Speedy (Holman)/Chapter 15
When Speedy had parted from Jane that morning to embark upon his seemingly futile search for the missing horse car, Jane bravely set out to obey his instructions and inform the whole neighborhood of the theft of the Crosstown Railways' rolling and live stock.
The good burghers were considerably agitated. They had confidently believed that their victory of the previous day had rid them of the Callahanites forever. But, beaten in a fair fight, the gangsters had chosen dark, underhanded methods in order to secure their revenge. And apparently they had succeeded.
Speedy's recruits assembled in little knots on the sidewalk to discuss the calamity. Women neglected their houses, their marketing and their babies to listen in and offer advice. Barnett, the butcher, and others started out energetically but aimlessly on private searches of their own. Johnny Burke called up headquarters and notified the forces of the law about the mysteriously missing horse car and made plain how vital it was to get it back.
Chris Walters voiced what was the general opinion of the course which Speedy Swift had taken in the matter.
"He's got his nerve with him, but he'll probably end up by getting his block knocked off, and the car will still be as far away as it is now," was Chris's blunt, picturesque way of putting it.
Dire were the threats made against the person of Steven Carter if he were ever again caught in the neighborhood.
Having consumed an hour or more in explaining to her grandfather's willing but baffled comrades what had happened, Jane started for home, wondering what her next move was to be. She was too upset to remain idle. She was worried about the car and now about Speedy. She must help him in some way. She remembered what Speedy's plans had been for the day, plans which had now been direly knocked into bits. He had intended to make a trip or two in the car and then visit the offices of the Inter-City Company to discover, if possible, why there was this sudden interest in putting the Crosstown Railways out of business.
Well, Jane thought, no trip could be made in the car. But possibly she could substitute for the absent Speedy and secure the desired information from the Inter-City people. At any rate it would give her something with which to occupy her time until she heard from Speedy. With Pop away and herself practically living at the Ryans, there was little to do around the Dillon house. She was too nervous to sit still. It was intolerable to think of sitting there, in suspense, alone.
She walked over to the subway, caught a downtown express and in fifteen minutes walked into the outer offices of the Inter-City Railways Company.
A very bored-looking freckle-faced boy was sitting behind the information desk in the reception room. He dropped the tabloid newspaper he was reading, shifted his gum for action and stared inquiringly at the visitor.
"I wish to see the president of this company," Jane said boldly, not knowing whom else to ask for.
"Won't I do?" asked the office boy impudently, Jane's ill-at-ease manner and plain clothes assured him that he was safe in having a little fun with her.
"Of course not," replied Jane patiently. "This is very serious. I have to see him at once."
"Well, he ain't in," said the boy. "And if he was, it would take an Act of Congress to get to him today."
"Then I'll wait," insisted the girl.
"Suit yourself," yawned the Mercury of information and lazily indicated the three or four chairs grouped around his desk.
Jane obediently sank into one of them. There she sat, shifting her position uneasily at intervals, for a solid hour. From time to time the office boy cast mischievous, jeering glances at her.
Finally the red-headed girl behind the telephone switchboard had mercy on her. The hello lady had been casting quizzical glances at her, between pluggings, and now could restrain her curiosity no longer.
"Were you waiting for somebody?" she called over to Jane.
"Yes, I wanted very much to speak to the president," replied Jane wearily. "It's very important."
"Gosh, you aim high," commented the red-head. "Didn't this fresh kid tell you that Mr. Donaldson wouldn't be in until after two o'clock?"
Jane shook her head negatively. The telephone girl directed a murderous glance at the office boy. Between those two there was a long-standing feud. The lady of the plugs felt that she must do something in defense of her sex against this young though antagonistic male.
"You might leave a note for Mr. Donaldson if you'd like," she suggested. "Probably he wouldn't see you even if you waited until he came in. This is a very busy day. All the officers are getting ready for the transit hearing at the City Hall tomorrow. I guess you read about it in the papers, if you read about such highbrow things."
Jane pricked up her ears.
"I would like to leave a message then," she agreed.
The telephone girl obligingly handed her a pad and pencil. Jane wrote:
She folded the note and, ignoring the outstretched hand of the office boy, handed it to the girl at the switchboard.
"I'll call Mr. Donaldson's secretary to come right out and get this, so the president will be sure to see it personally as soon as he comes in," said Tess O'Halley, the telephone lady, sympathetically.
Jane thanked her and walked out into the hall. Well, that was about all she could accomplish there. No use in waiting any longer. Nothing to do now but hurry back to De Lacey Street and learn if there was any news from Speedy. She was thinking rapidly. The casual words of the telephone girl about the 'transit hearing' had caused a clew to leap into Jane's head. Could there be any connection between this and somebody's energetic efforts to secure possession of her grandfather's franchise? Was the Inter-City Company really behind the evil doings of Carter?
Jane bought a noon edition of an afternoon paper at the newsstand on the corner and took it into the subway with her. There it was in big headlines:
As the subway express shot her uptown, she read how demands had been made by the city upon the Inter-City Railways that the traction company live up to their contracts and present their long-promised scheme for unification and extension of their far-flung transit lines or else forfeit their franchise to the municipal government. The program, she discovered, must include provision for linking the east side and west side surface lines of the company by a net work of crosstown spurs.
Jane's suspicions were aroused at once. Might not De Lacey Street, with the tracks of her grandfather's line already there and a franchise already in operation, be a very valuable plum for the Inter-City? She was sure now that this was the motive behind Carter's initial offer for the franchise and his subsequent activities. She began to wish that she had waited for President Donaldson after all, to confront him with this knowledge. Well, she would have her lunch and then go right back down to the Inter-City offices. If she could only find Steven Carter to fling his treachery into his face!
Strangely enough, when Jane reached home, Carter was the very person whom she unexpectedly encountered.
That suave individual was in the Dillon living toom talking over the telephone. Jane had opened the front door softly and walked down the hall with her usual light tread. Carter was quite unaware of her presence. Startled for an instant at the sound of this unexpected voice, Jane quickly recognized its owner and, with a sudden flash of caution, stopped outside in the hall out of Carter's sight to listen in on the conversation.
"Good work, Joe," Carter was praising somebody over the wire. "I guess that will hold them for a while. They'll never locate the car up there. Nobody but rats has been near the place for years. Now, what you fellows want to do is to keep a sharp lookout for this smart young Swift fellow over at the shack. He'll probably come snooping around there after information and it will be a good chance to grab him. I don't mind what you do to him this time. He started out from here about nine o'clock, Chubby says. After you pick up Puggy, go right back to the shack and be on the lookout for Swift. Get going now. You'll have to show some speed if you're going to make connections with Puggy at Powers and Third Avenue at the time you agreed upon."
At this point the man at the other end of the wire evidently brought up an alien subject.
"What's that?" Carter asked sharply. "Oh, don't worry about that! You'll get your dough all right. I've got big people behind me on this deal. Lots of money. This franchise is practically forfeited now. I'll make my settlement tonight, get my cash and come around and pay you boys off. With a substantial bonus for the good job you did. Well, see you later. So long, Joe."
Jane's Irish temper had been bristling more and more during Carter's talk. Now she knew he was a traitor! He had convicted himself out of his own mouth. Now she was positive the Inter-City was back of him and his nefarious schemes. To think that he was making his plans and gloating over his victory right there in the Dillon house, on the Dillon telephone!
The fact that she had once been friendly to Carter, had even succumbed a little to the undoubted attractions of his polished manners the other afternoon in the taxicab, made her all the more angry. Throwing discretion to the winds, she now walked boldly into the living room and accosted him. He sprang to his feet from the chair in front of the telephone stand with unfeigned surprise. His usually smooth address deserted him. He suspected at once that she had overheard his incriminating talk over the wire. He narrowed his dark eyes and regarded her with frank hostility and menace.
"So," he said sharply, "you sneaked in here and spied on me. "Youve been listening out there."
"I guess I have the right to walk into my own house if I want to," replied Jane spiritedly. "Yes, I heard what you said. Speedy was right about you. You're working with the Inter-City crowd to cheat us out of our franchise. It was you who had my grandfather attacked. You sent that gang of hoodlums over here yesterday. And now you've stolen the car and hidden it. Oh, I was a fool to put any faith in you, even to defend you. You've been doing your underhanded work ever since the day you came here. You sent my grandfather away. Oh, what have you done to him! Where is he!"
Anger was strangely mixed with near-tears and her nerves seemed almost ready to snap under the tension. Carter decided to make one last try with cajolery. He summoned a pretended smile of sympathy to his face and patted her shoulder.
"There, there," he urged. "Don't get excited, Miss Dillon. Swift has been telling you more lies about me. I can explain that conversation I just had over the telephone. As a matter of fact, I've been hunting for the car ever since I learned this morning it was missing. And your grandfather is quite safe. You needn't worry about him."
With unexpected vehemence Jane seized his hand and flung it from her shoulder.
"You're lying again!" she cried. "You can't fool me any more. I've been up to the Inter-City office and discovered everything. And I'm going right back there now and find out the rest from President Donaldson himself. I'm going to tell him just what you've been doing up here."
This was too much for Carter. He could not see his plans go glimmering at the last minute at any cost.
"Is that so?" he said in a steely hard voice.
Suddenly he reached down, swung her off her feet and clapped one hand over her mouth so that she could not make outcry. The unexpectedness of his violence prevented any defense she might have made. Nevertheless she now kicked and struggled with all her might. But she was no match for the lithe, uncannily strong Carter. He bore her easily down the hall and into his own room at the end of the hall, kicking the door open to gain admission. Straight to the closet in the corner he carried her, dumped her down on the floor of the closet and slammed the door in her face. He locked the door quickly and securely and put the key into his pocket.
Jane screamed and pounded upon the door. But the Dillon house was of the old-fashioned, sturdily built type and the door was thick and strong. Even in the bedroom there her cries came muffled to Carter's ears. He grinned with satisfaction. There was not a chance that the people in the neighboring houses would hear her.
Well, she was getting what she deserved. He did not intend to allow any one to interfere with him at this late date. Jane, at liberty, would be very dangerous, with the knowledge she now possessed. He must keep her hidden and in captivity at least until four o'clock. He would return at that time to deal with her. She was such a pretty, attractive little thing. Perhaps when he told her of the money he would make that day, that was even now as good as in his pocket, she might not be as angry at him as she at the moment thought herself. Such was Carter's excellent opinion of his personal charm and of the lure which a full purse held out to feminine eyes.
He walked out of the house, completely satisfied with his strategy, and away from De Lacey Street by a devious route toward the shack of the Callahans. He wanted to check up with Callahan and Joe on the day's success.
De Lacey Street was discouraged. Johnny Burke reported that no word of the car had come to his ears. The searching parties straggled in with reports of failure. Speedy had apparently been swallowed up in the teeming welter of New York City and had not yet worked his way back. Pop Dillon had been missing for days. The outlook was bad, the neighbors agreed, for the Crosstown Railways, and villainy was apparently triumphant.
About four o'clock in the afternoon, Steven Carter, dropping surreptitiously out of a taxicab and scurrying across the sidewalk, hurried into the Dillon house. His face wore a troubled frown. He had had bad news. He had been driving around town looking for Speedy. He snatched up the telephone in the living room and snapped a number to the operator.
"Hello, hello—Puggy?" he called. "Any word? Yes? That's bad! How the devil did he find out where it was. No, I didn't see him. He's heading downtown, you say? That's terrible. You boys certainly slipped a cog. Listen, get out there and do something, will you! Get the gang together and stop him. Wreck him. I don't care if you all get arrested. I'll bail you out. If he gets here with that 'bus within the next half hour, we're all sunk! None of us get a nickel, understand? Go on now. Get going! Do something! Send—"
He glanced around quickly as he heard the front door open. Remembering his unfortunate experience when Jane overheard his previous conversation, Carter abruptly slammed up the receiver and scrambled to his feet. He was thus smiling and composed when he greeted Pop Dillon, suitcase in hand, as the latter ambled into the room.
"Why, Mr. Dillon, this is a surprise," said Carter, holding out his hand.
The fact that Pop readily shook hands reassured the shaken Carter. At least Pop was ignorant of what had been going on.
"How are you feeling now, Mr. Dillon?" Carter asked. At the same time he was silently bawling out his confederates in Spring Lake, Connecticut. Their orders had been not to let Dillon go until tomorrow.
"Pretty good now, Mr. Carter," replied Pop. "I got a wire from Speedy telling me to come right home. Funny thing about that wire. It was dated two days ago but the first I saw of it was this morning. I took the first train out I could get. I knew it must be important if Speedy wired. That boy hasn't got the price of sending a telegram for nothing."
"Don't worry about not getting the telegram till late," glibly explained Carter. "You know how it is in those small towns. They pass it all around Main Street for the rubes to read before they deliver it." He asked curiously, "Did Dr. Hartley say it was all right for you to leave Spring Lake? Blood pressure O.K. and all that?"
"No, he tried hard to get me to stay," admitted Pop. "Fact, he threatened to lock me in my room if I insisted on leaving. Said he was doing it for my own good, of course. But I fooled him. He got a long distance telephone call and I grabbed up my bag and ran. Just made the train. Say, I didn't like that Doc Hartley much, Carter. Friend of yours?"
"He's all right," said Carter. "A little rough, but he knows how to hand out the proper medicine."
Inwardly he was raging at "Dr. Hartley," alias Spike Hogan, for letting Pop Dillon out of his clutches. The aggravating part of it was that the long distance telephone call taking Spike away from his job of guarding Pop had been put in by Carter himself. He had 'phoned to warn Spike to hold Dillon there at any cost.
Carter now adopted new tactics. Pop had dropped into a chair. Carter sat down opposite him and hitched close. He smiled and adopted his best confidential manner. He would have to act quickly. The frustration of all his plans and the loss of a young fortune was fast approaching in the shape of the flying Speedy Swift, unless that mad youth were stopped, and it seemed too late for that now. Carter determined to forestall fate by a bold stroke. He laid a friendly hand on Pop's knee.
"I don't mind telling you now, Mr. Dillon," said Carter, "that it was I who told young Swift to send that telegram. I wanted you back here because I have good news for you. You will remember that several days ago I found a man who was willing to pay you $1,000 for that worthless Crosstown franchise of yours? When you refused, he withdrew his offer. Well, I saw him again today and, after talking to him an hour or more, I got him to make the offer again. Only this time I made him believe there were competitors in the field and hiked the price up to $5,000. Will you sell?"
Pop became thoughtful and stroked his chin.
"The offer is only good for today," urged Carter. "In fact, this man set the time limit at four-thirty this afternoon. He leaves his office then and he said if I didn't 'phone him by that time, the deal was off."
Pop was still silent, unable to make up his mind.
"Think what comforts you could buy for your granddaughter with $5,000," Carter played his trump card. "And you know this franchise is worthless. You'll never get another offer like this for it."
Carter glanced anxiously at the clock on the mantelpiece. Twenty-five minutes after four. From outside there came a sudden shouting and yelling. Had that fool Swift actually arrived! Perspiration Started to stand out on Carter's forehead. He was so nervous he could hardly sit still. The hesitating old man in front of him aggravated him almost to the point of seizing him by the throat and forcing him into submission to Carter's will!
The argument about Jane's welfare fetched Dillon.
"All right, I'll take the offer," he said quietly. "Jane's always been urging me to give up the line."
"Fine!" almost shouted Carter, so vehemently that Pop looked at him in surprise. Carter whipped a contract from his pocket. "I've got the papers right here! Here's where you sign."
"But—of course I'd have to read this over first," protested Pop, taking the contract with trembling old fingers while Carter reached down, swept up the old man's valise and placed it on Pop's knees as an improvised desk.
"No time for that now," panted Carter. "It's twenty-five after four. Our man will be gone. He's perhaps leaving his office now!"
Carter urged a fountain pen upon Pop. The latter took it uncertainly. He started to write his name quaveringly on the dotted line indicated by Carter. He wrote "Jerimiah Dil"
Then suddenly there was a mighty shout in De Lacey Street just in front of the Dillon house. A shrieking and yelling that almost shook the Dillon windows! Pop dropped the pen, leaped up and went to the living-room window. He looked out, amazed. Then, forgetting Carter, he rushed out of the front door as fast as his old legs would carry him.
A wild, gesticulating mob of Pop's neighbors were milling around in the streets. In the middle of this pandemonium loomed Pop's horse car. Pushing his way through the cheering throng, grasping hands thrust out to greet him, taking a congratulatory pounding on his back that almost knocked him over, came the broadly grinning Speedy, afoot. He spotted Pop and increased his speed. He ran full tilt up to the old man and threw his arms around him.
"We found it, Pop. We made the trip and saved your franchise! We fooled Carter and everything's great!" roared Speedy.
Pop was puzzled.
"I don't know what you mean or why this Donnybrook Fair is going on," said Pop. "But I've good news for you too. I'm selling the franchise for $5,000. What do you think of that? I guess there's brains in the old—"
Speedy turned pale. He grabbed Pop by the shoulders.
"You didn't!" he cried. "Pop, you didn't sign anything, did you?"
"Well, I had my name half written when these crazy people made me think the house was on fire or something. I'll go back in now and sign, if it ain't too late. Mr. Carter said—"
"Carter, hey!" said Speedy sharply. "Where is he?"
"In the house."
"Great!" Speedy turned to his cohorts and waved them toward him. "Come on, you wild men. Carter's in Pop's house. Let's get him!"
With a whoop they poured up onto the sidewalk, King Tut barking in the front rank and Speedy rushing ahead of them all. Pop had barely time to step out of the way. But their prey had been too quick for them. Realizing he was beaten, Carter had deemed flight the better part of valor and long since disappeared out of the back door and over a neighbor's fence. Nevertheless, Speedy, not satisfied that the enemy was really off the premises, made a rigid search of the house.
In the room Carter had occupied as a boarder he found the closet door locked. Pop Dillon was now close at his heels.
"I bet he's in here!" exulted Speedy. "He's locked himself in. Got a key to this closet?"
Pop extracted a bunch of keys from his pocket almost as great in number as the turnkey of Sing Sing carries. He indicated one of them. Speedy took it and excitedly thrust it into the lock of the closet door. He swung the door open, ready to deal a resounding blow to the chin of Carter if he were discovered inside.
Instead, Jane, weak and nearly unconscious, fell into his arms!
"Oh, Speedy, you've come at last," she gasped.
"Jane!" he cried. "How did you get there?"
"Carter—he put me in there. I heard him telephoning—and he locked me up."
Speedy had her in his arms, was smoothing back her hair, asking questions. He laid her tenderly on the couch and brought water from the kitchen. Jane quickly revived.
Speedy turned to his supporters, who were standing in awed surprise in the doorway and down the hall.
"He's gone," said Speedy.
"And I guess we better be going too," grinned Barnett, the butcher, looking at Speedy and Jane. He waved the others back and they piled out of the house and dispersed to their homes. Excitement still seethed on De Lacey Street. The neighborhood for the past two days had been thoroughly enjoying thrills for the first time since Manhattan was bought from the Indians for twenty-four dollars!
When they were alone at last, Jane told her story and Speedy united with her to relate to Pop all the critical devlopments that had taken place while he was away. Pop listened, all ears.
"Why, the doggoned skunk!" was his impressive comment on Carter and that worthy's activities. "And to think that I was dumb enough to be taken in by him!"
He seemed to regard this as a sign of a failing mind and was more worried about it than the danger in which his franchise had been.
"Don't fret about that, granddad," soothed Jane. "He fooled me completely too. You remember how I got mad at Harold for accusing Mr. Carter." She looked over shyly at Speedy. "Harold was the only one smart enough to see through him."
"I had a hunch he was crooked—just a hunch," explained Speedy. "I guess it was really jealousy at first, just as you said."
Pop had been thinking.
"But what do you suppose he was so darned anxious to put us out of business for?" Pop asked. "There must be something behind it all."
Speedy started to explain his suspicions that the Inter-City or some other traction company might be in the market for the Crosstown franchise. The front door bell rang. The three in the bedroom looked at each other. What was going to happen now? Speedy rose slowly and walked toward the front of the house, prepared for anything. It was probably the police, come to arrest him for violating every traffic law of New York City and insulting officers from Columbus Circle to the Bowery! Or was it Puggy Callahan, supported by his hearties and come for his revenge?