interest was being transacted here that I could not contain myself. You
cannot expect to monopolize all the thrills in this affair while I am
concerned in it.”
At this there came a short, harsh laugh from Farbush; the man had
reseated himself and was gazing at Kenyon with evident admiration.
“I think Mr. Kenyon is right,” said he. “As he is partly in for any
consequences that might have to be borne, it is only just that he
should have a voice in directing things.”
“Just so,” said Kenyon, evenly. “And let me remark that I don’t
altogether approve of such work as I see. It is coarse.” He looked
down at the body with distaste, and then lifted his eyes to the men,
once more. “Not that Hong Yo does not do a neat and effectual job,”
continued he, in his even tone. “His present performance speaks for
itself and plainly shows past experience. But I dislike this smeary
sort of business. It is not,” and his white, well-kept hand gestured
fastidiously, “a desirable method at all.”
There was a slight movement behind him in the hall; the impulse was
still forming in his mind to wheel and face what might be a grave
danger, when a voice--the voice of Forrester--whispered:
“Stand as you are! Don’t move.”
Then Kenyon felt the girl brush by him through the doorway. Farbush
sprang up, as he caught the movement, shouting:
“Stop her!”
Hong Yo came weakly to his feet, his fleshless hands clawing the air;
Farbush and the coolies leaped forward, but Kenyon’s stalwart form
blocked their way.
“I think,” said the young adventurer, quietly, “that it is best that
she should go. I have something to say to you, gentlemen, that it would
be as well to go over in private.”
They halted, glaring at him, as he stood leaning nonchalantly against
the door-frame. His top-coat had fallen open, showing his immaculate
evening dress, his level eyes were fixed steadfastly upon them; his
right hand secretly caressed the grip of the long revolver. And
from somewhere in the building came the sound of racing feet which
constantly grew fainter and fainter.
XI
THE SECOND NIGHT ENDS
“Keep cool, and always hold your guard high.”
--_Kenyon’s “Art of the Sabre.”_
AT last the receding footsteps of the girl and Forrester died away
altogether; Kenyon, in spite of his icy exterior, had been filled with
a nameless dread, but now experienced a quick sense of relief. Hong
Yo and Farbush stood looking at him, mingled wonder and rage in their
faces.
“Now,” spoke Kenyon, in a business-like tone, “if you will get rid of
the worthy Sing Wang and his friends, I will come to the matter in
hand.”
“One moment.” It was Hong Yo that spoke and his slit-like eyes seemed
even more narrow than ever. “There is but one way of explaining this,”
indicating the gaping doorway in a way that showed that he referred to
the part Kenyon had just played in the girl’s departure. “Only one way!”
Kenyon smiled enigmatically.
“And is that one way not sufficient?” he demanded.
For a moment Hong Yo stood looking at him in silence, and Kenyon
noticed that the grim mouth of Farbush grew straighter and harder.
Then the Chinaman motioned to Sing Wang and the two coolies, and
pointed silently toward the body. Then he led Kenyon and Farbush into
another room.
“Sit down,” said Hong Yo, huskily.
All three seated themselves at a table. Kenyon was careful to select a
chair facing the door, for he had not forgotten the creepy feeling that
Forrester had given him when that personage had crept up behind him a
few moments before. Then Hong Yo seemed to recollect something.
“Pardon me,” said he, “I had forgotten that you two had not met before.
Mr. Kenyon--Mr. Farbush.”
The two nodded an acknowledgment, examining each other closely.
“And so you found it necessary to tell him,” then said Hong Yo,
incredulously.
Kenyon nodded. He had not the faintest notion what was meant, but
followed the plan of indirection in his answers which had so far served
him so well. When he broke into the room a short time before he had had
but two objects in his mind, to rescue the girl and force a “show down”
from the murderers at the point of his revolver.
But, somehow, he now felt that the girl was, for the time being, safe
under the care of Forrester; and the temptation to let the adventure
take its own course was once again irresistible. There was a peculiar
fascination in his position; these men, for some reason, regarded him
as being of vast importance in a mysterious and far-reaching game. That
they would halt at nothing was amply proven; but Kenyon had always felt
a certain zest for danger; and then there was the girl, whose brilliant
face had so attracted him. She was concerned in some strange way; she
stood in peril, perhaps, of her life.
So he resolved once more to stick, no matter where the current took
him, and until the end of it all was reached.
“I did not think it possible that he even knew of her existence,”
remarked Farbush, after a long silence, during which he and Hong Yo had
been exchanging looks.
“This must be the mysterious ‘he’ of whom the old man spoke last night
in Selden’s Square,” thought Kenyon. “It’s delicate ground, and I must
be careful.”
He rested his chin in the palm of one hand and his elbow upon the table.
“He knows a great deal more than you’d think,” he replied.
“Handle him carefully,” implored Farbush. “Don’t let him suspect you.
Above all, don’t tell him more than you must.”
“There is no great danger of that,” smiled Kenyon. “You forget that I
don’t know any too much, myself.”
There came a sudden grin upon the gaunt face of Hong Yo; his wasted
fingers pattered upon the table’s edge as though in applause. He bent
toward Kenyon.
“If there is one thing that I like more than another about you,”
he said in his slow, distinct English, “it is that continual guard
which you hold up. In my experience I have found that the man who
consistently denies having special knowledge never betrays himself.”
Kenyon was suddenly called upon to struggle against an almost
irresistible desire to laugh; it was a difficult task, but he succeeded
in retaining his gravity. The thing was really absurd!
“Has he said anything about what his plans are, now that the old man is
dead?” inquired Farbush, eagerly.
Kenyon never quite understood what prompted him to do it, but under a
sudden impulse, he answered:
“He does not know that the old man is dead.”
Had a thunderbolt split the roof and dashed everything in the room
into splinters it could not have had a more startling effect upon the
two men who sat facing him. Instantly they were upon their feet, their
hands wildly gesticulating, their lips babbling in amazement.
“Why,” almost shouted Farbush, beating the table, “I never dreamed of
such luck. It’s like a miracle.”
Their sudden outbreak had dismayed Kenyon; for a moment he feared that
he had somehow betrayed himself. But at the words of Farbush, he drew a
breath of relief.
“Luck’s with me!” he thought. “But in the future I’ll refrain from
taking chances.”
“I would have thought that your very appearance would have told him
all,” spoke Hong Yo.
“But as it happens it didn’t. He is a practical sort of a person, and
takes very little for granted.”
“And the old man thought him a dreamer!” cried Farbush, opening his
eyes.
“Did the old man really know him very well?” asked Kenyon, meaningly.
Farbush seemed struck by this.
“Well, no, perhaps not. But outside all else, yours is a splendid piece
of news. It gives us so much more time; and time was the one thing
which we sadly lacked.”
“What did you and he talk about?” asked Hong Yo.
“About many things, but nothing of much importance. I was satisfied to
hold him safe.”
“Did he ask questions?”
“At the beginning he did little else. But I told him nothing.”
A hollow chuckle came from the Chinaman.
“I can well believe that,” he said, grimly.
Kenyon was silent for a space, and the two watched him with interest;
there could be no question but that, whatever their enterprise, it
was expected of Kenyon to make the move that would bring things to a
crisis. So far he had been kept dodging their questions; Forrester
had told him that they had tidings of importance for him, and he was
anxious to hear what it was. So he asked, carelessly:
“What have you been doing in the meantime?” looking from one to the
other. “Anything that might interest me?”
“The girl, as you see, suspects something,” said Hong Yo. “There is no
telling how deeply she was in the old man’s confidence. He loved her as
he loved no one else; and trusted her in many things, as we now find.”
“That,” put in Farbush, “has always been an uncertain point to me. If
he trusted her so, how much did he tell her?”
Kenyon found the eyes of both fixed steadily upon him; and the
expectancy in their gaze gave him his cue.
“I’m supposed to have inside information right here,” he thought. “But
then the sphinx-like attitude, I think, is the safest: and it seems to
tickle Hong Yo. So I had better maintain it.”
So he smiled enigmatically and shook his head.
“She knows less than you think,” said he.
There was a deep frown upon Farbush’s face, and he rapped out sharply:
“Perhaps of the things you mean--yes. But what of the others?”
Kenyon gestured indifferently; he drew a case from his pocket and
lighted a cigarette.
“Do I understand that you are blaming me for this state of affairs?” he
asked, evenly.
“He is right,” said Hong Yo, quickly interrupting Farbush, as he was
about to reply to this. “Mr. Kenyon has had nothing to do with the side
of the matter to which you refer. That is, and has been, entirely in
our own hands from the beginning.”
Kenyon was delighted to hear this; but he concealed any facial
manifestation of it by throwing up a dense cloud of smoke between them.
But Farbush seemed impatient.
“I am not trying to fix responsibility, but merely making a statement
of facts,” declared he. “We are all together in this, and each, I
hope, is eager for success. So it is well, if anything slips, to make
it known.”
“I quite approve of that,” said Kenyon, with candor. “But just what is
it that the girl has discovered, or been told?”
Farbush nodded toward the room which they had left a short time before.
“She came here with him, for one thing; and she knows that my private
safe contains matter of consequence.”
“Oh!”
“I cannot imagine how she ever became acquainted with that man.” He
hesitated and then darted a quick look at Hong Yo; a new idea seeming
to have entered his mind. “Can it be possible that Forrester has told
her?”
“He is not a fool,” replied the Chinaman.
The other laughed.
“There are times when I am not altogether sure of that,” returned he.
“Witness his work,” with a gesture. “It is not the sort of thing to be
proud of.”
That there was a decided feeling between Farbush and Forrester seemed
certain. From what the latter had said in the rear room of the “Far
East,” Kenyon had begun to suspect this state of affairs; now he felt
sure of it.
“It’s a situation that may prove exceedingly useful in the future;” he
told himself. “And I think I’ll do well to make a note of it.”
“I warned you not to trust too much to him in the first place,” said
Hong Yo. He coughed weakly, and applied his handkerchief to his lips.
“He is young and without experience.”
“The first of these I will grant you. But the last I must question. Was
it not his manipulations that brought matters to a state where we could
take hold? Is not that experience? Did it not apparently show talent?”
There was a trace of anger in the man’s voice. But as the direction of
the talk did not please Kenyon, he interposed, quietly:
“Don’t forget that I have not a great deal of time. We were speaking of
the girl, and of some information that she had gained. I’d like to be
fully informed upon this point.”
“Oh, yes. After all, that is the real kernel at the moment. You see,
she came to me this morning and without any preamble asked me to turn
over everything having to do with the case to her for examination.”
“Humph! And did she state why?”
“She volunteered nothing, save that it was her duty and her right to
have a complete understanding of the affair. It is possible that she
only suspected that I was possessed of what she desired to know, and
assumed her air of positiveness to deceive me. When I refused she said
that she would see Hong Yo--and, if she must--yourself!”
Kenyon went on smoking quietly; if there was any surprise in this
statement for him he did not show it.
“She must be most anxious to obtain facts if she would go the length
of asking Kenyon for them.” And Hong Yo laughed, his teeth showing
hideously, as he did so.
Farbush echoed the laugh.
“That’s so,” said he. “She would be most anxious, indeed. For somehow,
Kenyon, she doesn’t seem to have taken a fancy to you--that is, not
the sort of fancy a girl should take to the man whom her friends have
selected as her husband.”
“It is not news to me,” replied Kenyon, without a trace of feeling in
his voice or manner. “She dislikes me, in fact, and is at no pains to
conceal it.”
Hong Yo bent forward across the table, his narrow eyes fixed upon the
young adventurer.
“I thought last night that you seemed struck by her appearance,” spoke
he.
“Perhaps so.” Kenyon’s voice was cold and repellent; the Chinaman
noticed it and drew slightly back.
“I merely wished to warn you, that is all. This is a matter of
business. It will not do to introduce any entanglements or impediments.
We have had enough of them.”
Kenyon nodded.
“I understand,” replied he. “But there is no need to warn me, as you
call it. My eyes are clear enough to see what I must avoid.”
Farbush smiled grimly and nodded his head.
“I think we may safely trust you for that,” remarked he.
Kenyon looked at his watch.
“Is there anything else?” he asked, in a bored sort of way. “I really
have very little time.”
“Nothing,” and Farbush laughed a little, “except that the girl
threatened to proceed on her own account and in her own way, if she
were not dealt with considerately.”
Kenyon fancied that he detected a shade of anxiety in the man’s
laughing words; but he said nothing, allowing him to proceed.
“And her coming here to-night shows that she might have some notion of
keeping her word. She came to see Hong Yo, as she said she would--and
with her came an astounding companion. I had laughed at her up to that
point; but now,” with a shrug, “I don’t know what to think.”
“It has a queer look,” admitted Kenyon. “But perhaps it is not
as serious as it seems. At the worst, she can know but little of
consequence. And that little she cannot use.”
“Let her attempt it,” cried Hong Yo, with that deadly creeping gesture
of the hand toward his breast, “and I’ll--”
“I think,” interrupted Kenyon, “that you left that plaything of yours
inside there. So there is no use in your feeling for it.” He arose to
his feet, and slowly began drawing on his gloves. His face was cold
and hard, and the look in his eyes was unmistakable. “And I think it
as well,” he continued, “to warn you against anything of that sort. My
short acquaintance with you, Hong Yo, has shown me that you have the
temper of a half-dozen devils; and, also, that you are not given to
controlling it. But this girl must not be harmed! Do you understand? No
matter what she does or says, she must not be harmed. She can injure us
but little, if she does her worst. But, as I have told you, _he_ knows
about her, and from that you must draw your line of policy.”
“I understand,” answered Hong Yo, sullenly.
“Good. And now if you will have the worthy Sing Wang or someone else
show me the way, I’ll be going.”
XII
AND THE THIRD NIGHT BEGINS
“Men go quietly upon the missions which they think will bring them
much.”
--_A Maxim of Hong Yo._
THE next day Kenyon had his belongings, which he had now generously
added to, removed to a hotel some distance up town.
“It has not the flare of the Waldorf,” he told himself, as he sat down
to dinner, “and it’s not nearly so expensive. But it will do.”
He was still pondering over the menu when who should enter the café but
Webster.
“Oh, I say, but this is luck,” exclaimed that young person, dumping
himself into a chair at the opposite side of the table. “I got your
notice of removal about an hour ago, while I was deep in the selecting
of a menu for a tight old wax that I hoped to land for a good order.
But right on top of your message came a ’phone call from him saying
that he couldn’t keep the dinner appointment after all. So I dressed
and hurried over here for a bite.”
“It couldn’t have happened better,” said Kenyon. “Because I want to
discuss a few things with you, rather badly.”
He gave the man, who stood at his side, a carefully selected and
rather elaborate list of dishes; then he turned to his friend once more.
“Last night,” said he, slowly, “I was a witness to what Captain Marryat
once fascinatingly called ‘a most desperate and bloody murder.’”
“Heavens!” ejaculated Webster, staring at him. “Where?”
“In a Chinese den on the lower East Side.”
“After you left me?”
“Of course.”
Webster leaned back in his chair and wagged his head from side to side.
“What you need,” stated he, impressively, “is to have someone legally
appointed to look after you. The first thing you know, you’ll be given
an acting part in one of these little dramas that you appear to have
grown so fond of; and then we’ll have to gather you up carefully with a
rake.”
Kenyon nodded, humorously.
“Do you know,” said he, “I’d been thinking along that line. It’s one
of the logical resultants, I suppose; but then we all must take our
chances, you see.”
“Is there another story?” asked Webster.
“Not exactly. Rather, a continuation of the same one.”
“All the better. If there are no restrictions such as the surgeon
labored under last night, I’d like to hear it.”
In a low voice and in as few words as possible Kenyon related his
experiences of the preceding night, while Garry listened in silence.
When he had finished, the young man from Chicago murmured, helplessly.
“Well, this is a wonderful world, to be sure! And there are astonishing
things happening in it. It would have been a great deal better for
the unknown from Butte if he had remained comfortably in his cot at
Bellevue and allowed them to doctor at him. Do you know,” after a
pause, “I should like to get a peep at your friend Hong Yo. He must be
an exceedingly interesting person.”
“He is,” replied Kenyon. “But he is nothing like as interesting as some
of the others.”
“The girl, for example.” Webster pursed up his lips disapprovingly.
“Well,” reluctantly, “I must admit that later information seems to
indicate that she is not sitting in this game as a partner.”
“She’s more likely to be a victim of some sort. And they are afraid of
her.”
“A nasty state of affairs. For people like those to be in fear of
anyone is for that person to make a quick exit. But the supposed
knowledge of the great unknown as to her existence seems to be a most
effectual barrier in this case. I wonder why?”
“I wonder.” By this time the dinner was well under way and both young
men were doing justice to it. “But,” continued Kenyon, “I can’t for the
life of me make out Forrester’s position. He talked of me supplanting
him. He seems to have been, at one time, in almost complete control of
the game they are engaged in. And yet, as I told you, he is one of the
most frankly honest men in appearance that I have ever set eyes on. I
can’t help classing him with the others; but still--”
“His coming to the rescue of the girl, so to speak,” said Webster, “is
a point in his favor. And her going with him so readily is another. I
think it is also to his credit that this man Farbush does not approve
of him.”
“But Hong Yo does; what do you make of that?”
“I’m stumped. The whole thing is as puzzling as it was at the first.”
“There is one small matter that has a peculiar fascination for me,”
stated Kenyon, as he trifled with his dessert. “And that is the private
safe of Farbush.”
“That’s so!” exclaimed Webster. “That little point slipped me. But what
do you suppose is in it?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea. But Farbush seemed startled at the girl’s
having any knowledge of it. I’m inclined to think that if we had the
contents of that safe on this table between us for a half hour we would
have little guessing to do afterwards.”
“By Jove, Ken,” laughed Webster, “do you know I’d almost expect you to
venture a burglary if you knew exactly where to head the enterprise.
You’ve got it in your eye.”
Kenyon looked at his friend with a sudden smile.
“I hadn’t thought of that,” he said. “But, now that you mention it,
I’ll give it consideration.”
“Well, if you take on the job,” said Webster, tickled with the conceit,
“let me know, will you, I’d like to go with you.”
Webster had a theatre party on for the night, and as the time drew near
for his departure he urged Kenyon to go along. But the latter refused.
“I’ve got some thinking to do,” said he, “and I’m going to take a
half-dozen cigars out with me for a walk. So trot along, old fellow;
I’ll see you to-morrow night, perhaps.”
Madison Square is not much frequented during the chilly nights of
late November, so Kenyon, muffled up in his overcoat, tramped up and
down, drawing hard at a strong cigar and thinking deeply. At the end
of the cigar he suddenly paused as though his mind had been made up to
something.
“Perhaps they’ll know at the hotel,” he muttered. “It will do no harm
to inquire, at any rate.”
He strode along up Fifth Avenue and turned into the Waldorf-Astoria.
One of the hotel’s private policemen saluted him in the lobby, and
Kenyon called him aside.
“I’m looking for information,” said he. “There is a man I know slightly
who comes here, I think, at times. His name is Farbush.” Here Kenyon
described the man. “Can you tell me where he lives?”
“Farbush? I don’t know the name, but there is a man that comes here
occasionally, and who answers to that description. Is your man a
ship-owner?”
“I couldn’t say. As I mentioned, my acquaintance with him is slight.”
“I’ll see the head-waiter. If he’s a regular customer, he’ll know
something about him, sure. Waiters always do.”
The man was gone but a very few minutes.
“Yes,” said he upon his return. “I think it’s the same party. He is
interested in shipping. Head-waiter knows him well. Lives on Fifth
Avenue, up near the park. Initials are J. F. Don’t know his number,
but you’ll find it in the directory.”
Kenyon acted upon this suggestion and secured the desired address. Then
he caught an uptown bus, and in a little while was standing before the
house named, but upon the opposite side of the avenue.
“Mr. Farbush appears to be a person of some consequence,” he muttered.
“And that only makes him a more dangerous man to contend with. But
before I take any steps I’ll have to be sure that this is the same man.
It would hardly do to disturb a disinterested party,” dryly.
As luck would have it, a cab drew up at that moment before the house,
and a man and woman alighted. The woman Kenyon could not make out; but
the man he recognized at once as he turned in the glare of the cab lamp
to pay the driver. It was Farbush. Kenyon watched both up the steps and
saw the door close behind them. Then he hailed the same cab.
“The Bowery and Houston Street,” directed he, as he slammed the door.
Down Fifth Avenue rolled the cab, over the smooth asphalt, then into
Broadway and finally Houston Street. When they pulled up at the Bowery,
Kenyon got out. Handing the cabby his fare, he said:
“You look like an old New York boy.”
“Born and raised in the Sixth Ward,” answered the man, proudly.
“Good! Maybe you can tell me what I want to know. There used to
be a place somewhere on the Bowery near here kept by a man named
Brady--Gypsy Brady.”
“Oh, the cops put Brady out of business long ago. You see, New York
grew out of those places where they had bad whiskey and bad music.
Either one of them must be good now,” with a grin. “But if you want the
Gypsy, he’s easy found. Lives over Schmelzer’s place in Pell Street.
It’s a pool-room. Anybody will tell you where it is.”
A little later found Kenyon making his way among the human drift that
thickens such slack water as Pell Street. The stench of the low Chinese
dens was almost unbearable; now and then he met the large-pupiled gaze
of a gray-faced wretch begging money with which to purchase his dearly
loved drug. But Kenyon paid little attention to anything save his
hunt for Schmelzer’s place. At the corner of a foul-looking alley he
encountered a short, large-bodied youth in a striped sweater and a cap.
“I’m looking for a pool-room kept by a man named Schmelzer,” said
Kenyon. “Can you tell me where to find it?”