_The Girl Thief_
Before that death sentence had been passed on him Ronicky Doone stood
before the door of his room, with the trembling girl beside him.
"Wait here," he whispered to her. "Wait here while I go in and wake him
up. It's going to be the greatest moment in his life! Poor Bill Gregg is
going to turn into the richest man in New York City--all in one moment!"
"But I don't dare go in. It will mean--"
"It will mean everything, but it's too late to turn back now. Besides,
in your heart of hearts, you don't want to turn back, you know!"
Quickly he passed into the room and hurried to the bed of Bill Gregg.
Under the biting grip of Doone's hand Bill Gregg writhed to a sitting
posture, with a groan. Still he was in the throes of his dream and only
half awakened.
"I've lost her," he whispered.
"You're wrong, idiot," said Ronicky softly, "you're wrong. You've won
her. She's at the door now, waiting to come in."
"Ronicky," said Bill Gregg, suddenly awake, "you've been the finest
friend a man ever had, but, if you make a joke out of her, I'll wring
your neck!"
"Sure you would. But, before you do that, jump into your clothes and
open the door."
Sleep was still thick enough in the brain of Bill Gregg to make him obey
automatically. He stumbled into his clothes and then shambled dizzily to
the door and opened it. As the light from the room struck down the hall
Ronicky saw his friend stiffen to his full height and strike a hand
across his face.
"Stars and Stripes!" exclaimed Bill Gregg. "The days of the miracles
ain't over!"
Ronicky Doone turned his back and went to the window. Across the street
rose the forbidding face of the house of John Mark, and it threatened
Ronicky Doone like a clenched hand, brandished against him. The shadow
under the upper gable was like the shadow under a frowning brow. In that
house worked the mind of John Mark. Certainly Ronicky Doone had won the
first stage of the battle between them, but there was more to come--much
more of that battle--and who would win in the end was an open question.
He made up his mind grimly that, whatever happened, he would first ship
Bill Gregg and the girl out of the city, then act as the rear guard to
cover their retreat.
When he returned they had closed the door and were standing back from
one another, with such shining eyes that the heart of Ronicky Doone
leaped. If, for a moment, doubt of his work came to him, it was
banished, as they glanced toward him.
"I dunno how he did it," Bill Gregg was stammering, "but here it
is--done! Bless you, Ronicky."
"A minute ago," said Ronicky, "it looked to me like the lady didn't know
her own mind, but that seems to be over."
"I found my own mind the moment I saw him," said the girl.
Ronicky studied her in wonder. There was no embarrassment, no shame to
have confessed herself. She had the clear brow of a child. Suddenly, it
seemed to Ronicky that he had become an old man, and these were two
children under his protection. He struck into the heart of the problem
at once.
"The main point," he said, "is to get you two out of town, as quick as
we can. Out West in Bill's country he can take care of you, but back
here this John Mark is a devil and has the strength to stop us. How
quick can you go, Caroline?"
"I can never go," she said, "as long as John Mark is alive."
"Then he's as good as dead," said Bill Gregg. "We both got guns, and, no
matter how husky John Mark may be, we'll get at him!"
The girl shook her head. All the joy had gone out of her face and left
her wistful and misty eyed. "You don't understand, and I can't tell you.
You can never harm John Mark."
"Why not?" asked Bill Gregg. "Has he got a thousand men around him all
the time? Even if he has they's ways of getting at him."
"Not a thousand men," said the girl, "but, you see, he doesn't need
help. He's never failed. That's what they say of him: 'John Mark, the
man who has never lost!'"
"Listen to me," said Ronicky angrily. "Seems to me that everybody stands
around and gapes at this gent with the sneer a terrible lot, without a
pile of good reasons behind 'em. Never failed? Why, lady, here's one
night when he's failed and failed bad. He's lost you!"
"No," said Caroline.
"Not lost you?" asked Bill Gregg. "Say, you ain't figuring on going back
to him?"
"I have to go back."
"Why?" demanded Gregg.
"It's because of you," interpreted Ronicky Doone. "She knows that, if
she leaves you, Mark will start on your trail. Mark is the name of the
gent with the sneer, Bill."
"He's got to die, then, Ronicky."
"I been figuring on the same thing for a long time, but he'll die hard,
Bill."
"Don't you see?" asked the girl. "Both of you are strong men and brave,
but against John Mark I know that you're helpless. It isn't the first
time people have hated him. Hated? Who does anything but hate him? But
that doesn't make any difference. He wins, he always wins, and that's
why I've come to you."
She turned to Bill Gregg, but such a sad resignation held her eyes that
Ronicky Doone bowed his head.
"I've come to tell you that I love you, that I have always loved you,
since I first began writing to you. All of yourself showed through your
letters, plain and strong and simple and true. I've come tonight to tell
you that I love you, but that we can never marry. Not that I fear him
for myself, but for you."
"Listen here," said Bill Gregg, "ain't there police in this town?"
"What could they do? In all of the things which he has done no one has
been able to accuse him of a single illegal act--at least no one has
ever been able to prove a thing. And yet he lives by crime. Does that
give you an idea of the sort of man he is?"
"A low hound," said Bill Gregg bitterly, "that's what he shows to be."
"Tell me straight," said Ronicky, "what sort of a hold has he got over
you? Can you tell us?"
"I have to tell you," said the girl gravely, "if you insist, but won't
you take my word for it and ask no more?"
"We have a right to know," said Ronicky. "Bill has a right, and, me
being Bill's friend, I have a right, too."
She nodded.
"First off, what's the way John Mark uses you?"