She stared at him.
Sidney Zoom regarded the red welt on the side of her face.
“Look at yourself in the mirror,” he ordered.
The girl moved to the mirror. Her eyes fastened upon that tell-tale mark, and her lips clamped into a thin line.
“Who... who... who are you?” she stammered, her voice issuing from a mouth that was dry with terror.
Sidney Zoom grinned at her.
“I,” he said, “am the man who slammed the big boob who struck you, after you’d had a chance to make good your escape. I knocked him off his pins and locked him in the office. Here’s the skeleton key you left in the lock. Now tell me your story, and tell me whether there’s anything you left behind that would bring the officers to this place.”
She stared at him.
“Who are you?” she asked again.
“I am the man who heard you sobbing in the park. I followed you to the office of the county attorney. Then when the big hulk came in and started to bully you, I gave you a break. Now answer my questions.”
Her hand, unconsciously seeking the contact of companionship, had descended to the head of the crouching dog. The animal had first stiffened, then his ears had relaxed. The tip of his tail waved gently. In that manner he communicated to his master that the touch of this young woman spoke of sincerity and of honesty. Sidney Zoom needed no further endorsement. An intelligent animal can tell more from the touch of a human’s fingertips than most men can tell from a week of constant association.
The dog’s head turned. His tongue shot out, gently caressing the girl’s hand, and that sign of sympathy broke through the wall of suspicion and reserve, and words poured from her lips.
“I’m Della Rangar,” she said. “No one knows me here, and no one knows I’m here. I recognized the picture of James Crandall which was published in the papers when his trial started. He... he’s my sweatheart. I knew him under another name, in another city.
“He’s been living there, and going straight. We were to be married. He won’t tell where he was, or what he was doing because he knows that will mix me into the mess. He hoped I’d never hear of this. I thought — thought that he’d just run away and left me. You see, I haven’t always been so straight myself. I’ve had my experiences with the seamy side of life, and I’ve even done time.
“Crandall knew that. And he knew that if the police found out about me they’d drag me in as an accomplice. He was going to take the rap, go to the chair in silence, just to protect me. When I saw his picture, I came on here. I thought I could break into the office of the county attorney and steal the file in the Crandall case. I’ve known of such things being done.”
She paused, staring defiantly at Sidney Zoom, as though expecting to hear his denunciation.
Sidney Zoom, however, merely nodded his head approvingly.
“Good girl,” he said. “Did you find anything?”
“No evidence. The file of the case was there. The letter wasn’t in the file. It’s that letter that will send Jim to the chair.”
Sidney Zoom pursed his lips.
“You haven’t answered one other question. Did you leave anything behind by which you can be identified?”
She shook her head. Then her head suddenly became motionless. The cheek blanched again.
“I made notations,” she said, “on a sheet of paper that I took from this rooming house. It had the address on it. The files were indexed, you know, and I first looked up the index numbers, and then wrote the numbers...”
Zoom interrupted.
“You left that paper behind?”
“I’m afraid I must have. I had it in my hand when... when he struck me.”
Sidney Zoom strode toward the door.
“Get your things together,” he said. “I’ll watch the corridor. Make it snappy. Get ’em on quickly.”
He jerked the door open, strode into the corridor, stood rigidly alert, the dog at his side. From the interior of the room came sounds of swift motion. Almost within a matter of seconds the door opened again and the girl, garbed for the street, stood at his side.
“Ready,” she said.
There was in her tone the implicit confidence of one who trusts. It was an emotion which Sidney Zoom inspired, particularly in the helpless, as well as in dogs, horses and children.
Zoom led the way.
They left by the front door, walked across to the other side of the street.
And, as they rounded the comer, the night silence was disrupted by the noise of a speeding motor. A light car, filled with men, came swiftly down the street, skidded to a stop before the entrance to the rooming house. The men jumped from the car, ran across the strip of sidewalk, and vanished within the dark doorway.
Sidney Zoom turned to the girl at his side and smiled.
“We weren’t any too soon,” he said.
There was no longer any fear in her voice.
“Somehow, I don’t feel afraid any more,” she said. “I have a feeling that justice is going to be done — real justice.”
Sidney Zoom took her elbow, assisted her down from the curb to the street, piloted her to the place where the shadows were the deepest. Keeping to those clinging shadows, he guided her to his yacht, slipped her aboard.
Vera Thurmond, the secretary, regarded the girl with eyes that were warm with sympathy. There was, in the secretary, a maternal affection for those strange outcasts of the night whom Sidney Zoom picked up from time to time and brought to safe sanctuary aboard the yacht.
“Keep her safe, and keep her out of sight,” said Sidney Zoom.
Vera Thurmond flung a protecting arm around the waist of Della Rangar.
“Come, my poor dear, you need sleep,” she said.
Taut nerves relaxed. The girl smiled.
“I’m commencing to believe that God’s in his heaven after all,” she said.
For Sidney Zoom’s character was such that no one could come in contact with him without feeling the strange influence of the man. He influenced the lives of those about him as a lodestone influences the needle of a magnet. The weak and the helpless found in him a haven of refuge, a gigantic wall of strength. The oppressor found in him a grim enemy, tireless, uncompromising, letting no man-made law stand between him and his prey.
Chapter VI
Rip Smells a Banker
The morning sun streamed through the long, narrow windows, reflected from the polished surface of the walnut desk, and made little splotches of uneven illumination upon the tinted wall.
Sam Gilvert sat in the swivel chair, a filing drawer of a card indexing system in front of him. Several of those cards represented past due obligations owing to the bank. These had red tabs on their margins. The tabs were a bright red, and the gnarled fingers of the banker went from red tab to red tab, pulling out the cards.
At his side, a secretary held an open notebook with a poised pencil. Occasionally the banker snapped an order and the secretary made a series of swift pothooks. Upon each such occasion the secretary would mutter a mechanical, “Yes, sir.”
Sam Gilvert chuckled.
“Not entirely an unpleasant task, Miller.”
“Yes, sir,” said the secretary, mechanically.
“Three years ago,” said the banker, “every one of these men used to look down on me. They were rich, gloatingly rich. Now we’re closing them out... Card number four thirty-five; Harrison, secured note for five hundred. Close out the security. Have our attorney get judgment for the deficiency. Attach his car.”