Sidney Zoom laughed sarcastically.
“You know that it’s right,” he said. “What you mean is that you’re afraid of man-made laws. As a matter of fact, you are the one who is entitled to this money. You admit that it’s bribe money. It could never be returned to the persons who had put it up. Obviously, Paul Stapleton shouldn’t be allowed to keep it. Moreover, Stapleton has done you a great wrong. He has, as it happens, walked into his own trap, but that was due to the fact he fell for the bait which I held out to him. If it hadn’t been for that, you would have been a fugitive from justice right now, charged with murder.
“Law is but a man-made attempt to secure justice. In many instances, laws fall down because it is impossible to anticipate all of the complexities of human conduct. Those are the cases in which I interest myself. I endeavor to do substantial justice, without regard to laws.”
He pushed the currency toward her.
“But how about you?” she asked.
Sidney Zoom smiled patiently.
“I,” he said, “have had a very interesting night’s adventure, and now, if you’ll pardon, I’ll retire.”
He arose from his chair, moved swiftly to the door of the stateroom, turned to smile at the young woman, nod at Vera Thurmond, then jerked the door open, stepped out of the stateroom and slammed the door behind him.
Ruby Allison looked in stupefied wonder at Vera Thurmond.
“But,” she said, “I don’t understand the man.”
Vera Thurmond’s laugh was wistful.
“You could,” she said, “be with him for years, without doing that. You could respect and admire him, but you’d never understand him.”
Her eyes were bright.
Stolen Thunder
Chapter I
Samson’s Strange Job
Sidney Zoom hated routine with a bitter hatred.
Night after night, his police dog at his side, he prowled through those sections of the city where human misery came crawling forth with the hours of darkness. His eyes, which could be cold and savage at times, were filled with ready sympathy as he peered into the dark shadows of the city where human flotsam was deposited by the tide of economic struggle.
The park was lighted by blazing incandescents which attracted the first moths of spring and glittered in shining reflections from the green foliage of the trees.
But the lights cast shadows over some of the benches, and on these benches young couples sat in dose proximity, conversing in low voices.
Sidney Zoom wasted no time upon such couples. His peering eyes sought out those dark shadows where lone derelicts sat in black despair.
Here was a man whose pasty features and twitching nerves told of dope; another was sodden with cheap alcohol; a third was a drifter, one of those men who refuse to accept opportunity when it is offered; a fourth was a young man whose gaunt face and haggard eyes showed the pallor of malnutrition as he sat hunched forward, his elbows on his knees, his chin on his hands.
Sidney Zoom paused in his walk.
“A nice evening,” he said.
The man apparently did not hear him. It was only when Zoom repeated the comment that the man stared upward with strained, incredulous eyes.
“Yes,” he said at length in a thin voice, then added, after a pause: “A nice dog you have.”
Sidney Zoom nodded.
“Getting the air,” he asked, “after a hard day’s work?”
The man’s laugh was mocking.
“A hard day’s work is right,” he said. “I had a hard day’s work two weeks ago. It’s the last I’ve been able to get.”
Sidney Zoom stared steadily at him.
The man spat contemptuously.
“Go on,” he said, “I’ll take care of myself.”
Sidney Zoom turned and walked away, the police dog padding at his side.
The foot and ankle of a woman caught his eyes. He had seen it half an hour before when he had first entered the park. The woman was reclining on one of the park seats. Her head and torso were in the deep shadows. Her left foot and ankle caught a shaft of light which filtered through the trees.
Presently, the officer on the beat would awaken her. Sleeping upon the park benches was prohibited, but of late the rule had been relaxed so that many of the city’s homeless found a certain inadequate resting place on the hard, cold benches. These unfortunates, by some unwritten understanding with the police, did not descend upon the benches until after midnight.
Sidney Zoom moved to the side of the young woman, touched her shoulder.
He could see that she was well formed, that she was in her early twenties, that she was sleeping in an uncomfortable position and that she was sleeping soundly.
He touched her again.
The dog at his side gave a low whimper.
Sidney Zoom took the woman’s shoulders and shook her. A small glass bottle dropped from the limp fingers of her right hand, but she made no motion.
Sidney Zoom picked up the bottle. A skull and cross-bones caught his eyes. He held the label to the light, then dropped the bottle to his pocket, knelt and smelled of the young woman’s lips. Abruptly, he turned and retraced his steps to where the young man sat hunched upon the park bench.
“My friend,” he asked, “would you like temporary employment?”
The man didn’t look up.
“Take your sympathy,” he said bitterly, “and go to hell with it.”
Sidney Zoom’s voice was patient.
“My friend,” he said, “this is not sympathy. Every night I make it a rule to find some worthy individual who is out of employment and give him work. The work is not orthodox, nor are my methods, but the employment certainly is not charity. If you want the job, say so; if you don’t want it, there are probably others who do.”
The haggard features raised to his. There was the glint of dawning hope in the eyes.
“You mean it?” the man asked.
“Your name?” asked Sidney Zoom.
“Burt Samson,” he said.
Zoom nodded.
“The wages,” he said, “will be adequate. They will be on a basis of profit-sharing. The work will be probably within the law.”
The man’s laugh was rasping.
“I didn’t ask any of that,” he said.
“Come with me,” Zoom told him.
They approached the bench where the young woman lay.
“I want,” said Sidney Zoom, “to get her to a taxicab.”
Samson flashed Zoom one swiftly searching look.
“How long have you known she was here?”
“I just found her,” Zoom said.
“Do you know who she is?”
“No.”
“Why do you want to get her to a taxicab?”
Zoom stared at him with steady, uncordial eyes.
“My friend,” he said, “if you are going to work for me, you are going to follow instructions without a lot of questions. No matter what a job is, there’s only room for one boss.”
Samson stooped wordlessly, placed his hands under the girl’s shoulders. Sidney Zoom caught one of her arms. They lifted her to her feet. She was motionless, inert, lifeless.
“A drug?” asked Samson.
Zoom made no comment.
“A taxicab,” he said after a moment.
They supported her between them, cut across the grass of the park, keeping to the shadows.
“I’ll hold her,” said Zoom. “Get a cab. Say that the woman passed out after a couple of drinks. Don’t offer too many explanations.”
The young man nodded, stepped out from the shadows of the park shrubbery to the lighted sidewalk, hailed a passing cab. The driver gave him a searching look, slowed, then speeded on. A second cab answered his hail and stopped. Samson talked for a moment with the cabbie, who opened the door and stared suspiciously toward the park.