Madeline took two floors of a large brown stone house in Bleecker
Street, and the accommodating landlady found a colored wench to keep
her rooms in order and cook her meals. A room at the back and facing
the south was fitted up for Masters. It was a masculine-looking room
with its solid mahogany furniture, and as his books were stored in the
cellar of the Times Building she had shelves built to the ceiling on
the west wall. Lacey obtained an order for the books without
difficulty, and Madeleine disposed of several of her long evenings
filling the shelves. When she had finished, one side of the large room
at least looked exactly like his parlor in the Occidental Hotel. She
also hung the windows with green curtains and draped the mantelpiece
with the same material. Green had been his favorite color.
She had rebelled at giving up her original purpose of making a personal
search for Masters, but one look at New York had convinced her that if
Lacey would not help her she must employ a detective. Nevertheless, she
went every mid-day to one or other of the restaurants below Chambers
Street; and, although nothing had ever terrified her so much, she
ventured into Nassau Street at least once a day and struggled through
it, peering into every face.
Nassau Street was only ten blocks long and very narrow, but it would
seem as if, during the hours of business, a cyclone gathered all the
men in New York and hurled them in compact masses down its length until
they were met by another cyclone that drove them back again. They
filled the street as well as the narrow sidewalks, they poured out of
the doorways as if impelled from behind, and Madeleine wondered they
did not jump from the windows. No one sauntered, all rushed along with
tense faces; there were many collisions and no one paused to apologize,
nor did any one seem to expect it. There were hundreds, possibly
thousands, of offices in those buildings high for their day, and every
profession, every business, every known or unique occupation, was
represented. There were banks and newspaper buildings, hotels,
restaurants, auction rooms, the Treasury and the old Dutch Church that
had been turned into the General Post Office. There were shops
containing everything likely to appeal to men, although one wondered
when they found time for anything so frivolous as shopping; second-hand
book stores, and street hawkers without number.
In addition to the thousands of men who seemed to be hurrying to and
from some business of vital import, there were the hundred thousand or
more who surged through that narrow thoroughfare every day for their
mail. The old church looked like a besieged fortress and Madeleine
marvelled that it did not collapse. She was thankful that she was never
obliged to enter it. Holt and her lawyer had been instructed to send
their letters to Lacey's care, and Lacey when obliged to communicate
with her, either called or sent his note by a messenger.
Madeleine was so hustled, stepped on, whirled about, that she finally
made friends with an old man who kept one of the secondhand shops, and,
comparatively safe, used the doorway as her watch tower.
One day she thought she saw Masters and darted out into the street.
There she fought her way in the wake of a tall stooping man with black
hair as mercilessly as if she were some frantic woman who had risked
her all on the Stock Exchange. He entered the door of one of the tall
buildings, and when she reached it she heard the sound of footsteps
rapidly mounting.
She followed as rapidly. The footsteps ceased. When she arrived at the
fourth floor she knocked on every door in turn. It was evidently a
building that housed men of the dingiest social status. Every man who
answered her peremptory summons looked like a derelict. These were mere
semblances of offices, with unmade beds, sometimes on the floor. In
some were dreary looking women, partners, no doubt, of these forlorn
men, whose like she sometimes saw down in the street. But her
breathless search was fruitless. She knew that one of the men who
grudgingly opened his door--looking as if he expected the police--was
the man she had followed, and she was grateful that it was not Masters.
She went slowly down the rickety staircase feeling as if she should
sink at every step. It had been her first ray of hope in two weeks and
she felt faint and sick under the reaction.
She found a coupe in Broadway and was driven to her lodgings. The maid
was waiting for her in the doorway, evidently perturbed.
"There's a strange gentleman upstairs in the parlor, ma'am," she said.
"Not Mr. Lacey. I didn't want to let him in but he would. He said--"
She thrust the girl aside and ran up the steps. But when she burst into
the parlor the man waiting for her was Ralph Holt.
She dropped into a chair and began to cry hysterically. He had dealt
with her in that state before, and Amanda had lived in Bleecker Street
for many years. She was growing bored with the excessive respectability
of her place, and was delighted to find that her mistress was human.
Cold water, sal volatile, and hartshorn soon restored Madeleine's
composure. She handed her hat to the woman and was alone with Holt.
"I thought--perhaps you understand--"
"I understand, all right. I hope you are not angry with me for
following you."
"I am only too glad to see you. I never knew a city could be so big and
heartless. I have felt like a leaf tossed about in a perpetual cold
wind. When did you arrive?"
"The day after you did."
"What? And you--you--have been looking for him?"
"That is what I came for--partly. Yes, Lacey and I have combed the
town."
Madeleine sprang to her feet. "You've found him! I know it! Why don't
you say so?"
"Well, we know where he is. But it's no place for you."
"Take me at once. I don't care what it is."
"But I do. So does Lacey. His plan was to shanghai him and sober him
up. But--well--it is your right to say whether he shall do that or not.
You wanted to find him yourself. But Five Points is no place for you,
and I want your permission to carry out Lacey's program."
"What is Five Points?"
"The worst sink in New York. Just imagine the Barbary Coast of San
Francisco multiplied by two thousand. There is said to be nothing worse
in London or Paris."
"If you and Mr. Lacey do not take me there I shall go alone."
"Be reasonable."
"My reason works quite as clearly as if my heart were chloroformed.
Langdon will know, when I track him to a place like that, what he means
to me."
"He probably will be in no condition to recognize you."
"I'll make him recognize me. Or if I cannot you may use your force
then, but he shall know later that I went there for him. Have you seen
him?"