Kitabı oku: «A Woman at Bay: or, A Fiend in Skirts», sayfa 7
"Certainly."
The old man shook his head.
"I don't believe it," he said, "but maybe you can. How about the voice? Your voice ain't no more like mine than a – "
"I can do that, too," replied Nick, exactly simulating the voice in which the old man was speaking; and he looked around him in wonder, and then at the detective.
"It does beat all!" he said at last. "I guess you're some too many for me, sir."
"Shall we get at those plans now?"
"Right away."
Turner brought out paper and pencil, and, having cleared the top of his table, he began to work.
First he drew a large circle on the paper, and at one edge of it he made a cross.
"That there cross is Calamont," he said. "Where we be now; and all that's inside of the ring I've made lies to the east of here, from nor'-nor'east to sou'-sou'east – and east. You understand?"
"Perfectly."
"Well, jest about in the middle o' that ring is the place where I think them fellers would hide. It's the best place for them."
"Tell me about it before you draw anything; or, rather, talk while you are drawing."
"That's jest what I'm going to do. Now, you follow my pencil and pay attention."
"Go ahead," said Nick.
"When you leave here – if you start from Calamont, which I suppose you will – you start right about here. You take a general direction nor'east from here at first. You'll find a path through the woods after you git about two miles from here, and that path will lead you several miles. But about here it'll disappear, and you won't have nothin' to guide you 'cept what I show you and tell you now."
"Exactly," replied the detective.
"Up here, at about the time you lose all trace o' the path, you'll come to a deep ravine. You want to follow up the middle of that, to the top. And when you git to the top of it you will think that you have run up ag'inst a cliff, and there ain't no gettin' out of it without goin' back.
"But that ain't so. There's a waterfall at the end of the ravine. It comes around a sort of a twist in the rocks, and if you ain't afraid of gettin' damp, you follow around there, and you will find as nice a piece of steps cut in them stones as you ever saw in your life. Indians cut 'em more'n a hundred years ago, so I'm told.
"Well, they take you to the top of that cliff. When you're up there, you find you're in another ravine, not so deep as t'other. Right here that would be," he added, making a mark with the pencil.
"All right," said Nick.
"About a mile farther up that second ravine you want to leave it. You'll find a big dead oak that hangs out over it, and beside the dead oak there is a path up the side of the ravine. It is one of my own paths. You get up it by hangin' onto two things you find there for the purpose. I put 'em there more'n twenty years ago, mister."
"Go ahead."
"When you git to the top, you want to branch off this way – so. You'll find a clearin' about there, and off to the east you'll see some high hills. You want to make for them."
"And those hills, I suppose, is my destination."
"That's where the caves are. That's where you will find the gang if they are hiding anywhere in that 'ere region."
"Now, tell me about the caverns. Tell me how to find them."
"They're easy enough to find – some of 'em is; others ain't. Wait a minute."
He pushed that paper aside, and took a fresh one.
"Now, when you come to the hills, you will approach 'em at what we call the Dog's Nose. So named because that's what it looks like. It's a rock that sticks out right about here, and you can't miss it. It looks exactly like a dog's nose, stickin' out and smelling things.
"You want to go right up under that there dog's nose; and when you git there you'll see a hole in the rock that ain't no bigger than the lower half of that window. It's a leetle bit of a hole, and it's as dark as a pocket inside it, too. Nobody, even if they found the hole, would ever think of going in there. It ain't invitin' to look at."
"How did you happen to go into it?"
"I didn't. I came out of it. I got lost in that cave for three days once, when I was a boy, and when I found my way out I came out of that hole. Nobody knows about that entrance but me, though I suppose lots of folks knows it's there."
"And it communicates with the cave?"
"It does. It'll take you to any part of the cave; and there is only one rule to follow in going through it. You'll want a light, though."
"I've got the light. What is the rule?"
"Always – no matter where you are in any of them caves, take the way to the right. Never take a gallery to the left, goin' in either or any direction. It's a rule that holds good in them caves. It's a sort of way that nature provided so's you could find your way through there; and I happened to discover what it was."
"It all sounds very simple and easy."
"And it is, if you've got the pluck and the sand. But it's a ticklish place. There is a good many places in there that I ain't never explored, and don't want to; and it's safe to bet that the hoboes ain't done it, neither. I reckon, mister, that that's about all I kin show you – hold on, though!"
"What now?"
"Well, there's one place up there which it might be handy for you to know about, and I don't think anybody but me knows about it, either."
"What is that?"
"Well, you might find occasion to want to hide yourself away while you are in there."
"That is more than likely, Bill."
"Well, just arter you pass through the hole that is under the Dog's Nose, and about twenty rods from there, you'll find a place where there is a bowlder sort of set into the rocks. You won't notice it unless you look for it, but it is there. Under it you'll find a small stone wedged fast. If you pull out that small stone, and then push on the big rock, it'll swing around like it was on a pivot, and you kin step inside the hole it leaves, and close up the door after you. You'll find an interestin' place in there, too, if you ever have occasion to use it, mister; and nobody will find you there, either."
CHAPTER XIII.
BLACK MADGE'S LIEUTENANT
The detective passed the remainder of that day, and much of the night, in old Bill Turner's company, and during that time they talked incessantly about the mountains to which Nick was going, about the caverns in those mountains, and the trails through them; and when the conversation was finished Nick felt that he could find his way without difficulty wherever he cared to go among them.
When he saw that the old man was tired out, he sent him to bed, and himself dropped upon a couch in Turner's living room, where he slept like a top till morning.
Soon after dawn they were both astir; and after they had eaten some breakfast, and Turner had made his usual pilgrimage to the post office, they began again upon the plans and went over them for the last time.
And then came the task of making the changes in their personal appearance. This, to the layman, sounds like no easy task; but to Nick Carter it was merely the practicing of an art of which he was thoroughly a master.
He had brought with him the things necessary to accomplish the changes; and when the old man returned from the village he set to work – first upon himself – for he knew that he must make his own disguise letter perfect if he hoped to deceive such a man as Handsome.
He first made up his face, not with paints, but with stains that would not wash off, to represent the leathery, weather-beaten countenance of the old man; and here he was, perhaps, fortunate in the fact that the profusion of white whiskers worn by the old man rendered his face the easier to copy, and in reality concealed much of it from view.
Then he adjusted the beard.
But not as false beards are supposed to be adjusted. This was done almost hair by hair. That is, the beard was divided into tufts of hair, and each tuft was stuck on with a glue of Nick's own creation, so that there was no danger that it would drop off under any circumstances – and so that it could not be pulled off without drawing patches of skin with it.
And this was as it should be, since if any one should suppose that the whiskers might be false, and should seize them and pull sharply upon them, they would resist the effort exactly as if the beard was natural.
In height the two men were about the same. In figure, the old man was possibly somewhat stouter than Nick; but there was not enough difference to be noticeable.
The detective occupied about three hours in making up that disguise, so particular was he about it; but when it was finished at last it was perfect. So perfect, indeed, that Turner regarded him in amazement; then came closer to look into his eyes, and at last he said:
"I'm glad, Mr. Carter, that I didn't meet you on the street in that rig. It would have frightened me to death. I'd have been sure that I was dead and had met my own ghost, out for a walk."
That night, when the train bound for the city passed through Calamont at half-past eleven, a man climbed aboard of it who – if anybody had noticed him particularly – it would have been supposed was the same French Canadian lumberman who had appeared there the day before.
But there was no one there save the ticket agent, and he did not notice particularly. It is certain that he had no idea that in the black-haired man who went away was old Bill Turner.
But so it was. Nick had made the old man up in a representation of the Frenchman; or at least near enough to it so that in the darkness the difference would not be noticed; and the old man, being made to appear young, really felt young, and he went away joyously.
In his pockets he carried letters; one was to Chick, and the other was to Joseph, his confidential servant, in case Chick should happen not to be at home when Turner arrived there.
And those letters gave instructions that Turner was to be treated to everything he wanted, and that Chick and Ten-Ichi should take turns in showing him about the city. Nick assured them that they could help him quite as much in that way as if they were among the mountains with him, assisting him in the actual work.
And the next morning – the morning after the departure of Turner – Nick took the old man's place in the customary stroll, or hobble would be a better word, to the post office.
He stopped and talked with people as he met them, having posted himself, with the old man's aid, in what he was to say. And he stood around the post office steps for two hours, as Turner was in the habit of doing.
He was trying out the part; trying it on the dog, so to speak. And he was thoroughly satisfied with the result.
In his talks there in front of the post office he gave it out that he was going to take another trip into the woods; and as it was the season of the year when Turner had been in the habit of being absent, no surprise was felt. And that afternoon he literally pulled up stakes and started.
Once he was in the woods, Nick quickened his pace. He realized now that, figuratively, he had burned his bridges behind him, and that he must see the thing through to the end.
He did not fear the consequences at all; he felt that there was only one chance of his failure, and that was in the shrewd eyes and keen intelligence of Handsome.
Handsome had met Turner twice and talked with him each time. Nick knew Handsome well enough to know that the outlaw would have studied Turner very closely at those interviews; the question now was, would Handsome detect the fraud?
Nick did not think it likely; and, anyhow, the risk had to be taken.
That night the detective made himself a fire and camped in the woods; in the early morning he started on again.
In due course of time he came to the ravine, and went up it to the top as the old man had directed him to do. And he went around the "rocks with a sort of a twist in them" until he found the steps that were cut in the stones, and so mounted to the top.
Far up the second ravine he found the dead tree that hung over it, and the pathway up the side of the hill beside it; and that night he camped again in the woods.
He had not far to go that second morning, after he had eaten some breakfast, before he arrived at the Dog's Nose. It was ten o'clock in the morning when he got there.
All that morning Nick had noticed signs that he was approaching the region where he would find the hobo gang. He had seen where trees had been chopped down and corded up for firewood; and there were many other signs that many men were in the vicinity.
When he came to the shelter of the Dog's Nose, he stopped there, and, having fixed himself a temporary camp, resolved that he would remain there until night, for he had some hope that some of the hoboes would happen along, and that he could talk with them.
That was his game; not to sneak upon them unawares, but to let it be known that he was in the neighborhood, so that Handsome would come to him. He wanted that ordeal over with Handsome as soon as possible.
He was destined not to be disappointed. The afternoon was well advanced when Handsome suddenly stepped out of a cluster of balsams, and stood before him.
He had approached as silently as an Indian; as if he had passed his life in woodcraft, and, indeed, Nick had no doubt that he had.
For a moment he stood there near the balsams, silently regarding the detective; and Nick, perfectly acting the part of Turner, looked up and nodded, but said nothing.
After a little Handsome strode forward, no longer taking care to remain quiet; and he seated himself on a log near Nick, and facing him, while at the same time he toyed with apparent carelessness with a revolver he held in his hand.
"What brings you here, Turner?" he asked at last.
"The season of the year brings me," was the reply. "I have come here every autumn at this time for more'n fifty years."
"Indeed!" Handsome looked at him with new interest. "Is that true?" he asked.
"I wouldn't have any reason to lie to ye, would I?" asked Nick. "Old Bill Turner hasn't missed a year in fifty years in coming here, Mr. Handsome."
"Then you must know these hills mighty well, eh?"
"I know every inch of 'em; every leaf that falls on 'em, almost. That's the way I know 'em."
"And do you know about the places under the hills as well?"
"Do you mean the caves?"
"I do."
"I know 'em purty well – yes. There is some parts of 'em that nobody knows, I reckon; and while I – well, maybe I don't know all about 'em, and maybe I'd get lost in 'em now; only I don't think so."
"What do you know about that hole up there, under that rock that is shaped like the nose of a dog?"
"I know it's a hole. I reckon that's about all that anybody knows about it. It's a dark sort of a place. I ain't got no fancy for goin' into it."
"Does it connect with the main part of the cavern?"
"Maybe it does, and maybe it doesn't; but most likely it does; only I don't think that anybody would be after trying to find out."
"You have never been through that hole, then?"
"I ain't never been inside of it," replied Nick, with perfect truth.
Handsome thought a moment, and then he asked suddenly:
"Turner, who sent you up here?"
"Nobody sent me; why?"
"Didn't the people of Calamont send you to find me and my followers?"
"Nary a bit of it."
"Well, now that you have seen me, and know that I am here, and therefore guess that others are here with me, what would you do about it if you should go back to Calamont now, and somebody there should ask you if you had seen me?"
"Look here, Handsome, I don't meddle with other people's affairs. I want 'em to leave mine alone, and consequently I leave theirn alone. You hear me speak!"
"But what answer would you make if that question was asked of you?"
"I probably shouldn't answer at all."
"Suppose an answer was insisted upon?"
"I ain't never found nobody yet who could make old Bill Turner answer a question if he didn't want to."
"Do you mean that you would not wish to answer that question?"
"Look here, Handsome, if you want me to promise that I won't tell on ye, why don't you say so? What you and your fellers do ain't none of my funeral, so long as you leave me alone. Do you think I came up here to spy on you?"
"That is what I thought when I first discovered you."
"Well, forget it. I ain't carryin' no tales. I'd 'a' been dead long ago if I had done that. Life's too short. I ain't never mentioned to nobody about the two times I have met you, and I ain't likely to, either. I ain't got time. You ain't robbed my house, and I don't care what you do as long as you leave me alone."
Again Handsome was silent a while, and then he said suddenly:
"Turner, would you like to go to our camp?"
"No; that is, I ain't particular about it. You might think I was trying to spy on ye – or some of the men might, and that would make me mad."
"They won't think anything of the kind if I take you there."
"All right. If you want me to go – I'll go."
"Come along, then. You have got this far, and we've either got to trust you, or kill you. It will depend upon you which that will be."
Keeping in his mind's eye the plans that Turner had made for him, Nick knew perfectly the route over which Handsome led him on the way to the camp, to which he had referred.
It was a picturesque place. Turner had described it in detail to the detective, and had mentioned it as the most likely place for the outlaws to make their headquarters. He had said:
"Ye see, mister, it's a sort of sasser in the mountings. There ain't only one way to git to it from the outside, and that is a purty hard one; so hard that half a dozen men could hold it agin' a thousand; and the other way to git to it is through the caves; and ye've got to know them galleries mighty well in order to find yer way through. I think you'll do it, because you act as if you had been in caves afore."
The place was a "sasser" in the mountains, sure enough. On every side of it there were frowning cliffs, which rose hundreds of feet in the air; and these cliffs were as inaccessible from the outside as they were from the saucer itself. There was only one pathway, and that was through a narrow fissure, barely wide enough for one big man to walk through it.
And this latter could have been stopped up with rocks in half an hour, so that nobody could get through it.
Handsome made the supposed Turner walk in front of him when they entered the fissure; and thus it was that they appeared on the opposite side of it; then Handsome took the lead.
Already the hoboes had erected cabins of slabs and of logs; and many of them were still at work building others; but as with one accord they ceased to work when they saw Handsome approaching with the old man; and they stared at him.
"Have you got another one, Handsome?" somebody called out to him; but Handsome deigned no reply, passing on in silence, and leading the way to a cabin that was larger and better than the others, and which stood exactly in the centre of the miniature valley.
Nick guessed that this was the temporary home of Black Madge, and he was, therefore, not at all surprised when she stepped out upon the porch in front of it.
She showed her white and even teeth, and smiled, in her own bold way, as Handsome approached her, with Nick in tow; and she asked, as soon as they were near enough:
"Whom have we here?"
"It is the old chap I have told you about, Madge," replied Handsome.
"Sent here to spy upon us, I suppose," she smiled scornfully. "Why didn't you shoot him at once instead of bringing him here?"
Before Handsome could reply, Nick wheeled upon him.
"Didn't I tell ye so?" he demanded, with a show of anger. "Didn't I tell ye so? Didn't I say that they be thinking that I was a spy; but you wouldn't have it so? Tell me that."
"I don't think he is a spy, Madge," said Handsome. "Remember that I have known him for a considerable time. And I have found him on the level."
Madge shrugged her shoulders.
"All right," she said. "That is, all right this time. Only now that he is here, he stays. Don't forget that."
"Oh, I haven't forgotten that."
"Nobody leaves this valley without my permission; not a single one."
"They are all pretty well satisfied that you mean that, Madge."
"Now, tell me what you brought the old man here for."
"Because he knows every inch of the galleries inside those caves. I want to know about them myself, and I want the old man to teach me about them. The time will come, Madge, when we will be mighty glad to know about those galleries."
"Possibly so," she replied. "Do as you like with him; only remember – nobody leaves this valley without my permission. When I get the men thoroughly organized and so they will do what I want them to do, then I will turn loose upon the world one of the best – and the worst – criminal organizations that has ever been heard of. Do what you please with the old man. He looks old enough to have been dead long ago."
"And as old as I am, madam, I've never before heard a woman speak so to me," said Nick, as if he were hurt by it.
Madge turned to him quickly.
"You mustn't mind what I say – always Turner," she said. "I have a habit of speaking harshly at times; but I am not unkind to those who are true to me. Do you happen to know a man who is named Nick Carter?"
She asked the question suddenly, as if she expected the utterance of the name would make the supposed Turner start with surprise; but Nick looked at her quite calmly, and replied:
"I know the name. He's a detective chap, ain't he? I heerd about him; something about that bank robbery."
"Is he in Calamont now, Turner?"
"No, ma'am; he ain't."
"You speak positively."
"Well, I know he wasn't there when I came out of town; and I didn't hear that he was expected there, nuther. And if he had been expected there I'd 'a' heerd it. There ain't nothin' goin' on in that town that I don't hear about."
"Do you know if he has been sent for?"
"I ain't heerd nothin' about his bein' sent for, ma'am."
"If, some day, I should decide to send you into the village to do some errands for me, do you suppose you could make some inquiries about Nick Carter for me, and at the same time forget all that you know about us, who are here?"
"I reckon I could, ma'am."
"I'll think about it. I may want to use you," she said; and turned away. But she stopped and turned toward them again, calling to Handsome, who went to her side; but Nick could hear the conversation that passed between them.
"What about that fellow Pat?" she heard Madge inquire; and he could barely refrain from giving a start that might have betrayed him, for that question told him plainly that Patsy had already managed to arrive among the hoboes, and – that his fate still hung in the balance. He listened eagerly for Handsome's reply.
"I haven't had a chance to examine him yet," he said. "You wished me to talk with him before I brought him to you."
"Go and bring him here now. Leave Turner here with me until you return."
"Get up there on the porch and sit down, Turner," he said. "Smoke your pipe if you wish to. The queen won't object. I'll be back in a moment."
But when Handsome had hurried away to bring Patsy, and Nick had seated himself upon a rustic chair, Madge came and stood in front of him.
"Turner," she said severely. "Tell me the truth now. What brought you into this neighborhood?"
"The season of the year brought me," Nick replied to her as he had done to Handsome.
"Who sent you?"
"Nobody sent me, ma'am."
"Swear to that."
"'Tain't necessary. I have said it."
"Do you know what would happen to you if I should find that you were acting as a spy?"
"I suppose I could guess."
"I'd have you burned at the stake, just as Indians used to burn their captives."
"Well, ma'am, I reckon I've lived too long a time now to be much afraid of death. When a man has passed eighty, he ain't much afraid of things."
"Are you as old as that?"
"Old Bill Turner is eighty-four, ma'am; but he don't look it, does he?"
"No. I wish I could feel sure of you. I wish I could feel sure that you are not a spy."
"Well, ma'am, it's my experience that we can't somehow help our feelings much. If you are in doubt about it, treat it as you would an earache – with silent contempt. Doubts, ma'am, are suthin' like boils; they're the devil and all while you've got 'em; but they do get well arter a while. You ain't got no call to doubt old Bill Turner, as I knows on."
"I'll talk with you again, Turner. In the meantime, see that you walk in a straight line."
"I can't do that no more. My old feet ain't so steady as they used to be. But I'll do the best I can."
"We can't ask anybody to do more than that. Now keep silent. Here comes Handsome with another man who I fear may be a spy."
Patsy, with his hair a brick-red, and with spots and freckles on his face that were a sight to see, came forward at that moment, led by Handsome.
His hands were tied together behind his back, and he looked as if he had been treated rather badly. However, there was a grin upon his face as he approached, and ducked his head in what was intended to be a polite bow to the queen of the outlaws.
"So you have come back again?" she demanded of him abruptly.
"Yes, I'm back, your honor – I mean, ma'am," he replied, grinning the more.
"Where have you been while you were away, then? Tell me that?"
"Well, sure, your majesty, I was a-runnin' most of the time. When the fire broke out down there, and the divil to pay generally, they all thinkin' as how it was y'rsilf that was bein' burrnt to death inside the cottage, I helped all I could until it was found out that it wasn't you, at all, at all, but a dummy that had been fixed up to look like you. And then when the hull bunch of the spalpeens went crazy and tried to find out what had become of you, it wasn't long until I found out that I was all alone in that place, the rest having gone in search of you. And after that I thought it wasn't healthy for me around there."
"I think you're a spy, Pat," she said coldly.
"Divil a bit of it. Who says so? Don't you belave it!"
"Why did you not stay with the rest of the men, then?"
"Divil a wan of me can tell that same, now. I clean forget. I think I was scared out of me two wits. If I had been a long time wid yez, instid of bein' there only wan day, sure I'd have remained, so I would. But I'd been there so little that I thought it wasn't healthy for me. That's all."
"What made you come back now?"
"Sure I heard that ye'd escaped from your jailers, and I knowed that you'd be after protecting me. Didn't you tell me that I was all right? And, thinks I, if I can find 'em now, sure the quane will be after takin' care of me; and here I am."
"When I heard that you had returned, I made up my mind to have you shot!"
"Oh, glory be to gracious! Don't be after doin' that same, your honor! Faith, why should ye be after shootin' the likes of me? I ain't done nothin' at all."
Patsy, with a perfect assumption of fright, fell upon his knees before the woman and raised his hands beseechingly to her.
And for a moment she looked down upon him with cold contempt in her eyes. It was evident to Nick, who was watching the scene narrowly, that she was coldly calculating the chances of letting him live, and that a breath upon the scales either way would decide her.
For a long time she remained in the same attitude, and then she raised her head and spoke to Handsome.
"When one in my position is in any doubt," she said coldly, "there is only one thing to do, and that is to give myself, not the other person, the benefit of the doubt. That is what I have decided to do, Handsome. Take him away."
"What shall I do with him?"
"Take him back to the cabin where he was tied up, and tie him up again. To-night, when the fires are lit, we will convene a court and try him. I will be the judge at that trial, and after it is over we will probably hang him. I see no other way. Take him away. Go."
