MRS1 The Under Dogs (16 page)

"But she told you to tell me things."

"Not all things," said Bill.

"There's one question I gotta ask," persisted Jessie. "I heard something last night. Where's Cliff Hutchins?"

"Back in the hoose-gow."

"Oh," said Jessie, relieved; "I thought they had croaked him. I couldn't sleep of it."

"Oh no," said Bill carelessly. "After a spell in the cooler, he'll be back on the job. They's on'y one thing they puts you out for."

"What's that?" asked Jessie, though she knew.

"They calls it treason," said Bill dryly.

A heavy anxiety settled on Jessie's breast. Was this the answer to that other question which Bill had refused to answer?

"How could they get Cliff Hutchins back to Sing Sing so quick?" she asked.

"Just hand him over to the police."

"Is there an understanding between the boss here and the police?"

"So it seems,"

"O-oh!" said Jessie.

"Now looka here, sis," said Bill, taking his pipe out of his mouth; "you said one question, and you ast me four already. Cut it out or you'll get us both in Dutch."

Jessie was tidying up her room, when the door opened and Skinny Sam walked in without so much as by your leave. By the leer on his face he fancied himself irresistible.

"You get out of here quick!" cried Jessie, scowling.

"'S'all right, kid," he said perkily, "the old un's gone to market."

"Whether she's in or out, you get out of my room!" cried Jessie.

"Say, you talk like the young Miss in her father's mansion; Act 2," he said, sneering. "It's wasted, kid. You ain't got no audience. Be yourself."

Jessie's arms itched to chastise the unpleasant little wretch, but she bethought herself she must avoid a fracas if she could. Physically, he was not very dangerous. She went on making the bed. Sam straddled a chair, and leaned his arms on the back in what he thought was a killing attitude.

"In this house we're down to rock bottom," he went on. "We can afford to be natural. We can let ourselves go. You'd be a fool not to take what fun there was going."

"Maybe it wouldn't be fun for me," remarked Jessie.

"Say, you're quite a jollier, ain't yuh? Well, it suits me. Gee! you got a peach of a shape. Makes my mouth water!"

A great anger surged up in Jessie, but she crushed it down. She merely looked at Sam.

He hadn't sense enough to get the significance of the look. "You're safe with me," he went on. "I got the old woman locoed; I'm her white-headed boy, and I can make her do what I want. I don't let my hand show, but it's really me runs this house through her, see? So whenever she's out of the way, you and I..."

"I don't follow you, kid," said Jessie dryly. "If I'm free to do what I want, being down to rock bottom as you say, I'm free to choose the man I'll take, ain't I?"

"Sure! and here he sits!"

"No," said Jessie, looking him over speculatively; "no, I can't say as I'd choose you. You don't impress me."

Sam got up. "You're quick with the come-back, ain't yeh, kid?" he said. "Me and you'll make a good pair. You don't know me yet."

"Nor I don't want to," said Jessie.

He came close to her. "Oh, that's what they all say at first," leering into her face; "but they changes their tune."

Jessie stepped back. "You want it straight?" she said grimly. "All right. I don't like you. If you was the last man on earth I'd choose to live single."

"Oh, is that it?" he snarled. "Well, you got to take me anyhow, cause I'm the master here, I can put you back in Woburn within a week. You ain't made none too good an impression here."

Jessie laughed.

"You can't afford to quarrel with me," he went on. "Wat t'hell, kid! We're wastin' time.... Turn around!"

He came up behind her, and slid an arm around her waist. This left Jessie's arms free. She
did
turn half around, leaning back, and, with a full swing of her right arm, boxed his ear.

"There!" she said, "I wanted to do that since I first laid eyes on your ugly face!"

Sam staggered back, dazed and blinking, a comical sight. Then his face became convulsed with rage, and he made for her. She was ready for him. It was the first time in her life that she had been called upon to exert her strength against another, and to her joy she found herself strong and able. The weedy youth was like a rag doll in her arms. She hustled him around the bed, and held him against the wall while she got the door open. Then she flung him outside with such force that he collapsed on the floor. She slammed the door.

"If you ever come in here again," she cried through it, "I'll break a chair over your head."

No sound from Sam. She walked away from the door, full of a savage exultation. "I can take care of myself," she thought. But her feeling of triumph soon wore off, and she sat on the bed, scowling in perplexity.

She saw that this would only make her position more difficult. Her woman's instinct told her that it would be useless to complain of Sam to Black Kate. Sam had her ear, and Sam would not be slow to distil poison within it. In Kate, he would find a willing listener. Sam's boast of sending Jessie back to Woburn was not altogether an idle one. What a mess! She sighed. How tragic if, after all she had dared, her work should come to nothing now.

It occurred to her that it would be a good stroke of policy to tell Big Bill what had happened, and she immediately went downstairs. Abell had gone to get his sleep, and Bill was alone in the dining-room, laboriously reading the newspaper. Sam, who had been peeping from some corner, came creeping after her into the dining-room to see what she was going to do. Beaten and cringing, he was a loathsome sight; with his viperish glances he was trying to intimidate her.

"What was the racket upstairs?" asked Bill.

"Sam came into my room when I was cleaning up," said Jessie clearly.

"And what did you do?" asked Bill, putting down the paper.

"I threw him out."

Bill was slow in all his movements. There was an alarming rumble from somewhere within his big body, then an appalling explosion—of laughter. He flung back his head, and slapped his thighs helplessly.

"And you could do it, too!" he gasped, when he was able to speak.

Sam sneaked out of the room again.

"I thought I better tell you," said Jessie, picking at the soiled red tablecloth. "He'll try to make trouble for me with her."

"It's a nasty mess," agreed Bill, "but it's not hopeless. Be sure the boss got you here for some purpose, and he's not going to give it up too easy. Whatever they may tell you, a girl like you is not easy to get. Then I heard what happened, see? Don't run ahead to meet trouble, sis. Wait till it comes. I'll stand by you."

"Thank you," said Jessie.

There was a silence. Big Bill was looking at Jessie in a peculiar way, but she did not immediately become aware of it.

Finally Bill said: "Sam is a measly little swine. He's not worth a woman's notice."

"Sure he isn't," said Jessie.

"There's other men in the world," said Bill meaningly.

Jessie looked at him in horror. He hoisted his great bulk slowly out of the chair and, going to the door, closed it. He came back to her, his gross features working with emotion. At all times Bill had the wistful look of the Beast in the old story, who knew that he was repulsive to Beauty. It was intensified now; simple, piteous and absurd.

"How about me, Jess?" he said gently.

"Oh, my God!" she thought; "another one!"

"I know I'm no cake-eater," he went on; "but at least I'm a man, not a flash-in-the-pan; not a flea-bitten whippet like that one. Oh, Jess, I could love you well; I could stand by you through thick and thin. I ain't had much that was nice in my life. I'd be so damn grateful to you, my girl. I'm not young, but I'm not old neither. A man is different from a boy; he's had sense knocked into his head."

"Oh, Bill, don't!" she murmured in distress. "Oh, Bill, not you!"

"What's the matter?" he said confused. "Didn't you come to me natural just now? Don't that mean nothing?"

"Oh, Bill, I wanted you for a friend. I counted on you. How can we live a life like ours without one friend? And where will I look for a friend if you fail me?"

"Fail you?" he echoed, spreading out his hands. "Ain't I offerin' you all I have?"

"Not that, Bill! I couldn't!" in desperation she blurted out: "There's somebody else ... outside. I may never see him again, but I got to stick to him!"

"Oh," he said in quite a different tone, and stood looking at her for a long time without speaking. An ugly look began to appear in his slow, pained eyes.

"They're all alike!" thought Jessie hopelessly.

He suddenly put out his hand, and seized her wrist in a terrible grasp. "Damn you!" he said thickly—but there was as much pain as rage in his voice, "then what did you look at me so kind for?"

Jessie stood perfectly quiet. "Because I liked you," she said.

"Liked me! Yah!" he snarled. "What's that to a man? What's friendship mean? It's like handin' a starvin' man a hunk o' chalk to eat! ... What you want to tantalise me for? Women is cruel to men, and a man's prepared for it. But you let on you were different. Now you got me going, how can I stop?"

The skilled psychologist called upon all her knowledge of the human soul. "I am not afraid of you," she said steadily. "I saw from the first that you were not like the others. You could not hurt me, because I like you."

He flung her arm violently from him, and walked away. "Don't look at me like that!" he cried. "Don't look at me!"

Jessie considered whether it were wiser to leave the room or to stay. To go might have the look of flight, and would instantly rouse the savage in him to pursue; so she stayed.

Bill flung himself into the chair he had first occupied, and gripped his head between his hands. "I want to do the right thing by you," he groaned. "You're as dear to me as a child of my own. But ... but you don't know what a man's got to fight ... his hunger ... and his madness! There's a devil in me; after so much he puts me down, and then I don't know what I'm doing."

"Oh, Bill, I know," she cried warmly. "Bill, you're a dandy! I'm proud to know you! We
will
be friends."

"To hell with your friendship!" he cried, with a savage thrust of his arm. "Get out of here! I can't bear to look at you."

Since he told her to go, she hesitated no longer, but walked slowly out of the room, and upstairs to her own room. After all, she was only a woman, and how thankful she would have been to possess the key to her door!

She sat down on the edge of the bed, discouraged. To be sure, she had won for the moment. But this sort of fight is won only to be always more savagely renewed. "Oh, why wasn't I a man!" she groaned to herself. "Or why didn't I make myself up with a hump on my back, and a patch over one eye. How can I go on here?"

During the morning Mrs. Pullen called Sam up to tell him she would be kept out all day by important business. Jessie heard this piece of information from Pap at lunch time. Except for Pap shuffling in and out of the room, Jessie ate her lunch alone. Both Sam and Bill were keeping out of her way for reasons of their own, and Abell had not come down from his sleeping room up on the top floor.

After lunch Jessie returned to her room. She kept the back of a chair propped under the handle of her door for what protection it would afford, but there was no attempt to disturb her again. She was sitting by her window for coolness when she saw Sam cross the yard below with tools in his hand. Evidently he was on his way to fix the sliding door. It occurred to Jessie that this would be a good opportunity to send a message outside. She knew that Pap and Bill were in the kitchen, two floors below. To be sure, Abell might come out of his room overhead, but he was so sore against the outfit, she was inclined to chance his betraying her. Her wandering about the house might easily be ascribed to a girl's natural curiosity anyhow.

The door of Mrs. Pullen's room was not locked. Jessie smiled at the picture that met her eyes, it was so different from what one might have expected. It appeared that, within her own sanctum, Black Kate was a bit of a sybarite. There was a deep-piled rug on the floor; there was a divan heaped with cushions in silken covers, each with a voluminous frill. The imposing brass bed had a lace spread and "pillow-shams," the pictures on the walls were of the melting school of Bougoureau; there was an immense bureau with an opulent display of silver toilet articles.

A hasty glance around assured Jessie that there was no written evidence that might be useful to her; the astute Mrs. Pullen would not be so foolish, of course. Her next move was to glance out of the window without disturbing the lace curtains. She saw that it was indeed Varick Street below. That thoroughfare is unmistakable owing to its recent widening, which has left all the ancient houses on one side of the street, with odd-shaped vacant lots, and crude new structures on the other. Jessie then went into the closet to telephone, leaving both doors open behind her to guard against surprise.

She called up your humble servant, Bella Brickley, and this brings me into the story again. I need not say how overjoyed I was to hear her dear voice again. I did not even know that she was out of prison, since the news of her escape had been kept out of the papers. It bowled me right over, and I blubbered into the telephone like a child.

It was all very brief. She gave me the main facts of the situation so phrased that nobody but myself could have understood it. She did not dwell upon her own danger, but I perceived it clearly enough, and then I was ready to weep with terror. Her instructions were that if I did not hear from her again within a week, I was to carry the information to Inspector Rumsey of the police, for him to act upon as he saw fit. But I was to make no move until the week was up.

"Should I not arrange to have some one listen in on their conversations?" I asked.

"No," said my mistress quickly. "They are too clever to give themselves away over the phone. Besides, a sharp ear can detect when the wire is open. If they suspected they were watched it would frustrate my whole scheme. I want them to have all the rope there is."