Kitabı oku: «A Woman at Bay: or, A Fiend in Skirts», sayfa 3
CHAPTER IV.
THE OUTLAW'S HOME
A dead silence reigned around that camp fire for several moments after the two departed; but then the seven strangers who were left seated themselves in various attitudes, filled their pipes – or lit the stubs of half-smoked cigars, produced from their pockets; and after that, little by little, conversation was indulged in.
The night was warm and balmy. There was no reason why any of them should seek other shelter than the boughs of the trees which already covered them; but Nick knew from the manner in which Handsome had left them that he expected to return, and that there was some other place near by to which he intended to take them – if the chief should say the word. And he saw now that Patsy, by rare forethought, had prepared for that very emergency.
More than an hour had passed before Handsome made his appearance again; and then he loomed suddenly beside the camp fire, as silently and as stealthily as an Indian. Even Nick Carter, who was on the alert for his approach, did not hear him coming.
"I'll take you now!" he said briefly to Nick. "The others can wait."
Without a word more he turned away again, and Nick, leaping to his feet, followed him in silence through the darkness.
The night was almost black in there among the trees, although the moon was shining above them; but nevertheless Nick had no difficulty in following his guide.
They made directly for the railway tracks, and crossed the fence that intervened; but when they reached the top of the grade, Nick's guide halted and faced him.
"You said you are Dago John," he said slowly. "Who might Dago John be, pard?"
"They call me Dago John because I look like an Italian, I suppose, although I am not one," replied the detective. "But I try to carry out the idea. If you have worked your way through the South at all, maybe you've heard of Sheeny John. It will do as well as Dago John. A name doesn't make much difference."
"It makes a sight of difference here, my friend. What's your lay?"
"Anything that I can turn my hand to – or my brains."
"You have an education?"
"Yes."
"Can you write a good hand?"
"It's my one fault that I can – too good a one."
"Have you looked through the screens?" (Been in prison.)
"Never yet – to stay there. What do you want to know all this for?"
"I've been telling the main guy about you."
"What about me?"
"I told him of your strength, for one thing. There isn't another man in our outfit who could lift me off my feet the way you did it."
Nick shrugged his shoulders.
"I could have done it as easily if you had been twice the man you are," he said contemptuously.
"There is no doubt of that. I don't bear you any ill will for it, either. Neither does the boss."
"And who may he be, Handsome?"
"Don't you know, Dago John?"
"Maybe I do, and again maybe I don't."
"Didn't you come here looking for him?"
"Maybe so."
"Well, who were you looking for?"
"Maybe the same one that the other fellow was looking for – maybe not."
"That's all right. You can come along, I guess. But I warn you to have a care what you say to him."
"Say to who?"
"To Hobo Harry. He isn't one to be trifled with."
"Say, Handsome, on the level now, is there such a person?"
"Sure there is. You'll find that out all right, too, before you are much older. Didn't you come up here to get into the gang? Isn't that what you are here for?"
"Sure thing; but, on the level, I didn't think that I could do it so easy."
Handsome laughed as if he were intensely amused.
"If you think that you are in it now, you are very much mistaken," he said, with a shrug. "We don't take men into the bosom of our family quite as easy as that. But with us there is always room for a good man, and he always has a chance to prove whether he is good or not. That is the sort of chance you are going to get."
"Will you tell me about it?"
"I will if you will agree to teach me that hold by which you threw me over the fire into the bushes a little while ago."
"Sure thing, Handsome. I'll teach you that, and a lot of others as well, if you wish. That is one of the ju-jutsu tricks."
"I've heard about that. It's all right, all right."
"Sure thing. Now, where are we going? Are we to stay here all night, Handsome?"
"Not quite."
"Tell me what is expected of me, then; where we are going?"
"I am to take you to the chief; to Hobo Harry himself, for he happens to be here to-night. It is only once in a while that he is here, too; but it happens that he is to-night. He is to interview you. Otherwise – that is, if he were not here, you would have to hang around on the outside until he showed up to pass upon you in person."
"I see."
"He is the only man in the whole bunch who has a right to do that. I've got to blindfold you after we get across the fence on the swamp side of the tracks."
"All right."
"I suppose you would like to know what you are up against before I take you into the old swamp, wouldn't you?"
"Sure thing, Handsome."
"Well, it's just this: If you don't pass muster with the boss, you'll never come out again. There are deep holes in that swamp, Dago."
"Oh, I don't doubt that; but what do you mean by passing muster?"
"I mean just this, and nothing more: If you are not what you appear to be, and what you say you are, it's a slit across the windpipe for yours; see?"
Nick did see, and he nodded understandingly.
"I reckon I'll pass, all right," he said negligently. "If you are ready, I am."
They descended the embankment, and climbed the fence on the swamp side of the tracks; and then, as soon as they had penetrated a short distance into the wood, Handsome stopped again, and, drawing a huge bandanna from his pocket, proceeded to bind it around the detective's eyes securely.
"Now," he said, "can you do the lockstep?"
"Never tried it," said Nick.
"Sure about that?"
"Never learned – never had to."
"Well, you'll have to learn it now – unless you wish to fall into the swamp. Get up close to me, and take hold of my sides under my arms. Then follow in my footsteps as nearly as you can."
"I say, Handsome, you've got some education yourself."
"Never mind that now. We're not going into pasts just at present."
"All right. Lead the way. I'm ready."
Nick's eyes were so securely bandaged that he had not the least idea where they were going, or where his footsteps tended; but even had he been without the bandage he could hardly have told that, for the deeper they penetrated into the swamp, the darker it became, and only those who were perfectly familiar with the pathway could pass that way in safety in the night.
There were times when Nick's feet slipped from the precarious footing, and he slid into the water up to his knees; and once he went in to his waist; but Handsome was always ready to seize upon him and support him to dry land again at such times.
And their way wound round in a serpentine course. They climbed over fallen and moss-grown logs; they slushed through shallow water; they crawled on their hands and knees under embankments and rocks, and at last, at Handsome's order, they stepped into a boat of some kind which the latter pushed away from the bank with a pole.
After that a long time passed while the boat was propelled steadily onward with the pole, sometimes gliding under trees that hung so close to the water that they were obliged to get flat down inside the scow to avoid them; and they wound around many curves and twists, until at last they stopped, and Handsome removed the bandage from Nick's eyes.
They were beside a high bank, and directly ahead of them, through the trees, the detective could see the lights of many gleaming fires; and he could also discern the shadowy forms of men grouped around them, engaged in different occupations.
"Now, keep your mouth shut, and your eyes and your ears open," was Handsome's warning, as he led the way from the scow, and signed for Nick to follow him. "If anybody speaks to you, don't answer; and when you get in the presence of the chief, answer questions, and don't ask any."
"Right you are, pardy," was Nick's reply; and then he followed his conductor through the trees toward the fire.
They came out presently upon an open glade in which a dozen camp fires were burning. At some of these men were engaged in eating; others were preparing to eat; and still others had finished their meal, and were lying around in various attitudes, smoking. Some were playing cards by the light of the fires. Nick judged, in the rapid estimate he made, that there were in all at least twoscore of men gathered there.
He saw, too, that around this circular glade there were sheds built, and some of these had lights behind the brush or canvas fronts. Two of them had board fronts, and he judged that they were used when the weather was too inclement, or too cold, to remain in the open.
As they passed through the circle of light cast by the fires, many of the men looked up lazily toward them; but beyond one stare, no attention was paid to them; and they passed on into the gloom beyond.
Here they traversed a narrow but well-beaten pathway through the thick growth of alders, and presently came out upon a second glade that was larger than the first; and higher and dryer, too.
But that was not what attracted the detective.
In the very centre of this patch of clearing was a house; or a cottage, it would more properly be called; but it was large, and apparently comfortable. The roof extended down in front of it and over a wide piazza, where Nick could see that two men and a woman were seated.
But directly in front of the piazza, a man – one of the hoboes, without doubt, to judge from his appearance – was pacing regularly up and down, with the precision of a sentinel; and he carried a rifle in the hollow of his arm, which, as soon as Handsome and Nick appeared, he raised and pointed at them, while Nick could hear the click of the lock as he raised the hammer.
Handsome threw up both hands, holding them high over his head, and Nick did the same; and thereupon the gun was lowered, and, still with their hands held high, the two men advanced.
There was not a word spoken; the sentinel resumed his pacing up and down, as if there had been no interruption; and Nick's guide approached the edge of the piazza, still with his hands raised.
One of the men who were seated there rose and stepped forward; then he peered long and earnestly at the two men, and then he said:
"You may advance. Go inside."
And as they crossed the piazza, and stepped inside the house, the woman of the group rose and followed them, closing the door behind her; and Nick Carter wondered if Hobo Harry, the Beggar King, was a woman.
CHAPTER V.
NICK'S WONDERFUL STRENGTH
When Nick Carter gazed upon the woman who stood before them, with her hands clasped behind her, he thought that he had never seen another like her. She could not by any stretch of the imagination have been called beautiful; she was too masculine in her appearance for that – that is, the expression of her face, her manner, and the position she assumed were masculine; but the suggestion of it ended there.
She was as tall or taller than the detective, and her complexion was as dark as the hue to which he had stained his own. Her eyes were large, and round, and full, and fierce, and she held her head, with its crown of dead-black hair, as if she were monarch of all she surveyed. And the strangest part of it all was that she did not appear to be more than twenty years old.
With a steady stare she took in every detail of Nick's appearance, from the top of his head to the shoes he wore on his feet; and then she turned slowly to Handsome.
"Whom have we here?" she demanded.
"Dago John, he calls himself," was the reply.
"The man you spoke of?"
"Yes."
"Who is so strong that he could throw you over the fire into the bushes, and who did not harm you when he might have done so, after you had struck at him with your fist?"
"The same."
She turned her attention to Nick then.
"Who are you?" she demanded.
"Just what you see, missus; no more and no less," replied Nick, speaking boldly, for he deemed that to be the surest way to her favor.
"I see very little; nothing whatever that betokens the strength you are said to possess."
"You can't always tell what's inside of a crib before you crack it," was the reply; and the woman smiled.
"Where do you come from?" she asked.
"I ain't giving out my past history, lady, if it's all the same to you," said Nick coolly; and she frowned. Evidently she did not like this answer.
"What errand brought you to this part of the country, and finally induced you to make your camp in the woods out there?" she asked, smiling again.
"I suppose you want the plain truth, lady?"
"Yes," she replied, in an easy tone; "that is, if you put any value on your life."
"Well, the truth is this: I have heard, here and there, a good deal about a certain person who is known as Hobo Harry, the Beggar King. I have heard that he has gathered around him a lot of my kind, and I reckoned that maybe he'd give me a show to be one of them. That's what I came here for, and that's why I camped out there in the woods."
"And who are the three men who came with you?"
"Nobody came with me. I came alone."
"There were three other men there when Handsome found you? No?"
"Yes."
"Who are they?"
"Handsome can tell you that as well, or better, than I. He did the questioning."
"Why do you want to join the forces of Hobo Harry?"
"Because I'm tired of going it alone, and because I have heard that he takes good care of his followers."
"What can you do?"
"I can do anything that I am told to, once I have acknowledged a chief."
"That is a good answer. It covers a good deal of ground. Now, who told you about Hobo Harry?"
"I have heard about him in a good many places."
"Who told you where to find him?"
"A gun friend of mine, who croaked down in Indianapolis, a month ago or more. Jimmy the Sly he was called." (It was true that there had been a Jimmy the Sly, who was one of the many of the band who had been arrested and imprisoned; and after his release he had gone to Indianapolis, and died there, in a hospital. Nick knew this from his interview with the railroad president, and therefore he was not afraid to make use of the name.)
"So you knew Jimmy the Sly, did you?"
"Yes."
"Describe him to me."
"He was tall and slender, with a pock-marked face, and the longest fingers I ever saw; and he had a wart on the side of his nose, and a – "
"That will do. That is sufficient. How comes it that Jimmy never mentioned you to me?"
"You'll have to ask Jimmy that, I reckon – and you might burn yourself if you undertook to do it. I reckon it's hot where Jimmy is, madam."
She smiled at this. Nick could see that he was making a good impression upon her. He was still wondering if she were indeed the chief, or if she were only his representative. It was certain that he had had no expectation of finding a woman in this place.
"And what do you wish me to do with you, now that you are here?"
"I reckon that I'll have to leave that to you. I didn't come with my eyes shut. I guessed pretty well what I was up against. But I came here to be made one of you, and I hope you will give me a chance."
"What do you know of Hobo Harry?"
"Nothing."
"What do you think he is?"
"The head gazabo of this bunch."
"What do you suppose he is like?"
"Just at present writing, madam, he looks to me very much like a beautiful woman who has the grace of a siren and the courage of a lion."
"You should be a Frenchman instead of an Italian."
"I am neither one nor the other. I'm just a – a yeggman."
"You were about to say something else."
"I was going to say – a crook."
"You have not been a yeggman always, have you?"
"I never knew anybody who had been, madam."
"You are not really a yeggman, or a hobo. Confess the truth now; aren't you under cover, and playing the rôle for the purpose of being out of sight for a time?"
"I'm willing to say yes, if it pleases you."
"What has been your line of work, Dago?"
"Well, I'm a fair penman; I'm a good mechanic; I could be a passable druggist if I tried, and I wouldn't shy at taking a hand at running a bank, if it was big enough for the risk."
"I begin to think that you are all right, Dago."
"You can betcher life that I'm all right, madam, if it comes to that. But I don't reckon that you'll take me on my say-so. You'll be wanting some sort of proof of me before you consent to take me into the fold."
"You are correct about that."
"I'm ready for anything."
"You have told me that you are a penman, which means that you could be a forger; you have said that you are a mechanic, which means that you could crack a crib if necessary; you called yourself a druggist, which means that you know how to use the chemicals, and the poisons, too, if necessary; and you would not refuse to tackle a bank job if one should come your way. Do you happen to have the mark of blood against you, too?"
"I don't suppose there is any mark that I haven't got."
"That doesn't answer my question."
"Well, I wouldn't stay in a house if I wanted to get out when a live man stood in my way, if that is what you mean."
The woman turned to Handsome quite suddenly.
"What time do you start?" she asked of him; and he replied, as if the question were a continuance of their conversation:
"I ought to start now – inside of ten minutes."
"Very good," she said. "Take Dago with you. Break him in. Let him have the worst of it. If he makes good, all right. If he doesn't – shoot him."
"All right," said Handsome cheerfully. "What about the others? There are two more out there near the tracks."
"I will attend to them. Go, now. Take this man with you. Give him all the rope he needs – but watch him. I'd sooner trust him with you than anybody else, anyhow – and I believe he is all right."
"Come!" said Handsome, seizing Nick by the arm; and he pulled him through the door after him. But all the way to the door, Nick kept his eyes upon the woman, who was looking at him strangely, and with a curious smile on her face.
Outside, when they had passed the sentinel, and were again in the part which led to the other glade, he stopped.
"Wait a minute, Handsome," he said. "I want to ask you a question."
"There isn't time now, Dago. Save it until later. We must get away from here at once. Do you remember where we left the boat?"
"Yes."
"Go there alone, and wait there for me. I won't be three minutes."
He did not await a reply, but darted off to one side as soon as they reached the glade, and Nick saw him disappear inside one of the cabins before referred to.
"I am in for it now, to the whole length of the tether," he told himself, as he stepped briskly forward toward the place where he knew the boat to be; and he was halfway across the glade when suddenly from one of the groups of men near a fire, one of them leaped up and confronted him, with his hands upon his hips, a cigar pointed at an angle in the corner of his mouth, and a leering grin upon his face.
"Where to now, my pal?" he demanded, standing in front of Nick, and thus stopping him.
Nick looked at the man, and smiled. He did not answer. He guessed instantly why Handsome had left him to find his way to the boat alone. This was doubtless one of their tricks – to see what a new recruit would do under these circumstances. Possibly, too, he thought, the woman wished to see an exhibition of his strength, and they had for that purpose pitted one of their best bullies against him.
He surveyed the fellow with a quick and comprehensive glance; and in that glance he saw that the man was a burly one, who evidently possessed great strength. But Nick did not care for that. He was only turning over in his mind in that instant what course it would be best for him to pursue. And the answer came to him when the bully repeated the question.
"Where to, pard?" he demanded again, still with the sarcastic leer on his dirty face.
"When you get back, I'll tell you!" exclaimed Nick; and at the same instant he darted a step forward and seized the man by the throat-and-hip hold of ju-jutsu, and the next instant had sent him whirling through the air as if he were a cartwheel.
He struck the ground ten feet away, and went rolling over and over among the bushes, where there happened to be a mass of cat brier, or creeping thorn; and the series of howls and curses he sent up was a wonder.
A roar of laughter from every side proved to Nick that all had been watching for the outcome of that episode; but he looked neither to the right nor the left, but strode onward toward the boat.
And then he heard a cry of warning from behind him, and he leaped aside just as the fellow he had thrown fired a bullet pointblank at him from close behind.
As it was, the missile pierced his coat sleeve inside his arm.
As Nick leaped aside he also turned.
The hobo who had fired the shot was already running toward him, and now he was endeavoring with every effort in his power to discharge the weapon again; but for some reason the mechanism of the lock refused to work, and in an instant more Nick had leaped upon him and grasped him a second time.
He was determined now that the fellow should have a lesson indeed; so while he held him at arm's length with one hand, he pummeled him with the other until his face was a mass of bruises; and then, when the yeggman was in a condition bordering upon insensibility, Nick raised him bodily from his feet, and holding him in his arms, ran with him down along the path toward the water.
And reaching the edge of the swamp, he threw him out into the muddy water, headfirst.
It was not deep, but it was filled with soft ooze, which filled the ears, and eyes, and nose, and mouth of the fellow, so that, when he rose to his feet, he was sputtering and spitting, and coughing and swearing when he could.
The detective left the man to make his way out of the water to dry land as best he could, and turned coolly away to rejoin Handsome, who approached at that moment, grinning.
"Well done, Dago," he said. "You served him just right. Come along."
They entered the scow without more words, and Handsome poled it away from the shore, and along the waterway through the almost impenetrable darkness – but there was never a word said about the use of the blindfold.
"How is this?" Nick asked, after a little. "Aren't you going to tie that handkerchief over my face again?"
"No. I ought to do it, I suppose, but it's too much trouble. Besides, you're all right. I can tell a man when I see one."
"All right," said Nick. "It's your funeral; not mine. Only if the lady should raise a kick – what then?"
"She would raise a kick, too, if she knew about it," replied Handsome dubiously. "But how is she going to know it? You are not likely to tell her, and I won't."
"No," said Nick, "I won't tell her."
"Well, then we'll dispense with the handkerchief."
They poled on in silence for a time after that; but presently Nick asked:
"What's the lay to-night, Handsome?"
"I can't tell you that, Dago. You'll have to wait, and find out; and you'll have to do your own part, too; for if you flunk by so much as a hair, it's my duty to kill you."
"Which I suppose you would do, eh?"
"Sure I'd do it – why not? If you ain't what you seem to be, I'd as soon put a hole in you as dip this pole into the water. You hear me!"
"Sure thing."
"And that notwithstanding I like you. I reckon you're all right, and I'm going a great way toward proving what I think about it by not binding that handkerchief over your eyes now."
"Are there any others in this thing with us, Handsome?"
"You'll find out soon enough. The best way for you is not to ask too many questions, but to be satisfied to do as you're told."
They lapsed into silence after that, and there was no more said until after they had arrived at the bank where the scow was to be left.
"I suppose I can ask about those other guns that we left in the woods to-night, without giving offense, can't I?" asked Nick then.
"That depends on what you want to ask about 'em," was the reply; they were now hurrying in the direction of the tracks.
"I want to know if Hobo Harry is going to send for them?"
"Didn't you hear her say so?" was the rejoinder; and then, when Nick laughed softly, Handsome turned on him with fury, and would have seized him had he not suddenly recalled the fact that his own strength was no match for that of the man beside him.
But his anger disappeared as quickly as it came, and he joined in the laugh.
"I gave it away that time, didn't I?" he said. "You were too cute for me, Dago. But it is dangerous knowledge, Dago. I'll tell you that."
"You didn't give it away," replied Nick. "Any fool would have known that the woman was Hobo Harry."
"Then there are a lot of fools in the outfit. You're wrong, Dago. Lots of 'em don't suspect it. They think only that she is Hobo Harry's wife, or sister, or sweetheart, or something like that. There isn't half a dozen of us who really know for certain that Black Madge is Hobo Harry. And there! I've let the cat out of the bag again. But you're all right. It won't do no harm to tell you."
"Not a mite," replied Nick; but he chuckled noiselessly all the same. That last admission made by Handsome was worth hearing.
"Black Madge, eh?" he was thinking to himself. "Now I know why it was that there was something so strikingly familiar about the woman. Black Madge, eh? Well, well, who would have supposed that?"
For Black Madge was a character well known in the criminal world, and to the police, although very little was known about her really. There was a picture in the Rogues' Gallery in New York that purported to be of her; but Nick knew now that it was not.
Nevertheless, he remembered that once upon a time he had seen Black Madge, who was the daughter of a Frenchwoman by an Italian father; Black Madge, who had already made an unenviable record for herself on both sides of the ocean.
It was a long time before that when Nick Carter saw her. She was only a grown-up child at that time, but she was already a hardened criminal, nevertheless; and he recalled now the circumstance of his meeting with her.
It was in Paris. He had gone to the prefecture of police to see the chief of the secret service, who was awaiting him, and had found the girl in the room with the chief, who was engaged in questioning her closely in reference to a crime that had been committed, and because it was thought that she knew the parties concerned. But she had given no information, and had been allowed to go; and after her departure the chief had said to Nick:
"Monsieur Carter, some day that young woman will appear on your side of the water. I hope you thought to take a good look at her face."
"I did," replied the detective.
"Remember it, for some day you will have cause to do so, I do not doubt. She is a terror, and she has brains. The worst kind of a criminal. She should have been a man, for she has a man's daring, a man's recklessness, and a man's way of doing things. Black Madge, we call her here."
Nick recalled all that conversation now, plunged into a reverie about it by Handsome's use of the name. All the time he had been in the room with her in that house in the swamp, he had felt that he ought to remember where he had seen those eyes before. Now, he counted the years that had passed since he saw her, and, to his astonishment, they were five.
"She was seventeen then, the chief told me," he thought, "that would make her twenty-two by now."
And then it came back to him how strangely she had looked at him while he was leaving her presence, and he wondered if her recollection for faces was as good or even better than his own.
"But," he argued, "it could not be possible that she would remember me from that one short glance she must have had of me at that time. And, besides, I was not disguised at all, and now I look no more like myself than – well, than she does."
"What the devil are you so silent about?" demanded Handsome. They had reached the fence at the railroad track, and Handsome was leaning against it.
"I was trying to figure out in my mind what sort of a lay we are on to-night," replied Nick. "I'm not used to starting out without knowing where I am going. I feel like a horse – with you for a driver."
"Well" – Handsome laughed – "I won't use the whip unless you get skittish."
"What are we waiting here for?"
"We are waiting for our chauffeur with the automobile," grinned Handsome. "Nice road for an auto, isn't it? – bumping over those ties."
"Hark!" said Nick.
"I'm harking, my gun."
"It does sound like an automobile, sure enough," said Nick.
"Didn't I tell you that we are waiting for one. Come on."
He leaped the fence, and Nick followed him over; then they climbed the grade, and paused beside the track.
And then, while they stood there, and the droning sound peculiar to automobiles came momentarily nearer and nearer, the detective began thoroughly to realize for the fist time that something really serious was afoot for the night.
But he was not long left in doubt as to the character of the approaching vehicle, for in a moment more it swept around a curve in the railroad, and came to a stop immediately in front of them.
And, strangely enough, it was an automobile arrangement, only that it was equipped with car wheels instead of with rubber tires; wheels that had flanges to fit the tracks. But it was provided with a gasoline engine, and Nick knew from the appearance of the apparatus that it was capable of great speed.
When it came to a stop Nick saw that it already contained two men, one of whom was driving; but he got down from the seat under the steering wheel, and climbed into the rear of the machine, while Handsome took his place.
"New man; Dago for a handle," said Handsome briefly, by way of introducing Nick to the others. What their names might be he evidently did not deem it important to mention.
"Try-out?" asked one of the men, while Nick was climbing into the box of the machine.
Handsome nodded curtly – and that was all that was said at the moment.
It was significant, however, to Nick, for it meant a lot. It meant that these other men entirely comprehended the situation, and that all three of them were prepared to shoot him in the back at any moment when his conduct of the business in hand did not entirely satisfy them.
