The Double Four Part 31

His method of making things all right was the same in every case. He would form a circle of disreputable youths, for whose drinks Sogrange was called upon to pay. The att.i.tude of the young men was more dejected than positively vicious. They showed not the slightest signs of any desire to make themselves unpleasant. Only once, when Sogrange incautiously displayed a gold watch, did the eyes of one or two of their number glisten. The ex-detective changed his place and whispered hoa.r.s.ely in his patron's ear:

"Say, don't you flash anything of that sort about here! That young cove right opposite to you is one of the best-known sneak-thieves in the city. You're asking for trouble that way."

"If he or any other of them want my watch," Sogrange answered, calmly, "let them come and fetch it. However," he added, b.u.t.toning up his coat, "no doubt you are right. Is there anywhere else to take us?"

The man hesitated.

"There ain't much that you haven't seen," he remarked.

Sogrange laughed softly as he rose to his feet.

"A sell, my dear friend," he said to Peter. "This terrible city keeps its real criminal cla.s.s somewhere else rather than in the show places."

A man who had been standing in the doorway, looking in for several moments, strolled up to them. Peter recognised him at once and touched Sogrange on the arm. The new-comer accosted them pleasantly.

"Say, you'll excuse my b.u.t.ting in," he began, "but I can see you are kind of disappointed. These suckers"--indicating the ex-detective--"talk a lot about what they're going to show you, and when they get you round, it all amounts to nothing. This is the sort of thing they bring you to as representing the wickedness of New York! That's so, Rastall, isn't it?"

The ex-detective looked a little sheepish.

"Yes, there ain't much more to be seen," he admitted. "Perhaps you'll take the job on if you think there is."

"Well, I'd engage to show the gentlemen something a sight more interesting than this," the new-comer continued. "They don't want to sit down and drink with the sc.u.m of the earth."

"Perhaps," Sogrange suggested, "this gentleman has something in his mind which he thinks would appeal to us. We have a motor-car outside, and we are out for adventures."

"What sort of adventures?" the new-comer asked bluntly.

Sogrange shrugged his shoulders lightly.

"We are lookers-on merely," he explained. "My friend and I have travelled a good deal. We have seen something of criminal life in Paris and London, Vienna, and Budapest. I shall not break any confidence if I tell you that my friend is a writer, and material such as this is useful."

The new-comer smiled.

"Say," he exclaimed, "in a way, it's fortunate for you that I happened along! You come right with me and I'll show you something that very few other people in this city know of. Guess you'd better pay this fellow off," he added, indicating the ex-detective. "He's no more use to you."

Sogrange and Peter exchanged questioning glances.

"It is very kind of you, sir," Peter decided, "but for my part I have had enough for one evening."

"Just as you like, of course," the other remarked, with studied unconcern.

"What kind of place would it be?" Sogrange asked.

The new-comer drew them on one side, although, as a matter of fact, everyone else had melted away.

"Have you ever heard of the secret societies of New York?" he inquired.

"Well, I guess you haven't, anyway--not to know anything about them.

Well, then, listen. There's a society meets within a few steps of here, which has more to do with regulating the criminal cla.s.ses of the city than any police establishment. There'll be a man there within an hour or so who, to my knowledge, has committed seven murders. The police can't get him. They never will. He's under our protection."

"May we visit such a place as you describe without danger?" Peter asked calmly.

"No!" the man answered. "There's danger in going anywhere, it seems to me, if it's worth while. So long as you keep a still tongue in your head and don't look about you too much, there's nothing will happen to you.

If you get ga.s.sing a lot, you might tumble in for almost anything. Don't come unless you like. It's a chance for you, as you're a writer, but you'd best keep out of it if you're in any way nervous."

"You said it was quite close?" Sogrange inquired.

"Within a yard or two," the man replied. "It's right this way."

They left the hall with their new escort. When they looked for their motor-car, they found it had gone.

"It don't do to keep them things waiting about round here," their new friend remarked, carelessly. "I guess I'll send you back to your hotel all right. Step this way."

"By the by, what street is this we are in?" Peter asked.

"100th Street," the man answered.

Peter shook his head.

"I'm a little superst.i.tious about that number," he declared. "Is that an elevated railway there? I think we've had enough, Sogrange."

Sogrange hesitated. They were standing now in front of a tall, gloomy house, unkempt, with broken gate--a large but miserable-looking abode.

The pa.s.sers-by in the street were few. The whole character of the surroundings was squalid. The man pushed open the broken gate.

"You cross the road right there to the elevated," he directed. "If you ain't coming, I'll bid you good-night."

Once more they hesitated. Peter, perhaps, saw more than his companion.

He saw the dark shapes lurking under the railway arch. He knew instinctively that they were in some sort of danger. And yet the love of adventure was on fire in his blood. His belief in himself was immense.

He whispered to Sogrange.

"I do not trust our guide," he said. "If you care to risk it, I am with you."

"Mind the broken pavement," the man called out. "This ain't exactly an abode of luxury."

They climbed some broken steps. Their guide opened a door with a Yale key. The door swung to after them and they found themselves in darkness.

There had been no light in the windows. There was no light, apparently, in the house. Their companion produced an electric torch from his pocket.

"You had best follow me," he advised. "Our quarters face out the other way. We keep this end looking a little deserted."

They pa.s.sed through a swing door and everything was at once changed. A mult.i.tude of lamps hung from the ceiling, the floor was carpeted, the walls clean.

"We don't go in for electric light," their guide explained, "as we try not to give the place away. We manage to keep it fairly comfortable, though."

He pushed open the door and entered a somewhat gorgeously furnished salon. There were signs here of feminine occupation, an open piano, and the smell of cigarettes. Once more Peter hesitated.

"Your friends seem to be in hiding," he remarked. "Personally, I am losing my curiosity."

"Guess you won't have to wait very long," the man replied, with meaning.

The room was suddenly invaded on all sides. Four doors, which were quite hidden by the pattern of the wall, had opened almost simultaneously, and at least a dozen men had entered. This time both Sogrange and Peter knew that they were face to face with the real thing. These were men who came silently in, not cigarette-stunted youths. Two of them were in evening dress; three or four had the appearance of prize-fighters. In their countenances was one expression common to all--an air of quiet and conscious strength.