Читать книгу: «The Deaves Affair», страница 9

"Are you sure we can get through?"

The resolute voice answered: "We've got to."

The chauffeur said: "I couldn't turn around here."

The other voice replied: "There's a clear space in front of the house."

This way was not very long; a quarter of a mile, Evan guessed. They came to a stop, and the two men climbed out over Evan. He was unceremoniously dragged out feet foremost. They carried him a short distance – Evan heard grass or verdure swishing around their legs. They entered a house and laid him down on a floor, a rough worn floor.

Here Evan heard a new voice, a woman's voice with slurred accents and a fat woman's laugh. The strong-voiced man said:

"Here's a guest for you, Aunt Liza."

"Lawsy! Lawsy! What divelment you been up to now!"

A general laugh went round. To the bound Evan it had a blackguardedly and infamous sound.

He was abruptly turned over on his face. While one man held the folds of the comforter tightly round his head, the other two knelt on his back and, pulling his arms behind him, tied his wrists together. Evan put up the best struggle he could against such heavy odds. The man who had taken the principal part against him laughed.

"You see, there's life in him yet," he said.

After his wrists they tied his ankles, and got up from him. The comforter was still over Evan's head, and he was powerless to throw it off. The same voice said:

"After we're out of the room you can uncover his head, and give him air. And feed him when dinner's ready."

A door closed.

CHAPTER XV
THE CLUB HOUSE

The coverlet was thrown back from Evan's head, and breathing deep with relief, he saw bending over him a grinning, fat negress, not evil-looking, but merely simple in expression.

She exclaimed like a child: "Laws! it's a pretty man!"

"Where am I?" asked Evan.

"Deed, I do' know, chile!"

"I'll pay you well if you'll help me out of here."

"Deed, I cain't help you, honey. I'm here, but I don' know where it is no more than you do. White folks brung me here, and white folks will take me away again I reckon."

Evan looked around him. He seemed to be in a room of an ancient abandoned farm-house. There was no furniture. The ceiling was low; the great fireplace was certainly more than a century old. The smell of rotting wood was in the air; the plaster was coming down, revealing the wrought hand-split laths beneath; the floor was full of holes. There were two windows with many missing panes. The sun was streaming in. From Evan's position flat on his back on the floor he could only see the sky through the upper sashes.

In contrast with the wreckage that surrounded them the old negress was neat and clean. She wore a black cotton dress and a gingham apron and on her head was a quaint, flat-topped cap made from a folded newspaper. She seemed neither ill-disposed nor well-disposed towards Evan but regarded him simply as an amusing curiosity.

It ought not to be difficult to bend one so simple to his will, Evan thought, and set to work to conciliate her.

"Aunt Liza, you seem like a decent woman. What are you doing in a den like this?"

She affected not to understand him. "Excuse me, suh, I don' understand No'the'ners' talk very good."

"I say this is a funny looking place."

"Well, I reckon they's gwine fix it up some. Ain't had time yet. The other rooms is better than this."

"Who lives here?"

"Nobody lives here. It's a club."

"What club?"

"Ain't got no name as I knows. It's a private club."

"Well, who comes here?"

"Jes, my boss and his friends."

"What's your boss's name?"

"Mistah Henry."

"What's his other name?"

"Henry."

"What's his first name, then?"

"Henry too. Mistah Henry Henry."

Evan looked at her sharply, but her face was black and bland.

"What do they do here?" he asked.

"Same as gemmen allways does in a club I reckon; smokes and talks and plays cards and mixes juleps."

"Well, do they generally bring their guests here tied hand and foot?"

Aunt Liza dissolved into noiseless fat laughter. "No suh! No suh! That's somepin new, that is!"

"Well, who do you think of it?"

"Laws! I never thinks, suh. I leaves that to the white folks. I jus' looks on and 'preciates things!"

Evan was sure now that she was simply using her simplicity as a cover. In such a contest he could only come off second best, so he fell silent. He was anxious to get her out of the room now that he might get a glimpse out of the window.

"Somebody said something about dinner," he said. "How about it?"

"Ready d'rectly, suh. I'll go look at it."

She went out. The room had but the one door which she locked after her. After a series of struggles Evan succeeded in getting to his knees. If this sounds easy let the doubter have his hands tied behind him, and his ankles tied together, and try it. This brought his head above the level of the window-sill, but the view out the window scarcely repaid him for his trouble. It was much what one might have expected from the condition of the house, a door-yard grown high with grass and weeds, a clump of tiger-lilies, some aged lilac bushes, a few rotten palings marking the line where a fence had run.

Beyond the fence was the road, only a slight depression now in the expanse of weeds. The automobile that had brought Evan was standing there. It was a shabby little landaulet with the top up. It looked like a taxi-cab but carried no metre. Beyond the line of the road the view was shut off by second-growth woods, with a larger tree rising here and there.

It looked like a spot long forgotten of man, yet Evan doubted if it were more than eight miles from Harlem river, and the chances were that it was actually within the New York city limits. Indeed while he looked he heard the faint-far-off chorus of the noon whistles in town.

Hearing the old darkey's shuffling step in the hall, he hastily lay down again. But her sharp eyes instantly marked the change in his position and detected the dust on his knees.

"Ah reckon the sun's too strong for yo' eyes," she said dryly. There were stout, old-fashioned wooden shutters folded back into the window-frames. These she closed and hooked, and Evan was left in gloom.

There was nothing the matter with the dinner she presently brought him; corn soup, fried chicken and hominy. She fed him with the anxious solicitude of a nurse. Indeed Aunt Liza throughout evinced the greatest willingness to make friends; she was so fat and comfortable she just couldn't help it. It was only when Evan started to question her that she showed what a tricksy spirit inhabited the solid frame.

After dinner Evan heard the automobile leave. He guessed that he and Aunt Liza were now alone in the tumbledown house. During the long hot afternoon she left him pretty much to his own devices. He could hear the bees humming outside, and the twitter of birds.

In stories Evan had read when the hero was captured and tied up he always succeeded in "working himself free" at the critical moment. Well Evan patiently set to work to free his hands, but after hours of effort, as it seemed, he had only chafed his wrists and his temper and drawn the knots tighter.

The extreme stillness of the house suggested that Aunt Liza might be indulging in a siesta, and he determined to reach the window if he could. Patiently rolling and hunching himself in the desired direction, he finally made it. He then by a course of gymnastics finally succeeded in getting to his feet. With his chin he knocked up the hook that fastened the shutter, and after many attempts succeeded in pulling the shutter open with his teeth. Even then he was no nearer freedom, for the sash was down, though most of the panes were missing. And Aunt Liza came in and caught him in the act.

"Sho! honey what yo' tryin' to do!" she said reproachfully. "Turn around and sit down."

There was nothing for Evan to do but obey, whereupon she coolly seized his heels, and pulled him across the floor. She fastened up the shutter again. After that she visited him more frequently, and as long as he was a "good boy" was disposed to be quite friendly and sociable.

Towards the end of the afternoon the "club-members" began to arrive. Evidently they came on foot for there was no sound of automobile. Evan, whose only useful sense was hearing, thought he could distinguish eight or nine individuals at different times. None opened his door. The principal gathering place seemed to be the room over his head. A low-voiced hum of conversation came down to him but he could distinguish no words. Frequently there was laughter, which had a particularly devilish and unfeeling ring to Evan.

Aunt Liza served another meal.

Later she entered his room carrying a bandana handkerchief.

"What's that for?" demanded Evan.

"To blind yo' eyes, honey."

"What for?"

"The gemmen wants to see yo' upstairs."

Any prospect seemed better than lying bound alone in the semi-dark, and Evan submitted. Aunt Liza made very sure that he could not see under the bandage over his eyes. Then untying the knots that bound his ankles, she helped him to his feet, and steered him out through the door. Placing his foot on the bottom step she bade him mount the stairs. At the top she led him towards the front of the building and through a doorway into the middle of a room. Here she left him. He heard her steps recede, and heard her close the door behind her.

There he stood bound and blind facing – he knew not what. A thick excitement choked him. Nobody spoke, but his sharpened senses told him that he was surrounded by people. He heard them breathe. The continued silence was cruel on his nerves. He imagined them moving cat-footed about him, smiling meaningly at each other as they prepared to attack. If he only had a wall at his back!

"Keep cool! Keep cool!" he told himself. "They're trying to break your nerve. Stand fast! Make them speak first!"

Finally one spoke. It was he of the resolute, cynical voice. "Well, Weir, here we are! What have you got to say for yourself?"

"It's not up to me to say anything," coolly retorted Evan.

There were several chuckles in the room. Their laughter was hateful to Evan. He gathered from the sounds that the room was of considerable size. Evidently this house was a more pretentious building than he had supposed. The voices echoed as they do in a bare room.

"You are in the presence of the Ikunahkatsi," the voice went on, "that is to say of some of them. We're not at all ill-disposed towards you personally. On the contrary we admire the pluck you've shown. It's been some fun to get the best of you. Confess, we fooled you neatly in the library that day."

Evan thought: "This is the humorous guy that writes the letters." Aloud he said: "Say your say and have done with it."

The voice resumed: "As I say, it's been a good game. We'd be willing to go on indefinitely matching our wits against yours, but the dice are loaded against us, you see. We're outside the law. With that advantage on your side you'd be bound to get us in the end."

"It's not all fun with us, you see. We have a serious purpose in view. You are in the way of that purpose and so, regretfully, we've got to remove you. You're much too good a lad to be in the pay of an old rascal like Deaves. You ought to be on our side, with the free spirits. But there you are. I know you wouldn't switch now."

"To a gang of blackmailers? No thank you," said Evan.

"It would be just as well for you to speak civilly," the voice warned him mildly. "All the gentlemen present are not as patient as I am."

"What do you want of me?" demanded Evan. "Say it."

"You are absolutely in our power here, yet we are willing to release you on a certain condition."

"What's your proposition?"

"Give me your word of honour that you will leave Simeon Deaves' employ, and have no further relations with him or his son."

Evan considered what trap might be concealed behind this seemingly fair offer.

"What will the old miser ever do for you?" the voice went on, "or his slack-twisted son for that matter? Let them stew in their own juice. Give me your word, and you'll be taken home to-night."

"And if I won't?" said Evan.

"Oh, we'll have to keep you prisoner until we have pulled off our big coup. I can't say how long that will be."

Evan said coolly: "Well, I'll see you all damned first."

There was a stir in the room. "Ah!" said the voice that fronted him, coolly. "As a young man of spirit I suppose you feel that is the only possible answer. It's too bad. You may go down-stairs." He called for Aunt Liza.

Evan was returned to his prison on the ground floor.

Aunt Liza said: "Sit down, honey. Be a good boy and let me tie yo' feet together. If you acks ugly I'll have to call the gemmen."

Evan submitted. His ankles were bound, the bandage over his eyes removed, and he was left to his own devices.

The leaden minutes slowly added themselves up to hours. For a long time in his rage he could not think clearly. He was all for defiance, defiance though his life paid the forfeit. But in the end he was bound to cool off and a craftier voice began to advise him.

"I owe this gang neither truth nor loyalty," he thought. "They struck me from behind. They carried me off. They trussed me up like a fowl for roasting. They're about a dozen to one against me. By fair means I haven't a ghost of a show against them. Very well, I'll use foul. If they are simple enough to let me lie myself out of their hands, I'll do it."

Late in the evening he was sent for again. He was eager now to face his jailors. As before his eyes were blindfolded, and his ankles freed. Aunt Liza took him up-stairs and retired.

The mocking voice said: "Well, Weir, I didn't want to leave you in that rat-infested room all night without giving you a chance to change your mind. Wouldn't you rather sleep between your own sheets?"

"I would," said Evan coolly. "I have changed my mind. As you say, Simeon Deaves and his son are nothing to me. I will let them alone hereafter."

"Good man," said the other. "You promise to have nothing further to do with them?"

"I promise to have nothing further to do with them."

A new voice spoke up, a voice that vibrated with anger and hate: "That's too thin! He's trying to fool us! Can't you hear the lie in his voice?"

"Wait a minute," said the other, "I'll put him under oath." Addressing Evan he said mockingly: "I don't know what your attitude towards the bible is, but I'll take a chance. Will you swear it on the bible?"

It suddenly came to Evan that they were just playing with him, that they had no intention of letting him go. Moreover that hateful voice had roused a fury in him that was incapable of making further pretences.

"I'll swear nothing," he said sullenly.

"That's too bad!" said the man who faced him, with hypocritical regret. Evan was sure now that they were grinning among themselves. "I'll have to return you to your luxurious chamber."

The harsh voice broke in again: "We're taking too big a chance, leaving him here. We can't stay here ourselves, and the woman is no match for him. He'll break out."

"What do you propose then?" asked the other man.

"He'll never let up against us. Look at that stubborn jaw. It's us or him!"

"What do you want me to do?"

"Put him out of the way!"

Evan thought: "They're bluffing!"

But he heard the gentlest voice among them murmur: "Oh, no! no!" And that was more convincing than the other man's abuse. A chill struck to his breast.

The angry man turned on him who had protested. "You be quiet! Your chickenheartedness has spoiled our game more than once! What's the use of half measures? We're all good for prison sentences if we're caught. Mark my words this man will put us all behind the bars if we don't put him where he can do no harm."

He whom Evan had taken to be the leader said: "This is not a question for us to decide. Put it up to the chief."

So he was not the chief then. One of them left the room. Evan wondered about this leader who held himself so far above his men that he disdained to take part in their meetings. Meanwhile he waited for the return of the messenger as an accused murderer waits for his jury. Silence filled the room. Through the windows came the voices of the cheerful katydids and the shrill tree-toads. A sudden sense of the sweetness of life stabbed Evan like a poniard.

The man was not gone long, nor did he keep Evan waiting for the verdict. "Chief says I am right," he blurted out – it was the harsh-voiced one. "Orders are let him pass out before we go home to-night."

A pent breath escaped from all those in the room. A rush of conflicting emotions made Evan dizzy; fear, the determination not to show fear, and that unmanning sense of the terrible sweetness of life. Oh, for a wall behind his back!

"So be it!" said the man in front of him soberly.

The other went on: "The arrangements are left to you. How are you going to do it?"

"I have the pistol that I took from him."

"What will we do with the body?"

"Let it lie. We're ready to flit from here anyway. It will be unrecognisable before it's discovered."

Evan visualised his own body putrefying, and the heart shrivelled in his breast. He clenched his teeth. All he had left was pride. "I will show nothing," he repeated to himself.

With too much suffering, the whole scene became slightly unreal to him. He heard their talk as from a little distance:

"We will draw lots. Who's got a sheet of paper? Anything will do… This will do. Tear it in eight pieces… No, seven. Leave C. D. out. He couldn't pull the trigger if his own life depended on it… I mark a cross on one piece, see? Now fold each piece in four… Call Aunt Liza up-stairs… A hat? All right. Drop them in. Shake it up… Don't let on anything to Aunt Liza… Be quiet; here she is… Aunt Liza hold this hat above your head, so… Now come up to her one at a time and draw a paper. Do not open it until the last one is drawn."

A dreadful silence succeeded. The hard breathing of many men was audible in the room. Little cold drops sprang out in front of Evan's ears. A horrible constriction fastened on his breast, so that he could scarcely draw breath.

"Am I a coward?" he asked himself – and that caused him the sharpest pang of all. "Other men have died without flinching. Why do I suffer so?"

The resolute voice said: "Leave the room, Aunt Liza."

Evan heard the old negress shuffle out. She was the nearest thing to a friend that he had there.

"Now," cried the man, with a sharp catch of excitement.

Evan heard the crackling of the little bits of paper, and heard their breath escape them variously.

"Who has it?"

"I have!" It was the harsh voice. "It's no more than fair, since I proposed it."

"Oh, it's too horrible! It's too horrible!" sobbed the gentler voice. He ran out of the room.

"Let him go," said the harsh one. "This is no sight for kids."

"Here's the gun," said the other.

Evan thought: "Well, I won't take it standing still!"

Somewhere behind him the door was open. Putting his head down he charged for it. Instantly half a dozen pairs of hands seized him. He was borne back until he crashed against a wall. He felt of it gratefully. A deep instinctive need was supplied by the feeling of something solid at his back.

"Take your hands off him," said the principal voice.

Evan was freed, but he knew they still stood close beside him. The voice went on peremptorily. "Stand still if you don't want to be pinned against the wall like an insect."

"Unbind my eyes!" cried Evan. "Let me see what's coming to me."

The voice replied in its grim drawl: "Sorry, but we can't let you take mental pictures of us even to the other side."

"You're afraid to face me, you cowards!"

"Maybe. If you want to send any messages I'll transmit them."

Evan snatched at the chance. "I'd like to send a letter."

"All right." There was a pause while the speaker presumably found pencil and paper. "Go ahead."

Evan dictated Charley Straiker's address. "Dear Charl: I have cut loose. I have taken to the trail. You will not see me again. I leave everything I have in my room to you. It will not make you rich. With one exception. I want to send my least-bad picture to a friend. It's the one I call 'Green and Gold,' the view of the Square from my window in the morning light. There's a little frame that fits it. Write on the back of it – write – Oh, don't write anything. Wrap it up and address it to Miss Corinna Playfair. Take it to the steamboat Ernestina which will be lying at the pier foot of East Twentieth street on Saturday morning up to Nine-Thirty. Be good, old son. Here's how. Evan."

"Are you ready?" demanded the harsh voice unexpectedly close.

"Shoot and be damned to you!" said Evan.

He felt a little rim of cold steel pressed against his temple. With that touch all Evan's agony rolled away. After all, what was life but a jest? Thank God! he was not a coward!

The other man was still speaking – Good God would he never have done! – "I will give you the word." Then he began to count: "One, two, three – !"

Evan cried gaily: "So long, all!"

"Fire!"

There was a deafening crash. Everything went from him.