Part 33 (2/2)

”Oh, he's in and out, just to keep things going.”

”Is the pa.s.sage to the river just to get rid of the dirt?”

The dark man laughed sheepishly. ”We don't think so,” he said--”we gets lots of time to think. And it ain't always dirt that goes into the river. Twicet it's been men, and once it were a woman. There was lead pipe wrapped round the bodies to make 'em sink. And oncet Blizzard he tumbled a girl down the stairs to us. But she weren't dead, and me and Bill took the lead off her before we throwed her in.”

His comrade interrupted. ”She said she could swim. She said if we'd take the lead off and untie her and give her a chanst, we could have a kiss apiece. But we let her go fer nothin'.”

”Did she get away?” Bubbles was tremendously interested.

”No, sir. It was dark night, and she couldn't find a way out from under the wharf. She just swam round and round, slower and slower, like a mouse in a wash-tub. Then she calls out she'll come back and we can hide her till daylight. But she don't make it We has to stand there and listen to her drown.”

”When she's dead she gets out into the open river, and when Blizzard hears she's been found without any lead on her he raises h.e.l.l.”

”When he gets through with us we was most skinned alive.”

”He wouldn't dig that hole to the river,” said Bubbles, ”just to get rid of people. What do you think it's for?”

”You ain't goin' to tell Blizzard you been here, nor get us in trouble?”

”I'll get you out of this some day, but you can't get in no trouble through me.”

”Then,” said the blond man, ”this is what we thinks out and concludes: Blizzard he's calculatin' to receive stolen goods wholesale. First he stores 'em in here until this cellar is full, and then he takes 'em down to the river and puts 'em aboard a s.h.i.+p bound fur furrin' ports, and we thinks and concludes that he'll make his get-away about the same time.”

”Well,” said Bubbles, ”I'm obliged. I won't forget your kindness. But it's time I was off.”

”Come close first,” said the blond man.

Bubbles was instantly alarmed. ”Why?”

”Only so's we can feel your face, so's to know what you look like.”

He stood impatient and embarra.s.sed while they pawed his face with hard, grimy hands.

At last they let him go, he whose barrow was full accompanying him to the end of the pa.s.sageway, and speeding him on his way with this comfortable remark:

”If you was to dive deep and feel around, you might find those as is leaded to the bottom.”

It took every ounce of nerve that Bubbles had at command to let his legs and body slip down into the cold and tragic current. It seemed certain that dead hands were reaching for him. But he screwed his courage up to the sticking point, and called to his acquaintance in the pa.s.sage-mouth a whispered but nonchalant, ”S'long!”

x.x.x

When Bubbles entered Blicker's drug-store, the city clocks were striking a quarter to twelve, but the place was still brightly lighted, and at the soda-counter a young man was treating his flame to a gla.s.s of chocolate vanilla ice-cream.

Bubbles marched to the prescription counter, and began to unwrap a b.l.o.o.d.y handkerchief from his left hand. Then he began to clear his throat. This brought Mr. Blicker from a region of mortar pestles, empty pill-boxes, and gla.s.s retorts.

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