MRS1 The Under Dogs (20 page)

"She ... she ..." whispered Melanie.

Jessie put a hand over her mouth. "Don't try to tell me now," she whispered swiftly. "Time enough later."

Gradually Melanie quieted down. "Ah, it's good to have you here," she whispered, clinging hard to Jessie. "If you mean to do me a dirty trick, God forgive you! 'Tain't worth your while. For I'm done! They've broke me!"

"You'll see whether I'm on the square or not," whispered Jessie.

After a while Jessie said: "I'm not going to ask you no questions. If there's anything you want to tell me go ahead. But it's nothin' to me."

"Ain't nothin' to tell," whispered Melanie. "You see how it is."

"There's one thing puzzles me," said Jessie. "I'm supposing they think that you've betrayed the organisation in some way."

"Yes, but they got no proof of it," said Melanie.

"Yes, but if they think so. They all tell me that a suspicion of treason, as they call it, is enough. I understand that there's a nice dirt cellar under this house that's waitin' for traitors."

"That's right," whispered Melanie, "and they mean to stick me under it when I've served their turn. They're tryin' to get another through me, see? There's a fellow has slipped out of the hands of the big boss. They're hoping that this fellow'll hear that I'm locked up here, and that he'll try to see me, or get me out, see? Then they'll nab him, and stick us both under the dirt together."

Melanie began to shake again. "That's what drives me wild," she whispered. "I don't care about myself. But he ... he's had nothin' but trouble and hurt through me. We were crazy about each other. If I knew he was safe, I wouldn't care!"

"That's George Mullen," whispered Jessie.

"Where 'd you hear that name?" demanded Melanie, clutching her.

"Minnie Dickerson told me."

"A-ah, Min talks too much."

"Maybe we can get word to him," whispered Jessie.

"That's just what I don't want," answered Melanie. "That would bring him. I'm scared now that he'll hear from somebody, who's heard it from somebody else, who's heard it from one of the men in the house, that I'm locked up here. At the mercy of Black Kate."

"But if we got the right kind of a message to him."

Melanie still shook her head. "I wouldn't tell you how to reach him. I think now that you're my friend. But that's something I couldn't tell to anybody on earth."

"I already know how to reach him," said Jessie. "Through his mother."

Melanie took her arm from about Jessie, and buried her face in her hands. "Oh, God! if any further harm comes to him through me..." she murmured.

Jessie put her lips to the girl's ear. "Sh!" she whispered warningly.

"Oh," said Melanie, "if Pap's awake, he's often heard me talkin' to myself. He won't listen."

However, she put her lips to Jessie's ear again. "Listen," she whispered imploringly, "if you're on the square, for God's sake don't try to send any kind of a message to him. I hope and pray that he's cleared out; that he's far enough away never to hear of me again!"

Jessie held her close. She whispered: "Well, the first thing we got to do is to dope out some way..."

The sentence never got itself finished, for a sound came from the floor below, that caused them to spring apart; the thrust of key in a lock.

"Black Kate," gasped Melanie; "at your door!"

In a flash Jessie was at the window. She tossed the knotted rope out, and climbed over the sill. A moment later, she was hanging in front of the bathroom window. Still clinging to the rope, she managed to pull herself over to her own sill by means of the shutters. She let herself down to a sitting position, with her feet inside, and let go the rope. It was instantly jerked up out of sight.

Black Kate had not yet got into the room. She was viciously pounding on the door. "Let me in!" she cried. It was the first time she had spoken. Jessie gave her heart a moment to quiet down.

"Let me in!" cried Kate again.

"Oh, it's you!" answered Jessie from the direction of the bed. "One moment."

She lit the gas, and took the little pistol in her hand. Then she pulled the chair from under the handle of the door.

Kate was still fully dressed; Sam was behind her. The violent oath on her lips was checked at the sight of the gun. She looked very queer. "Where'd you get that?" she demanded.

Nothing like the truth, thought Jessie. "Bill gave it to me," she said.

"Hand it over," said Kate peremptorily.

Jessie retreated one step, and slowly shook her head. "It's Bill's," she said. "I'll only give it to him."

Kate's face was hideous with rage. However, she decided not to force the issue. "Why didn't you let me in right away?" she demanded.

"I was asleep," said Jessie, with innocent eyes. "At first I thought it was one of the men."

"You don't need to fear any of the men when I'm in the next room."

"But if you found one of them here, you'd blame me," said Jessie.

Black Kate lost countenance again.

"What did you want of me?" asked Jessie, innocent still.

"Er ... I thought I heard a noise in here," said Black Kate, looking around the room.

"I don't know ... I was asleep," said Jessie demurely. She looked around, too.

In order to save her face Black Kate flew into a fresh passion. "You gotta understand that I make my rounds any time of day or night, as I see fit," she said.

"Oh, certainly," said Jessie humbly.

Black Kate slammed the door, and turned the key in it. Jessie looked down at the diminutive black object in her hand.

"Little friend, you did me a good turn," she murmured.

In the kitchen next morning, Jessie and Pap were washing dishes, while Bill sat by the window, filling his first after-breakfast pipe, Evidently the expedition of the night before had been crowned with success, for Bill was in a high good humour.

"Like to take a walk?" he said to Jessie.

"Sure," said Jessie facetiously. "Were'll it be? Up and down the hall or out in the yard?"

"How about lunch at a Broadway hotel?" said Bill. "I'll blow."

"Don't make me laugh," said Jessie. "Me lip's cracked."

"On the level," said Bill, "orders has come through that you're to be taught the ropes, now, and I'm to be your teacher." He lowered his voice prudently. "You can't fool the big boss. Black Kate spoiled one good girl on him, and he ain't goin' to give her another. Say, maybe Kate didn't give me a sweet look when she told me the news. Oh no, not at all. But orders is orders. The boss has got his check on her, as well as the rest of us. So you can go out now, as long as I escort you."

Jessie could scarcely believe her ears. Her heart beat high. "Don't I need a disguise?" she asked.

"What for?"

"Against the police."

"The police ain't lookin' for you, sis. That's where you're in luck. No alarm for you was ever sent out. Warden's afraid of the publicity, I guess. He prob'ly has a man or two of his own lookin' for you around town, but they'll never find you, unless the big boss wants you to be found. If it wasn't for that, you'd have to stay indoors for many a day yet."

With a bounding heart, Jessie ran upstairs to fetch her hat. This had come sooner than she expected. Surely, with this greater freedom of action, she could soon accomplish both her aims. It would be too much to say that all looked clear ahead, but she could see light now.

Before returning downstairs, she ran into the bathroom for a moment, and sticking her head out of the window, scratched on the sill. Instantly a cautious head stuck out over the sill above. Melanie looked relieved at the sight of Jessie's joyous face. Jessie pointed to her hat, and signified in dumb play that she was going out. Melanie looked both pleased and dubious. Evidently Jessie's unexpected good luck brought back some of her suspicions. But if she thought about it at all she must realise that Jessie would never have run to tell her about it, if she were not on the square.

When Jessie got back to the kitchen, Bill said: "Orders is you are to go out by the front door. Kate uses the front door when she goes in and out by day, also Sam and Abie. Only me and Fingy has to go out the back way, 'cos we looks like shady characters. You walk up-town, and I'll overtake you by Sheridan Square."

The front door was always kept locked on the inside, and Kate carried the key. She hove in view from somewhere to let Jessie out, and stood back with a pinched and bitter face. Jessie, making believe to be unaware of it, smiled at her as she passed, and ran down the steps with light heels. She will never forget the bliss of that moment. Varick Street is far from being beautiful, but to Jessie it looked like the New Jerusalem. Such a blue sky, such golden sunshine, such pleasant people.

Very soon Bill Combs came lumbering up behind her. He took her arm, and drew her to a stand at the curb. "Let's take a taxi," said he, "I'm flush."

"Where we going?" asked Jessie.

"Oh, nowheres in particular to-day. We's just havin' a taste of libetty to-day."

"Well, it's sweet," said Jessie.

When they had seated themselves in the cab, Bill inserted thumb and forefinger in his waistcoat pocket, and drew out a short string of pearls; not large pearls, but beautifully matched and lustrous.

"For you," he mumbled like a great clumsy schoolboy.

For a moment Jessie's breath was taken away.

"Part of last night's stuff?" Bill went on. "I gets little enough out of it, and I holds out on them when I can. These I picked up for you special."

Jessie trembled with inward laughter. What a funny compliment for a woman to receive. "Oh, Bill, I couldn't," she said.

"Why not?" he demanded, absurdly chapfallen.

"It wouldn't be square."

"Not square to who?"

"To
you
. The first time you got mad at me you'd say; 'What did you take them pearls for?'"

She had him there. "A-ah!" he grumbled looking away, "you got too fine sentiment!" But he dropped the pearls in his pocket again.

"When do my lessons begin?" asked Jessie.

"Right now," said Bill. "I understand the boss aims to make you a first-class house-breaker," he went on coolly—and once more Jessie felt that queer start of inward laughter. "The last girl we had used to hire out as a servant in rich houses, and then lift the mistress's sparklers. A safe and sure stunt. But, of course, you're too rough for that kind of work."

This time Jessie giggled openly.

"No offence meant," said Bill, with an uneasy look; "you're a damn sight better lookin' gal in my eyes than she was. I just mean you ain't got the soapy look a servant has."

"No offence taken," said Jessie. "I get you."

"The boss believes that women ought to make the best house-breakers," Bill went on, "being as they're naturally handier, quicker and quieter. That's the modern idea; women are hornin' in everywhere nowadays. The trouble with them is, they don't gen'ally have the nerve. But the boss is satisfied you got plenty nerve, and I'll say you have too."

"Much obliged," said Jessie.

"Of course, I couldn't learn you everything you ought to know right off the bat," said Bill. "It'd take a year alone to show you all the different kinds of locks and how to pick them. But things ain't what they was when I went into the business. They ain't no more all-round men. This is the age of specialisation. I'll say it's easier than it used to be on account of organisation. Take our organisation. The outside men they picks the jobs, and dopes out a line of approach and all. All you got to do is follow instructions."

"Well, if I had a choice, I'd take the old way," said Jessie. "If I got to take the risk, I want to run the show."

"There's somepin in that," agreed Bill, "but I will say our organisation's got brainy men on the outside to plan things out good."

"Looks like to me they just use us like monkeys to pull their chestnuts out of the fire," said Jessie.

"That's so, in a way of speaking," said Bill. "But them's modern conditions. What ya goin' to do?"

"Do you know the boss?" asked Jessie.

"I seen him in my time," said Bill guardedly.

"What like man is he?"

Bill wagged his raised palm from side to side.

"Can't you tell me what he looks like?" persisted Jessie. "How old a man? Is he married? Does he lead a respectable life and all. Has he got some regular business for a stall? Is he well known around town?"

To all such questions Bill obdurately wagged his hand. "You hadn't ought to ast me them kind of questions," he said. "Maybe I could answer them, and maybe I couldn't. I don't want to know nothin' about the boss, as a man. It's dangerous. To you and me he's just an idea, sis. He's power, see? You and me is only a part of a part of the organisation. It reaches everywhere. The different parts don't even know each other. But from each part a line runs direct to the boss. He holds all the lines in his hand. He does what he wants. He's as high above you and me as God!"

"This is a free country, ain't it?" said Jessie, just to draw him out.

"I guess that slogan was invented before everything was organised," said Bill dryly. "Nowadays the individual man is nothing. All he can do is to join a good strong organisation. Then he can lie back, and let the organisation take care of him, and do his thinking."

"But they don't take care of us," said Jessie. "They let us take all the risk. They let us go to jail."

"But they get us out again, don't they?"

"Do you think the boss will let me see him?" asked Jessie.

"Why should he?" said Bill coolly. "You're on'y the youngest member."

"But he will, though!" Jessie vowed to herself.

They dismissed their taxi at Thirty-Fourth Street, and strolled up the Avenue. How good the well-remembered street looked to Jessie's eyes. She eagerly searched amongst the throng for old acquaintances. It was not the season for fashionable people to be in town, but she saw Mrs. Grantham, the wife of the famous aviator; the new Mrs. Norbert Starr, and Doctor Strailock. None looked at her, of course. Big Bill in himself was a disguise.

"The first thing I got to teach you," said Bill, "is to know the stuff when you see it."