The Darkest Hour
“Wait,” said the new-comer after a moment. “Don’t try anything
foolish!” For I had drawn myself together a little, with the idea of
risking a dash at him. I stood still, my hands above my head, and
waited.
“Around my neck,” the stranger went on quickly, “you will observe a
little gold chain. And hanging from it there is a tiny golden panther.
Have you the mate to it?”
I stared at him. Then I slowly lowered my hands. “I have,” I told him.
“Let’s see it!”
My little symbol, which Moore had given me, hung from a cord around my
own neck. I fished inside my shirt, found it and held it out to him.
He stepped forward and glanced at it. “Good,” he said, and flung his
revolver on my bed. “Now we can talk.”
I sat down rather weakly. “Who are you, anyway? And why the hold-up?”
“The Chief sent me to replace Moore,” he answered. “And as to the
hold-up, look at yourself in the glass. You don’t look much like the
Society man I expected to see.”
I sat still and looked him over for a moment or two. He was tall and
raw-boned and his clothes hung on him in straight lines, like a flag
on a still day. A New England type, I thought. But the face was
cosmopolitan. It was a long, shrewd face, thin and deeply lined. The
eyes were steel blue and set rather close to a thin, aquiline nose.
But there were whimsical, mirthful lines radiating away from them, and
the mouth held humor and strength both. A man of devious ways, I
thought, but a good fellow and a good friend probably. I smiled
suddenly.
“Well, I’m damned glad you’ve come, anyway, I’ll tell you that much.
I’ve been about as busy as any man ought to be for the last three
days. And I seem to have made a pretty thorough mess of things.” I
leaned forward. “What’s your name?”
“Pride,” he answered, and we shook hands gravely. Then he got up. “The
first thing I’m going to do, my dear Clayton,” he said briskly, “is to
dress your hands and face. You’ll be a nice-looking object for a day
or two, anyway. But if we don’t put something on that face of yours,
you’ll be scarred for life. Besides, the sooner it heals, the sooner
you’ll cease to be a marked man, eh? For I don’t suppose you got that
little lot climbing trees or hitching behind wagons. So turn out your
medicine chest.”
“I haven’t a thing here,” I told him. “And that can wait. I want to
hear your news and tell you mine.”
He got up, reached for his hat and stalked to the door. “See you in
ten minutes. I’m going out for some bandages.” And he was gone.
Evidently he was used to having his own way.
He came back presently, though how he got into the house the first
time or the second I have no idea to this day. But he set nonchalantly
to work on me, and while he dressed and bandaged me up, I told him
everything that had happened to Moore and to myself up to date,
including the rescue of Natalie and the fact that I had sent Larry
home with her.
When I had finished he chuckled in a taking way. “Guess it’s a good
job I held you up, Clayton. My face would likely be bent up a bit by
now, if I’d stepped from behind that curtain of yours without a gun
and without an introduction, eh? But I think you’ve done some pretty
good work, myself.”
“What’s your news? Has the Department done anything or discovered
anything further?” I asked him.
“You bet we have. And the news is bad. The Chief told you that this
was the biggest thing that the Department ever tackled. Well, it’s
bigger than that. It’s so damned big, Clayton, that the Chief’s about
desperate.”
He lowered his voice to a whisper.
“Why, the ramifications of the thing extend into the highest circles.
And we’re running up against snags and opposition that set the old man
about wild. The fact of the matter is, the gang has a hold in some way
or other on a lot of people who should be helping us to run them to
earth. He has set the entire Secret Service to work on it. And
to-day,” he paused to let his works sink in, “he is having a session
with the President!”
“Wow,” I said, “it’s as big as that, is it? I know it’s been a damned
sight too big for Moore and me so far.”
“Of course,” he went on, “we’ve accomplished something. We know that
the headquarters of the gang are here in New York somewhere. And we
know something about their methods. We also know that they’ve
corrupted or intimidated some of the police officials here. That’s why
we daren’t call on the police until we have something pretty definite
to go on!”
“What about their methods?”
“Well, there’s a lot of money back of the organization for one thing.
And money is power wherever officials can be corrupted, and that’s
pretty near everywhere. But when they get a little higher up they have
subtler and even more effective methods. They deliberately encourage
the use of drugs among people who can help them, and then, being the
only source of supply available, they dictate about what they please
to those people. For you know what a man with a drug habit will do for
some more of the same.”
“But what’s it all about?” I demanded. “What’s it all for? And where
do they get the money and the drugs?”
He shook his head. “We don’t know,” he answered. “We imagine that some
one is trying to build up an immense and hidden power in this country.
It may be that we are dealing with a new form of Bolshevism. And we
know that they must have acquired an immense amount of money from the
sale of drugs to wealthy addicts of their own making. But nobody knows
where they get the drugs, what the drugs are exactly, or how they get
them into the country.”
“But what about these girls? What have they got to do with——”
My visitor grinned. “The Chief’s got a novel hypothesis for that,
Clayton. He believes that the girls are used as decoys in some way.
But I don’t think much of it myself, for he can’t explain why we
haven’t found any of them. You see, up to the time of his
disappearance, Moore sent in regular reports each day on what you and
he had accomplished. There was a lot in those reports about some
wonderful parties or other. And the Chief has it doped out that the
girls are forced to take a hand in giving these parties. But they
couldn’t give parties like that at the same place more than once or
we’d get to know about it. And if they moved the girls from place to
place, they’d be seen and rescued. I think he’s off on that. I don’t
believe there’s any connection between the drugs and the girls. But
then the Chief is pretty often right.”
“They could move the girls in closed cars at night without its being
noticed,” I ventured.
“What—thirty-six of them? It would be like a school treat. And I don’t
suppose they’d be any quieter than a school treat if they saw a chance
of freedom.”
“Well,” said I, “this party business is the only thing I’ve run across
that even approaches being a clew, and I’m going to follow it up until
I prove or disprove it.”
Pride nodded. “That’s what the Chief wants you to do, and that’s what
I’m here to help you to do. For my personal opinions don’t count. But
now listen, Clayton. The Chief wants you to know that he thinks you
and he too have been under-estimating this thing—under-estimating the
skill of the other side. He told me to warn you particularly not to
trust to the ignorance of any of that bunch of Russians you got mixed
up with, without being pretty sure that you have a card up your sleeve
in case you get caught.”
“I don’t trust them, man. But what can I do? I’ve got to get to one of
those parties. And if they find out who I am, or know all the time,
why I’m out of luck, that’s all. But I’m not going to let Moore stay
in their hands without trying to follow along and get him out. You see
that, don’t you?”
“I sure do,” he answered. He paused a moment. Then he reached into his
side pocket and brought out two little articles done up in
tissue-paper. “Guess the Chief thinks a good deal of you, Clayton.
Anyhow, he’s sent you a curiosity that very few operatives are allowed
to carry. This is a ring, fashioned after those which the gentle and
affectionate Borgias were said to employ. You press it on the inside
and a tiny needle sticks out of the snake’s head in front and does for
any one it touches. It does for them so quickly, too, that they never
know what struck them. The inventor presented it to the Chief.”
He handed me a curiously carved gold ring, the loop the body of a
snake, and the snake’s head, a cobra’s spread hood, the crest part of
the ring. I took it in a gingerly fashion. “What on earth does he want
me to do with this?”
“Wear it. And when you get in a tight place, use it. It is locked now
so that it can hurt no one. But holding it in a flame for two seconds
melts the lock. Then, if you lift that little catch with your thumb
and press the back of the ring, it will kill instantly any one whom
the front of the ring touches. And that’s that.”
“What’s the other little plaything?” I asked him dryly.
He drew a flat steel box about two inches in diameter from its
wrappings and held it between his finger and thumb like a conjurer.
“This, my friends, is one of the finest, strongest and most reliable
steel files ever produced. It is called ‘the burglar’s friend indeed,’
is packed in a neat box which will fit any gentleman’s vest pocket,
and is guaranteed for the life of the holder and longer. I offer it to
you for a mere pittance. Namely, your guarantee not to use it to break
out of jail.”
“I won’t pay that much,” I laughed. “Not with the police after me as
they are at present.”
“All right, take it for nothing. Anyhow, I guess we can prevent your
going to jail. The Chief has given you and me a free hand. And he’ll
dope out some way to help us deal with the police situation. He’s
coming to New York himself.”
“By gad, I wish he would,” I answered. “I’d feel a lot easier in my
mind. I hate to think of Moore.”
“Never mind, we’ll get him out between us,” Pride answered. “And now I
think we’d both better go to bed. It looks like I’ll have an active
day to-morrow, and you want to get a good rest so that your face will
heal up and you’ll be able to get out and about again.”
“All right. Where are you living?”
“Next door. I’ll be in in the morning. So long!” And he was gone.
I stowed away the two diverse weapons which the Chief had sent me, in
my pockets where I could lay my hands on them. Then I went to bed. And
I only remember my head hitting the pillow, for I was dog-tired.
Besides, I was a good deal relieved to have reënforcements present and
on the way. I had already realized, in a vague way, that the thing I
was up against must be pretty huge and pretty cleverly organized. It
was no sort of a proposition for one man to tackle.
Pride woke me the next morning. He had a paper with him, and he sat
commenting drolly on the news of the day, while I bathed and ordered
my breakfast. My face and hands were pretty sore that morning and I
was not very good-tempered, but Pride did not seem to mind that. And
presently my own temper improved.
I interrupted his soliloquy finally. “Look here, can’t we get hold of
Captain Peters or somebody and have this charge against me quashed?” I
demanded. “How can I get out and do anything in these duds and with
the police looking for me?”
He shook his head. “Can’t be done, Clayton. You see, if we exercise
pressure and have you cleared, the police force are bound to know
about it. We know that some of the officers at least are hand in glove
with this gang, though we don’t know which ones. And then they’d know
at once—the gang, I mean—that you were either part of the Secret
Service or under its protection.
“Then you’d be a worse marked man than you are now. You couldn’t do a
thing then. For we know that they have organized an intelligence
service that’s damned near as good as our own. They know every move we
make almost as soon as we make it. We’ve had ample proof of that,
though they don’t know the details of course. The Chief has his
suspicions as to the leak in the Department and I don’t believe it
will last much longer. But until it stops, clearing you through the
Secret Service would be just about the same as signing your
death-warrant, unless you went right away and gave the case up
entirely, and we don’t want you to do that.”
“All right,” I answered, making a wry face. “I’ll be hunter and hunted
at the same time for a while longer then.”
There was a little pause. “By the way, Clayton, have you called up
your man this morning?”
“No, by Jove, I haven’t. Why?”
“Well, this is a so-called afternoon paper, although it’s only about
eleven o’clock now. But I’m surprised they haven’t any news in it of
the return of the girl you rescued.”
I stared at him. “Why should they?”
“Well, let’s call him up anyway, shall we? I want to meet him.”
His words made me vaguely anxious, and I dressed quickly and went
downstairs to the ’phone. I called Larry’s house and asked to speak to
Tom O’Dowd. Evidently it was his landlady at the other end, for the
answer was short and to the point. “He’s not here—and he ain’t been
here sence yestiddy. Nice goings on fer a respectible house!”
“Do you mean to say he didn’t come home last night?” I shouted.
“He did not!” the woman shouted back and slammed up the receiver.
I started back to Pride with a horrible sinking sensation in the pit
of my stomach. It would be too rotten luck if anything had happened to
the two of them on the way home.
But before I reached my room I turned back to the telephone and called
up Mrs. Trevor’s house, whither I had directed the taxi with Natalie
and Larry. Mrs. Trevor herself answered the ’phone.
“Hello, Mrs. Trevor. This is Clayton speaking. May I speak to Miss Van
Cleef?” I inquired.
Mrs. Trevor’s voice was at once tearful and resentful. “Surely, Mr.
Clayton, you know that Natalie can’t be found?”
“My God,” I shouted, “didn’t she get home last night?”
“She did not. Get home last night? Why, what do you mean? Have you
seen her?”
“Seen her? I should say I have seen her. I——” and then common sense
returned. “But I may have been mistaken,” I added lamely. It would be
a nice state of affairs if I told Mrs. Trevor about finding Natalie
and started that lady off denouncing Mrs. Fawcette before our plans
were ready.
Mrs. Trevor’s voice was wildly excited now. “Tell me what you mean,
Mr. Clayton. Tell me at once please. I——”
And then I was inexcusably rude to a lady. I hung up without a word
more. For no matter what I told the lady, it would only start her off
on some tack or other that would be likely to interfere with our
plans. And Natalie had to be found, and found at once.
As I entered my room, Pride started up from his chair. “She did not
get home at all!” he shouted.
“That’s right,” I answered. “I’ve made a mess of it again. And this
time—I can’t think—I can’t think what it will mean to her. I—I can’t
think about it at all. It will drive me mad!”
He came over to me at that. “Steady, old man. We’ll find her again. I
have a hunch we’re going to clear up this whole business in a few
days. And then——”
“A few days!” I groaned. “Man, what’s happening to her now?” I flung
myself on the bed. “God, if they’ve captured her again, those swine!
Man, can’t we do something? Can’t we get in touch with Captain Peters
and have Mrs. Fawcette’s house raided? They may be still there and we
may be able to find out something from them. Suggest something, will
you, for God’s sake!” I was nearly beside myself. “And what about
Larry?” I shouted. “He’s probably done for by this time. And I dragged
him into this thing.”
“Quiet, old man. Quiet!” Pride came over and put his hand on my arm.
“I’ll tell you what we’ll do. I’ll take a look around the Fawcette
house and see what’s doing. And I’ll wire the Chief the latest
developments. But for the rest we’ll just have to wait.”
I pulled myself together then. “All right,” I answered quietly.
“Sorry. But I may as well tell you that Miss Van Cleef is to be my
wife, even though she may not know it yet.”
Pride whistled. Then he got up. “I’ll go now and see who’s in the
house still. I may be able to find out something.” And he hurried out
of the room.
“Don’t run into a trap there,” I called after him. And then I turned
away and fell to pacing the floor, back and forth, back and forth, to
get a grip on myself. But it was a long time before I could even make
an attempt to think clearly and plan ahead.
It was a weary wait. I had lunch in my room and in the afternoon tried
to sleep a little. But it was no go; and the afternoon was the longest
I have ever spent. It was well after dark when Pride came back. He
stood in the doorway for a moment, staring at me.
“They got them,” he said bluntly, “both of them.” He came over and
laid his hand on my shoulder. “The house is empty and Mrs. Fawcette
appears to have skipped. She has told the papers that she is ‘out of
town.’ I traced the taxi and found that it must have been in the hire
of the gang. Probably one of their men driving it. For a cop on night
duty reported a disturbance and several shots in the Park last night,
between one and two o’clock. And afterwards a taxi shot past him,
going like the wind. He got the number, traced it and found that no
such license had been issued. It was a black car with an unusually
long body.”
“That’s the one,” I answered wearily. I stared at him. “What on earth
shall we do now?”
He swung a chair briskly into place in front of my table and sat down.
“Draw up a chair, light a smoke and I’ll tell you,” he answered. “For
there’s only one thing, that I can see, left to do.” He held out his
hand. “And cheer up, old man. This is the darkest hour. And that
always comes before the dawn, you know.”