Children of the Whirlwind

iver the one gaslight glowed faintly like an expiring nebula; all the little shops were closed; home lights gleamed be

ourse of the street, remembering in a flash a skiff he had seen tethered to a scow moored to the pier which stretched like a pointer finger from the little Square. As yet he had no plan beyond the necessity of the present

he skiff; and with collar turned up and hat-brim pulled down and head hunched low, he entered the dim sphere of betrayal, walked under its penny's-worth

neity of a snapshot camera at full noon. They were mere shadows; but the farther of the three seemed to be Barney Palmer-he was not sure; but of the identity of the other two there was no doubt: "Little Mick" and "Lefty Ed,"

is, if the third man really were Barney. Again two shots were fired, then came the sound of pursuing feet. Luckily not one of the bullets had touched Larry; for the New York professional gunman is the premie

treet, he saw that Old Isaac has switched on the lights; and he also saw Officer Gavegan bearing down in

s nothing he could plan, for only one way was open to him. He dashed into the pawnsho

scribblings into a pocket. As Larry passed the open studio door he saw Casey sitting up. "Down on the

hall, ran up it, unhooked and pushed up the trap, scramble

out on the rain-greased tin roof, with the trap down, when Gavegan came thumping up the stairs and into the studio. At sight of the re

What the hell

bled feebly, "and he knocked me out

s reference. "You there"-to Hunt and the Duchess-"w

know,"

ck of mine sleep it off, and help me

s throat just as it had closed upon the lean throat of Old Jimmie on the day of Larry's return-only now there was nothing playful in th

avegan's face. "You talk to me like a gentleman and apologize, or I'll throw you ou

bringing up at last at Maggie's door, which the Duchess had slipped ahead of him and locked. When he demanded the key, the Duchess told him of Maggie's departure and her carrying the key with her. It was a

me. During his weeks of freedom Larry had unconsciously studied the layout of the neighborhood, his old instincts at work. The subconscious knowledge thus gained was of instant value. He hurried along the slippery roofs, taking care not to trip over the dividing walls, and came to the rear edge of a roof where he had marked a fire-escape wit

und the first corner-around the next-and thus wove in and out, working westward, till at last, on turning a corner into a lig

called br

Little Mick and Lefty Ed turn into the street behind him. However, the brightness of this street ill-accorded with the

adway," he called to the cha

nter the other taxicab, and saw Little Mick standing on the curb. He understo

ich should look beyond the safety of the immediate moment. He was well-dressed,

for him. He might escape for the time, at least, these allies of his one-time pals by going to a hotel and taking a room there; but to walk into a hotel would be to walk into arrest. On the other hand, he might eva

injustice: an island, a trap, with only a few outlets and inlets for its millions: two railway stations-a few ferries-a few bridges-a fe

excitement, of brilliant adventure, did she? He wondered h

as Lefty hanging on doggedly. An idea came which would at least extend his respite and give him more time for tho

nce around Central Park, slowing down

got

ance for execution of his idea-all the way up the east side and around the turn at the north end. As the car, now south-bound, swung up the hill n

ed, driver, as soon a

replied th

; and that instant Larry sprang from the running-board, slamming the door behind him, landed on soft earth and scuttled in among the trees. Crouching in the shadows he sa

and sat down, his back against a tree.

mpossible-much like those helter-skelter, utterly unreal chases which, with slight variations of personalities and costumes, were the chief plots for the mot

f she knew the truth about him?-the truth about those she had gone with and the

e conclusions of composure were the same as those of excitement. He could not gain entrance to one of the great hotels and remain in his room, unidentified among its thousands of

ng assaults upon his bones. At the best, he realized, he could not hope to remain secure in this cultivated wilderness beyond daylight. With the coming of morning he would certainly be the prey of either his pals or the

he hurly-burly of escape when no thoughts could impress the upper surface of his mind save those of

d the chance seemed a slender, fantastical one, even if he could

cross a path or a drive, he stole southward. He remembered a drug-store at Eighty-Fourth Street and Columbus Avenue, peculiarly su

y of automobiles, for the theaters had not yet discharged their crowds and no policeman was in sight. He vaulted the wall; a mi

onded the very cor

Cellini,"

re, sir," sa

the same correct voice asked where Larry was

thing you like; the wire here will be kept open," cont

being heard unless Central was "listening in"; and knowing also that, to any one looking into the glass door of his booth, he was giving a most unsu

ore when the glass door of the booth was ope

hrough, sir, we

n out the side door, noting only that he had a lean, respectful face. At the curb st

wed, sir?" inq

n't k

we'll lose them, sir. We'll stop somewh

expected, the man closed the door, mounted to the seat beside th

ry driven so rapidly within New York City limits; he knew this, that any trailing taxicab would be lost behind. At Two-Hundred-and-Forty-Fifth Street

r, to put on our right number plates

ate business-though the interior of the car was discreetly dark and Larry huddled discreetly into a corner. Thus they drove ove

, sir, as though you belong here. The d

h mounting bewilderment. The man unlocked the door of an apartment, ushered Larry in, took his wet ha

, sir," said the man,

nd the best of taste. He noted the log fire in the broad fireplace, comfortable chairs, the imported rugs on the gleaming floor, the shelves of books which climb

was a photograph of Hunt: of Hunt, not in the shabby, shapeless garments he wore down at the Duchess's, but Hunt accoutered as might be

that impecunious, roug

king was interrupted by a voice fro

e hell

young gentleman of perhaps twenty-four or five, in evening

r pardon,"

n' here?" continued the be

you if you could te

eman with a scowling profundity. "No go. Got to come

unsteadily to Larry an

up!" he

rry. His wild escape-his coming to this unknown place-and n

orrow," Larry sug

ou don't know what you're doin' here,

words, trying to steady himself in a crouch for the delivery of

ic

nce to take her in, that first moment, beyond noting that she was slende

drunk again!"

ected in an injured t

you go

w,

go to

gaze. "Jus's you say-jus's you say," he mu

turned her troubled face back to Larry.

ou're here at last, Mr. Brainard." She held her hand out, smiling a smile

ng about yourself," she added, "for I already know a lot-all I need to know: about you-and about Maggie Carlisle. You see an h

w him?" Larr

He's such a roistering, bragging personage that I've named him Benvenuto Cellin

Benvenuto Cellini"! "No, he didn't e

ued; "please don't tell me. I don't wa

ue eyes, wearing a low-cut gown of violet chiffon velvet and dull gold shoes. Larry's instinct told him that here was a patrician, a thoroughbred: with poise, wit

t Maggie. I hope you don't mind my talking about her." Larry could not imagine any one taking offense at anything this brilliant apparition might possibly say. "But we'll put off

ght," sa

y into a spacious bedroom with bath attached. Ten minutes later Judkins made his exit, carrying Larry's outer clothes; and another ten minutes

of Hunt's life. And he wondered about Hunt-who he really was-what had really driven him into this strange exile. And he wondered about Maggie-what she might b

ing, Larry at le