Jan stood up. "Here!" He handed the boy a quarter. "A wonder a boy like
you hangs out round here!"
"I run Mrs. Goles's errands. I been runnin' 'em since I was a kid. My
mother used to work for her mother. She was a lady."
Jan was heading for the side door, the door which led into the alley.
"Will I tell her you're comin' back, mister?"
"Tell who?"
"Why, that girl you was with."
"Tell her nothing. Nor"--Jan nodded his head toward the pool-room--"him.
Better go home. This is no place for a good boy like you."
Jan went out by the alley; and from there, after peeking to see that
nobody was looking out of the pool-room windows, he stepped quickly up
the front steps of the house.
Cautiously he unlocked the door. He could hear voices, but not
distinctly. Quietly he tiptoed toward the head of the back stairs. It
was Mrs. Goles who was talking.
"Didn't I warn you again and again never to bother him?" Jan heard.
"An' why not?"
"Why? He's a lodger--that's why."
"Is that why? Say, but ain't you takin' an awful sudden interest in yer
lodgers though! Are yuh sure you don't want him for yerself? Are yuh
sure he ain't something more than a lodger?"
"You--you--"
"Me--me! Yes, me. D'yuh think I ain't been onto yuh? D'yuh think I ain't
seen any o' that billy-dooin'--you an' him upstairs in the
entryway--huh? An' d'yuh think Hen ain't wise too? D'yuh think he gave
me the top-floor room for nothin'--huh? Oh, yes; we're a couple o'
come-ons--Hen an' me--oh, yes! Run along now, Salomey--he's there,
waitin' for me. D'yuh hear--waitin' for me! They all fall when yuh play
'em right. All of 'em. Thought yuh had'm to yerself--huh? Well, guess
different next time; for he's out there waitin' for me--the soft-headed
Dutchman! Beat it! Beat it when yer gettin' the worst of it. An' talk
any more about a policeman--an' see what Hen says to it!"
Jan could hear Mrs. Goles ascending the stairs behind him. He hurried
up, intending to get to his room and hide away before she knew, but it
was the last key of the bunch which fitted the lock, and before he had
the door opened she was up with him.
She turned the hall light up to see him better.
"Weren't you downstairs in the back room a minute ago?" she asked at
last.
"I was; but--" Jan reached up a heavy hand and rubbed his forehead. "I
was--I know I was; but--" somehow he was feeling bewildered.
She drew nearer to him.
"Come nearer the light. Stand where the light will be on your face. Let
me see your eyes. There--you can't keep them open. Did you drink that
second glass of ginger ale--after it was brought in all opened up?
Never mind trying to speak--just bow your head. You did? Oh, you poor
innocent boy! Here--go into your room. And wait there. I'll be right
back. Light the lamp if you can while you're waiting."
Jan managed to light the lamp.
She was soon back with a bowl of something hot which she held to Jan's
lips--a nasty-tasting stuff. While he stopped once to get his breath she
stepped to the door, took the key from the outside and set it on the
inside. She stepped to Jan's side again. "Finish it!" she ordered.
"Every drop. There--but sh-h!--hear'em?"
"Hear what, ma'am?"
"The footsteps--coming upstairs. Creeping up. Hear 'em?" She stepped to
the light and blew it out. She stepped to the door and turned the key.
"Oh-h!" Jan had fallen backward on the bed and now was rolling from side
to side. His stomach was griping him like a burning hand.
"Hold in for a minute if you can!" she whispered
Nausea uncontrollable, as it seemed to Jan, was taking hold of him when
a knock came on the door. "Sh-h!" she warned, and Jan controlled
himself. He wanted more than ever to vomit, but there came another knock
on the door--and another. And then the knob was turned.
A silence then; and then a voice--a man's voice: "I told you you were
crazy. He felt dizzy and went out into the street for some fresh air.
You shouldn't 've left him once he got the stuff into him. Take a look
round the block. He's probably laying in the gutter somewhere with that
load into him."
The voice stopped, footsteps followed, the stairs creaked. And Jan's
tortured stomach was allowed its relief. And while he retched in the
dark Mrs. Goles held his head and, soaking a towel in the water jar,
bathed his forehead and face and neck, and kept wetting the towel and
bathing his head with the cold water until at last, with a grateful
sigh, Jan stood up and said:
"I think it's all gone now."
"That's good. So I'll be leaving you. And you--" They had been talking
in whispers, but at this point her voice broke into a cough. When she
spoke again her voice was husky and pitched in a higher key. "But
you--listen! You must leave this house!"
"Why must I leave?"
"It's no place for you."
"And is it for you, ma'am?" he asked her.
"For me? No--nor for any woman. But I'm talking about you.
To-morrow--don't say a word to him downstairs--but to-morrow, when your
week's up, take your grip and walk out."
"The day after to-morrow," amended Jan. "Tomorrow's Saturday and I has
to be at the dry dock. But what will become of you?"
"There'll nothing become of me--no more than before."
"He will beat you?"
"Beat me! If he don't any more than beat me!" Jan fancied she was
smiling at him in the dark. "But I'd better go. Good-night."
"Good-night," said Jan. "And I'll see you to-morrow to say good-by."
"Yes," she said. "I'll be about. Good-night."
"Good-night," said Jan again, and found himself standing at the door
after it had opened and closed behind her.
* * * * *
"I wonder," thought Jan, "if he will beat her!" And he stooped to lock
the door. His hand was on the key, but he did not turn it. Who was that?
Jan had keen hearing. He jammed his ear against the crack. It was the
sound of breathing, heavy breathing, of breathing and tramping, and
now--Jan had been listening for perhaps a minute--of suppressed voices.
Jan stepped back to the washstand and poured out a glass of water. He
took it at a gulp. He had another. It was cold and bracing to his
fevered stomach. He stepped to the door, cautiously turned the knob and
slowly drew the door to him. He peeped out.
Under the hall light he saw them--she jammed back against the stair-rail
and he with his hands at her throat. His back was to Jan.
"Where is it? Come--give up!" he was saying. Jan could not hear what she
said; but the man took a fresh grip and shook her. "Don't tell me
anything like that! You gave in at last and got the money off him. Give
it up!"
"I did not! I'm not that kind of a woman--not yet. I may be yet if you
keep on--but I'm not yet. And he's not that kind of a man."
"You're not? And he's not? And you an hour in his room with the door
locked! You got money off him! Give it to me!"
"N-no--no!"
"You lie, you--" He shifted his grip to her hair and started to drag her
along the hall.
Jan stepped softly out, reached his arms round Goles's shoulders, drew
them tight against his own chest; and then, holding him safe with his
elbows, he ran his fingers down until they felt the knuckles of the
other's hands. And then he squeezed. With thumb and forefinger of each
hand he squeezed. Jan could pick up a keg of copper rivets with one
thumb and forefinger and toss it across the deck of a ship. And now he
squeezed. Goles hung on. Jan squeezed. The knuckles began to crack.
"G-g-g--" snarled the other and loosed his grip.
Jan relaxed the grip of his thumb and forefinger, swung the man round,
walked to the head of the stairs, raised his left knee, pressed it
against the small of Goles's back, shifted his right hand to behind the
man's shoulders and suddenly let knee and arm shoot out together. In one
magnificent curve, and without touching a step on the way, Goles fetched
up on the lower hall floor.
He stood up after a while and made as if to come back upstairs. As he
did so Jan made as if to go down.
Goles glared up at him.
"So it is you!"
"Yes, it's me," said Jan. "Come!"
"Come? No! But you wait there, will you? Just wait there and see what
happens to you! Wait!" And even as he called that last "Wait!" he was
running for the back stairs.
Jan turned to her. She was sitting on the floor with her back against
the stair-rail. Her knees were drawn up, and with elbows on knees she
was supporting her head in her hands.
"Where is he gone to?" asked Jan.
"I don't know--to get his revolver probably."
Jan bent over to see her face. A great listlessness was all he could
read there.
"Would he shoot? Did he ever shoot anybody?"
"Yes--two. But the police never found out. You'd better get out while
there's time."
"And won't he shoot you?"
She raised her head to look at him. "No," she answered presently--"not
just now. He will some day--that's sure. He promised me that more than
once, and he means it; but I don't think he will to-night."
"Then, if ever he meant it, he will to-night," said Jan. "I don't want
to get shot; and I'm going. You better come too." She shook her head.
"Yes," He put an arm under her shoulder. "Come."
"No, no. I mustn't."
"But you must." Jan put his other arm under her and lifted her to her
feet; but yet she lay heavy, half-resisting. "Come," said Jan. "I'll
take you out of here--to my mother."
"Your mother?" she repeated, and straightened up; but almost instantly
fell back. "But we can't now!" she whispered.
"Why?" whispered Jan.
"It's too late. Hear him?" Jan heard steps on the landing below; and as
he listened and looked the light in the hall below went out. "You can't
get out the front door in time now," she said hopelessly.
"There's more ways than front doors to get out of a house. And there's
lights to put out up here too." He reached up and turned down the
lamp-wick, then blew out the flame. "Come," he whispered, and led her
into his room and locked the door.
He groped for the bed, tore off the sheets, twisted them tightly and
knotted them together. "There!" he said, and, taking a turn of it under
her arms, let her down from the window into the alley. Then he swept
into his suit-case a few things from the dresser and snapped it, and
dropped it out the window.
He was about to fasten one end of the twisted sheets about the bedpost,
to let himself down; but hearing the door-knob slowly turning he did not
finish the job. He dropped the sheet, lowered himself by his hands from
the window-sill and let go. He landed without damage.
"Come," he said, and led the way to the street. At the first corner he
turned. At the next corner he turned. At the third corner a cab was in
sight. He helped her in.
"Do you know," Jan whispered to her, "a good hotel I could tell him to
drive to?"
"With me looking as I am? Why, no. Tell him any hotel we can get into."
Jan addressed the cabman.
"I want"--he said it very distinctly, so that there could be no
mistake--"a good hotel to take a lady to."
"A lady? An' a _good_ hotel? Sure thing. Jump in."
Jan got in and sat opposite to her. She was restoring order to her hair.
"Did the cabby laugh?" she asked.
"No. Why should he?"
"Why?" Jan saw that she was staring at him. Suddenly her stare was
transformed to a soft smile. "Oh-h--sometimes these cabbies think
they're funny."
Presently the cab stopped. Jan looked out. It was a hotel, with a wide
door and a narrow one. The narrow door was marked "Ladies' Entrance,"
and through the transom a red light shone.
"Wait," said Jan.
He went through the wide door to the desk. "I want a room for a lady,"
he said to the clerk.
"Lady? Sure. Four dollars."
Jan paid the four dollars and registered. The clerk touched a bell. A
boy bobbed up.
"I will bring her in by the ladies' entrance," said Jan; but in passing
out to the street he caught a glimpse of a room across the hall--a room
with tables, and men and women at the tables, and drinks on the tables.
He halted for a longer look and went out to the cab finally with a
troubled look.
"There's a room for you, but"--he took off his hat and ran his fingers
through his hair--"I don't think you ought to stay here." He had put his
head inside the cab and was speaking low, so that the cabman should not
hear. "I don't think it's a nice place for a lady."
"But"--she almost smiled--"I'm afraid we'll have to put up with it.
Look!" She spread wide her rumpled skirt. Her eyes rolled down to
indicate her torn bodice. With her fingertips she touched the bruises on
her face and the marks on her neck. "And I haven't even a hat on," she
concluded with an undoubted smile.
Jan gave in. He paid the cabman, and led her through the ladies'
entrance to where the bell-boy was waiting. The boy led the way
upstairs, opened a door and turned on the light.
"You wait out in the hall," Jan said to the bell-boy. "The lady may want
hot water and things to clean up. You know? The lady"--Jan tapped the
boy on the shoulder--"fell out of a buggy and lost her hat." He handed
the boy a dollar bill. "You understand now?"
The boy tucked the bill away. "I'm wise! I'm wise!" He winked at Jan and
left the room.