FRANZ FRANCOISE'S GENERALSHIP.
When the three had returned to the outer room, Papa turned anxiously
toward his hopeful son.
"Franz, my boy," he began, in a quavering voice, "if there should be
cops outside--"
"Ye're the same whinin' old coward, ain't ye?" commented Franz, as he
favored his father with a contemptuous glance. "I've seen a good many
bad eggs, but blow me if I ever seed one like ye! Why, in the name o'
blazes, air ye more afraid of a cop than you'd be o' the hangman?"
The mention of this last-named public benefactor, caused Papa to shiver
violently, and Mamma bent upon him a look of scorn.
"Don't be an idiot, Francoise," she said, sharply. "We've got somethin'
to do besides shakin' an' shiverin'?"
"Time enough ter shiver when the hangman gits ye," added Franz,
reassuringly. "But ye needn't fret about cops--I ain't no baby; there
ain't no backers outside."
"But, Franzy,--" began Papa.
"Shet up; I'm runnin' this. If there'd a-been any help outside, we
wouldn't a-had it so easy, you old fool! That cove in there ain't no
coward; he'd a taken the chances with us, and blowed his horn when we
first tackled him, if there'd been help handy."
"Ah, what a brain the boy has got!" murmured Mamma, with rapturous
pride.
"Look a-here," said Franz, after a moment's consideration, "I'm
satisfied that there _ain't_ no cops about; but to set yer mind at rest,
old un, so that you kin use it ter help git to the bottom of this
business, I'll go and take a look around, and I'll be back in jest five
minutes." And he made a quick stride toward the door.
"Now, Franzy,--" began Mamma, coaxingly.
But he waved her back, saying: "Shut up, old woman; I'm runnin' this,"
and went swiftly out.
When the sound of his retreating footsteps was lost to their ears, Papa
and Mamma drew close together, and looked into each others' faces--he
anxiously, she with a leer of shrewd significance.
"Old man," she said, impressively, "that boy'll be the makin' of us--if
we don't let him git us down."
"Eh! what?"
"He's got your cunnin' an' mine together, and he's got all the grit you
lack."
"Well," impatiently.
"But he'll want to run us. An' when he knows all _we_ know, he'd put his
foot on us if we git in his way."
"Yes," assented the old man, with a cunning wink, "he's like his
ma--considerable."
"On account o' this here cop business," went on Mamma, ignoring the
thrust, "he'll have to be told a little about that Siebel affair. But
about the rest--not a word. We kin run the other business without his
assistance. Franzy's a fine boy, an' I'm proud of him, but 'twon't do,
as I told you afore, to give him too much power. I know the lad."
"Yes," insinuated Papa, with a dry cough, "I reckon you do."
"Ye kin see by the way he took the lead to-night, that he won't play no
second part. We'll have to tell him about Siebel--"
"An' about Nance."
"It's the same thing; an' ye'll see what he does when we give him an
idea about it."
"I know what he'll do;" with a crafty wink. "I'll tell him _all_ about
Nance."
"Yes," muttered the old woman, "ye're good at lyin', and all the
sneakin' dodges."
And she turned upon her heel, and went over to the pallet where Nance,
undisturbed by the events transpiring around her, still lay as she had
fallen in her drunken stupor.
"There's another thing," said Mamma, apparently satisfied with her
survey of the unconscious girl, and returning to Papa as she spoke.
"We've got to git out of here, of course, as soon as we've settled that
spy in there."
"We'd a-had to git out anyhow," muttered Papa, "on account of that
charity minx. Yes, we will; an' we hain't heard from _her_. You'll have
to visit her agin."
"I s'pose so. An' when I do--that cop's comin' has given me an
idea--I'll bring her to time."
"How?"
Mamma leaned toward him, and touched his shoulder with her bony
forefinger.
"Just as that cop 'ud have brought _you_ to time, if it hadn't been for
Franzy's comin'."
Over Papa's wizened face a look of startled intelligence slowly spread
itself.
"Old woman," he ejaculated, "Satan himself wouldn't a-thought of _that_!
The devil will be proud of ye, someday. But Franzy mustn't see the
gal."
"I'll manage that," said Mamma. "It's risky, but it's the only way; I'll
manage it."
They had heard no sound, although as they talked they also listened, but
while the last words yet lingered on the old woman's lips, the door
suddenly opened and Franz entered.
"There's no danger," he said, closing the door and securing it
carefully. "Ye kin breathe easy, old top; we're a good deal safer jest
now than our 'dark lantern' in there," and he nodded toward the inner
room.
"Then," put in Mamma, "while we're safe, we'd better make _him_ safe."
"Don't git in a hurry, old un; we want a better understandin' afore we
tackle his case. Come, old rook, git up here, an' let's take our
bearings."
He perched himself upon the rickety table, and Papa and Mamma drew the
stools up close and seated themselves thereon.
"Now then," began Franz, "who did yon nipped cove come here to see, you
or me, old un? He 'pears to know a little about us both."
"Yes," assented Papa, "so he does."
"What he knows about me, I reckon he told," resumed Franz. "Now, what's
the killin' affair mentioned?"
Papa seemed to ponder a moment, and then lifted his eyes to his son's
face with a look of bland ingenuousness.
"It's a kind of delicate affair, my boy," he began, in a tone of
confidential frankness, "but 'twon't do for _us_ to have secrets from
each other--will it, old woman?"
"No," said Mamma; "Franzy's our right hand now. You ort to tell him all
about it."
"Oh, git along," burst in Franz. "Give us the racket, an' cut it mighty
short--time enough for pertikelers later."
"Quite right, my boy," said Papa, briskly. "Well, here it is: I--I'm
wanted, for a witness, in a--a murder case."
"Oh," groaned Franz, in tones of exaggerated grief, "my heart is broke!"
"You needn't laugh, Franzy," remonstrated Papa, aggrieved. "It's the
business I was tellin' you about--at the other place, you know."
"Well, see here, old un, my head's been considerable mixed to-night;
seems to me ye did tell me a yarn, but tell it agin."
"Why, there's not much of it. We was doing well; I bought rags an'--an'
things."
"Rags an' things--oh, yes!"
"An' we was very comfortable. But one night--" and Papa turned his eyes
toward Mamma, as if expecting her to confirm all that he said--"one
night, when there was a number there, a fight broke out. We was in
another room, the old woman an' me,--"
"Yes," interjected Mamma, "we was."
"An' we ran in, an' tried to stop the fight."
Mamma nodded approvingly.
"But we wasn't strong enough. Before we could see who did it, a man was
killed. And in a minute we heard the police coming. Before they got
there, we had all left, and they found no one but the dead man to
arrest. Ever since, they've been tryin' to find out who did the
killin'."
"Um!" grunted Franz, "and did you tell me they had arrested somebody?"
"No, my boy. They caught one fellow, a sailor, but he got away."
"Oh, he got away. How many was there, at the time of the killin'?"
"There were three in the room, besides the man that was killed, and
there was the old woman and me in the next room."
"You forgit," interrupts Mamma, "there was Nance."
"Oh, yes," rejoined Papa, as if grateful for the correction, "there was
Nance."
Franz glanced over his shoulder at the sleeping girl, and then asked
sharply: "And what was Nance doin'."
"Nance was layin' on a pile o' rags in a corner," broke in Mamma, "an' I
had to drag her out."
Franz gave utterance to something between a grunt and a chuckle.
"So you dragged her out, did ye? 'Tain't exactly in your line neither,
doin' that sort o' thing. Ye must a-thought that gal worth savin'."
"She ain't worth savin' now," broke in Papa, hastily. "She's a stone
around our necks."
"That's a fact," said Mamma. "An' it's all in consequence of that
white-faced charity tramp's meddlin' we've got to get out of here, an'
we'll be tracked wherever we go by that drunken gal's bein' along."
"Well, ye ain't obliged ter take her, are ye?" queried Franz, as if this
part of the subject rather bored him. "Your keepin' _her_ looks all rot
to me. She ain't good for nothin' that I kin see, only to spoil good
whiskey."
Papa and Mamma exchanged glances, and then Papa said:
"Jest so, my boy; she spoils good whiskey, but she's safer so than
without it. We kin afford to keep her better than we kin afford to turn
her loose."
"D'ye mean ter say," queried Franz, "that if that gal knew anything,
she'd know too much?"
"That's about it, my boy."
Franz gave vent to a low whistle. "So," he said; "an' _that's_ why ye
keep her full o' drugged liquor, eh? I'll lay a pipe that's the old
woman's scheme. Have I hit the mark, say?"
"Yes, Franzy."
"Yes, my boy."
"Then what the dickens are ye mincin' about? Why don't ye settle the gal
afore we pad?"
"Easy, my boy, easy," remonstrates Papa.
"Just wot _I_ say, Franz," puts in Mamma. "When we leave here, it won't
be safe for us to take her--nor for you, either."
"Safe!" cried Franz, springing from the table with excited manner;
"safe! It 'ud be ruination! Afore to-morrow we must be out o' this. I
ain't goin' to run no chances. If 'twas safe to turn her loose, I'd say
do it. I don't believe in extinguishin' anybody when 'tain't necessary;
but when _'tis_, why--" He finishes the sentence with a significant
gesture.
"But, Franz--" begins Mamma, making a feint at remonstrance.
"You shet up!" he exclaims; "I'm runnin' this. The gal's been tried an'
condemned--jest leave her to me, an' pass on to the next pint. Have ye
got a hen-roost handy?"
"D'ye think we're in our dotage, Franzy," said Papa plaintively, "that
ye ask us such a question? Did ye ever know us to be without two
perches?"
"Well, is it _safe_, then?"
"If we kin git there without bein' tracked, it's safe enough."
"Well," said Franz, "we kin do that ef we git an early start, afore our
prisoner is missed. As soon as it's still enough, an' late enough, we'll
mizzle."
"Wot's yer plan, Franzy?"
"Easy as a, b, c. You an' the old woman lead the way, ter make sure that
there won't be nobody ter bother me, when I come after with the gal."
"With the gal?"
"Yes; ye don't want ter leave a dead gal here, do ye? Ye might be wanted
agin, _fer a witness_."
Papa winced and was silent.
"But, Franz,--" expostulated Mamma.
"You shet up! I'm no chicken." And Franz drew his dirk and ran his
finger along the keen edge. "Here's my plan: You two give me the
bearings of the new hen-roost, an' then start out, keepin' a little
ahead, an' goin' toward the drink. I'll rouse up the gal an' boost her
along, keepin' close enough to ye to have ye on hand, to prove that I'm
takin' home my drunken sister if any one asks questions. When we get
near the drink, you'll be likely to miss me."
"Oh!"
"An' after a while I may overtake ye, somewhere about hen-roost,
_alone_!"
"Oh," said Mamma, "you'll finish the job in the drink?"
"I'll finish _with_ the drink but I'll _begin_ with this." And he poised
the naked dagger above Mamma's head with a gesture full of significance.
"But the other," said Papa, with nervous eagerness; "what shall we do
with him?"
"The other," replied Franz, slowly putting away his knife, "we will
leave here."
"What!" screamed Mamma.
"But--" objected Papa.
"Are ye a pack o' fools after all?" snarled Franz. "A dead cop'll make
us more trouble than a livin' one. Ye kin kill ten ordinary mortals an'
be safer than if ye kill one cop. Kill ten men, they detail a squad to
hunt ye up mebby. Kill one peeler, an' you've got the whole police force
agin ye. No, sir; we bring him out o' that closet, and leave him ter
take his chances. Before morning, we'll be where he can't track us; and
somebody'll let him loose by to-morrow. He'll have plenty o' time to
meditate, and mebby it'll do him good."
There was a look of dissatisfaction in Mamma's eyes; and Papa's assent
was feeble. But already this strong-willed ruffian had gained an
ascendency over them, and his promptitude in taking Nance so completely
off their hands, assured them that it would not be well to cross him.
Nevertheless, as they made their preparations for a midnight flitting,
Papa and Mamma, unseen by Franz, exchanged more than one significant
glance.