MRS1 The Under Dogs

by Hulbert Footner

  As I followed him through the door, Mme. Storey said to me in a low tone: "Listen in."

  Having seated my indignant Secretary, I flew to the telephone, and switching the call to Mme. Storey's desk, put the receiver to my ear.

  "Hallo!"

  "Is this Madame Storey?" asked the breathless voice.

  Then my mistress's friendly, casual accents: "Yes. So this is you, my dear! I had to send a member of the Cabinet out of the room in order to talk to you."

  "I never expected to be talking to you," faltered Melanie. "I don't know what to say now.... Everything has gone out of my head."

  "Well, the first thing to do is to arrange a meeting," said Mme. Storey. "Can't you come here?"

  "No," said Melanie. "You don't understand. We can't meet. I'm watched every minute. They don't trust me."

  "Who doesn't trust you?"

  "I can't explain the whole thing. There isn't time. I tried to shake them, see? and run my own show. That's why I was railroaded to Woburn. To make me feel their power. Thirteen years I was facing; I near went out of my mind. When they thought I had had my lesson they got me out again. They need me. But they're still leery of me. I'm not allowed out yet. When I do go out I suppose she'll go with me. It's just by a chance I could telephone. She had to go downstairs. When I hear her start up again, I'll have to hang up sudden."

  "Where are you?" asked Mme. Storey.

  "I won't tell you that," said Melanie despairingly.

  "I understand," said my mistress with undiminished kindness. "Answer me this: If you could come to me, would you?"

  "I want to," said Melanie very low, "but .... but ... maybe you'd think you had to send me back to Woburn.... It isn't as if I had any of the stuff put away," she added rather pitifully. "The woman got her pearls back. I haven't got a cent to my name."

  "I promise you I'll never send you back," said Mme. Storey energetically. "I will take that responsibility."

  "But you'd expect me to blow the whole game," said Melanie. "I don't know as I could do that. There's too many in it. Some are just plain unfortunate. It's all mixed up. I've got to decide what to do.... Besides, if it all came out, I'd have to go back to Woburn anyhow."

  "Hold on!" said Mme. Storey; "let's take up these questions separately. I want you to come to me for your own sake, primarily. There are no strings to my offer. We will make friends. If you feel like telling me the whole story, all right. But there shall be no constraint upon you. If you do tell me, I promise you that we will exact a pardon for you from the governor himself, before we tell another soul. Excepting Bella, of course."

  "You are kind," said Melanie. "But you don't know what I'm up against. They would stop at nothing. They would shoot the governor himself sooner than have their game queered. If I came to you, they would croak us both."

  "Nonsense!" said Mme. Storey crisply. "I have the means to protect you, and myself, too. I promise you full protection once you are inside my door. I will have twenty men for the purpose, should it be necessary. Not uniformed police, either, but my own men."

  There was a pause, then Melanie's voice came firmly: "All right. I'll come."

  "You can't say when, of course," said Mme. Storey.

  "No. I must take my chance when I see it."

  "At whatever time of day or night it may be, come to the office," said Mme. Storey. "I can best take care of you here. Even though I am not here myself, you will be expected; and you will find strong protectors waiting."

  There was no answer from Melanie.

  "Are you there?" asked Mme. Storey.

  Her voice rang dead over the wire, and we realised that Melanie had been obliged to hang up in a hurry. But she must have received the gist of her instructions. I suppose we both offered up a little prayer that she might not have been surprised at the phone. It was painful to be left in such suspense.

  I put up the receiver, and ushered the Secretary back into Mme. Storey's office. Not a muscle of my mistress's face had changed, but her expressive eyes sought mine gravely and questioningly. She was asking me with her eyes if she was leading me into more danger than I cared to face. I was afraid; nevertheless, I answered her with my eyes as courageously as I could. Meanwhile, the stuffed secretary had started a prosy, pompous speech. He thought he was everything in our lives.

  When he had gone, Mme. Storey pressed the button under her desk that summons John Wagstaffe, our young janitor-engineer, from the basement. Mme. Storey employs a number of men, but naturally they do not hang around the office. There are only us two women there, and at my earnest solicitation this bell had been put in. It had come in very handy once or twice, when we wished to get rid of a nuisance.

  John responded promptly. John is a host in himself. Like Georges Carpentier, he combines brawn and charm in equal degrees. He looked a little disappointed upon finding that there was no one to throw out this time. He adores Mme. Storey, and only regrets that we have no occasion to call on him oftener.

  "John," said Mme. Storey, "are there any vacancies in this building?"

  "No vacancies, ma'am. But Mr. Spelman is trying to sublet. Parlour, bedroom and bath, second floor, rear."

  "I'll take it," said Mme. Storey. "When can I get the key?"

  "In just so long as it takes me to go downstairs and get it, ma'am," said John, grinning.

  "There's a friend of mine, a young woman, who has dangerous enemies, John," Mme. Storey went on. "I have offered her a refuge here, and have told her that we will take her in any time of day or night. From this time on, I will keep two or three men here to protect her, and I'll count on you, too."

  "Yes, ma'am!" said John enthusiastically.

  "My men will sleep in the back room of my offices, and we'll save the suite upstairs for the girl. One of the men will be on duty down in the hall every night, after the building is closed, in order to admit her, should she come. She may come in the daytime. I will talk to the two hall-boys. Once she is in the building, you must all be especially careful about admitting strangers. No information of any sort must be given out. While she is here, all callers who ask for me must be seated in the hall while their names are sent up."

  John fairly stammered in his eagerness. "Yes, ma'am; you can count on me, ma'am. The boys, too. No information about your matters is ever given out. I only hope they'll come, that's all. I hope they come!"

  "That's all now," said Mme. Storey. "We'll talk about this again."

  When he had gone, Mme. Storey gave me instructions to be transmitted to three of our men; Stephenson, Ketchell and Crider. Crider was one of the best men we had, and he could ill be spared from the work he was on; but he was such a sane, dependable fellow, it was a comfort to us to have him at hand.

  "Are you scared, Bella?" Mme. Storey asked me, smiling.

  I denied it.

  "The danger to us is not so great as the poor girl supposes," said Mme. Storey. "Once she gets inside our door, they will realise that the game is up, and run for cover. If they suspected her intention, of course they would stop at nothing in order to prevent her from carrying it out...." She paused, her face full of a grave concern. "Oh, well," she said, trying to shake it off, "she's a wise, wise kid. We can only hope for the best."

  Ten days passed without our hearing any further from Melanie. Of course, we had our work to do, and we could only give an occasional thought to the girl by day—thoughts that became ever heavier with anxiety as the days went by. Outside of office hours, the girl was continually in my mind. I tried in vain to picture her situation from the ominous hints she had given over the telephone; who were the dreadful "they" at whose mention the bold girl trembled? what sort of house was it where she was confined? who was this "she" who was her jailer? Mme. Storey and I discussed her very little. There was nothing to be said. If she did not come to us of her own free will, we could make no move to find her, for, as an escaped convict, she was as one of the living dead.

  The three active, able men chafed very much at their enforced inaction. As
the days passed and nothing happened, their situation began to appear ridiculous to them. Mme. Storey finally let two of them go in the daytime, with instructions to report frequently by phone. Crider, excellent fellow! remained with us, and all three still slept in the back room.

  Then came the afternoon that I shall never forget.

  A brilliant afternoon towards the end of May, and the little square outside our windows was gay with running children. In the office we were enjoying a blessed interlude of peace; and Mme. Storey and I, she at her desk, I at mine, were working busily to catch up with the arrears. Crider was in my room filing away the reports which had accumulated.

  The telephone rang. Nowadays my heart always gave a little jump at the sound of the telephone bell, and this time the little jump was followed by a great one, when I heard the anxiously-awaited voice on the wire. There was a gay ring in it now. She did not ask for Mme. Storey, but delivered her message to me direct.

  "Hello, sister! I'm on my way ... that is, if it's all right."

  "Surely, surely!" I said. "We've been looking for you."

  "I know. I didn't dare chance the telephone again. Too near a thing that other time. I've been playing a deep part, kid. I've satisfied them now that I'm thoroughly broke, and to-day I was let out for the first on my own. I've been walking around to make sure I wasn't trailed. It's all right ... Is she there?"

  "Yes."

  "I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

  "Better take a taxi," I said. "It's safer."

  "I haven't got the price, darling.... Tooriloo...."

  "Wait a minute!" I cried. I felt that Mme. Storey ought to be consulted.

  But she had already hung up. I ran in to tell my mistress the news.

  All pretence of further work was abandoned. Mme. Storey sent word down to the door that no one but Melanie was to be brought up. I stood in the big window in her room watching the sidewalk. This handsome, projecting window was put in when the old house was reconditioned. It fills the whole end of the room, with six casements overlooking the park, and a narrower one at each end through which we are able to look up and down the street. Mme. Storey and Crider were behind me. They had to depend on me to identify the approaching girl.

  That ten minutes or so had all the effect of an hour. Finally I saw her turn the corner down at Fourth Avenue, which is about three hundred yards away. "Here she comes!" I said, and the other two pressed up close to look over my shoulder. Melanie walked with a fine, free stride. She had gotten herself up with the greatest care, and at that distance she looked as smart as a debutante. There were even flowers at her waist.

  There we stood, the three of us, and saw all that happened, powerless to aid our friend. The street was almost empty. I remember there was a nondescript woman behind Melanie, and there were two well-dressed men, members of one of the clubs in our block, walking towards her. Around the corner came a black taxi-cab, which looked no different from any other taxi. Passing Melanie, it swerved suddenly into the curb, and stopped. Two men tumbled out. They faced Melanie. She half turned as if to run, but a hand was raised holding a short, thick weapon. It descended, and Melanie crumpled.

  The sound of a scream reached our ears. Not from Melanie, but from the woman behind her. The two well-dressed men started running towards the trio, but one of the attackers turned, and pointed a gun at them. They fell back. The other thug dragged Melanie's limp body to the open door of the taxi. Getting in first, he pulled her after. His friend, still covering the club-men, backed into the cab, and pulled the door to. They were off.

  All this happened in less time than it takes to read it. At the first sign of danger, our Crider had started for the door. Before he got out in the street, the taxi was gone. Mme. Storey had snatched open the drawer of her desk where she keeps a pistol. Her object was to shoot at the tyres of the taxi. But it did not pass our windows. Turning on two wheels up the west side of the little square, it turned again into Twenty-First Street, and was gone.

  CHAPTER VII

  MME. STOREY LAYS HER PLANS

  When it became clear that we could do nothing to aid the girl, my strong and self-reliant mistress broke down. I had never before seen her so terribly moved. Her head hung down, and she gripped my wrist, as if for support.

  "Oh, Bella! Bella! Bella!" she murmured heart-brokenly. "She put herself in my hands! She trusted in me. And I failed her!"

  "No! No!" I cried. "It was not your fault. You could do nothing! The responsibility was hers until she got here!"

  But Mme. Storey had already got her grip again. Her head was thrown up, and her dark eyes flashed. "By heaven, I'll make them pay!" she cried. "If it's my last act on earth they shall pay for this! Everything else shall be dropped. Government business or whatever it is. I will do nothing, I will think of nothing until I have avenged this poor girl.... Quick! call Crider back!"

  Crider was down at the front door, looking this way and that, uncertain which way the taxicab had gone. From the window I made him a signal to come up.

  Mme. Storey was pacing up and down the room, pressing her knuckles to her temples. "Get Police Headquarters," she said. "Inspector Rumsey on the phone. Tell the operator down there it is Miss Bessemer calling. Rumsey will know that name."

  Inspector Rumsey was her old and loyal friend, and incidentally one of the best police officers in the country; a man superior to political considerations.

  While I was getting my call through, Crider came in. Mme. Storey said: "They cannot know for sure whether we expected the girl. It is essential to them to find that out. Quick! Return downstairs, and tell the hall-boys that anybody who asks for me is to be brought up. If they said, 'Madame Storey is not seeing anybody,' that in itself would be suspicious. Warn the boys afresh to answer no questions. Take them into our confidence. Tell them that our friend was attacked on the way here, and the only chance of saving her life lies in concealing the fact that we expected her."

  Crider ran out. I got the inspector on the wire.

  "Write out a description of the girl," Mme. Storey said to me.

  "My dear friend," she said to the inspector, "I am in the greatest distress. I cannot be frank over the telephone, but I will find a way to let you know the full particulars.... No, we cannot meet for the present, for I shall certainly be watched.... Listen! it is of the utmost importance that it should not be known that this information came to you from me, understand? ...

  "The first thing to do is to send out a general alarm to every patrolman on the force. Word it this way: At four thirty-five this afternoon an unknown woman walking east on Twentieth Street was overtaken by a taxi-cab at a point a hundred feet or so east of Fourth Avenue. Two men jumped out of the cab; one of them struck the girl with a blackjack and dragged her into the cab, while the other with a pistol held off two men who ran to her assistance. The taxi then made off up the west side of Gramercy Park, and turned west in Twenty-First Street. We got the licence number." Mme. Storey read it to him.

  "Here is the description of the girl," she went on, and read him from the pencilled memo. I handed her: "About twenty-six years old, but looks younger; taller than average, strong, graceful figure, and strikingly good-looking, in a bold dark style. Black hair, bobbed at her neck; large dark brown eyes. Was wearing a well-tailored blue suit, and small, black straw hat of the style known as cloche."

  "As to the two men who attacked her," Mme. Storey went on, "I can only say that they were slender and active. They wore dark suits and tweed caps. There were several witnesses to the affair, and better descriptions of the men will, no doubt, reach you through the regular channels."

  While Mme. Storey was talking, the buzzer sounded that announced the entrance of somebody into my room. She broke off, saying: "Send that out, and I'll call you up again in five minutes."

  With quick nods she directed that Crider was to go in the back room, while I received our caller.

  "Compose your face, Bella," she said sternly.

  I put on my dark-rimmed g
lasses. They help me to look blank when I have need to do so. My heart was beating like a trip-hammer. In my room I found a slender, dark young man, who was apparently in the greatest excitement, but it was all put on, for his dark eyes were cool and hard. They bored me through like gimlets. Well, he got no change out of me.

  "Is Mme. Storey in?" he cried, with seeming breathlessness.

  "What do you want of her?" I asked.

  "There's been a girl knocked on the head down the street and abducted in a car!" he cried.

  I made haste to open the door, and he ran into my mistress's room. She was writing at her desk with admirable composure. She looked up in cool surprise. The young man repeated his announcement with added details.

  "Good heavens! how terrible!" cried my mistress, springing up.

  She turned to look out of the window, as was most natural, and I followed her. Quite a crowd had gathered on the spot where the outrage had taken place.

  "Oh, they're gone," said the young man. "Made a clean getaway."

  "Have the police been notified?" asked Mme. Storey.

  "Sure, the cops arrived on the scene after everything was over."

  "Why did you come to tell me?" asked Mme. Storey.

  "Well, I heard somebody in the crowd say she was a friend of yours," he answered glibly.

  I shall never forget the face of the speaker; sleek, sharp and insolent, with eyes as flat and expressionless as an animal's. He wasn't but eighteen or nineteen years old, but he looked steeped in evil.

  "Good heavens!" cried Mme. Storey, opening her eyes very wide. "What sort of girl? Describe her?"

  "I didn't see it myself," said the young man, "but I heard them talking." His description of the girl closely followed my own.

  "That suggests nothing to me," said Mme. Storey, shaking her head. "I wasn't expecting anybody at this hour.... You should notify police headquarters. Use my phone."