THE BATTLE IN THE MAZE
For an instant I was overwhelmed with terror and self-reproach. The
bolted door before me gave notice of danger as plainly as though the
word had been painted upon its front. The dark and lowering walls of
the passage in which the Wolf figure of Doddridge Knapp had appeared
and disappeared whispered threats. The close air was heavy with the
suggestion of peril, and the solitary lamp that gave its dim light from
the end of the passage flashed a smoky warning. And I, in my folly and
carelessness, had brought Luella Knapp into this place and exposed her
to the dangers that encircled me. It was this thought that, for the
moment, unnerved me.
“What does this mean?” asked Luella in a matter-of-fact tone.
“It is a poor practical joke, I fear,” said I lightly. I took occasion
to shift a revolver to my overcoat pocket.
“Well, aren't you going to get me out of here?” she asked with a little
suggestion of impatience.
“That is my present intention,” I replied, beating a tattoo on the door.
“You'll hurt your fists,” she said. “You must find some way besides
beating it down.”
“I'm trying to bring our friends here,” said I. “They should have been
with us before now.”
“Isn't there another way out?” asked Luella.
“I suspect there are a good many ways out,” I replied, “but,
unfortunately, I don't know them.” And I gave a few resounding kicks on
the door.
“Where does this stairway go, I wonder?” said Luella.
“Into the celestial regions, I suppose,” I ventured.
Matters were in too serious a position for the jest to be appreciated,
and Luella continued:
“It can't be the way out. Isn't there another?”
“We might try the passage.”
She gave a shudder and shrank toward me.
“No, no,” she cried in a low voice. “Try the door again. Somebody must
hear you, and it may be opened.”
I followed her suggestion with a rain of kicks, emphasized with a shout
that made the echoes ring gloomily in the passage.
I heard in reply a sound of voices, and then an answering shout, and the
steps of men running.
“Are you there, Mr. Wilton?” cried the voice of Corson through the door.
“Yes, all safe,” I answered.
“Well, just hold on a bit, and we'll--”
The rest of his sentence was lost in a suppressed scream from Luella.
I turned and darted before her, just in time to face three Chinese
ruffians who were hastening down the passage. The nearest of the trio,
a tall dark savage with a deep scar across his cheek, was just reaching
out his hand to seize Luella when I sprang forward and planted a blow
square upon his chin. He fell back heavily, lifted almost off his feet
by my impact, and lay like a log on the floor.
The other two ruffians halted irresolute for an instant, and I drew my
revolver. In the faint light of the passage I could scarcely see their
villainous faces. The countenance of the coolie is not expressive at
best, but I could feel, rather than see, the stolid rascality of their
appearance. Their wish seemed to be to take me alive if possible. After
a moment of hesitation there was a muttered exclamation and one of the
desperadoes drew his hand from his blouse.
“Oh!” cried Luella. “He's got a knife!”
Before he could make another movement I fired once, twice, three times.
There was a scramble and scuffle in the passageway, and the smoke rolled
thick in front, blotting out the scene that had stood in silhouette
before us.
Fearful of a rush from the Chinese, I threw one arm about Luella, and,
keeping my body between her and possible attack, guided her to the
stair that led upward at nearly right angles from the passage. She was
trembling and her breath came short, but her spirit had not quailed. She
shook herself free as I placed her on the first step.
“Have you killed them?” she asked quietly.
“I hope so,” I replied, looking cautiously around the corner to see the
results of my fusillade. The smoke had spread into a thin haze through
the passage.
“There's one fellow there,” I said. “But it's the one I knocked down.”
“Can't you see the others?” inquired Luella.
“No more in sight,” said I, after a bolder survey. “They've run away.”
“Oh, I'm glad,” said Luella. “I should have seen them always if you had
killed them.”
“I shouldn't have minded giving them something to remember,” said
I, vexed at my poor display of marksmanship, but feeling an innate
conviction that I must have hit them.
“What on earth did they attack us for?” exclaimed Luella indignantly.
“We hadn't hurt anything.”
Before I could reply to Luella's question, a tattoo was beaten upon the
door and a muffled shout came from the other side. I stepped down from
the stair to listen.
“Are you hurt?” shouted Corson. “What's the matter?”
“No damage,” I returned. “I drove them off.”
Corson shouted some further words, but they were lost in a sudden murmur
of voices and a scuffle of feet that arose behind.
“Look out!” cried Luella peremptorily. “Come back here!”
I have said that the passage opened into a little court, and at the end
a lamp gave light to the court and the passage.
As I turned I saw a confusion of men pouring into the open space and
heading for the passage. They were evidently Chinese, but in the
gleam of the lamp I was sure I saw the evil face and snake-eyes of
Tom Terrill. He was wrapped in the Chinese blouse, but I could not be
mistaken. Then with a chorus of yells there was the crack of a pistol,
and a bullet struck the door close to my ear.
It was all done in an instant. Before the sound of the shot I dropped,
and then made a leap for the stair.
“Oh!” cried Luella anxiously; “were you hit?”
“No, I'm all right,” I said, “but it was a close shave. The gang means
mischief.”
“Go up the stairs, and find a way out or a place to hide,” said Luella
excitedly. “Give me the pistol. They won't hurt me. It's you they're
after. Go, now.”
Her tone was the tone of the true daughter of the Wolf.
“Thank you, Miss Knapp. I have a pressing engagement here with a lady,
and I expect to meet Mr. Corson in a few minutes.”
I stooped on an impulse and kissed the back of her gloved hand, and
murmured, “I couldn't think of leaving.”
“Well, tell me something I can do,” she said.
I gave her my smaller revolver. “Hand that to me when I want it,” I
said. “If I'm killed, get up the stairs and defend yourself with it.
Don't fire unless you have to. We are short of ammunition.” I had but
three shots in the large six-shooter.
“Are they coming?” asked Luella, as the wild tumult of shouts stilled
for a moment and a single voice could be heard.
I peered cautiously around the corner.
“There's a gentleman in a billycock hat who's rather anxious to have
them lead the way,” I said; “but they seem to prefer listening to
fighting.”
The gentleman whose voice was for war I discovered to be my snake-eyed
friend. He seemed to be having difficulty with the language, and was
eking out his Pidgin-English with pantomime.
“There!” cried Luella with a start; “what's that?”
A heavy blow shook the walls of the building and sounded through the
passage.
“Good!” I said. “If our friends yonder are going to make trouble they
must do it at once. Corson's got an ax, and the door will be down first
they know.”
“Thank Heaven!” whispered Luella. And then she began to tremble.
The blows followed fast upon each other, but suddenly they were drowned
in a chorus of yells, and a volley of revolver shots sent the bullets
spatting against the door.
“Look out, Miss Knapp,” I said. “They're coming. Stand close behind me,
and crouch down if they get this far.”
I could feel her straighten and brace herself once more behind me as I
bent cautiously around the corner.
The band was advancing with a frightful din, but was making more noise
than speed. Evidently it had little heart for its job.
I looked into the yelling mob for the snake-eyed agent of Doddridge
Knapp, but could not single him out.
I dared wait no longer. Aiming at the foremost I fired twice at the
advancing assailants. There were shouts and screams of pain in answer,
and the line hesitated. I gave them the remaining cartridge, and,
seizing the smaller weapon from Luella, fired as rapidly as I could pull
the trigger.
The effect was instantaneous. With a succession of howls and curses the
band broke and ran--all save one man, who leaped swiftly forward with a
long knife in his hand.
It would have gone hard with me if he had ever reached me, for he was
a large and powerful fellow, and my last shot was gone. But in the
dark and smoky passage he stumbled over the prostrate body of the first
desperado whom I had been fortunate enough to knock down, and fell
sprawling at full length almost at my feet.
With one leap I was on his back, and with a blow from the revolver I had
quieted him, wrenched the knife from his hand, and had the point resting
on his neck.
Luella gave a scream.
“Oh!” she cried, “are you hurt?”
“No,” I said lightly, “but I don't think this gentleman is feeling very
well. He's likely to have a sore head for a day or two.”
“Come back here,” said Luella in a peremptory tone. “Those men may come
again and shoot you.”
“I don't think so,” said I. “The door is coming down. But, anyhow, I
can't leave our friend here. Lie still!” I growled, giving the captive
a gentle prod in the neck with the point of his knife to emphasize my
desire to have peace and quiet between us.
I heard him swear under his breath. The words were foreign, but there
was no mistaking the sentiment behind them.
“You aren't killing him are you?” inquired Luella anxiously.
“I think it might be a service to the country,” I confessed, “but I'll
save him for the hangman.”
“You needn't speak so regretfully,” laughed Luella, with a little return
of her former spirit. “But here our people come.”
The ax had been plied steadily on the stubborn planks all through the
conflict and its sequel. But the iron-bound beams and heavy lock
had been built to resist police raids, and the door came down with
difficulty.
At last it was shaking and yielding, and almost as Luella spoke it
swayed, bent apart, and broke with a crash, and with a babel of shouts
Corson, Porter, Barkhouse and Wainwright, with two more policemen,
poured through the opening.
“Praise the powers, you're safe!” cried Corson, wringing my hand, while
the policemen took the prostrate Chinese in charge. “And is the young
lady hurt?”
“No harm done,” said Luella. “Mr. Wilton is quite a general.”
“I can't think what's got into the scoundrelly highbinders,” said Corson
apologetically. “It's the first time I ever knew anything of the kind to
happen.” And he went on to explain that while the Chinese desperado is a
devil to fight among his own kind, he does not interfere with the white
man.
I called my men aside and spoke sharply.
“You haven't obeyed orders,” I said. “You, Porter, and you, Barkhouse,
were to keep close by me to-night. You didn't do it, and it's only by
good luck that the young lady and I were not killed. You, Wainwright,
were to follow Tom Terrill. I saw Terrill just now in a gang of Chinese,
and you turn up on the other side of a barred door.”
Porter and Barkhouse looked sheepish enough, but Wainwright protested:
“I was following Terrill when he gets into a gang of highbinders, and
goes into one of these rooms over here a ways. I waits a while for
him, and then starts to look around a bit, and first I knows, I runs up
against Porter here hunting for an ax, and crazy as a loon, saying as
how you was murdered, and they had got to save you.”
“Well, just keep close to me for the rest of the night, and we'll say
no more about it. There's no great damage done--nothing but a sore
knuckle.” I was feeling now the return effects of my blow on the
coolie's chin. I felt too much in fault myself to call my attendants
very sharply to task. It was through me that Luella had come into
danger, and I had to confess that I had failed in prudence and had come
near to paying dear for it.
“I don't understand this, Mr. Wilton,” said Corson in confidential
perplexity. “I don't see why the haythen were after yez.”
“I saw--I saw Tom Terrill,” said I, stumbling over the name of Doddridge
Knapp. I determined to keep the incident of his appearance to myself.
“I don't see how he worked it,” said Corson with a shake of the head.
“They don't like to stand against a white man. It's a quare tale he must
have told 'em, and a big sack he must have promised 'em to bring 'em
down on ye. Was it for killin' ye they was tryin', or was they for
catchin' yez alive?”
“They were trying to take us alive at first, I think, but the bullets
whistled rather close for comfort.”
“I was a little shaky myself, when they plunked against the door,” said
Corson with a smile.
“Oh, Mr. Wilton,” said Mrs. Bowser, “it was awful of you--for it was so
frightfully improper to get behind that locked door, to say nothing of
throwing us all into conniptions with firing guns, and calling for axes,
and highbinders, and police, and Heaven knows what all--and what are
highbinders, Mr. Wilton? And it's a blessing we have our dear Luella
safe with us again. I was near fainting all the time, and it's a mercy I
had a smelling bottle.”
“Dear Luella” looked distressed, and while Corson was attempting to
explain to Mrs. Bowser the nature of the blackmailing bands of the
Chinese criminal element, Luella said:
“Please get us out of this. I can't stand it.”
I had marveled at her calm amid the excited talk of those about her,
but I saw now that it was forced by an effort of her will. She was sadly
shaken.
“Take my arm,” I said. “Mr. Corson will lead the way.” I signed to
Porter to go ahead and to Barkhouse and Wainwright to follow me. “It's
very close here.”
“It's very ridiculous of me,” said Luella, with an hysterical laugh,
“but I'm a little upset.”
“I dare say you're not used to it,” I suggested dryly.
Luella gave me a quick glance.
“No, are you? It's not customary in our family,” she said with an
attempt at gaiety.
I thought of the wolf-figure who had come out of the opium-den, and the
face framed in the lantern-flash of the alley, and was silent. Perhaps
the thought of the scene of the passage had come to her, too, for she
shuddered and quickened her step as though to escape.
“Do you want to go through the theater?” asked Corson.
“No--no,” whispered Luella, “get me home at once.”
“We have seen enough sights for the evening, I believe,” said I.
Mrs. Bowser was volubly regretful, but declined Corson's offer to
chaperon her through a night of it.
On the way home Luella spoke not a word, but Mrs. Bowser filled the time
with a detailed account of her emotions and sensations while Corson and
his men were searching for us and beating down the door. And her tale
was still growing when the carriage pulled up before the bronze lions
that guarded the house of the Wolf, and I handed the ladies up the
steps.
At the door Luella held out her hand impulsively.
“I wish I knew whom to thank--but I do thank him--for my safety--perhaps
for my life. Believe me--I am grateful to a brave man.”
I felt the warm clasp of her fingers for a moment, and then with a flash
of her eyes that set my blood on fire she was gone, and I was staggering
down Doddridge Knapp's steps in a tumult of emotions that turned the
dark city into the jeweled palaces of the genii peopled with angels.
But there was a bitter in the sweet. “I wish I knew whom to thank.” The
bitter grew a little more perceptible as her phrases stamped themselves
on my brain. I blessed and cursed at once the day that had brought me to
her.