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The Girl and the Bill

Page 9

by Bannister Merwin


  CHAPTER IX

  NUMBER THREE FORTY-ONE

  When Orme was aroused by the ringing of his telephone-bell the nextmorning and heard the clerk's voice, saying over the wire, "Eighto'clock, sir," it seemed as if he had been asleep but a few minutes.

  During breakfast he reviewed the events of the preceding evening. Strangeand varied though they had been, his thoughts chiefly turned to the girlherself, and he shaped all his plans with the idea of pleasing her. Thework he had set for himself was to get the envelope and deliver it to thegirl. This plan involved the finding of the man who had escaped from thetree.

  The search was not so nearly blind as it would have been if Orme had notfound that folded slip of paper in Maku's pocket. The address, "threeforty-one North Parker Street," was unquestionably the destination atwhich Maku had expected to meet friends.

  To North Parker Street, then, Orme prepared to go. Much as he longed tosee the girl again, he was glad that they were not to make this adventuretogether, for the reputation of North Parker Street was unsavory.

  Orme found his way readily enough. There was not far to go, and hepreferred to walk. But before he reached his destination he rememberedthat he had promised Alcatrante and Poritol to meet them at his apartmentat ten o'clock.

  His obligation to the two South Americans seemed slight, now that thebill had passed from his hands and that he knew the nature of Poritol'sactions. Nevertheless, he was a man of his word, and he hurried back tothe Pere Marquette, for the hour was close to ten. He was influenced tosome extent by the thought that Poritol and Alcatrante, on learning howhe had been robbed of the bill, might unwittingly give him a furtherclue.

  No one had called for him. He waited till ten minutes past the hour,before he concluded that he had fulfilled his part of the bargain withthem. Though he did not understand it, he attached no especialsignificance to their failure to appear.

  Once again he went to North Parker Street. Three forty-one proved to be anotion shop. Through the window he saw a stout woman reading a newspaperbehind the counter. When he entered she laid the paper aside and aroselanguidly, as though customers were rather a nuisance than a blessing.She was forty, but not fair.

  Orme asked to see a set of studs. She drew a box from a show-case andspread the assortment before him.

  He selected a set and paid her, offering a ten-dollar bill. She turned toa cash register and made change--which included a five-dollar bill.

  Orme could hardly believe his eyes. The bill which she placed in his handbore the written words: "Remember Person you pay this to."

  He turned it over. In the corner was a familiar set of abbreviations.There was no doubt about it. The bill was the same which had been takenfrom him, and which he had last seen in the possession of Maku.

  What an insistent piece of green paper that marked bill was! It hadstarted him on this remarkable series of adventures. It had introducedexcitable little Poritol and the suave Alcatrante to his apartment. Ithad made him the victim of the attack by the two Japanese. It had broughtthe girl into his life. And now it came again into his possession just atthe moment to prove that he was on the right track in his search for Makuand the man who had the papers. The queerest coincidence was that thebill would never have come into his possession at all, had it not beenfor his first meeting with the girl--who at that very time was herselfsearching for it. The rubbing of his hat against the wheel of her car--onso little thing as that had hinged the events that followed.

  "This is strange," Orme addressed the woman.

  "It doesn't hurt it any," said the woman, indifferently.

  "I know that. But it's a curious thing just the same."

  The woman raised her shoulders slightly, and began to put away the stockshe had taken out for Orme's benefit.

  "Who paid this to you?" persisted Orme.

  "How should I remember? I can't keep track of all the persons that comein the store during the day."

  "But I should think that anything so queer as this----" He saw that hecould get nothing from her except by annoying her.

  The woman glared. "What you a botherin' about? Why don't you leave wellenough alone?"

  Orme smiled. "Tell me one thing," he said, "do you know a Japanese thatlives hereabouts?"

  "Oh," said the woman, "so you're one of the gentlemen he was expectin',eh? Well, it's the front flat, two flights up."

  "Thank you," said Orme. He walked out to the street, whence a backwardglance showed him the woman again concealed in her newspaper.

  At one side of the shop he found the entrance to a flight of stairs whichled to the floors above. In the little hallway, just before the narrowascent began, was a row of electric buttons and names, and under each ofthem a mail-box. "3a" had a card on which was printed:

  "Arima, Teacher of Original Kano Jiu-Jitsu."

  Should he go boldly up and present himself as a prospective pupil? IfArima were the one who had so effectively thrown him the night before, hewould certainly remember the man he had thrown and would promptly be onhis guard. Also, the woman in the shop had said, "you are _one_ of thegentlemen he was expectin'." Others were coming.

  Prudence suggested that he conceal himself in an entry across the streetand keep an eye out for the persons who were coming to visit Arima. Heassumed that their coming had something to do with the stolen paper. Buthe had no way of knowing who the athlete's guests would be. There mightbe no one among them whom he could recognize. And even if he saw them allgo in, how would his own purpose be served by merely watching them? Intime, no doubt, they would all come out again, and one of them would havethe papers in his possession, and Orme would not know which one.

  For all he was aware, some of the guests had already arrived. They mighteven now be gathering with eager eyes about the unfolded documents. No,Orme realized that his place was not on the sidewalk. By some means hemust get where he could discover what was going on in the front flat onthe third floor. Standing where he now was, there was momentary danger ofbeing discovered by persons who would guess why he was there. Maku mightcome.

  Orme looked to see who lived in "4a," the flat above the Japanese. Thecard bore the name:

  "Madame Alia, Clairvoyant and Trance Medium."

  "I think I will have my fortune told," muttered Orme, as he pressedMadame Alia's bell and started up the stairs.

  At the top of the second flight he looked to the entrance of the frontapartment. It had a large square of ground glass, with the name "Arima"in black letters. He continued upward another flight and presently foundhimself before two blank doors--one at the front and one a little at oneside. The side door opened slowly in response to his knock.

  Before him stood a blowsy but not altogether unprepossessing woman ofmiddle years. She wore a cheap print gown. A gipsy scarf was thrown overher head and shoulders, and her ears held loop earrings. Her inquiringglance at Orme was not unmixed with suspicion.

  "Madame Alia?" inquired Orme.

  She nodded and stood aside for him to enter. He passed into a cheaplittle reception-hall which looked out on the street, and then, at hersilent direction went through a door at one side and found himself in themedium's sanctum.

  The one window gave on a dimly lighted narrow space which apparently hadbeen cut in from the back of the building. Through the dusty glass hecould see the railing of a fire-escape platform, and cutting diagonallyacross the light, part of the stairs that led to the platform above.There was a closed door, which apparently opened into the outer hall. Inthe room were dirty red hangings, two chairs, a couch, and a small squarecenter-table.

  Madame Alia had already seated herself at the table and was shuffling apack of cards. "Fifty-cent reading?" she asked, as he took the chairopposite her.

  Orme nodded. His thoughts were on the window and the fire-escape, and hehardly heard her monotonous sentences, though he obeyed mechanically herinstructions to cut and shuffle.

  "You are about to engage in a new business," she was saying. "You will b
esuccessful, but there will be some trouble about a dark man.--Look outfor him.--He talks fair, but he means mischief.--There is a woman,too.--This man will try to prejudice her against you." And all the timeOrme was saying to himself, "How can I persuade her to let me use thefire-escape?"

  Suddenly he was conscious that the woman had ceased speaking and wasrunning the cards through her fingers and looking at him searchingly."You are not listening," she said, as he met her gaze.

  He smiled apologetically. "I know--I was preoccupied."

  "I can't help you if you don't listen."

  Orme inferred that she took pride in her work. He sighed and lookedgrave. "I am afraid," he said slowly, "that my case is too serious forthe cards."

  She brightened. "You'd ought to have a trance-reading--two dollars."

  "I'd take any kind of reading that would help me, but I'm afraid thesituation is too difficult."

  "Then why did you come?" Again the look of suspicion.

  "I came because you could help me, but not by a reading."

  "What do you mean?" Plainly she was frightened. "I don't put people away.That's out of my line. Honest!"

  "Do I look as if I wanted anything crooked done?" Orme smiled.

  "It's hard to tell what folks want," she muttered. "You're a fly-cop,aren't you?"

  "What makes you think that?"

  "The way you been sizing things up. You aren't going to do anything, areyou? I pay regular for my protection every month--five dollars--and Iwork hard to get it, too."

  Orme hesitated. He had known at the outset that he was of a classdifferent from the ordinary run of her clients. The differenceundoubtedly had both puzzled and frightened her. He might disabuse her ofthe notion that he had anything to do with the police, but hermisapprehension was an advantage that he was loath to lose. Fearing him,she might grant any favor.

  "Now, listen to me," he said at last. "I don't mean you any harm, but Iwant you to answer a few questions."

  She eyed him furtively.

  "Do you know the man in the flat below?" he demanded.

  "Mr. Arima? No. He's a Jap. I see him in the halls sometimes, but I don'tdo no more than bow, like any neighbor."

  "He's noisy, isn't he?"

  "Only when he has pupils. But he goes out to do most of his teaching. Ishe wanted?"

  "Not exactly. Now look here. I believe you're a well-meaning woman. Doyou make a good thing out of this business?"

  "Fair." She smiled faintly. "I ain't been in Chicago long, and it takestime to work up a good trade. I got a daughter to bring up. She's withfriends. She don't know anything about what I do for a living."

  "Well," said Orme, "I'm going to give you five dollars toward educatingyour girl."

  He took a bill from his pocket-book and handed it to her. She accepted itwith a deprecating glance and a smile that was tinged with patheticcoquetry. Then she looked at it strangely. "What's the writing?" sheasked.

  Orme started. He had given her the marked five-dollar bill. "I didn'tmean to give you that one," he said, taking it from her fingers.

  She stared at him. "Is it phony?"

  "No--but I want it. Here's another." As he took a fresh bill from hispocket-book he discovered to his surprise that the marked bill, togetherwith the few dollars in change he had received after his purchase in theshop below, was all that he now had left in his pocket. He rememberedthat he had intended to draw on his funds that morning. His departurefrom New York had been hurried, and he had come away with little readycash.

  Madame Alia slipped the bill into her bosom and waited. She knew wellenough that her visitor had some demand to make.

  "Now," said Orme, "I am going to use your fire-escape for a littlewhile."

  The woman nodded.

  "I want you to keep all visitors out," he continued. "Don't answer thebell. I may want to come back this way quick."

  "This is straight business, isn't it? I don't want to get into notrouble."

  "Absolutely straight," said Orme. "All you have to do is to leave yourwindow open and keep quiet."

  "You can count on me," she said. "Perhaps you know all about the placedown there, but if you don't, I'll tell you that the fire-escape leadsinto his reception-room."

  Orme smiled. "You seem to be acquainted with your neighbor, after all."

  "I've come up the stairs when his door was open."

  "Does he seem to be pretty busy with his teaching?"

  "Evenings, he is. And some come in the afternoon. I always know, becausethey thud on the floor so when they wrestle."

  "And mornings?"

  "He generally seems to be away mornings."

  "I fancy he's what you'd call a noisy neighbor," said Orme.

  "Oh, I don't mind. There's more or less noise up here sometimes." Shesmiled frankly. "Spirits can make a lot of noise. I've known them tothrow tables over and drag chairs all around the room."

  "Well"--Orme was not interested in spirits--"be sure you don't letanybody in here until I come back."

  Again she nodded. Then she went into the reception-hall and he heard herpush the bolt of the door. She did not return, but her steps seemed tomove into one of the other rooms.

  Orme went to the window, pushed it up, and climbed out on thefire-escape. He was glad to see that the wall across the court waswindowless. He might be observed from the buildings that backed up fromthe next street, but they apparently belonged to a large storage loft orfactory. There were no idle folk at the windows.

  The window of the room below was open. This was in one sense anadvantage--and Orme blessed the Japanese athletes for their insistence onfresh air; but on the other hand, it made quietness essential.

  Slowly he let himself through the opening in the platform and moved a fewsteps down the ladder. Then he crouched and peered through the dingy lacecurtains that were swaying in the breeze.

  The interior was dim, but Orme succeeded in distinguishing the furniture.There were straw mats on the floor and several chairs stood about. At theopposite side of the room was a closed door. From his knowledge of MadameAlia's apartment, Orme knew that this door opened into the hall of thebuilding, and the square of ground glass, with its reversed letters ofthe athlete's name, told him that it was used as the chief entrance.Madame Alia preferred her clients to enter into another room.

  In the farther corner of the interior Orme saw a large square table. Itwas covered with a red print cloth, which hung over the edge, nearly tothe floor. If he could reach that table and conceal himself beneath it,his position would be better.

  And now he suddenly remembered that the outline of his head would bevisible against the outer light to anyone within. The room seemed to beempty, but--at that instant he heard a door open. He drew his head up.Someone was moving about the room.

  The steps went here and there. Chairs were shifted, to judge from thesound. But evidently there was only one person, for Orme could hear novoices. He decided that Arima was preparing for visitors.

  Again he heard a door open and close. Had Arima gone out, or had someother person entered? Orme waited a moment, listening; no sound came fromwithin. He lowered his head and peered. The room was empty.

  Arima might return at any moment, but the chance had to be taken.Quickly, silently, Orme descended to the platform, slid over the sill,and tip-toed over to the table. Another instant and he was under thecover.

 

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