THE EDGE OF COMPROMISE
The two men sat silently watching each other, Hobart pretending a
carelessness he was far from feeling, uncertain as to West's real
purpose. The latter realized now the true seriousness of his position,
yet this only increased his belief in the reality of the crime.
Previously his mind had harboured doubts, but the very fact that Hobart
would resort to such desperate methods was ample proof of his
apprehension of danger. If Percival Coolidge had committed suicide, this
fellow would surely have nothing to fear; he could safely ignore any
efforts to trap him; indeed would possess no suspicions along that line.
It was his own guilty conscience which drove him to desperation. Coolidge
had been murdered, and this man was either guilty of the crime, or else
knew the one who was, and had personal reasons for protecting the party.
These thoughts took possession of his mind and were convincing. He no
longer questioned but what he was on the track of crime, yet his thought
at that moment concentrated more vividly on his own personal peril. How
could he escape? What was he about to be confronted with? Nothing around
him afforded inspiration. He was bound helplessly; Sexton had
disappeared, whether dead or a prisoner, he did not know; the walls of
the room exhibited no signs of weakness, while Hobart eyed his every
movement coldly, evidently enjoying his predicament. Apparently the man
comprehended the nature of his thought.
"Perfectly useless, West," he said carelessly. "This place was
constructed for the purpose, and you are not the only one who has tested
its strength. You will get out when I say so, and not before."
"Do you intend to say so?"
"Well, that depends," shrewdly. "Not if your release means my taking
any chances. But frankly, I do not believe it will. So far as I can see
you possess no particular interest in this matter--only the attraction
a young fellow always feels in a pretty woman. Have I got that doped
out right?"
"To an extent at least."
"Yes, to a very large extent. Of course, curiosity also played a part,
while everybody possesses a sneaking desire to do a detective act. Miss
Coolidge filled you up with a lot of bunk; she was good looking, and you
fell for it. Certain things happened that you failed to understand, so
you rather naturally jumped to the conclusion that some crime was being
concocted. That was what brought you here. Now I take it that,
ordinarily, you are a man of some sense. Consequently I mean to try to
get you to drop the whole affair, as being none of your business. If you
agree to this, I accept your pledge, the door opens, and you go free;
otherwise--" he waved his hand expressively.
"Otherwise what?" asked West quietly.
"I will see that you are removed from all temptation; my plans are too
important to be interfered with by a meddlesome fool."
"But you can scarcely expect me to give such a promise?"
"Well, I don't know about that. It doesn't pay to be too obstinate. You
have been in the army, I understand; then you are aware there is a harsh
side to life, a way to make or break men. All right, now I've got the
power; I can keep you locked up here; I could even kill you if necessary.
You are utterly helpless. There is an argument worth your consideration.
But I will give you yet another which may have even more weight."
"What?"
The door opened quietly, and then closed, leaving Natalie Coolidge
standing there in the light, her eyes slightly frowning as she looked
silently at the two men.
"The lady, of course," explained Hobart, rising to his feet, "you will,
at least, be gentleman enough to accept her word!"
She waited, seemingly unable to quite grasp the situation, or realize the
part she was called upon to perform, but as West failed to respond,
finally asked a question.
"What is it, Jim? You sent for me?"
"Yes, as a last resort. You recognize this man?"
"Of course," indifferently; "what is he doing here?"
Hobart laughed.
"It seems the fellow hasn't taken his dismissal very seriously, Natalie,"
he explained, "and remains very much interested in your affairs. That
covers the principal known facts in the case."
"You mean he followed me here?"
"He was on the trail, but just for what particular purpose I have failed
to learn; the lad is a bit close mouthed, but it looks to me as though he
was in love with you."
The girl smiled, tossing her head as she stepped forward.
"In love with me," she echoed. "That is a joke, yet I had some such
suspicion when I told him to quit the job. He acted like a fool then, and
began to question me as though he had a right. It was that being engaged
business most likely."
"Sure; he thought he had you copped, fortune and all, and it looks to me
like he needs another jolt to put the idea entirely out of his head. That
is what I brought you in for. I'll explain first just how it happened.
This army guy blew in here before dark, along with another fellow,
Sexton, who used to be a servant out at Fairlawn--you know him?"
"Yes; he was discharged yesterday."
"I was standing by the bar talking with Issy, and I was sure I knew this
lad's face. I was stumped a bit at first where I had seen him; then all
at once it came to me--he was the guy sitting out there alone in the
automobile over on Arch Street. I knew then what he was over here for,
and got to talking with him. He give himself away the first thing, and
that is why we got him up in this dump."
"How did he know I was here?"
"Some of your precious help out there heard you talk to me over the
'phone, and passed it on."
"And what does he want? What do these men want?"
"Well Sexton don't want much of anything--he's knocked out; the fool made
a fight, and had to be hit; and, as to this bird, I rather think he was
just naturally nosing around out of curiosity, and because he was stuck
on you. I don't figure he is anything to be afraid of, but I am not going
to have the fellow gum-shoeing around. I'll take his word to get out, and
stay out; otherwise he and I are going to have a little seance of our
own. That's all there is about it."
West had said nothing, watching the others, and waiting to choose some
course of action. His mind was confused, uncertain, yet he found
encouragement in Hobart's statement of the case. The fellow felt no
serious fear of him; had no suspicion as yet that anyone believed
Percival Coolidge murdered. The probability was that not even the girl
dreamed of such a thing. Whatever her connection might be with this man,
she must be innocent of so foul a crime. If he could only speak to her
alone; bring to her the truth; reveal to her the real character of this
man Hobart, there would be no doubt of the result. In spite of the
strange situation he yet retained faith in the girl; she had been
deceived, led astray in some manner, but his first impression of her true
nature still controlled his thought. He could only believe her a victim
of scheming villains, driven by circumstances to play a part utterly
foreign to her character. His only hope of learning the facts from her
own lips, or of re-establishing her faith in him, lay in a moment's
conversation alone. His mind instantly leaped to this conclusion, and his
eyes met her own. They were wide-open, full of curiosity yet not unkind.
He spoke swiftly.
"That sounds fair enough, Hobart," he said quietly, taking the chance as
though it was the most natural thing in the world. "I am not hunting
trouble in any way, or seeking to butt in where I am not wanted. Your
guess as to my purpose in coming here is about right. I had no other
object but to be of some service to this young lady. If I can talk with
her a moment alone, and thus assure myself as to her wishes, I'll give
you any pledge you want, and forget all about the affair. Is that
satisfactory?"
"Alone, you said? You want to see her alone?"
"Absolutely; no other arrangement will answer. I want her to talk
freely; to answer my questions with no interference."
Hobart glanced toward his companion inquiringly, evidently inclined to
deny the request.
"Hell, you don't want much," he said rather gruffly. "What do you think
about this proposition, Natalie?"
The girl smiled, her eyes still on West's face.
"Fair enough," she admitted as though the whole matter was a joke. "The
man can do me no harm, and I am willing enough to be interviewed. It
looks like the easiest way out."
His mood changed, influenced, no doubt, by her confidence in the result.
"All right, if you say so. It is my guess you are equal to the job. How
much time do you want, West?"
"Ten or fifteen minutes. I want to get down to the bottom of this thing."
"Oh, you do, hey? Modest as ever, I see. Well, here's luck to you. You
needn't be afraid of the guy, Natalie; we got his gat before we brought
him up here, and if he makes any break, I'll be out in the hall ready to
take a hand. You're still for it?"
"Yes," indifferently, seating herself on a convenient chair. "We might
as well talk it out now as any time. You go on, Jim, and leave it to me."
Hobart was not entirely satisfied, hesitating as he lit a fresh cigar,
his keen eyes watchful of them both. However, it was plain to be seen the
girl had made her decision, and he evidently knew her well enough to
realize the uselessness of revolt.
"All right, then," he replied finally, turning to the door. "Suit
yourself, only watch your step. Anyhow, I'll be within calling distance,
if this guy gets gay."
"Don't worry about that," a flash of anger in her eyes. "I am no baby,
Jim Hobart. Go on now, and leave Captain West to me."
He closed the door behind him, and the two were alone in the room. No
sound reached them from without, not even an echo of Hobart's footsteps
in the hall. West looked across at the girl, who sat motionless, her eyes
shaded by long lashes, and ringless fingers clasped in her lap. She
appeared indifferent, uninterested, scarcely aware of his presence. He
wondered if Hobart was listening at the door; what had become of Mike,
and whether Sexton was alive or dead. For the moment he could scarcely
make himself realize the true situation. His silence served to arouse her
interest, for she suddenly lifted her head and looked at him.
"Well," she said soberly. "You have something to ask?"
"Much--yes; but first, are we alone?"
"Certainly--why?"
"This man Hobart, you are sure he is not listening at the door?"
She glanced about; then laughed.
"Little good that would do him; there is no key-hole, no chance for sound
to penetrate. We are quite alone, Captain, and you are perfectly free to
say whatever you please."
"But even then, is this wholly fair?"
"What do you mean?"
"I came here," he explained earnestly, "with no bad intention; no desire
to injure any one, Miss Coolidge; my only thought the possibility of
being of some service to you."
"That is very interesting, I am sure. I am quite grateful."
"Then I am going to ask you a favour. Release my hands and feet. You need
not be afraid; I give my pledge to make no attempt at escape while we are
together. Will you do this?"