IX

Five seconds later a fleet apparition of a prevalent pinkish tone gave a

ranging house cat the fright of its life as former darted past latter to

vault nimbly up the stone steps of a certain weatherbeaten

four-story-and-basement domicile. Set in the door jamb here was a

vertical row of mail-slots, and likewise a vertical row of electric push

buttons; these objects attesting to the fact that this house, once upon

a time the home of a single family, had eventually undergone the

transformation which in lower New York befalls so many of its kind, and

had become a layer-like succession of light-housekeeping apartments, one

apartment to a floor, and the caretaker in the basement.

Since Bob Slack's bachelor quarters were on the topmost floor Bob

Slack's push button would be the next to the lowermost of the battery of

buttons. A chilled tremulous finger found that particular button and

pressed it long and hard, released it, pressed it again and yet again.

And in the interval following each period of pressing the finger's owner

hearkened, all ears, for the answering click-click that would tell him

the sleeper having been roused by the ringing had risen and pressed the

master button that released the mechanism of the street door's lock.

But no welcome clicking rewarded the expectant ringer. Assuredly Bob

Slack must be the soundest sleeper in the known world. He who waited

rang and rang and rerang. There was no response.

Eventually conviction was forced upon Mr. Leary that he must awaken the

caretaker--who, he seemed dimly to recall as a remembrance of past

visits to Bob Slack, was a woman; and this done he must induce the

caretaker to admit him to the inside of the house. Once within the

building the refugee promised himself he would bring the slumberous

Slack to consciousness if he had to beat down that individual's door

doing it. He centred his attack upon the bottom push button of all.

Directly, from almost beneath his feet, came the sound of an areaway

window being unlatched, and a drowsy female somewhat crossly inquired to

know who might be there and what might be wanted.

"It's a gentleman calling on Mr. Slack," wheezed Mr. Leary with his head

over the balusters. He was getting so very, very hoarse. "I've been

ringing his bell, but I can't seem to get any answer."

"A gentleman at this time o' night!" The tone was purely incredulous.

"Yes; a close friend of Mr. Slack's," assured Mr. Leary, striving to put

stress of urgency into his accents, and only succeeding in imparting an

added hoarseness to his fast-failing vocal cords. "I'm his law partner,

in fact. I must see him at once, please--it's very important, very

pressing indeed."

"Well, you can't be seein' him."

"C-can't see him? What do you mean?"

"I mean he ain't here, that's what. He's out. He's went out for the

night. He's ginerally always out on Friday nights--playin' cards at his

club, I think. And sometimes he don't come in till it's near breakfast

time. If you're a friend of his I sh'd think it'd be likely you'd know

that same."

"Oh, I do--I do," assented Mr. Leary earnestly; "only I had forgotten

it. I've had so many other things on my mind. But surely he'll be coming

in quite soon now--it's pretty late, you know."

"Don't I know that for myself without bein' told?"

"Yes, quite so, of course; naturally so." Mr. Leary was growing more and

more nervous, and more and more chilled, too. "But if you'll only be so

very kind as to let me in I'll wait for him in his apartment."

"Let you in without seein' you or knowin' what your business is? I

should guess not! Besides, you couldn't be gettin' inside his flat

anyways. He's locked it, unless he's forgot to, which ain't likely, him

bein' a careful man, and he must a-took the key with him. I know I ain't

got it."

"But if you'll just let me inside the building that will be sufficient.

I would much rather wait inside if only in the hall, than out here on

the stoop in the cold."

"No doubt, no doubt you would all of that." The tone of the unseen

female was drily suspicious. "But is it likely I'd be lettin' a stranger

into the place, that I never seen before, and ain't seen yet for that

matter, just on the strength of his own word? And him comin'

unbeknownst, at this hour of the mornin'? A fat chancet!"

"But surely, though, you must recall me--Mr. Leary, his partner. I've

been here before. I've spoken to you."

"That voice don't sound to me like no voice I ever heard."

"I've taken cold--that's why it's altered."

"So? Then why don't you come down here where I can have a look at you

and make sure?" inquired this careful chatelaine.

"I'm leaning with my head over the rail of the steps right above you,"

said Mr. Leary. "Can't you poke your head out and see my face? I'm quite

sure you would recall me then."

"With this here iron gratin' acrost me window how could I poke me head

out? Besides, it's dark. Say, mister, if you're on the level what's the

matter with you comin' down here and not be standin' there palaverin'

all the night?"

"I--I--well, you see, I'd rather not come for just a minute--until I've

explained to you that--that my appearance may strike you as being a

trifle unusual, in fact, I might say, queer," pleaded Mr. Leary, seeking

by subtle methods of indirection to prepare her for what must surely

follow.

"Never mind explainin'--gimme a look!" The suspicious tenseness in her

voice increased. "I tell you this--ayther you come down here right this

secont or I shut the window and you can be off or you can go to the

divil or go anywheres you please for all of me, because I'm an

overworked woman and I need my rest and I've no more time to waste on

you."

"Wait, please; I'm coming immediately," called out Mr. Leary.

He forced his legs to carry him down the steps and reluctantly, yet

briskly, he propelled his pink-hued person toward the ray of light that

streamed out through the grated window-opening and fell across the

areaway.

"You mustn't judge by first appearances," he was explaining with a false

and transparent attempt at matter-of-factness as he came into the zone

of illumination. "I'm not what I seem, exactly. You see, I----"

"Mushiful Evans!" The exclamation was half shrieked, half gasped out;

and on the words the window was slammed to, the light within flipped

out, and through the glass from within came a vehement warning.

"Get away, you--you lunatic! Get away from here now or I'll have the

cops on you."

"But please, please listen," he entreated, with his face close against

the bars. "I assure you, madam, that I can explain everything if you

will only listen."

There was no mercy, no suggestion of relenting in the threatening

message that came back to him.

"If you ain't gone from here in ten seconts I'll ring for the night

watchman on the block, and I'll blow a whistle for the police. I've got

me hand on the alarm hook right now. Will you go or will I rouse the

whole block?"

"Pray be calm, madam, I'll go. In fact, I'm going now."

He fell back out of the areaway. Fresh uproar at this critical juncture

would be doubly direful. It would almost certainly bring the vengeful

Switzer, with his bruised shanks. It would inevitably bring some one.

X

Mr. Leary retreated to the sidewalk, figuratively casting from him the

shards and potsherds of his reawakened anticipations, now all so rudely

shattered again. He was doomed. It would inevitably be his fate to cower

in these cold and drafty purlieus until----

No, it wouldn't either!

Like a golden rift in a sable sky a brand-new ray of cheer opened before

him. Who were those married friends of Slack's, who lived on the third

floor--friends with whom once upon a time he and Slack had shared a

chafing-dish supper? What was the name? Brady? No, Braydon. That was

it--Mr. and Mrs. Edward Braydon. He would slip back again, on noiseless

feet, to the doorway where the bells were. He would bide there until the

startled caretaker had gone back to her sleep, or at least to her bed.

Then he would play a solo on the Braydons' bell until he roused them.

They would let him in, and beyond the peradventure of a doubt, they

would understand what seemed to be beyond the ken of flighty and

excitable underlings. He would make them understand, once he was in and

once the first shock of beholding him had abated within them. They were

a kindly, hospitable couple, the Braydons were. They would be only too

glad to give him shelter from the elements until Bob Slack returned

from his session at bridge. He was saved!

Within the coping of the stoop he crouched and waited--waited for five

long palpitating minutes which seemed to him as hours. Then he applied

an eager and quivering finger to the Braydons' button. Sweet boon of

vouchsafed mercy! Almost instantly the latch clicked. And now in another

instant Mr. Leary was within solid walls, with the world and the weather

shut out behind him.

He stood a moment, palpitant with mute thanksgiving, in the hallway,

which was made obscure rather than bright by a tiny pinprick of

gaslight; and as thus he stood, fortifying himself with resolution for

the embarrassing necessity of presenting himself, in all his show of

quaint frivolity, before these comparative strangers, there came

floating down the stair well to him in a sharp half-whisper a woman's

voice.

"Is that you?" it asked.

"Yes," answered Mr. Leary, truthfully. It was indeed he, Algernon Leary,

even though someone else seemingly was expected. But the explanation

could wait until he was safely upstairs. Indeed, it must wait. Attempted

at a distance it would take on rather a complicated aspect; besides, the

caretaker just below might overhear, and by untoward interruptions

complicate a position already sufficiently delicate and difficult.

Down from above came the response, "All right then. I've been worried,

you were so late coming in, Edward. Please slip in quietly and take the

front room. I'm going on back to bed."

"All right!" grunted Mr. Leary.

But already his plan had changed; the second speech down the stair well

had caused him to change it. Safety first would be his motto from now

on. Seeing that Mr. Edward Braydon apparently was likewise out late it

would be wiser and infinitely more discreet on his part did he avoid

further disturbing Mrs. Braydon, who presumably was alone and who might

be easily frightened. So he would just slip on past the Braydon

apartment, and in the hallway on the fourth floor he would cannily bide,

awaiting the truant Slack's arrival.

On tiptoe then, flight by flight, he ascended toward the top of the

house. He was noiselessly progressing along the hallway of the third

floor; he was about midway of it when under his tread a loose plank gave

off an agonized squeak, and, as involuntarily he crouched, right at his

side a door was flung open.

What the discomfited refugee saw, at a distance from him to be measured

by inches rather than by feet, was the face of a woman; and not the face

of young Mrs. Edward Braydon, either, but the face of a middle-aged lady

with startled eyes widely staring, with a mouth just dropping ajar as

sudden horror relaxed her jaw muscles, and with a head of grey hair

haloed about by a sort of nimbus effect of curl papers. What the strange

lady saw--well, what the strange lady saw may best perhaps be gauged by

what she did, and that was instantly to slam and bolt the door and then

to utter a succession of calliopelike shrieks, which echoed through the

house and which immediately were answered back by a somewhat similar

series of outcries from the direction of the basement.