The Deaves Affair
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"We have flashlights."
"Yes, and a nice mark they'd make for bullets!"
This was sufficiently reassuring. Evan showed himself. He saw an expensive runabout with two young fellows in it. They burst out simultaneously:
"What's the matter?"
"Oh, I had a fight with a crook in there," said Evan. "They have a hang-out in an old abandoned house."
"Do you want any help?"
"No thanks. I've got him tied up. But I wish you'd go for the police if you don't mind."
"Sure thing! The nearest station's in Tremont, five miles over bad roads. We'll bring 'em back in half an hour!"
In his excitement the young fellow threw his clutch in, and the big car leaped down the road before Evan could give him any further particulars.
On his way back Evan felt certain compunctions at the sight of Charley lying bound in the road. After all, Charley had been his friend for many a year. He wouldn't mind saving him from the consequences of his own folly if he could. That the police might not discover him when they came, Evan dragged him out of the road, and under a thick leafy bush to one side. Charley made imploring sounds through the gag. Evan continued along the rough track. He had the pocket flash to help him over the rough places now. In a quarter of a mile or more from the highway he came upon the dark mass of the old house rising against the night sky. It stood on a little rise in the midst of its clearing, which could scarcely be called a clearing now, for except in a small space immediately around the building the young trees were rising thickly.
It was a square block of a design somewhat freakish for a country residence, since the principal storey was above the entrance floor. There was a row of tall windows here, and above these windows an attic in the style of the eighteenth century. The tall windows evidently lighted the great room where Evan had suffered his ordeal at the hands of the Ikunahkatsi. It was in one of the back rooms on the same floor that the chief had his sanctum, he told himself. All the windows of the house were dark, but this did not prove that people were not within and awake, for Evan remembered the heavy shutters inside the windows.
He waited for a minute or two, and then began to get restless. In fact he itched for the glory of taking the chief single-handed. The letter of instructions had suggested that the chief would be alone in the building to-night, except for the old negress and the prisoner. And Evan was armed now. If he could find some way to make an entrance without giving an alarm, he believed it could be done.
He stole up to the front door on all fours. It was locked of course. He went around to the back; there were two doors here, both locked. He went from window to window. All of them had panes missing, but within each window the heavy shutters were closed and barred. He thought of cellar windows, sometimes they were forgotten. In certain places thick clumps of sumach had sprung up close to the house. Pushing behind one such clump, he stumbled on an old stone stair leading down. Once it had been closed by inclined doors, but these had rotted and fallen in. The steps led him into the cellar.
With the aid of his light he picked his way over the piles of rubbish and around the brick piers. Immense brick arches supported the chimneys of the house. They built more generously in those days. The rats scuttled out of his way. In the centre of the space there was a steep stair leading up. It looked sound. Pocketing his light, he crept up step by step and with infinite care tried the door at the top. It yielded! He was in!
All was dark and silent throughout the house. He judged that he must be in the central hall. He dared not use his light now, but felt his way towards the front. The sensation was not unlike that when he had been led through the house blindfolded. He touched the edge of the stairway, and guided himself to the foot. As he turned to mount, a sound brought the heart into his throat.
He identified it, and smiled grimly. It was a human snore and it came through the door on his left. This was the room where he had been confined, and it was more than likely old Simeon Deaves was sleeping there now.
He went up, stepping on the sides of the stair-treads to avoid making them creak. The stairway turned on itself in the middle, and at the top he was facing the front of the house again. Here he had to flash his light for a second. Immediately before him a pair of doors gave on the big room. They stood open. There were two more doors, one on each hand, both closed. Evan put out his light. As he did so a tiny ray of light became visible through the keyhole of the door on his left.
Evan dropped the light in his pocket, and took out his gun. Drawing a deep breath to steady himself, he smartly turned the handle and, flinging the door open, stepped back into the darkness. He saw in the centre of the great, bare, ruinous room an old packing case with a common lamp upon it, and a smaller box to sit on. He saw in the corner an army cot with a little figure lying upon it covered by a carriage robe, a figure which turned over and sat up at the sound of the door. He saw – Corinna!
CHAPTER XXII
TOWARDS MORNING
The shock of astonishment unmanned Evan. His pistol arm dropped weakly at his side, his mouth hung open, he stared like an idiot. To have crept into the house heart in mouth and pistol in hand, to have nerved himself to meet and overcome a desperate criminal – and then to find this! The violence of the reaction threw all his machinery out of gear; he stalled. He felt inclined to laugh weakly.
Corinna could not see him clearly, though presumably she was aware of a figure standing in the hall. She was very much affronted by the violence of the intrusion, and not in the least afraid. She sat up with her glorious hair a little tousled, and her eyes flashing like a diminutive empress's.
"Mr. Straiker, is it you? What does this mean?" she demanded.
Evan could not readily find his tongue. Amazement broke over him in succeeding waves like a surf. Corinna! Corinna here! Corinna a member of the blackmailing gang! Corinna, the chief! Oh, impossible! He was in a nightmare!
"Mr. Straiker!" repeated Corinna more sharply. "Come in at once!" She was on her feet now.
Evan's faculties began to work again. In anticipation he tasted the sweets of perfect revenge. This little creature had put an intolerable humiliation upon him. Very well, here she was absolutely in his power! Dropping the gun in his pocket, he stepped into the room smiling.
At sight of him Corinna did not cry out, but the shock she received was dreadfully evident in her eyes. She went back a step, one hand went to her breast, her lips formed the syllable "You!" – but no sound came from them. Every vestige of color faded from her face.
Evan's gaze burned her up; she was so beautiful, and she had injured him so! "So you're a member of the gang!" he said mockingly.
Corinna quickly recovered her forces. She shrugged disdainfully.
"And even the chief, it seems!"
"So it seems."
Amazement overcame him afresh. "You – you little thing!" he cried. "I cannot believe it!"
Corinna affected to look bored.
"So this was the real work of the brotherhood!" Evan went on. "Blackmail. This was why you couldn't fire them when they threatened you. A new way to raise money for philanthropic purposes, I swear! To hold up a usurer with one hand, and feed poor children with the other!"
"A usurer, yes," said Corinna contemptuously. "Your master!"
"That doesn't get under my skin," retorted Evan coolly. "No man is my master a day longer than I choose." He dissolved in amazement again. "But you! To think up such a scheme! To carry it out!"
"Oh, spare me your bleating!" said Corinna impatiently. "What are you going to do about it?"
"Turn you over to the police," he said promptly.
"Three of my friends are sleeping across the hall," she said.
So perfect was her aplomb that Evan was taken aback. He half turned, uncertainly. But as he did so, out of the tail of his eye he saw Corinna's hand go to her bosom. He whirled back with the gun in his hand again. A woman is at a serious disadvantage in drawing.
"Put your gun on the box," commanded Evan.
"I have no gun!" she cried. "I will not be spoken to so."
Evan took a step nearer her. His eyes glittered. "Put your gun on the box. Don't oblige me to use force. I should enjoy it far too well!"
With a sob of rage, she drew a little pistol from her dress and threw it on the box. Evan possessed himself of it.
"Now we'll see about the three friends across the hall," he said mockingly.
He backed out of the room. Corinna followed to the door. In her eye he read her purpose to make a dash for liberty down the stairs, and he took care to give her no opening. He flung open the door opposite and flashed his light inside the room. It was empty of course. He returned across the hall, and Corinna backed into the lighted room before him.
"They have stepped out, it seems," he said mockingly.
Corinna disdained to reply. Like a child, she was not in the least abashed when her bluff was called, but immediately set her wits to work to think of another.
"How do you purpose taking me to the police?" she asked scornfully.
"I'm not going to take you. They're coming here."
Corinna changed color. She studied his face narrowly. Evidently she decided that he was bluffing now, for she tossed her head.
"Go and sit down on the cot," he said coolly, "so we can talk quietly."
"I will not!" cried Corinna. "How dare you speak to me so!"
He was delighted with the spirit she showed. "It's too bad no one did it long ago," he said provokingly.
He approached her, and his eyes glittered again. Corinna, seething with rage, retreated, and plumped herself down on the cot.
"That's better," he said indulgently. He took the small box and, placing it against the wall, sat down and leaned back. Producing his pipe he filled it in leisurely style, affecting to be unconscious of her. Corinna's eyes blazed on him.
"Well, what have you to say for yourself?" he drawled at last. "You pretty little blackmailer!"
"You needn't insult me!" cried Corinna. Her eyes filled with angry tears.
But Evan's heart was hard. "Insult you!" he cried. "I like that! What have you been doing to me lately?"
"If you were capable of thinking, you would see that I could not have acted otherwise!" she said.
"You have me there," said Evan coolly. "For I don't see the necessity of being a blackmailer."
Corinna jumped up and stamped her foot. Her face reddened, and two large tears rolled down her cheeks. "Don't you dare to use that word to me again, you fool!"
Evan laughed delightedly. "Why shy at the word and commit the deed?"
"You know nothing of the circumstances!" she stormed. "You have neither sense nor feeling! You take all your ideas ready made from others. You are as empty as a drum!"
"Bravo!" he cried. "Keep it up if it makes you feel any better!"
"If it is a crime to extort money from a foul old robber and give it to the poor, all right, I'm a criminal! I glory in it! I would do it all over again!"
"I don't deny one has a sneaking sympathy with a life of crime," Evan said, affecting a judicial air. "But after all, law is law. You have to make your choice. I chose to stay inside the law, and naturally I have to uphold it like everybody on my side."
"You're a nice upholder of the law!" she cried. "You're just trying to get back at me!"
Evan grinned. "You're so frank, Corinna. But after all, being on the side of the law gives me an advantage now, doesn't it?"
"Yes, if you want to take the pay of a scoundrel like Deaves."
"Oh, I was fired some days ago. I'm working on my own now."
"You're just angry and jealous!"
"I dare say. I admit I don't mind your blackmailing operations half as much as the other thing."
"What other thing?"
"Those fellows on the Ernestina; to take advantage of their wanting you, and use them for your own ends."
"Everything was understood between us. Everything was open and aboveboard."
"Of course. But they were already enslaved, you see. And you forced them to serve your pride and arrogance. You queened it over them. That makes me more indignant than blackmailing a usurer, for the other thing's a crime against a man's best feelings, and I'm a man myself."
"You're only jealous!"
"Why should I be. I wouldn't stand for the brotherhood. I know you gave me – or I took – more than you ever gave them."
"You're a brute!"
"Why sure!"
There was a silence. Corinna kept her eyes down. It was impossible to say of what she was thinking. But her passion of anger visibly subsided. She murmured at last:
"If, as you say, you sympathise with me for getting money out of Simeon Deaves – "
"I didn't quite say that," interrupted Evan. "But it's near enough, go on!"
"Why do you want to hand me over to the police?"
It was fun to torment Corinna, and it satisfied his deep need for vengeance. But the sight of her quiet, with the curved lashes lying on her cheeks, and the soft lips drooping, went to his breast like a knife. Vengeance was suddenly appeased. Such a gallant little crook! He realised that not for a moment had he really intended to hand her over. He jumped up.
"I'm not going to send you to jail," he said. "You're going to make restitution."
Corinna stared.
"What do you mean?"
"Give me an order on Dordess for the bonds – if it is Dordess who has them, and give me your word that you will lead an honest life hereafter." He was smiling.
Corinna blazed up afresh. "Never!" she cried. "I'd die rather!"
"You must do it!"
"Why must I?"
"Because you're going to marry me, and naturally I want an honest woman to wife."
Corinna laughed a peal. "I'd die rather! And you know it now!"
Indeed in his heart he was not at all sure but that her Satanic pride might break her before she would give in, but he bluffed it out.
"Come on!" he said. "There's no time to lose. I have sent for the police though you make out not to believe it. I see you've been writing on the table. Sit down and write me an order for the bonds."
"Break up our organisation on your say-so? Never!"
"If you don't the police will. Come now, whatever happens you can't go on using those infatuated boys to further your own ends. That's low, Corinna; that's like offering a starving man husks."
"You have your gun in your pocket," she cried passionately. "Use it, for you'll never break my will!"
"It's not a bullet that waits you, but jail," said Evan grimly. "No grand-stand finish, but endless dragging days in a four-by-ten cell! Come on, give up the loot. You'll have to anyhow, and go to jail in the bargain!"
"It's not loot!" she cried. "It's mine! By every rule of justice and right, it's mine. Simeon Deaves robbed my father. Beggared him and brought him to his grave!"
"Ha!" cried Evan, "I might have guessed there was something personal here! But someone has to lose in the warfare of business."
"This was not the chance of warfare. This was malice, cold and calculated. I'll tell you. It spoiled my childhood. Deaves and my father were workers in the same church. You didn't know, did you, that Deaves was a religious man. Oh, yes, always a pillar of some church until his avarice grew so upon him that he could no longer bring himself to subscribe. My father learned that he was using his position in our church to lend money to other members at usurious interest, and to collect it under threats of exposure. My father showed him up, and Deaves was put out of the church. He set about a cold and patient scheme of revenge, but we didn't learn this until the crash came a couple of years afterwards. He bought up, – what do you call it? – all my father's paper, the notes every merchant has to give to carry on his business. At last he presented all my father's outstanding indebtedness at once with a demand for instant payment, and when my father couldn't meet it, Deaves sold him out, and we were ruined. It killed my father and embittered my mother's few remaining years.
"That was what I grew up with. I don't know when it started, but the determination to punish him grew and grew in my mind until it crowded out every other thought. I planned for years before I did anything. I followed him. I learned all about him. His avarice went to such lengths at last that I began to see my chance to show him up. I met Dordess and the others, and the idea of the Avengers slowly took shape. There was something fine to us in the idea of making him pay to bring pleasure and health to the poor. None of us would spend a cent of his filthy money on ourselves. What have I done to Deaves to repay the crushing blows he dealt to me and mine? – a few pin-pricks, that's all. Well, it is my life. I cannot change it now."
Evan was more softened than he cared to show. "I understand," he said. "It excuses your heart, but not your head. It was so foolish to try to buck the law!"
"I can't help it," she said. "I would rather die than return what I have made that old robber disgorge. I have worked too long for this!"
Evan inwardly groaned. To reason with her seemed so hopeless. "You can't live outside the pale of the law," he said. "No man can, let alone a woman. Only wretchedness can come of it!"
"I'll take my chance," she said with curling lip. "Thank God, I have friends who are not so timid."
Evan changed his tone. "Well, never mind the right and the wrong of it," he said earnestly. "Do it because I love you. I love you with all my heart. We quarrel, but my heart speaks to yours. You must hear it. I have endured from you what I believe no man ever forgave a woman. But I forgive you. If you go to jail my life will be a desert. But go to jail you shall, unless you make restitution!"
Corinna laughed mirthlessly. "Funny kind of love!" she said.
"It is the best kind of love. I have sense enough left to realise that if I give in to you on a clear question of right it would ruin us both. We would despise each other."
"I have promised to trouble the Deaves no further," she said. "They're satisfied."
"The bonds must go back."
"I had already decided to break up the Avengers, too. Isn't that enough?"
He shook his head.
She turned away. "You ask the impossible," she said. "I'd rather die!"
"But to go to jail," he said relentlessly, "to have your beautiful hair cut off" (he was not at all sure of this, but he supposed she was not either), "to wear the hideous prison dress, to have the sickly prison pallor in your clear cheeks, and your eyes dimmed. Your best years, Corinna!"
This went home. She paled; her breath came unevenly. "You say you love me," she murmured, "and you'd hand me over to that."
"I must!"
Corinna said very low: "I love you. Isn't that enough? Costs me something to say it. Costs me my pride. It would have been more merciful to beat me with a club. I cannot entreat you. I never learned how. But – but I am entreating you. Love me, Evan. Let us begin from now. Let the past be past."
Evan was tempted then. His senses reeled. But something held fast. "I can't!" he said.
She shrank sharply. "It is useless, then," she muttered. "I will not be a repentant sinner!"
"For the sake of our love, Corinna!"
"You do not love me. You want to master me."
He groaned in his helplessness.
Suddenly an ominous peremptory knock on the front door rang through the empty house.
"The police!" gasped Evan.
"Then it's over!" said Corinna, desperately calm.
"No!" he cried. "Quick! Write! I'll get you out!"
She dragged him towards the door. "Ah, come! come!" she beseeched him.
The very heart was dragged out of his breast, but he resisted her. "Choose!" he whispered. "A living death or happiness!"
For an instant their desperate eyes contended. Corinna read in his that he would never give in. She ran to the box and scribbled three lines. The knock was repeated below.
She handed him the sheet with averted head. Evan blew out the lamp. Hand in hand they ran softly down-stairs. The knock was repeated for the third time and a gruff voice commanded:
"Open the door or we'll break it down!"
Aunt Liza was in the lower hall whimpering: "Lawsy! What you gwine do, Miss?" And behind her they heard Simeon Deaves muttering confusedly: "What's the matter? What's the matter?"
Evan breathed in Corinna's ear. "The cellar door under the stairs. You lead the woman."
He felt for Simeon Deaves, and got his hand. "Follow me," he whispered. "I'll save you."
Deaves came unresistingly, his old wits in a daze. As Evan got the cellar door open the blows were falling on the front door. He flashed his light to show his little party the way down. He came last and closed the door. As he did so the front door went in with a crash. Joining the others, Evan whispered:
"Take it easy. They'll search the rooms first."
The old man whispered tremulously: "What's the matter? I don't understand."
"Be very quiet," returned Evan. "We're taking you home now. Be quiet and there will be no publicity."
It was a magical suggestion. They heard no more from Deaves.
Meanwhile heavy feet were tramping overhead. Doors were flung open. One man ran up-stairs. There were at least three men. Evan did not think it possible they had come in sufficient force to completely surround the house. It was safe enough to flash his light in the depths of the cellar. He led the way to the foot of the stone steps. The stars showed through the broken door overhead.
Making them wait behind him, he cautiously parted the thick screen of bushes and looked out. Nothing was stirring on this side of the house. The grass and weeds were waist high down to the edge of the woods. It was less than fifty yards to shelter. Evan whispered to his little party:
"Hands and knees through the grass. Take it slow. Each one keep a hand on the ankle of the one in front. Corinna, you go first."
It was done as he ordered. Surely a more oddly-assorted party of fugitives never acted in concert to escape the law: girl, negress, multi-millionaire, and artist. Like a snake with four articulations, they wound through the grass. In the most sophisticated man lingers a wild strain; the stiff-jointed millionaire took to this means of locomotion as naturally as the negress.
As they left the house behind them they came more within the range of vision of those who were presumably watching the front and back. At any rate, while they were still fifty feet from the trees, a hoarse voice was raised from the front: "There they go!" And an answering shout came from the rear.
The four fugitives of one accord rose to their feet and dashed for the trees. Gaining the shadows, Corinna whispered:
"We must separate. You take Deaves."
Evan pressed her own revolver back in her hand, whispering: "Fire it off if you are in danger."
Seizing Deaves' hand, Evan pulled him away to the right. Corinna and Aunt Liza melted in the other direction. The old man came through the underbrush like a reaping machine, and of course the police took after them. For a moment Evan considered abandoning him. He would come to no harm, of course. But on the other hand, Evan now ardently desired to have the whole affair hushed up. He got Deaves across the rough road in safety, and on the other side, coming to an immense spruce tree with drooping branches, he dragged him under it, and they sank down on a fragrant bed of needles.
The pursuing policemen, coming to the road, instinctively turned off upon it, and Evan knew they were safe for the moment. Presently they came back, aimlessly threshing the woods and flashing their lights, but they had lost the trail now. They were looking for a needle in a hay-stack. Evan's only fear was that they might stumble on Charley, but he heard no sounds from that direction that indicated they had done so. The sounds of searching moved off to the other side of the road, and Evan determined to go to Charley himself.
Leaving the old man with a whispered admonition to silence, Evan set off. He found Charley where he had left him under the leafy bush. Evan whispered in his ear:
"I found her. I am on your side now. The police are all around us. Make no sound!"