The Riddle and the Ring; or, Won by Nerve

by Gordon MacLaren

  Having taken in this, much without apparently noticing anything,Lawrence walked directly into the lighted room, and stood in the middleof it, staring around with a disgusted expression.

  The place was absolutely bare, and filthy to a degree. Opposite thedoor was a rough wooden mantel above a boarded-up fireplace, on whichstood a common glass lamp. Not another stick of furniture was visible.The paper hung in strips from the dingy walls, and the floor seemedcovered with the dust of ages. There was a door which led apparentlyinto the front room, and a single, uncurtained window, the panes ofwhich were so incrusted with dirt as to make a shade unnecessary.

  Barry's lips curled scornfully as he met the keen, dark eyes of thedetective.

  "A nice hole!" he commented disgustedly. "And how long do you proposekeeping me here?"

  The man whom he addressed shrugged his shoulders slightly, and glancedat his subordinate.

  "That'll do, Billy," he said. "Just wait in the hall outside."

  When the fellow had departed, he closed the door, and turned again tothe Harvard man. He still held the automatic in his hand, but Barryobserved that it was no longer covering him.

  "Now, don't get in a stew," the detective said. "An hour or so of thisain't going to hurt you any."

  "It's outrageous!" Lawrence exclaimed angrily. "Here I'm giving atheater party to-night, and have the tickets in my pocket. What do yousuppose my friends will think when I don't show up? If you don't smartfor this, it won't be my fault, I can tell you!"

  "Keep your shirt on," drawled the detective. "Losing your temper won'thelp you."

  He strolled over to the wooden mantelshelf, and leaned one elbownegligently on it, idly snapping the switch of the pocket flash light onand off.

  "So you really don't know what you're wanted for?" he went on, in asemijocose tone.

  "I haven't the faintest idea," Barry answered.

  "That's rich," chuckled the other, laying the pocket battery on themantel. "Not a thing lying heavy on your conscience, I s'pose?"

  "There is not!" Lawrence retorted sharply. "And I'll tell you this:You've made one big mistake, and I should hate awfully to be in yourshoes when I tell my story in a station house or courtroom. If you'reon the regular force--which I doubt very much--you'll be broken intolittle bits. If you're just a private citizen from one of thesebureaus, you'd better make plans for skipping the country, for I giveyou my word I mean to push this to the limit."

  The flash of worried doubt which swept across the detective's face, andwas gone in an instant, was all Barry needed to confirm the suspicionwhich had been growing in his mind for the past few minutes. The fellowdid not know what his prisoner was wanted for. That was one of thereasons why he had remained in the room. What was the motive of theseapparently casual hints and questions. He did not know, and he wasbeginning to be very anxious to find out.

  Probably he had been hired to kidnap Lawrence, and bring him to thishouse without being told anything definite as to Barry's supposedmisdoings, beyond a vague tale of some lawlessness said to have beencommitted abroad.

  It would be simply a waste of valuable time to linger longer here tryingto learn the impossible, and Lawrence had no wish to stay until thearrival of his real enemies. He was intensely curious to meet them faceto face, and find out something of the cause of the extraordinarypersecution, but he much preferred choosing his own time and place.

  "I think before this time to-morrow," Barry went on swiftly, "thatyou'll be mighty sorry you ever undertook the case."

  The detective shrugged his shoulders in an affectation of bravado, whichdid not deceive the captive for a second. The latter had not stirredfrom the middle of the room, but now his muscles were tense and readyfor action, and every nerve quivered as he awaited the slightestopening.

  "I ain't worrying a whole lot," the dark-haired man returned. "I reckonyou're the one who'll be sorry you ever bumped up against me. Thereain't a doubt in----"

  In his attempt to show how little he was disturbed by his prisoner'sthreats, he had been swinging the automatic negligently back and forthon one crooked finger. Either his suppressed nervousness got the betterof him, or his mind was so busy with other things that he did notrealize how careless he had become. At all events, the weapon slippedoff his finger and struck the floor with a thud.

  Like a flash he stooped to snatch it up. But Barry was even quicker.With a single lithe spring he had leaped across the intervening space.One hand, the muscular fingers tightly clenched, caught the detective onthe chin, and sent him backward with a crash which made the floor shake.The other arm, outstretched, swept the glass lamp from the mantel, andcaught up the pocket flash light in one and the same motion.

  There was a yell of fury from the man on the floor, a splintering ofglass, then darkness--inky, pitchy, smothering darkness--dropped like aheavy pall over the room, and blotted everything.

  *CHAPTER XXV.*

  *THE FACE IN THE CANDLELIGHT.*

  A second later the hall door was burst open, and a voice sounded fromthe opening: "What's up, Joyce? Has he got away?"

  A flood of imprecations answered him as the detective scrambledpainfully from his feet.

  "You fool!" he roared. "Strike a light, quick! Don't stand there like adummy. Strike a light! He's in this room--he can't get away! Where inblazes is that gun of mine? A-h!"

  The tiny, wavering flame from a match clove the inky blackness, andshowed Joyce crouching near the mantel, the recovered automatic ready inone hand, and his keen, dark eyes roving swiftly about the barren place.

  For a moment he did not move a muscle; then, with an oath, he sprang tohis feet. The flickering flame made odd, grotesquely dancing shadows inthe corners of the room, but aside from the detective and his assistantby the door, there was no one else there. Lawrence had disappeared.

  "He's slipped into the front room!" snapped Joyce. "He can't get out ofthe house--that's impossible! Where's my flash light? Yell down to theboys to be on the lookout. They mustn't stir from the foot of thestairs. You go down and get that lantern out of the kitchen. We've gotto have light, and my blooming battery's gone."

  He had scarcely spoken when the match burned out, and darkness infoldedthem again.

  It was during this second period of eclipse that Barry softly pushedopen the door of the front room, and emerged into the hall. He heardthe detective's angry voice roaring out orders from the back room, andwas conscious, also, of excited talking in the hall below. Escape thatway was quite impossible, and, since there was no time to hunt up aconvenient fire escape, the only thing left was the roof.

  With nerves tingling, and a certain exhilaration possessing him at thethought of outwitting this fellow who had been so annoying, Barry slidover to the stairs, and began to feel his way up them with extremecaution. He was not more than halfway up before the fellow clatteringdown for the lantern gave him a chance to take the remainder of theflight in two jumps without risk of being overheard. The next instant,however, he was halted in his tracks by the appearance of Joyce at thefoot of the stairs.

  As long as the fellow stood there it was impossible to move withoutbeing discovered, so Barry possessed his soul with patience, trustingthat, when the light arrived, they would enter the front room first, andgive him a chance to find a way to the roof.

  Meanwhile, he stretched out one hand, and began to explore with hisfingers everything within reach. The stairs curved sharply about threesteps from the top, and just around the corner Lawrence touched thehandle of a door. From its position he knew that it could lead intonothing more than a shallow closet. On the other side of the narrowhall was nothing but smooth wall, with here and there a sagging strip ofmoldy paper. Underfoot the floor was as bare, carpetless as the rest ofthe house.

  Presently the sound of thudding footsteps came to Barry's ears again,and a moment later the fitful, dancing gleams of light below told himthat the man was hurrying back with the lantern.


  "Hustle up, Billy!" Joyce cried impatiently. "You come along, too, Jim.Don't need more than one to stay by the door. He can't get past us."

  Under cover of the noise below, Lawrence gripped the knob of the closetdoor, and wrenched it open. It came with a reluctant screech of rustyhinges which sent his heart into his throat, but apparently the soundpassed unnoticed. Joyce was giving rapid directions to his men, and,when one of them finally had been stationed at the door of the backroom, the other two advanced to the front of the lower hall.

  "Better come out peaceable, Lawrence," Barry heard him say. "You'recornered, and can't possibly get away."

  There was no answer, of course. With a muttered exclamation, thedetective thrust open the lower door, calling to his men to look sharp,and leaped into the room, followed closely by his companion with thelight.

  Instantly Barry pressed the switch of the pocket light, and flashed itswiftly around the hall. There was no sign of any ladder, or even askylight. Was it possible there was no way to the roof? Desperate, hewhirled around, and turned the shaft of light into the closet. His eyesfell on the lower rungs of a ladder, and he gave a sigh of relief.

  There was not an instant to lose, for they would soon find that he hadleft the second floor. He meant to be more cautious than ever, but,supposing the closet to be as empty as the rest of the house, he gave nothought to the possible presence of obstacles. The result was that hestruck an unseen shelf with his head and shoulders, and the next momentan empty can of some sort clattered down, and rolled out into the hallwith noise enough to wake the dead.

  There was a shout of surprise and triumph from below, followed by thesound of running feet, but Barry waited to hear no more. Slamming thedoor behind him, he darted up the ladder, one hand outstretched beforehim. When the fingers encountered a rusty bolt, he struck it out of thesocket with one blow of his clenched fist. Then, with lowered head, hebrought his powerful shoulders against the skylight with all the forceof his trained muscles.

  Bang! bang! bang! Three times he flung himself against something asimmovable as rock. Bang! bang! The wooden covering creaked ominously,but scarcely gave at all, and Barry groaned inwardly at the suddenrecollection of the ice and snow which must be spread over it, sealingit most effectually.

  Scrambling up another step, he placed his shoulders against the boardsand heaved strenuously. As he struggled in desperation he heard hispursuers reach the hall below, and a hand rattled the knob of the closetdoor.

  "He's in here, fellows," came in a muffled voice, then, just as the doorwas jerked open, admitting a stream of light to the dark hole, Lawrencegave a final heave, and tumbled his way out on the flat, snowy roof,white and gleaming in the brilliant starlight of the cloudless night.

  Like a flash he had whirled around and slammed the cover back on theskylight. In another second he was running with long, lithe, silentstrides across the roof.

  Recklessly he leaped a low parapet to the next roof, raced across itsnarrow, white expanse, cleared the second parapet, and had almostreached the third when the lifting of the skylight behind him made himstop like a flash and huddle down behind a chimney.

  For a second he crouched there, breathing hard. Barely six feet beyondwas an abrupt descent to a lower roof. Just how much of a drop it washe could not tell, but it could scarcely be too great for him to makeit. The houses all seemed much the same general height.

  He wished that he had kept on to the parapet, and risked their seeinghim. It would be much harder to do it now unobserved, yet he could notstay where he was. The minute they found his footprints in the snowthey had only to follow the trail, and nab him by the chimney. What afool he was not to have thought of that before!

  A stealthy glance around the brick chimney showed him that two of thepursuers had emerged onto the roof, but were apparently waiting for theothers. He had a moment more of grace, and instantly he began to backnoiselessly toward the dividing wall.

  He reached it safely; then, just as he was lowering himself over, someone sighted him, and sounded the alarm.

  Barry dropped like a flash, and, landing, somewhat shaken, up, about sixfeet below, spun around, and started across the roof. Even in his hastehe noticed that the snow here had been cleared away in a square space,about which were hung lines for drying clothes. There was no ice on thescuttle, either, and without a moment's hesitation he dropped on hisknees and pulled hard at the wooden frame.

  It was unlatched, and, with a gasp of joy, Lawrence jerked it up, andslid into the opening. In his haste his foot missed the ladder, and thescuttle, descending with cruel force on his fingers, very nearly senthim tumbling into the hall below.

  He managed to keep his grip, however, till his feet were planted on theladder. Then, with a grunt of pain, he released his hands, and fairlyflung himself down the remaining rungs.

  At the bottom he paused a second, fumbling for the flash light. Herealized that he was not much better off than he had been on the roof.Joyce and his gang would certainly suspect where he had gone, and, tento one, would follow. He could not linger, therefore, and the instanthe found the location of the stairs he hurried down them, prayinginwardly that he might meet no one before he reached the door.

  The thought had scarcely passed through his mind before he realized thatsome one was coming up from the hall below. He stopped and listened.It was a slow, heavy tread, but the sound of skirts brushing against thewall told him that it was a woman. She held a candle in her hand, andthe wavering light, flickering against the wall, kept pace with her slowascent.

  Would she stop at the second floor, or come on to where he stood in acurve of the next flight of stairs? That was the question which poundedmonotonously through Barry's brain as he watched that spot of lightcreep higher and higher. If she did not have to pass him, there was agood chance of his escaping after she had gone into her room. If not--

  As she climbed the last step and stood there, panting heavily, Lawrencescarcely dared take a breath. Then, with infinite thankfulness, he sawher step forward, and turn the knob of one of the doors opening off thepassage. The latch clicked, and in a moment more she would have beenout of the way, had not there come to her ears the unmistakable sound ofthe scuttle being raised.

  With a sharp ejaculation of surprise and fear, she turned about, andtook a quick step straight toward where Lawrence was crouching. For asecond the latter stood as one paralyzed, staring at the face nowplainly visible in the light of the candle.

  It was the coarse, evil face of Mrs. Kerr, his old landlady. He hadstumbled into that very house on Twenty-fourth Street which had been thescene of so much despair and misery, and which he had never expected tosee again.

  *CHAPTER XXVI.*

  *THE HAND OF FATE.*

  The woman did not come forward immediately, but stood staring upward, inthe attitude of one listening. It was a very brief space of time, to besure, but it gave Barry a chance to pull himself together and recoverfrom the petrifying amazement that had stricken him at the discoverythat he was actually in his old lodging house.

  When at length another sound from above started her toward him again,Lawrence had recovered his wits, and seized upon the only possiblechance which was left him.

  "Good evening, Mrs. Kerr," he said blandly, leisurely descending theremaining few steps. "I left a few small personal belongings in myroom, and----"

  The expression on the woman's face as she staggered back against therailing was so extraordinary that it fairly took Barry's breath away.There was amazement, of course, and a quick gasp of fear escaped herlips, but in a second every other emotion was swallowed up in a kind oftriumphant gloating which was horrible to see.

  "So you're back," she said, in an odd, suppressed voice. "I begun tothink I wasn't never goin' to see you, an' here you are of your own freewill Luck, I calls it--nothin' but luck."

  Lawrence's first thought was that she had been drinking, and a momentlat
er he saw that she was creeping closer to him, with a crablikemotion, at the same time maneuvering so as to block the narrow passage.

  What her idea was he could not conceive, but he had no desire to bedetained a second longer, especially as the sounds from above told himthat Joyce and his men were already descending the ladder from the roof.

  "Isn't it luck?" he agreed, smiling genially. "Of course, I neverthought I'd find you up at this hour, but, since I have, I may as wellgive you what you want right now."

  He thrust one hand into an inner pocket, as if to produce something, andthe next instant had leaped forward, snatching the candle from her as hedid so. As he darted past her in the darkness, he felt a futile clutchof hands on his coat, and then her voice was raised in a series ofpiercing shrieks: "Help! Murder! Jim! Jim!"

  Taking the stairs in great leaps, Lawrence thought he had never heardsuch bedlam in his life. The woman continued to scream at the top ofher voice. Somewhere a door was jerked open, and a man's harsh voice,adding to the tumult, accelerated Barry's flight.

  He flung himself at the door, one hand instinctively touched the springlock, while the other yanked it open. He had the wit to remember asecond antiquated catch, seldom used, and ponderous to undo, andpromptly snapped it down before slamming the door behind him.

  Without an instant's hesitation, he ran straight toward Tenth Avenue.Fortunately the street was dark and deserted, and he reached the cornerwithout encountering any one.

  As he whirled around into the avenue, he looked swiftly backward, andsaw the door of Mrs. Kerr's house burst open, throwing a shaft of lightout across the icy sidewalk. Into that path of light two figureshurried--one tall, thin, and wearing a slouch hat; the other chunky andshapeless.