The Deaves Affair

"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.