The Black Bag by Louis Joseph Vance (best manga ereader .TXT) đ
- Author: Louis Joseph Vance
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vacuous featuresâa resemblance to some one he had seen, or known, at some
past time, somewhere, somehow.
âI give it up. Guess Iâm mistaken. Anyhow, five young Englishmen out of
every ten of his class are just as blond and foolish. Now letâs see how bad
heâs hurt.â
With hands strong and gentle, he turned the round, light head. Then, âAh!â
he commented in the accent of comprehension. For there was an angry looking
bump at the base of the skull; and, the skin having been broken, possibly
in collision with the sharp-edged newel-post, a little blood had stained
and matted the straw-colored hair.
Kirkwood let the head down and took thought. Recalling a bath-room on the
floor above, thither he went, unselfishly forgetful of his predicament if
discovered, and, turning on the water, sopped his handkerchief until it
dripped. Then, returning, he took the boyâs head on his knees, washed the
wound, purloined another handkerchief (of silk, with a giddy border)
from the otherâs pocket, and of this manufactured a rude but serviceable
bandage.
Toward the conclusion of his attentions, the sufferer began to show signs
of returning animation. He stirred restlessly, whimpered a little, and
sighed. And Kirkwood, in consternation, got up.
âSo!â he commented ruefully. âI guess I am an ass, all rightâtaking all
that trouble for you, my friend. If Iâve got a grain of sense left, this is
my cue to leave you alone in your glory.â
He was lingering only to restore to the boyâs pockets such articles as he
had removed in the search for matches,âthe matchbox, a few silver coins,
a bulky sovereign purse, a handsome, plain gold watch, and so forth. But
ere he concluded he was aware that the boy was conscious, that his eyes,
open and blinking in the candlelight, were upon him.
They were blue eyes, blue and shallow as a dollâs, and edged with long,
fine lashes. Intelligence, of a certain degree, was rapidly informing them.
Kirkwood returned their questioning glance, transfixed in indecision, his
primal impulse to cut-and-run for it was gone; he had nothing to fear from
this child who could not prevent his going whenever he chose to go; while
by remaining he might perchance worm from him something about the girl.
âYouâre feeling better?â He was almost surprised to hear his own voice put
the query.
âIâI think so. Ow, my head!⊠I say, you chap, whoever you are, whatâs
happened?⊠I want to get up.â The boy added peevishly: âHelp a fellow,
canât you?â
âYouâve had a nasty fall,â Kirkwood observed evenly, passing an arm
beneath the boyâs shoulder and helping him to a sitting position. âDo you
remember?â
The other snuffled childishly and scrubbed across the floor to rest his
back against the wall.
âWhy-y ⊠I remember fallinâ; and then ⊠I woke up and it was all dark
and my head achinâ fit to split. I presume I went to sleep again ⊠I say,
whatâre you, doing here?â
Instead of replying, Kirkwood lifted a warning finger.
âHush!â he said tensely, alarmed by noises in the street. âYou donât
supposeâ?â
He had been conscious of a carriage rolling up from the corner, as well as
that it had drawn up (presumably) before a near-by dwelling. Now the rattle
of a key in the hall-door was startlingly audible. Before he could move,
the door itself opened with a slam.
Kirkwood moved toward the stair-head, and drew back with a cry of disgust.
âToo late!â he told himself bitterly; his escape was cut off. He could run
up-stairs and hide, of course, but the boy would inform against him andâŠ.
He buttoned up his coat, settled his hat on his head, and moved near the
candle, where it rested on the floor. One glimpse would suffice to show him
the force of the intruders, and one move of his foot put out the light;
thenâ_perhaps_âhe might be able to rush them.
Below, a brief pause had followed the noise of the door, as if those
entering were standing, irresolute, undecided which way to turn; but
abruptly enough the glimmer of candlelight must have been noticed. Kirkwood
heard a hushed exclamation, a quick clatter of high heels on the parquetry,
pattering feet on the stairs, all but drowned by swish and ripple of silken
skirts; and a woman stood at the head of the flightâto the American an
apparition profoundly amazing as she paused, the light from the floor
casting odd, theatric shadows beneath her eyes and over her brows, edging
her eyes themselves with brilliant light beneath their dark lashes, showing
her lips straight and drawn, and shimmering upon the spangles of an evening
gown, visible beneath the dark cloak which had fallen back from her white,
beautiful shoulders.
VIIIMADAME LâINTRIGANTE
âMrs. Hallam!â cried Kirkwood, beneath his breath.
The woman ignored his existence. Moving swiftly forward, she dropped on
both knees by the side of the boy, and caught up one of his hands, clasping
it passionately in her own.
âFred!â she cried, a curious break in her tone. âMy little Freddie! Oh,
what has happened, dearie?â
âOh, hello, Mamma,â grunted that young man, submitting listlessly to her
caresses and betraying no overwhelming surprise at her appearance there.
Indeed he seemed more concerned as to what Kirkwood, an older man, would
be thinking, to see him so endeared and fondled, than moved by any other
emotion. Kirkwood could see his shamefaced, sidelong glances; and despised
him properly for them.
But without attending to his response, Mrs. Hallam rattled on in the uneven
accents of excitement. âI waited until I couldnât wait any longer, Freddie
dear. I had to knowâhad to come. Eccles came home about nine and said that
you had told him to wait outside, that some one had followed you in here,
and that a bobby had told him to move on. I didnât know whatââ
âWhatâs oâclock now?â her son interrupted.
âItâs about three, I think ⊠Have you hurt yourself, dear? Oh, why
didnât you come home? You mustâve known I was dying of anxiety!â
âOh, I say! Canât you see Iâm hurt? âHad a nasty fall and mustâve been
asleep ever since.â
âMy precious one! Howâ?â
âCanât say, hardly ⊠I say, donât paw a chap so, Mamma ⊠I brought
Eccles along and told him to wait becauseâwell, because I didnât feel so
much like shuttinâ myself up in this beastly old tomb. So I left the door
ajar, and told him not to let anybody come in. Then I came up-stairs. There
mustâve been somebody already in the house; I know I thought there was.
It made me feel creepy, rather. At any rate, I heard voices down below, and
the door banged, and somebody began hammerinâ like fun on the knocker.â
The boy paused, rolling an embarrassed eye up at the stranger.
âYes, yes, dear!â Mrs. Hallam urged him on.
âWhy, IâI made up my mind to cut my stickâlet whoever it was pass me on
the stairs, you know. But he followed me and struck me, and then I jumped
at him, and we both fell down the whole flight. And thatâs all. Besides, my
headâs achinâ like everything.â
âBut this manâ?â
Mrs. Hallam looked up at Kirkwood, who bowed silently, struggling to hide
both his amusement and perplexity. More than ever, now, the case presented
a front inscrutable to his wits; try as he might, he failed to fit an
explanation to any incident in which he had figured, while this last
developmentâthat his antagonist of the dark stairway had been Mrs.
Hallamâs son!âseemed the most astounding of all, baffling elucidation
completely.
He had abandoned all thought of flight and escape. It was too late; in the
brisk idiom of his mother-tongue, he was âcaught with the goods on.â âMay
as well face the music,â he counseled himself, in resignation. From what he
had seen and surmised of Mrs. Hallam, he shrewdly suspected that the tune
would prove an exceedingly lively one; she seemed a woman of imagination,
originality, and an able-bodied temper.
âYou, Mr. Kirkwood!â
Again he bowed, grinning awry.
She rose suddenly. âYou will be good enough to explain your presence here,â
she informed him with dangerous serenity.
âTo be frank with youââ
âI advise that course, Mr. Kirkwood.â
âThanks, awfâlyâŠ. I came here, half an hour ago, looking for a lost purse
fullâwell, not quite full of sovereigns. It was my purse, by the way.â
Suspicion glinted like foxfire in the cold green eyes beneath her puckered
brows. âI do not understand,â she said slowly and in level tones.
âI didnât expect you to,â returned Kirkwood; âno more do IâŠ. But, anyway,
it must be clear to you that Iâve done my best for this gentleman here.â He
paused with an interrogative lift of his eyebrows.
ââThis gentlemanâ is my son, Frederick HallamâŠ. But you will explainââ
âPardon me, Mrs. Hallam; I shall explain nothing, at present. Permit me
to point out that your position hereâlike mineâis, to say the least,
anomalous.â The random stroke told, as he could tell by the instant
contraction of her eyes of a cat. âIt would be best to defer explanations
till a more convenient timeâdonât you think? Then, if you like, we can
chant confidences in an antiphonal chorus. Just now yourâerâson is not
enjoying himself apparently, and ⊠the attention of the police had best
not be called to this house too often in one night.â
His levity seemed to displease and perturb the woman; she turned from him
with an impatient movement of her shoulders.
âFreddie, dear, do you feel able to walk?â
âEh? Oh, I dare sayâI donât know. Wonder would your friendâahâMr.
Kirkwood, lend me an arm?â
âCharmed,â Kirkwood declared suavely. âIf youâll take the candle, Mrs.
Hallamââ
He helped the boy to his feet and, while the latter hung upon him and
complained querulously, stood waiting for the woman to lead the way with
the light; something which, however, she seemed in no haste to do. The
pause at length puzzled Kirkwood, and he turned, to find Mrs. Hallam
holding the candlestick and regarding him steadily, with much the same
expression of furtive mistrust as that with which she had favored him on
her own door-stoop.
[Illustration: He helped the boy to his feet, and stood waiting.]
âOne moment,â she interposed in confusion; âI wonât keep you waitingâŠ;â
and, passing with an averted face, ran quickly up-stairs to the second
floor, taking the light with her. Its glow faded from the walls above and
Kirkwood surmised that she had entered the front bedchamber. For some
moments he could hear her moving about; once, something scraped and bumped
on the floor, as if a heavy bit of furniture had been moved; again there
was a resounding thud that defied speculation; and this was presently
followed by a dull clang of metal.
His fugitive speculations afforded him little enlightenment; and, meantime,
young Hallam, leaning partly against the wall and quite heavily on
Kirkwoodâs arm, filled his ears with puerile oaths and lamentations; so
that, but for the excuse of his really severe shaking-up, Kirkwood had
been strongly tempted to take the youngster by the shoulders and kick him
heartily, for the health of his soul.
But eventuallyâit was not really longâthere came the quick rush of Mrs.
Hallamâs feet along the upper hall, and the woman reappeared, one hand
holding her skirts clear of her pretty feet as she descended in a rush that
caused the candleâs flame to flicker perilously.
Half-way down,
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