THE RED LEDGER. Frank L. Packard

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СКАЧАТЬ is it? What is it? What's the matter?" he mumbled.

      "Look here," demanded Stranway sharply, "why didn't you put the papers in your pocket when you left the office this evening, instead of coming back here for them in the middle of the night?"

      "Because I didn't dare," said Steener, staring at Stranway in surprise. "I thought you understood. Mr. Poindexter told me to get all that stock together and ready for him to take away with him. He went to Cleveland to-night. There were about a hundred certificates and proxies in all. I made a package of them and handed them to him. I left this one in the safe—don't you see? I was afraid he might count them. If he did he would find one short; and then, of course, it would seem no more than carelessness on my part that had caused me to overlook one, for it would still be in the safe, you understand? He didn't count them"—Steener seemed to shiver slightly as he spoke—"he—he trusted me."

      He trusted me! The words seemed to curl like the hot, burning sting of a whiplash, flicking Stranway on the raw. It was what some inner voice of his own had been striving to say for the last few minutes, wasn't it? Conscience! What was it Charlebois had said about conscience? His lips tightened. It was a little late in the game to distrust Charlebois now, wasn't it? A little late to kick a hole in the only justification he had for what he was doing here!

      "I had to accompany him to the train, leave the office when he did," Steener went on; "so, of course, there was nothing to do but come back for it. And I wasn't going to come back until—until I was sure I was going to get my money. I—I've got to get out of the country now, but these'll take me"—he was cramming the banknotes into his pocket—"these'll take me a long way, and I'll make a new start—a long way, and——"

      Each man was staring into the other's face; each, like a figure turned to stone, stood motionless, breathless, one on either side of the desk. This time there was no mistake. The light in Stranway's hand vanished.

      Steener reached across the desk, and caught at Stranway convulsively.

      "My God," he gasped, "I forgot to lock the door of the outer office. It's the watchman. He's found it open, and he's coming."

      A heavy tread, sounding nearer and nearer, came from the room without. And now a faint glow of light, undoubtedly from the watchman's lantern, crept along the ceiling from where, near the top, the office partitions were of glass.

      "We can't get out—there's no way out!" Steener was whispering in terror. "And even if we broke away from him, he'd recognise me, and then, and then—oh, my God!" The last was a broken sob.

      Stranway's jaws clamped together. In spite of the imminent danger to himself, a wave of pity for the other swept over him. He was not questioning Charlebois now. He dared not question Charlebois for his own peace of mind. But fifty thousand dollars would tempt many men; and, whatever it all might mean, it was no more than playing the game to give this man a chance, if he could.

      His fingers closed with a fierce, significant pressure on Steener's arm.

      "Leave the watchman to me," he said under his breath. "Get over there by the partition near the door. The instant he comes in—run for it! Do you understand?"

      Without waiting for a reply, half guiding, half pulling Steener with him, Stranway crossed to the door, and both crouched back close against the wall.

      The footsteps came nearer. The man was tramping heavily down the aisle of the general office. Came then a metallic ring as of the lantern base knocking against something. The steps halted at the threshold of the private office. A hand fumbled at the door-knob. And then the door opened, and a path of light fell across the floor.

      Like a flash, Stranway's arms shot out, his hands closed on the dark form behind the light—and with a sudden pull he brought the man staggering toward him through the doorway.

      There was a crash, a tinkle of splintering glass as the lantern sailed across the room, smashed against the opposite wall, and went out. Came then a chorus of growling, gasping oaths from the watchman—and the man, quick to act, grappled savagely with Stranway. The next instant, they had pitched to the floor, and, rolling over and over, each was seeking a master hold.

      "Run!" Stranway flung at Steener—and heard the other dash frantically away through the outer office. But now the sweat beads were standing out on Stranway's forehead. Muscular and athletic though he was, he was being hard put to it to hold his own, and was at a decided disadvantage in that he had no wish to strike or harm the other—only to break from the man now that Steener had got away, and, with a minute's start, trust to the darkness to effect his own escape.

      For a moment now he was uppermost. It was his chance. Concentrating all his strength in a sudden effort, he wrenched himself free from the other's arms, sprang to his feet, gained the door, crashed it shut behind him, and dashed blindly down the outer office, his hands outstretched to ward himself off as best he could from the desks and chairs about him.

      Shouts and yells came from the private office. He heard the inner door open—but he had reached the outer one now. He gained the corridor, and leaped out into the street. No one was in sight. But the watchman's voice, bawling the alarm, came from within—and in another half minute the man would be in the open where his cries would attract the notice of any one within a radius of blocks.

      Running like a deer, Stranway made for the corner. As he reached it, a glance over his shoulder showed him the watchman just emerging from the building—and then a stream of flame cut the blackness, and the roar of a revolver shot echoed up and down the deserted street.

      Grimly Stranway flung himself around the corner. The dark mass of his car showed just ahead. And then, startled, he paused for the fraction of a second. He had stopped his engine, but the quick throb and pound of it came to him now. Had Steener had enough sense for that? A form loomed up from the driver's seat. A voice, low, tense, vibrant, came to him.

      "Quick!" it called.

      Chapter V.

       Against Time

       Table of Contents

      Stranway threw himself into the tonneau. The car leaped forward like a greyhound from the leash. There was another shot—from the corner this time. And then a skid, a whir, the off wheels lifted from the ground and the car had swerved into the first side street. But to Stranway all this was as something extraneous, something apart, as he scrambled wildly now over into the front seat. It wasn't Steener who was driving—it wasn't even a man.

      And then a street lamp for a flashing instant caught the beauty of the girl's face, the truant strands of hair whipping at her cheeks, the dark eyes bright with excitement fixed steadily on the road ahead; threw into relief the slim figure crouched over the steering wheel, and Stranway caught a glimpse of a delicate flower nestling in the dark setting of her dress—a purple orchid.

      For a moment, breathless from his race, Stranway could not speak. He was conscious of a suddenly pounding pulse that was not due to his extreme exertions. The Orchid! From what Charlebois had said weeks ago, he had had a vague hope from the moment he had left Dominic Court that somehow, somewhere, he might see her to-night since he was at last on "active service"; but he had not dreamed it would be like this.

      "You!" he cried out.

      She turned and looked at him, flashing him a smile.

      "I СКАЧАТЬ