CHAPTER XI
THE WAY OUT
The sound of the girl's voice brought the men in the room to life. Herwords were shaded to a tone of fearless scorn which must have bittendeep, for Alcatrante and the Japanese minister looked like school-boyscaught in wrong-doing. The South American gnawed at his lip; the Japaneselooked at the floor, and Orme now realized that the manner which hadseemed so indicative of a masterful personality was the manner whichsprings from power--the manner that is built upon the assurance of atremendous backing.
The tension was broken by Poritol. The little man's dismay suddenly gaveway to an eager and voluble excitement, and he rushed across the room,exclaiming: "Oh, my dear miss----"
"No names," commanded Alcatrante harshly, turning on his subordinate.
"My dear young lady," continued Poritol breathlessly, "I am the victim ofyour misunderstanding. You will permit me to explain."
She answered with an even, cutting edge in her voice: "You cannotexplain, Mr. Poritol."
"But----" he began, blind to her meaning.
"I do not care to hear you," she said; and Poritol slunk back to hisformer position. From his face it was clear that he had no desire exceptto get away.
Meantime Alcatrante aroused himself. "My friend here"--he indicated theJapanese--"and myself are here on business which concerns our twonations. Your appearance, I presume, is due to a desire to engage theprofessional services of Mr. Arima. Or perhaps you were trying to findthe fortune-teller upstairs." He barely repressed his sneer.
The girl did not answer. She had remained by the door, and but for theattitudes of the others, Orme would not have known but that she had gone.As it was, he could read in their bearing the disconcerting effects ofher continued disdain.
The Japanese spoke. "Will you enter, miss, or shall we direct you on yourway? Arima will come out and talk with you, if you so wish."
Still no answer. To Orme, in his hiding, there was something uncanny inher failure to respond. But he could picture her--Truth, calm in thepresence of subterfuge.
"Will you not state your desire?" Again the Japanese. He was smiling now,with the false politeness of his race.
And then she spoke: "That envelope on the floor was stolen from myfather's home. It bears my father's name."
Before Alcatrante could stop him, little Poritol, with some vague hope ofmaking amends, had snatched up the torn envelope and taken it to her. Hereturned to the range of Orme's vision with an air of virtuousimportance.
"The contents," said the girl--"where are the papers?"
Alcatrante and the Japanese looked at each other. It was as if they said,"In view of our failure we might as well make a clean breast of it." ButAlcatrante was too cunning to take the initiative in confession. He leftthat to the Japanese, who spoke unhesitatingly.
"The only papers in the envelope were these." He picked up the tornprospectuses from the floor and held them extended in his hand. "Oursurprise is as great as yours."
"Do you expect me to believe that?"
"Whether you believe it or not, my dear young lady, it is true."
There was a moment of silence, then the Japanese continued: "We havereason to think that the envelope was for a time last night in thepossession of an American, and that he substituted these circulars forwhatever the envelope may have held."
Orme's impulse to declare himself was almost irresistible. A man whoseinstincts were less cautious would have thrown the table over and rangedhimself beside the girl. Orme was not fearful, but he knew that thechances of a successful outcome would be lessened by exposure. Even if heand the girl got safely from the room, there would be a pursuit, and therisk of losing the papers would be great.
As for the girl, she clearly was in no danger. These men would not harmher.
But would the assertion of the Japanese lead her to doubt Orme? Would shebelieve that he had actually recovered the papers the night before andkept them for his own purposes? He remembered that he had given her onlythe scantiest account of his adventure at the tree, for he had wished tospare her the details of an incident that meant her disappointment aswell as his own. She might now readily attribute his reticence to adesire to conceal something.
And then came her voice. Her first words brought a glow to Orme's heart:"I know that you are mistaken. No American has those papers." Ormebreathed his relief. Then she added the dubious word--"Unless----"
So she did doubt him after all. Well, he could not blame her. The scenein the room--the frankness of the Japanese, which could only beattributed to discomfiture; the empty envelope; the torn prospectuses onthe floor, all these conditions pointed to the truth of the explanationshe had heard.
On the other hand, there was his appearance on the lake, an hour or moreafter the episode on the campus. Might it not occur to her that, had healready secured the papers, he would have had no object in the furtherpursuit of the Japanese? But, perhaps she would think that he was seekingArima to sell the papers back to him; or that, in spite of his appearanceof surprise, he had been a witness of her abduction and had gone out onthe water to save her. There were so many things she might think! Indeed,that dubious word "unless" might even signify, "unless he has secured thepapers since I last saw him." But no; she would gather from the situationin which she found her enemies that the envelope had not been out oftheir possession since it was taken from the tree. Orme shut his lipstogether hard. Her doubt of him would have to be endured, even though itshattered his pleasant dream of her complete and sympatheticunderstanding.
Alcatrante, meantime, was studying the girl with curious eyes. His lookwas both perplexed and admiring.
"Do you mind telling me how you happened to come to this place?" heasked.
She answered indifferently: "Supposing that the Japanese had stolen thepapers, I searched Maku's room at our house. There was a torn envelopethere, with the name 'Arima' printed in the corner."
Alcatrante bowed. "You are cleverer than most Americans, my dear younglady," he said. His lips curved into a smile that disclosed his fangs.
"That," she replied, "is as it may be. But I have not your admiration fortrickery, Mr. Alcatrante."
Again he smiled. "Ah," he exclaimed, "trickery is the detail work ofdiplomacy." Then with a shade of seriousness in his voice, he asked: "Whydid you use that word 'unless'?"
"Why, indeed?" She made this noncommittal answer, and if Alcatrante hadhoped to soothe her into friendliness and draw from her a clue to hersuspicions, he was disappointed.
There was another period of silence, broken at last by the Japanese. "Thefact that we have failed, my dear young lady," he said, "makesconcealment unnecessary. I know, of course, that this matter will neverbecome public. You understand that the representatives of great nationsoften have to take steps which, as private citizens, they would neverthink of."
"Yes," she answered, "I understand. There is no more to be said.Good-day."
There was a step and the sound of the door closing. She had gone.
Alcatrante and the Japanese looked at each other. "We have notfailed--yet," said Alcatrante in French. "The girl does not know wherethe documents are, or she would not have come here. If her father doesnot have them before midnight our plans are safe. We remain merely at aloss as to the details of the documents, and we already know what theycontain in a general way."
"Yes," agreed the Japanese, "things do not look so black, perhaps. But Iam interested in your former advice."
"Yes?"
"Find the American! That is what _she_ will try to do."
"We had an appointment with him this morning," said Alcatrante grimly,"but when you said that your man had the envelope, it no longer seemednecessary to go. We--you and I--still have the same object in view. Isuggest that we now set out separately."
"As you wish," said the Japanese calmly. Doubtless he knew thatAlcatrante was grasping at a straw which might still give him theadvantage in future negotiations. "I am honored by your co-operation thusfar." He bowed formally.
The Japanese minister turned to Arima and talked rapidly in his nativetongue. From his manner it was plain that he was giving orders. At last,with a little gesture of authority, he put on his hat and walked out. Thedoor closed after him with a slam.
Arima, now alone, seated himself in a chair and appeared to meditate.Again his hands were clasped about his knees and his beady eyes fixed onspace. For fully fifteen minutes he sat thus; then, with a littleclucking sound, he leaped to his feet and hurried into the next room.
Now was Orme's chance. He lifted the table-cover and rose to his feet.Arima had not closed the door after him, but Orme was not in the line ofdirect view into the other room, and he had to risk the possibility ofbeing seen before he reached the window.
Or should he try for the door? It all depended upon what part of the nextroom Arima was in; but the window seemed safer, for the opening andclosing of the door would be sure to attract attention.
Orme moved toward the window slowly, watching the opening through whichArima had disappeared. He got half-way to the window; three more stepswould bring him to the sill. And then, without warning, Arima leaped intothe room. Even in that moment Orme caught a glimpse of a mirror in thefarther room, and knew that the Japanese had seen his reflection.
At this instant another man appeared, close behind Arima. A bandage waswrapped around his head. It was Maku, who presumably had been in theapartment all the time.
Orme stood little chance of overcoming the two. Quick as cats, withmuscles like steel springs and a great variety of scientific tricks ofoffense and defense, they could handle him as they willed in a directencounter. If Orme had had a revolver, he would now have drawn it. Yet heknew that this was not a case for fire-arms. Obviously, if he used adangerous weapon in these men's rooms and was afterward caught, it wouldfare hard with him, for the real facts would be suppressed and he wouldbe sentenced as an ordinary housebreaker, perhaps with some clemency dueto his personal standing.
A quick intuition told him that he would not escape lightly if theyfairly got their hands on him. The two Japanese had hitherto shown muchpatience with him. Their desire seemed to have been to avoid hurting himany more than was necessary. But there is a limit to Japanese patience.The scathing words of the Japanese minister must still be burning inArima's brain. And Maku, who had controlled himself while Orme wasfollowing him through the streets of the North Side, no longer had adiplomatic reason for restraining his rage against the man who had struckhim down. In any event, the eyes of Arima and Maku glittered angrily, andOrme realized that he could expect no mercy.
He caught up a chair and raised it over his head, prepared to bring itdown on Arima, who was only a few feet from him and coming fast.
The Japanese raised his arms, to fend the expected blow. With suddeninspiration, Orme hurled the chair at his opponent's feet. There was acrash. Arima sprawled headlong. Maku, who was close behind, tried to leapover Arima, but his feet went through the rungs of the chair, and he,too, crashed to the floor.
As he threw the chair Orme leaped back. Before the Japanese could get outof their tangle, he had jumped over the window-sill and was running upthe fire-escape. Madame Alia, was at her window, a look of startledinquiry on her face. She stepped back as he crowded into the room.
"Quick!" he said. "They'll be after me. Hide me somewhere."
"Come!" She took his sleeve and pulled him to a corner. There she pushedaside the dingy hanging and Orme saw that the wall was covered with awainscoting that ran from floor to ceiling.
The medium looked at him with bright eyes. "You're the real sort," shewhispered, and a wave of color in her cheeks brought back the suggestionof girlish beauty. "I saw that scrap there through a hole in the floor.You're the goods." She pressed his arm almost affectionately, then, withher free hand, she pushed against the paneling. Noiselessly a section ofit turned inward, disclosing a dark cavity. "Get in!"
Orme quickly slipped into the darkness, the panel closed, and he heardthe swish of the hanging as it dropped back against the board.
It was not too soon. Two soft thuds told him that the Japanese haddropped over the sill into the room.
He heard the woman give a well-feigned scream of surprise.
"'Scuse us, miss,"--it was Arima's voice--"we looking for sneak thief. Hecome in here."
"Be off with you. I've just come from the front room there, and therewasn't a soul came in."
"We saw him."
"He must have gone out to the hall, then." The woman's voice had a noteof mollification--as though she had suddenly recognized the right of thetwo Japanese to enter the apartment. "_I_ didn't hear him."
A few words of Japanese colloquy; then Arima: "I look around. My friendgo to hall." A door closed; evidently Maku had gone out; and then Ormeheard steps. After this there was a long wait, while the Japaneseexamined the other rooms, the woman evidently offering him her aid. Atlast they returned.
"Well, I go back," said Arima. "I saw him come in the window. My friendwill know. See you later."
Presently the woman raised the hanging and whispered through the boards:"He went back down the fire-escape. His friend's in the hall. He'll findout you haven't went down, and then he'll come back."
"I'll try the roof," whispered Orme. "Perhaps I can get on to anotherhouse that way."
"Wait till I see." She walked away, but soon returned.
"No use," he heard her say. "That Jap's a sitting on the fire-escapewatching. He grinned when I looked down."
Orme pondered. "Help me out of this," he whispered, "and there'll besomething in it for you."
She moved impatiently. "Cut it out! I don't want nothing. You're a goodsport, that's all." She paused. "Not that I'd mind having a present. ButI don't want no money."
Orme caught the distinction. "I'll remember," he said. "And what shall Ido now?"
"You'll have to stay in there a while, I guess."
"I simply must get away--and within an hour or two."
"I'll manage that," she answered confidently.
"But how----?"
"You'll see. Just leave it to me."
Orme smiled to himself, there in the darkness. Of course, he would leaveit to her; but he did not see how she was to rid him of the watchfulJapanese.
"There's just one thing," he whispered. "Whatever is done, will have tobe done without help from outside. This is not a matter for the police."
"I understand. Why can't you just leave it to me? I don't believe youtrust me a little bit!"
"But I do," he protested. "I am absolutely in your hands."
He heard her sigh faintly. "I'm going to put down the window now," shesaid. "It ain't safe for me to stand here talking to you unless I do.That Arima fellow might pop up the fire-escape any time."
She was back in a few moments. He had heard the window creak down, andhad wondered whether the action would add to Arima's suspicion.
"If he comes up now," she explained in an undertone, "the glare on theoutside of the window will keep him from seeing in very plain."
After that she did not speak for some time, but the occasional movementsof her body, as she leaned against the panel, were audible to Orme. Hefound himself wondering about her--how she had happened to take up thecareer of fortune-telling. She must have been a handsome woman; even nowshe was not unattractive.
The delay grew more and more irksome. It seemed to Orme as though he hadbeen behind the panel for hours. After a while he asked:
"What time is it?"
"About two o'clock. Ain't you hungry?"
Orme laughed softly. "I hadn't thought about it."
"Wait a minute." She moved away. When she returned she pulled up thehanging and opened the panel. In her hand was a thick sandwich. "I wasjust going to eat my own lunch when you came back through the window,"she explained.
He took the sandwich. She looked at him boldly. He was standing close toher in the opening. There was an
expression that was almost defiant inher eyes. "I--I want my present."
"You shall have it, Madame Alia," he said.
"You ain't my kind--and it won't make no difference to you." Her voicefaltered and her eyes dropped. "I want you to kiss me."
Orme looked at her, and understood. He put his arms around her and kissedher gently on the lips. There was no disloyalty in it. He was simplysatisfying the craving of this poor woman's soul--a craving for a tributeto which she could always revert as the symbol of a high friendliness.She felt that he was of a different world; he knew that the world was allone, though partitioned off by artificial barriers, but he could notcorrect her view.
She clung to him for a moment after his lips left hers, then releasedherself from his clasp and moved back into the room, her face averted.Was it to hide a blush? Orme did not ask himself, but respecting herreticence of spirit, silently closed the panel and was again in darkness.
For a time he stood there quietly. His back was against the wall,--hishands easily touched the paneling that shut him off from the room. Hewondered what this secret place was for, and taking a match from hispocket, he lighted it.
The enclosure seemed to extend all the way across the side of the room.Farther along, lying on the floor and standing against the wall, werecontrivances of which at first he could make nothing--poles, pieces oftin, and--were those masks, heaped in the corner? From a row of pegs hunglong robes--white and black.
The truth flashed into Orme's mind. He was in Madame Alia's ghost-closet!
The Girl and the Bill Page 11