Gordon Craig Part 4

I stared at her in sudden doubt, yet remained loyal to my first impression.

"All the greater reason then for not leaving you here alone."

She laughed, a faint tinge of bitterness in the sound.

"Surely you cannot imagine I would feel any safer in company with a burglar?" she asked sharply. My face flushed.

"Why accuse me of that?" I asked quickly. "Merely because I was in that yard?"

She drew back a step, one hand grasping her skirt.

"Not altogether. You were hiding there, and--and you were afraid of the policeman."

I could not explain; it would require too long, and she would in all probability refuse to believe the story. Besides, what difference could it make? She had as much to explain as I; no more reason to suspect me than I had her. Let us meet then on common ground.

"If I grant your hasty guess to be partially correct," I returned finally, my voice deepening with earnestness, "and confess I was avoiding observation--what then? Can you not also believe me a man capable of treating you honorably? Is it totally impossible for you to conceive of circ.u.mstances so compelling, as to cause one to avoid the police, and yet involve no real loss of manhood?"

She bowed her head slightly, lowering her eyes before mine. My earnestness, my apparent education, were clearly a surprise.

"Yes," she confessed reluctantly enough. "I--I believe I can. There was a time when I could not, but I can now."

"Then yield me the benefit of such charity of judgment," I went on.

"At least do not altogether condemn me on mere circ.u.mstantial evidence, and before you learn what has led up to the events of the night. At least give me opportunity to exhibit my grat.i.tude."

She remained silent, motionless.

"Why not? Is it because you have no confidence in me?" I insisted.

She put out one hand, grasping the iron rail of a fence, and I thought I could see her form tremble.

"Oh, no! it--it is not that exactly," she explained brokenly. "I believe I---I might trust you, but--but of course I do not know. I think you--you mean well; your words sound honest, and your--your face inspires confidence. Only I have found so much deceit, so much cruelty and heartlessness in the world I have become afraid of everyone. But I--I simply cannot let you go with me--oh! please don't urge it!"

I leaned forward, my face full of sympathy, my voice low and earnest.

"And do you suppose I will consent to desert you after that confession?" I questioned, almost indignant. "I would be a brute to do so. You saved me from arrest just now; for me to have been taken to the station house and searched would have put me in a bad hole. It was your wit that saved me, and now I am going to stay and help you. I 'll not leave you alone here in the street at this hour of the night."

She looked at me, her eyes wide open, s.h.i.+ning like stars, her face picturing perplexity, not unmixed with fear, one hand yet gripping the supporting rail, the other pressed against her forehead.

"Oh, but you must! indeed, you must!" the words scarcely more than sobs. "I--I have no place to go!"

CHAPTER V

BEGINNING ACQUAINTANCE

I drew in my breath sharply, my lips set in a straight line. Already had I half-suspicioned this truth, and yet there was that about the girl--her manner, her words, even her dress--which would not permit me to cla.s.s her among the homeless, the city outcasts.

"You mean that you are actually upon the streets, with--with no place to _go_?"

She did not answer, her head bowed, her face suddenly showing white and haggard. I stared at her with swift realization.

"My G.o.d, girl! and--and I actually believe you are hungry!"

Her eyes uplifted to my face dumb with agony, her hand grasp upon the rail tightening. Then she pitifully endeavored to smile.

"I--I am afraid I am, just a little." She acknowledged slowly, as though the words were wrung out of her.

I straightened up, with shoulders flung back. All that was strong, determined in my nature, came leaping to the surface. It was my time to act.

"Then that settles it. You are coming with me. No! don't shake your head; I shall have my way this time. There is a respectable all-night place over there on Desmet Street. I ate there once a week ago. We 'll go together."

She drew back, still clinging helplessly to the rail, her eyes on my face.

"Oh! you must not--I--"

My hand touched her arm.

"Yes, but I shall," I insisted, almost sternly. "Good Heavens, do you suppose I will leave you here on the street hungry? I 'd never rest easy another night as long as I lived. You are going with me."

Feeling my determination she made no further resistance, and I half supported her as we moved slowly forward through the mist, her face turned away, her arm trembling beneath the firm clasp of my fingers.

As we advanced I became conscious that my own position was an awkward one. I had no money of my own with me--not a cent other than those two five-hundred dollar bills handed me by Vail. The uselessness of attempting to pa.s.s one of these was apparent; it would be better to plead lack of cash, and put up some security if the man in charge refused credit. At whatever cost the girl must have food.

It was much brighter on Desmet Street, numerous electric signs, advertising various places of business, even at this late hour, continuing to exhibit their rotating colors, while not a few of the shop windows remained brilliantly illuminated. Occasionally a belated pedestrian pa.s.sed, while trolley-cars clanged their way through the fog, approaching and vanis.h.i.+ng in a purple haze. Three doors around the corner was the all-night restaurant, through the gla.s.s front revealing a lunch counter, and a number of cloth-draped tables awaiting occupants. A few of these were in use, a single waiter catering to the guests; a woman was scrubbing the floor under the cigar stand, while a round-faced, rather genial-looking young fellow, stood, leaning negligently against the cas.h.i.+er's desk. Rather doubtfully I glanced uneasily up and down the deserted street, and then aside into the still averted face of my chance companion. I had no desire she should comprehend my dilemma.

"Would you mind waiting out here on the step a moment?" I questioned awkwardly, attempting to explain. "Only until I make sure who are inside. There are some fellows I am not friendly with, and I am not hunting a rough house with a girl to look after. You won't care for just a minute, will you?"

"No," wearily, "I won't mind."

"You 'll promise not to go away?"

She shook her head, her eyes staring dully into the mist.

"No; I won't go away. Where could I go?"

Scarcely satisfied, yet feeling obliged to take the chance, I stepped within, and advanced across the room toward the man at the cas.h.i.+er's desk. He glanced up curiously as I approached, and spoke low, so as not to attract the attention of others.

"Pardner, is my credit good for two meals?" I asked genially. "I guess you 've seen me in here before--I drive for the Wooster Lumber Company." A night cas.h.i.+er in that neighborhood becomes early habituated to tales of hard luck. It requires but a few lessons to render suspicion paramount. The round-faced man, all geniality vanished, stared directly into my face.

"Oh, yes, I 've seen you before, I reckon," he acknowledged noncommitally. "But that does n't necessarily mean we are ready to do a credit business. Been fired?"

"No; just happen to be short of cash, and need to eat. I 'll hand it to you tomorrow."

"I 've heard that song before. I reckon you 'll have to try your luck somewhere else, unless you 've got the price."

"That's the last word, is it?"

"Sure thing," indifferently. "Nothing doing."