"I"m not running away," said I bitterly. "I"ve got a score to settle with the man who killed Henry Wilton. When that score is settled, I"ll go to Chicago or anywhere else. Until that"s done, I stay where I can settle it."
Mother Borton caught up the candle and moved it back and forth before my face. In her eyes there was a gleam of savage pleasure.
"By G.o.d, he"s in earnest!" she said to herself, with a strange laugh.
"Tell me again of the man you saw in the alley."
I described Doddridge Knapp.
"And you are going to get even with _him_?" she said with a chuckle that had no mirth in it.
"Yes," said I shortly.
"Why, if you should touch him the people of the city would tear you to pieces."
"I shall not touch him. I"m no a.s.sa.s.sin!" I exclaimed indignantly. "The law shall take him, and I"ll see him hanged as high as Haman."
Mother Borton gave a low gurgling laugh.
"The law! oh, my liver,--the law! How young you are, my boy! Oh, ho, oh ho!" And again she absorbed her mirthless laugh, and gave me an evil grin. Then she became grave again, and laid a claw on my sleeve. "Take my advice now, and git on the train."
"Not I!" I returned stoutly.
"I"m doing it for your own good," she said, with as near an approach to a coaxing tone as she could command. It was long since she had used her voice for such a purpose and it grated. "For my sake I"d like to see you go on and wipe out the whole raft of "em. But I know what"ll happen to ye, honey. I"ve took a fancy to ye. I don"t know why. But there"s a look on your face that carries me back for forty years, and--don"t try it, dearie."
There were actually tears in the creature"s eyes, and her hard, wicked face softened, and became almost tender and womanly.
"I can"t give up," I said. "The work is put on me. But can"t you help me? I believe you want to. I trust you. Tell me what to do--where I stand. I"m all in the dark, but I must do my work." It was the best appeal I could have made.
"You"re right," she said. "I"m an old fool, and you"ve got the real sand. You"re the first one except Henry Wilton that"s trusted me in forty years, and you won"t be sorry for it, my boy. You owe me one, now.
Where would you have been to-night if I hadn"t had the light doused on ye?"
"Oh, that was your doing, was it? I thought my time had come."
"Oh, I was sure you"d know what to do. It was your best chance."
"Then will you help me, now?" The old crone considered, and her face grew sharp and cunning in its look.
"What can I do?"
"Tell me, in G.o.d"s name, where I stand. What is this dreadful mystery?
Who is this boy? Why is he hidden, and why do these people want to know where he is? Who is behind me, and who threatens me with death?"
I burst out with these questions pa.s.sionately, almost frantically. This was the first time I had had chance to demand them of another human being.
Mother Borton gave me a leer.
"I wish I could tell you, my dear, but I don"t know."
"You mean you dare not tell me," I said boldly. "You have done me a great service, but if I am to save myself from the dangers that surround me I must know more. Can"t you see that?"
"Yes," she nodded. "You"re in a hard row of stumps, young man."
"And you can help me."
"Well, I will," she said, suddenly softening again. "I took a shine to you when you came in, an" I says to myself, "I"ll save that young fellow," an" I done it. And I"ll do more. Mr. Wilton was a fine gentleman, an" I"d do something, if I could, to git even with those murderin" gutter-pickers that laid him out on a slab."
She hesitated, and looked around at the shadows thrown by the flickering candle.
"Well?" I said impatiently. "Who is the boy, and where is he?"
"Never you mind that, young fellow. Let me tell you what I know. Then maybe we"ll have time to go into the things I don"t know."
It was of no use to urge her. I bowed my a.s.sent to her terms.
"I"ll name no names," she said. "My throat can be cut as quick as yours, and maybe a d.a.m.ned sight quicker."
Mother Borton had among her failings a weakness for profanity. I have omitted most of her references to sacred and other subjects of the kind in transcribing her remarks.
"The ones that has the boy means all right. They"re rich. The ones as is looking for the boy is all wrong. They"ll be rich if they gits him."
"How?"
"Why, I don"t know," said Mother Borton. "I"m tellin" you what Henry Wilton told me."
This was maddening. I began to suspect that she knew nothing after all.
"Do you know where he is?" I asked, taking the questioning into my own hands.
"No,"--sullenly.
"Who is protecting him?"
"I don"t know."
"Who is trying to get him?"
"It"s that snake-eyed Tom Terrill that"s leading the hunt, along with Darby Meeker; but they ain"t doing it for themselves."
"Is Doddridge Knapp behind them?"
The old woman looked at me suddenly in wild-eyed alarm.
"S-s-h!" she whispered. "Don"t name no names."
"But I saw--"
She put her hand over my mouth.