorr-Kauphin’s reasoning, if he had given the matter more careful consideration.
Apart from the backstage entrance, the only means of access to the dressing-rooms was via the rear door. Wishing to ensure the privacy of their entertainers, the proprietors had sealed off the passage from the remainder of the basement. Even wearing the Kerry coat to conceal her short, urchin-like hair and masculine attire, at least to just below knee level, the woman could hardly have passed through the wings to gain admittance without being noticed and challenged as to her authority for being there.