University of Virginia Library

19. CHAPTER XIX.
MLISS VISITS MRS. SMITH.

For three successive nights the athletic Tim
was sent home in the afternoon, and as twilight
set in Robert Shaw seated himself in Mr. Gray's
office to await the return of the burglar. It was
a severe trial of the young man's patience, as action
to him was rest. He stepped forth the
third night as Mr. Gray was preparing to leave
for dinner.

“It's no use, Mr. Gray; Mr. Burglar twigs
the game. He won't come while I'm here.”

“I had much rather he came while you are
here than when I am here alone, if it is all the
same to him,” answered Mr. Gray, pleasantly.

“It doesn't seem to be at all the same to him.
These fellows like to have the odds on their side.
I'll stick it out three nights longer, though it's
cursed dull work.'

That night when Robert went home to dinner,
Mliss, who had been rather shy of him, boldly
took him by the arm and led him to the sitting-room.

“Are you afraid of anybody?” she asked, her
black eyes fixed searchingly upon his face.

“That's a rather big question for a little girl
to ask,” he replied.

“Tell me,” she persisted, “are you afraid of
anybody?”

“S'pose I say `no' just for the sake of getting
on?”

“Would you be afraid of a man who has killed
two men?”

“Now you are coming down to points. Proceed to
business. Who do you want killed?”

“I have heard all this talk about a burglar. I heard
you and Regie talking last night.”

“Well, what then?”

“It wasn't no burglar at all. I know who it was.”

“Who was, little one?”

“It was the man—the man who killed McSnagley.”

“Head's clear, I guess. How do you know?”

“I know. He wants to kill Mr. Gray because Mr.
Gray helped me to get away from him.”

“S'pect you are right. But isn't this man your
mother's friend?”

“I'll tell you something,” said Mliss, reddening.
“That woman isn't my mother.”

“Don't go too fast, little runaway. How do you
know that?”

“I can't tell. Things come to me.”

“Wish things would come to me. It would save a
heap of trouble.”

“Did you ever know anything and not know how
you know it?”

“Let me see. Isn't that question slightly meta—
what do you call it?—physical?”

“Don't be a fool, Bob,” said Mliss, impatiently.
“I'm going to see that woman. I'm going to tell her
what I know. I won't have Mr. Gray killed for me.
I'll kill that man first.”

“Give us your fist little girl. I like you for that
You want I should go with you and see that you have
a fair show.”

Mliss nodded.

“Are you afraid?” she asked.

“Afraid to see you through! Not a bit of it. Didn't
I tell you from the first that I'd stand by you?”

“Have you got a pistol?”

“No—not exactly. I've got a ticket.”

“What good will a ticket do?”

“I'll tell you. A ticket is just half a pistol.”

“How?”

“A pistol is worth twenty dollars. But a ticket and
ten dollars will get a pistol.”

“I don't know what you are talking about.”

“Listen, little girl. Sometimes I transact business
of a confidential nature with a friend of mine who
lives on Kearny street. I confide my pistol to my
friend and he confides nine dollars to me. It is my
friend's way to call this nine dollars ten dollars. A
little peculiarity of his which does not prevent him
from doing a good deal of business. It is also a peculiarity
of his to want his ten dollars when I want my
pistol. Understand?”

Mliss understood. She darted out of the room, and
soon returned with ten dollars in her hand.

“Here,” she said; “go and get your pistol. Don't
be gone long, for if you don't come to go with me, I'll
go alone.”

Bob was true to his engagement. In a quarter of
an hour he returned with his pistol. At dinner Mliss
was unusually silent, but Bob rattled off his slangy
talk as if he had no business of a peculiar character
on his mind.

About eight in the evening they set out unobserved.
Kearny street was not then the promenade it has since
become, but Bob stopped occasionally to speak with a
friend, and Mliss strode along in something of her
old rapid step, unmindful of the momentary absence
of her escort.

“That girl means business.” Bob said to himself.
“Think she'd shoot if she'd make up her mind to.”

Mliss paused at last, near the house in which Mrs.
Smith had rooms.

“This is the place,” she said. “You'll go up-stairs
with me and see what room I go into. If I don't come
out in ten minutes, you'll come in after me.”

“Don't like the programme. You've got pluck, but
you ain't very strong. In less than ten minutes they
might out you where the devil couldn't find you.”

“They won't dare to. Waters is a coward. I saw
him once frightened out of his wits. I helped him off
and he hadn't sense enough to run. If you go in
with me she won't let me see him. If he thinks I'm
alone he won't be afraid.”

“Sense in that. Push ahead. I'll look out that
they don't carry you off.”

Mliss boldly walked up the steps and turned in the
passage toward the room which Mrs. Smith had occupied.

Bob followed. At the door Mliss paused and
gave a sharp rap.

A minute that seemed perfect silence elapsed, but
Mliss's ear at the keyhole of the door caught the sound
of a movement inside. Then a door closed softly.
Then a clear voice said: “Come in.”

Mliss opened the door and entered the room. Mrs.
Smith sat in an easy chair by the table reading an
evening paper. Whatever surprise she may have felt
at the sight of Mliss was concealed.

“Is it you, Mliss?”

“Yes, madam, it is me. I've come to see Mr. Waters?”

“Why do you come here to see Mr. Waters?”

“Because he is here.”

Mliss indicated the door to Mrs. Smith's bedroom
with a gesture more emphatic than graceful.

“I believe you are insane, child,” said Mrs. Smith,
quietly.

“No, I'm not; but I want to see Mr. Waters”

“Mr. Waters is not here.”

Mliss strode to the bedroom door and threw it open.
The movement was too quick to be frustrated. It was
so quick that the door opened against the head of a
man who had apparently been listening at the keyhole.
The fearless girl grasped his arm as if to drag
him by main force into the next room, but the man
struck her a flow that felled her to the floor.

Half stunned by the blow, Mliss was conscious of
being lifted upon a man's shoulder and borne in darkness.
Then came a sound of a door burst open, a
heavy footstep across the floor, and the man who held
her was dragged back into the lighted room.

“Drop the girl,” said a familiar voice; “I'm here to
see that she has a fair show.”

Mliss gained her feet, and in the pause her senses.
Looking around, she saw Mrs. Smith, white as a
ghost, Waters standing confused and irresolute, and
Bob Shaw, erect but cool and composed, looking like
a young hero.

“Bob,” said Mliss, apparently with one thought uppermost
in her mind, “that is the man that killed McSnagley.
That's the man that tried to kill Mr.
Gray.

Waters made a move toward his accuser, but Bob
put himself in the way.

“Mr. Waters,” said Bob, “I don't know anything
about this McSnagley business. Perhaps
he deserved killing on general principles. Perhaps
he didn't. I ain't a judge, nor jury, nor policeman.
But Mr. Gray is a friend of mine, and a darned
good fellow. Better let him alone.”

“I don't know Mr. Gray,” growled Waters; “I
don't know what you are talking about.”

“Don't know as you do. But Mliss, here, has a
habit of putting two and two together and counting
four. She thinks you've got a grudge against Mr.
Gray, and thinks you wouldn't mind killing a man you
don't like. That's all I know about it.”

“Then what the devil are you here for?”

“Mliss wanted to come. Told her I'd see her
through. Reckon I will.”

“I believe you are Mr. Robert Shaw,” said Mrs.
Smith, in her clear, soft tone.

“That's my name, madam. Didn't know that I had
the honor of being known to you.”

“I have seen you, Mr. Shaw. You are a rather
noted character.”

Bob bowed his acknowledgments of the somewhat
equivocal compliment.

“My daughter,” resumed the lady, raising her
brilliant eyes to the young man's face, “has seen
fit to withdraw herself from my protection.
It is well known whose protection she sought, but
we don't propose other than legal means of redress.”

“I ran away from you,” said Mliss, “because you
and that man (pointing scornfully to Waters), wanted
to put me in a Magdalen Asylum. I heard you talk
when you thought you was alone.

“You should know, my daughter, that I have no
power to put you in any kind of asylum. When
young girls are bad the judge decides what to do with
them.”

A flush spread over the child's dark face as she stepped
closer to the woman.

“You know I am not bad. You know you wanted
to make me had that you might get rid of me and
steal all my father's money. You know, too,” she
added in a whisper, “that you are not my mother.”

“Unfortunately,” returned Mrs. Smith, replying
to the first clause in Mliss's indictment. “your conduct
proves that you need a little restraint. You are
a little too old to place yourself under the protection
of a young man without injury to your character.”

“Madam,” said Bob, hotly, “that cock won't fight.
Mliss didn't go to Mr. Gray. She was going back to
Red Mountain, when by chance I met her. She told
me something of her story, and I advised her to go to
my father, who is a lawyer. She went and found Mr.
Gray. The next day she came to my father's house
and has lived there since under the protection of my
sister.”

Mrs. Smith smiled, not compassionately exactly,
but with an expression which implied that she knew
how such affairs were managed to preserve an appearance
of decency.”

“I hope. madam,” said Bob, “that you don't
doubt my word?”

“Not in the least. What you say is doubtless
true. Mr. Gray is a very proper young gentleman,
and knows the world. He would not injure his
reputation by appearing as the seducer of a child.”

Bob looked at the woman a moment and then turned
abruptly to Waters, who stood a silent spectator of the
scene.

“Will you be kind enough to repeat those words,'
he said, with the utmost politeness.

“It isn't my funeral,” growled Waters. “Let the
girl go to hell if she wants to.”

“Mliss,” said Bob, “a fellow can't fight a woman
nor a coward. Let's go home.”

“Take a good look at him,” said Mliss, indicating
Waters as the person to whom the pronoun referred.

“Know him when I see him. Happy to meet you,
Mr. Waters, if you'd only set the hour. Good night,
madam.'

`Good night, Mr. Shaw.”

Mliss once more approached Mrs. Smith.

“Better leave the country,” she said; “I've got my
mother's picture.”

Without waiting to see the effect of this shot, the
young girl darted out of the room.

“You was right, Mliss; that cove is a coward, He
won't come fooling round our office any more.”