The Deaves Affair

"We have flashlights."

"Yes, and a nice mark they'd make for bullets!"

This was sufficiently reassuring. Evan showed himself. He saw an expensive runabout with two young fellows in it. They burst out simultaneously:

"What's the matter?"

"Oh, I had a fight with a crook in there," said Evan. "They have a hang-out in an old abandoned house."

"Do you want any help?"

"No thanks. I've got him tied up. But I wish you'd go for the police if you don't mind."

"Sure thing! The nearest station's in Tremont, five miles over bad roads. We'll bring 'em back in half an hour!"

In his excitement the young fellow threw his clutch in, and the big car leaped down the road before Evan could give him any further particulars.

On his way back Evan felt certain compunctions at the sight of Charley lying bound in the road. After all, Charley had been his friend for many a year. He wouldn't mind saving him from the consequences of his own folly if he could. That the police might not discover him when they came, Evan dragged him out of the road, and under a thick leafy bush to one side. Charley made imploring sounds through the gag. Evan continued along the rough track. He had the pocket flash to help him over the rough places now. In a quarter of a mile or more from the highway he came upon the dark mass of the old house rising against the night sky. It stood on a little rise in the midst of its clearing, which could scarcely be called a clearing now, for except in a small space immediately around the building the young trees were rising thickly.

It was a square block of a design somewhat freakish for a country residence, since the principal storey was above the entrance floor. There was a row of tall windows here, and above these windows an attic in the style of the eighteenth century. The tall windows evidently lighted the great room where Evan had suffered his ordeal at the hands of the Ikunahkatsi. It was in one of the back rooms on the same floor that the chief had his sanctum, he told himself. All the windows of the house were dark, but this did not prove that people were not within and awake, for Evan remembered the heavy shutters inside the windows.

He waited for a minute or two, and then began to get restless. In fact he itched for the glory of taking the chief single-handed. The letter of instructions had suggested that the chief would be alone in the building to-night, except for the old negress and the prisoner. And Evan was armed now. If he could find some way to make an entrance without giving an alarm, he believed it could be done.

He stole up to the front door on all fours. It was locked of course. He went around to the back; there were two doors here, both locked. He went from window to window. All of them had panes missing, but within each window the heavy shutters were closed and barred. He thought of cellar windows, sometimes they were forgotten. In certain places thick clumps of sumach had sprung up close to the house. Pushing behind one such clump, he stumbled on an old stone stair leading down. Once it had been closed by inclined doors, but these had rotted and fallen in. The steps led him into the cellar.

With the aid of his light he picked his way over the piles of rubbish and around the brick piers. Immense brick arches supported the chimneys of the house. They built more generously in those days. The rats scuttled out of his way. In the centre of the space there was a steep stair leading up. It looked sound. Pocketing his light, he crept up step by step and with infinite care tried the door at the top. It yielded! He was in!

All was dark and silent throughout the house. He judged that he must be in the central hall. He dared not use his light now, but felt his way towards the front. The sensation was not unlike that when he had been led through the house blindfolded. He touched the edge of the stairway, and guided himself to the foot. As he turned to mount, a sound brought the heart into his throat.

He identified it, and smiled grimly. It was a human snore and it came through the door on his left. This was the room where he had been confined, and it was more than likely old Simeon Deaves was sleeping there now.

He went up, stepping on the sides of the stair-treads to avoid making them creak. The stairway turned on itself in the middle, and at the top he was facing the front of the house again. Here he had to flash his light for a second. Immediately before him a pair of doors gave on the big room. They stood open. There were two more doors, one on each hand, both closed. Evan put out his light. As he did so a tiny ray of light became visible through the keyhole of the door on his left.

Evan dropped the light in his pocket, and took out his gun. Drawing a deep breath to steady himself, he smartly turned the handle and, flinging the door open, stepped back into the darkness. He saw in the centre of the great, bare, ruinous room an old packing case with a common lamp upon it, and a smaller box to sit on. He saw in the corner an army cot with a little figure lying upon it covered by a carriage robe, a figure which turned over and sat up at the sound of the door. He saw – Corinna!

CHAPTER XXII

TOWARDS MORNING

The shock of astonishment unmanned Evan. His pistol arm dropped weakly at his side, his mouth hung open, he stared like an idiot. To have crept into the house heart in mouth and pistol in hand, to have nerved himself to meet and overcome a desperate criminal – and then to find this! The violence of the reaction threw all his machinery out of gear; he stalled. He felt inclined to laugh weakly.

Corinna could not see him clearly, though presumably she was aware of a figure standing in the hall. She was very much affronted by the violence of the intrusion, and not in the least afraid. She sat up with her glorious hair a little tousled, and her eyes flashing like a diminutive empress's.

"Mr. Straiker, is it you? What does this mean?" she demanded.

Evan could not readily find his tongue. Amazement broke over him in succeeding waves like a surf. Corinna! Corinna here! Corinna a member of the blackmailing gang! Corinna, the chief! Oh, impossible! He was in a nightmare!

"Mr. Straiker!" repeated Corinna more sharply. "Come in at once!" She was on her feet now.

Evan's faculties began to work again. In anticipation he tasted the sweets of perfect revenge. This little creature had put an intolerable humiliation upon him. Very well, here she was absolutely in his power! Dropping the gun in his pocket, he stepped into the room smiling.

At sight of him Corinna did not cry out, but the shock she received was dreadfully evident in her eyes. She went back a step, one hand went to her breast, her lips formed the syllable "You!" – but no sound came from them. Every vestige of color faded from her face.

Evan's gaze burned her up; she was so beautiful, and she had injured him so! "So you're a member of the gang!" he said mockingly.

Corinna quickly recovered her forces. She shrugged disdainfully.

"And even the chief, it seems!"

"So it seems."

Amazement overcame him afresh. "You – you little thing!" he cried. "I cannot believe it!"

Corinna affected to look bored.

"So this was the real work of the brotherhood!" Evan went on. "Blackmail. This was why you couldn't fire them when they threatened you. A new way to raise money for philanthropic purposes, I swear! To hold up a usurer with one hand, and feed poor children with the other!"

"A usurer, yes," said Corinna contemptuously. "Your master!"

"That doesn't get under my skin," retorted Evan coolly. "No man is my master a day longer than I choose." He dissolved in amazement again. "But you! To think up such a scheme! To carry it out!"

"Oh, spare me your bleating!" said Corinna impatiently. "What are you going to do about it?"

"Turn you over to the police," he said promptly.

"Three of my friends are sleeping across the hall," she said.

So perfect was her aplomb that Evan was taken aback. He half turned, uncertainly. But as he did so, out of the tail of his eye he saw Corinna's hand go to her bosom. He whirled back with the gun in his hand again. A woman is at a serious disadvantage in drawing.

"Put your gun on the box," commanded Evan.

"I have no gun!" she cried. "I will not be spoken to so."

Evan took a step nearer her. His eyes glittered. "Put your gun on the box. Don't oblige me to use force. I should enjoy it far too well!"

With a sob of rage, she drew a little pistol from her dress and threw it on the box. Evan possessed himself of it.

"Now we'll see about the three friends across the hall," he said mockingly.

He backed out of the room. Corinna followed to the door. In her eye he read her purpose to make a dash for liberty down the stairs, and he took care to give her no opening. He flung open the door opposite and flashed his light inside the room. It was empty of course. He returned across the hall, and Corinna backed into the lighted room before him.

"They have stepped out, it seems," he said mockingly.

Corinna disdained to reply. Like a child, she was not in the least abashed when her bluff was called, but immediately set her wits to work to think of another.

"How do you purpose taking me to the police?" she asked scornfully.

"I'm not going to take you. They're coming here."