The Definite Object

Chapter 9

WHICH RECOUNTS THE END OF AN EPISODE

Midway down he beheld two burly policemen who mounted, one behind the other, their grey helmets, blue coats, and silver buttons seeming to fill the narrow stairway.

"Anything wrong?" he enquired, as they drew level.

"Not wid you dis time, bo!" answered one, blandly contemptuous, and strode on up the stair, twirling his club in practised hand, his fellow officer at his heels.

Thus rebuked, Mr. Ravenslee looked after them with quick-drawn brows until, remembering his broken hat brim and shabby clothes, he smiled and went upon his way. Reaching the dingy lower hall he beheld the solitary gas-jet flare whose feeble light showed five lounging forms, rough fellows who talked together in hoarse murmurs and with heads close together.

He was passing by, when, in one of these deep-throated talkers, he recognised the long limbs and wide, sloping shoulders of the Spider. Mr. Ravenslee paused and nodded.

"Good evening!" said he, but this time kept his hands in his pockets. The Spider eyed him somewhat askance, shifted his wad of chewing gum from one cheek to the other, and spoke.

"'Lo!" said he.

"Do you know where Spike is?"

"S'pose I do--then what?" demanded the Spider with a truculent lurch of his wide shoulders.

"Then I shall ask you to tell me where I can find him--or better still, you might show me."

"Oh, might I?"

"You might!"

The feelings of the Spider waxing beyond mere words, he looked at the speaker, viewed him up and down with a glance of contemptuous hostility, whereat Ravenslee's whole expression melted into one of lamblike meekness.

"Say," quoth the Spider at last, "there's only one thing as I can't stand about you, an' that's--everything!"

"Sorry for that," murmured Ravenslee, "because I rather like you, Spider. I think you could be quite a decent fellow if you tried very hard! Come, shake your grouch and let's be friends."

"Say," growled the Spider, "what you're sufferin' from's a hard neck! You ain't no friend o' mine--not much you ain't, savvy? So crank up an' get on yer way like a good little feller!"

"But you see I'm anxious to find Spike because--"

"Well, say, you keep on bein' anxious, only do it somewheres else. I don't want youse around where I am, see? So beat it while d' goin's good!"

"Why--er--no," said Ravenslee in his laziest tones, "no, I don't think I'll beat it. I guess I'll stay right here and wait until you are so kind, so--er--very kind and obliging as to show me where I can find Spike." And he sighed plaintively as he lounged against the wall behind, but his eyes were surprisingly bright and quick beneath the shadow of the battered hat.

"Hully Chee!" exclaimed the Spider, expectorating contemptuously, "hark to the flossy-boy, fellers! Aw, run away, now!" said he, scowling suddenly, "run away before ye get slapped on th' wrist!" and, while divers of his companions laughed hoarsely, he turned a contemptuous back on Mr. Ravenslee. But even then he was seized in iron fingers that clutched his shoulder and, in that painful grip, was jerked suddenly around again to behold a face vicious-eyed, thin-lipped, square-jawed, fiercely outthrust. Recognising the "fighting-face", the Spider, being a fighter of a large and varied experience, immediately "covered up", and fell into that famous crouch of his that had proved the undoing of so many doughty fighters ere now. Then, like a flash, his long arm shot out, but in that same instant, Ravenslee, timing the blow to a fraction, moved slightly, and the Spider's knuckles bruised themselves against the wall at the precise moment that Ravenslee's open hand flipped lightly on the side of the Spider's square, lean jaw.

The Spider drew back, staring from Ravenslee's tall, alert figure to his bruised knuckles and back again, while his companions stood by in mute and wide-eyed wonder.

"Spider," said Ravenslee, shaking his head in grave reproof, "you were rather slow that time--very foolish to leave your point uncovered and offer me your jaw like that, you know!"

Five pairs of eyes stared at the speaker with a new and suddenly awakened interest, and beholding in him that lithe assurance of poise, that indefinable air that bespeaks the trained pugilist and which cannot be mistaken, elbows were nudged, and heads wagged knowingly.

Ravenslee's grey eyes were shining, and his pale cheeks tinged with colour.

"Ah, Spider," said he, "life is rather worth while after all, isn't it? Spider, I like you better and better; come, don't be a surly Spider, shake hands!"

"T' hell wid youse!" growled the Spider, covering up again, and, though his face was sulky yet was no trace of contempt there now.

"I suppose," mused Ravenslee, looking him over with knowledgeful eye, "yes, I judge, as you are now, you would fight about seven or eight pounds over your ringside weight. You'd have to give me eighteen pounds! Spider--I could eat you! Come, shake hands and let's go and fetch Spike."

Now, speaking, Ravenslee smiled, with eyes as well as lips; beholding which, the Spider grew slowly upright, his knotted fists unclenched, and, staring Ravenslee in the eyes, he reached out slowly and by degrees and grasped the proffered hand.

"Say," said he, falling to violent mastication of his eternal chewing gum, "who'd you have d'mitts on with last--an' when?"

"Oh, it seems ages ago!" sighed Ravenslee. "But where's Spike?"

"Say, bo, who wants him, an' whaffor? Spike's me pal, see, so I jest shore wants ter savvy who wants him an' why?"

"His sister--"

"Hully Chee! Why didn't youse say so at first? When Miss Hermione wants anything she's gotta have it, I guess! Ain't that right, fellers?"

"You bet," chimed the four.

"So if she wants d' Kid, I guess I'll jest have to fetch him for her. Come on, bo! S'long, fellers!"

Hereupon, having acknowledged the friendly salutes of the four, Ravenslee followed the Spider out into the court, empty now and silent.

"Say, bo, where'd you meet up wid Spike, anyway?" enquired the Spider, as they strode along Tenth Avenue. "You don't belong around here, do ye?"

"No. Do you know where he was last night?"

"You can search me, bo. All I savvy is he was off on some frame-up or other."

"Who with?"

"Well--not wid me."

"Did you see any one with him besides M'Ginnis at O'Rourke's?"

"No, there was only them two."

"Ah, I guessed as much," said Ravenslee, nodding; "he went away with M'Ginnis--good!"

"Say, bo," questioned the Spider when they had gone some way in silence, "I ain't seen you fight anywheres, have I?"

"No, but I've seen you, Spider, I saw you beat Larry McKinnon at 'Frisco."

"Which sure was some fight!" nodded the Spider. "Them half-arm jolts of his sure shook me some; he'd have got me in th' third if I hadn't clinched."

"He was a terror at in-fighting."

"He sure was, bo!"

"It was your jabbing and footwork won you the fight, Spider, one of the best I've ever seen--very little clinching and clean breakaways."

"Larry sure was game all through, yes--right up to the knock-out. A good, clean fighter. 'N' say, bo, I was real sorry to see him counted out."

"It meant a big purse for you, I remember."

"Oh, sure, I had money to burn. I ain't got much left now, though," said the Spider ruefully.

"You came pretty near being a world's champion, Spider."

"Aw--jest near enough t' miss it, I guess. Talkin' o' champeens, the greatest of 'em, th' best fightin' man as ever swung a mitt, I reckon was Joe Madden, as retired years ago. Nobody could ever lick Joe Madden."

"Did you know him?"

"Not me, bo, I wasn't in his class. But I seen him fight years ago."

"Do you think Spike will ever make a champion?" enquired Ravenslee suddenly. "I mean if he were given every chance?"

"Well," answered the Spider slowly, "he sure has the grit; ther ain't nothin' on two legs he's afraid of except--himself, bo. He's too high-strung. Nerves is his trouble, I reckon. Why, Chee! When he's in d' ring he can't be still a minute, can't let himself rest between rounds, see? He kinder beats himself, I guess."

"I know what you mean," nodded Ravenslee, "and I'm sure you're right. By the way, have you ever seen M'Ginnis fight?"

"I seen him scrap once or twice--he's sure ugly in a rough-house, but in th' ring--well, I dunno!"

"Has he a punch?"

"Bo, he's got a sleep-pill in each mitt if--if he can land his wallop right! Yes, siree, if Bud can hit a guy where it'll do most good, that guy's sure goin' to forget his cares an' troubles for a bit. But he's slow an' heavy, Bud is, though I ain't never seen him mix it in th' ring, mind."

"H'm," said Ravenslee thoughtfully, "M'Ginnis seems to have it all his own way around here--why?"

"Well, because Bud's Bud, an' because Bud's old man is a Tammany boss--which gives Bud a big pull wid d' police. 'Nuff said, I guess."

"Quite!" nodded Ravenslee, and walked thereafter deeper in thought than ever. "Where are you taking me?" he enquired, as they turned a sudden corner.

"To d' river!"

"This is Eleventh Avenue, then?"

"Yep! Watch out you don't trip on d' railroad tracks." And now the Spider seemed to have become thoughtful also, and somewhat gloomy, judging by his face as seen by an occasional feeble light as they traversed the unlovely thoroughfare.

"Bo," said he suddenly, "I'm thinkin' there's some guys in this world as would be better out of it. I'm thinkin' of some guy as got a little girl into trouble--an' left her to it. Her kid died, an' her folks turned her out, an' she'd have died too, I guess, if it hadn't been for Miss Hermione an' old Mother Trapes--ye see, she was all alone, poor little kid! Now a man as would treat a girl that ways ain't got no right t' live, I reckon. I should like t' know who that guy was! I should like t' meet that guy--once!"

After this the Spider became more gloomy than ever and spoke only in surly monosyllables. Suddenly he turned off along a narrow, ill-lighted alleyway that led them between divers small mean houses and tall, dark warehouses and brought them suddenly out upon the misty foreshore beyond which the dim and mighty river flowed. On they went, the Spider's depression growing perceptibly, until at last their feet trod the rough planking of a narrow causeway which ended in a dark, raft-like structure moored out in the river. Here was a small and dismal shack from whose solitary window a feeble ray of light beamed.

Ravenslee shivered suddenly and stopped to stare about him while his listless hands changed to tight-clenched fists.

What was it?

What was there about this dismal, silent place that seemed to leap at him all at once from the dimness, he knew not whence? Was it the shack with its solitary light, or the broad river lapping with soft sighings and low weeping sounds among the piles below, or was it something in the altered aspect of the guiding figure that led him forward, slow and ever slower, as if with dragging feet, and yet with feet that trod so softly?

"Spider," said he at last, speaking in hushed and breathless manner, "Spider--where are we?" and speaking he shivered again, even while his clenched hand wiped the sweat from his brow. The Spider made no answer, for the feeble light was blotted out by a very solid something which, approaching softly, resolved itself into a burly, blue-clad form whose silver buttons and shield showed conspicuous.

"What's doin'!" demanded a voice. "Who is it?" The voice was hoarse and authoritative, but the gruff tones were schooled, it seemed, to an almost unnatural softness.

"'S all right, Micky," answered the Spider in the same subdued tone, "it's only me come for d' Kid."

"Who you got wid you there, Spider?"

"A pal o' mine an' d' Kid's--he's all right, Mick!" Then to Ravenslee: "Come on, bo!" Slowly they approached the shack, but, reaching the door, the Spider hesitated a long moment ere, lifting the latch, he led the way in.

A fairly large room was lighted by a lamp that stood upon a rickety table before which sat a young-faced, white-haired man, very industriously writing in a small account book; upon the table before him were a number of articles very neatly arranged, among which Ravenslee noticed a cheap wrist-watch, a hair-comb, a brooch, and a small chain purse. He was yet gazing at these and at the white-haired man, who, having nodded once to the Spider, continued to write so busily, when he was startled to hear a long-drawn, shuddering sigh. Turning suddenly sharp about, he stared toward a dark corner where, among a litter of oars, misshapen bundles, boxes, and odds and ends, was a small stove, and, crouched above it, his head between his hands, he beheld Spike.

With the same instinctive feeling that he must be silent, Ravenslee approached the boy and touched him on the shoulder. Spike started and glanced up, though without lifting his head.

"Your sister is anxious about you. Why are you here?"

"Don't you know, Geoff? Ain't no one told ye?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'll show ye!"

The boy took a hurricane lamp from the floor beside him, and, having lighted it, brought Ravenslee further into that littered corner where, among the boxes and bundles and other oddments, lay what seemed to be two or three oars covered with a worn tarpaulin.

"Look, Geoff--you remember--only this morning!" Very gently he raised a corner of the tarpaulin and as he looked down, Ravenslee's breath caught suddenly.

A woman's face, very young and very placid-seeming! The long, dark hair framing the waxen features still oozed drops of water like great, slow-falling tears; and beholding this pale, still face, Ravenslee knew why he had shivered and hushed voice and step, and instinctively he bowed his uncovered head.

"You remember Maggie Finlay, Geoff, this morning, on the stairs? She--she kissed me good-by, said she was goin' away; this is what she meant--the river, Geoff! She's drowned herself, Geoff! Oh, my God!" and letting fall the tarpaulin, Spike was shaken suddenly by fierce hysterical sobbing; whereat the man, looking up from his writing, spoke harsh-voiced.

"Aw, quit it, Kid, quit it! Here I've just wrote down three rings, and she's only got one, an' that a cheap fake. Shut up, Kid, you'll make me drop blots next! Cut it out, it ain't as if she was your sister--" Hereupon Spike started and lifted a twitching face.

"My sister!" he repeated, "my sister--whatcher mean? My God, Chip, Hermy could never--come to--that!" And shivering violently, Spike turned and stumbled out of the shack. Once outside, Ravenslee set his long arm about him and felt the lad still trembling violently.

"Why, Spike!" said he, "buck up, old fellow!"

"Oh, Geoff, Hermy could never--"

"No, no--of course not!" So very silently, together and side by side, they crossed the narrow causeway.

"Gee, but I'm cold!" said the boy between chattering teeth as they turned along the wide avenue, "I--I guess it's shook me some, Geoff. Y' see, I used to go to school with Maggie once--and now--"

Reaching Mulligan's at last, they beheld numerous groups of whispering folk who thronged the little court, the doorway, and the hall beyond; they whispered together upon the stairs and murmured on dim landings. But as Ravenslee and Spike, making their way through these groups, mounted upward, they found one landing very silent and deserted, a landing where was a certain battered door whose dingy panels had been wetted with the tears of a woman's agony, had felt the yearning, heartbroken passion of a woman's quivering lips such a very few hours ago. Remembering which, Geoffrey Ravenslee, turning to look at this grimy door, beheld it vague and blurred and indistinct as he turned and climbed that much-trodden stair.

Upon the top landing they found Mrs. Trapes, who leaned over the rails to greet them.

"So you found that b'y, Mr. Geoffrey. Hermy'll be glad. You'll have heard of poor little Maggie Finlay? Poor lass--poor, lonely lass! 'T was her father drove her to it, an' now he's had a fit--a stroke, the doctor's with him now--an' Hermy, of course! She's always around where trouble is. I guess there won't be much rest for her to-night--long past midnight now! I'm glad you found that b'y. I said you would. I'll jest go down and tell Hermy; she'll be glad."

Spike stood awhile after Mrs. Trapes had gone down-stairs, very silent and with head a-droop, then, slow and heavily, turned and opened his door, but paused to speak over his shoulder in a hoarse whisper.

"Geoff--if ever--any man--made my sister go through what Maggie Finlay went through--I'd--shoot him dead--by God in Heaven, I would!"