"Very well!" said he, "walk with me, and give me your story. Will you do that? At all events, you mustn't stay here, making a disturbance on the highway. If you knew the police as well as I do, you'd understand that!"

"You're right, friend," said she, hoa.r.s.ely. "I'm on, now. Come along then--I'll tell you. It ain't much to tell; but it's a lot to me!"

She glanced at the curious faces of the watchers, then turned and followed Gabriel, who was already walking up the alley, toward the brighter lights of Stuart Street. For a moment, one or two of the men hesitated as though undecided whether or not to follow after; but one backward look by Gabriel instantly dispelled any desire to intrude. And as Gabriel and the woman turned into the street, the little knot of curiosity-seekers dissolved into its component atoms, and vanished.

CHAPTER XXII.

THE TRAP IS SPRUNG.

"It--it's all along o' that there Mr. Micolo!" the woman suddenly exclaimed, "Him an' his rent-bill! If he'd ha' let me in, there, tonight, I could ha' got Ed's things an' then started to my sister's, out to Scottsville. But he wouldn't. He claimed they was two-seventy-five still owin', and I didn't have but about fifty cents, so I couldn't pay it. So he wouldn't let me in. Natchally, anybody'd feel bad, like that, 'specially when a man told 'em he'd hold their kid's clothes an' things till they paid--which they couldn't!"

"Naturally, of course," answered Gabriel, rather dazed by this sudden burst of details, with which she seemed to think he should already be quite familiar--details all sordid and commonplace, through which he seemed to perceive, dimly as in a dark gla.s.s, some mean and ugly tragedy of poverty and ignorance and sin.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, all at once. "If so, come in here, where we can talk quietly and get things straight." He pointed at a cheap restaurant, across the street.

"Hungry? Gord, yes!" she exclaimed. Only I--I wouldn't ask, if I fell on the sidewalk! Fifty cents--yes, I got that much, but I been tryin' to get enough to pay Mr. Micolo, an' get hold of Ed's things, an'--"

"All right, forget that, now," commanded Gabriel. He took her by the arm and piloted her across the thoroughfare, then into the dingy hash-house and to a table in a far corner. A few minutes later, pretty much everything on the bill of fare was before them on the greasy table.

"Not a word till you're satisfied," directed Armstrong. "I'll just take a little bread and coffee, to keep you company."

The woman adequately proved her statement that she was hungry. Rarely had Gabriel seen anybody eat with such ravenous appet.i.te. He watched her with satisfaction, and when she could consume no more, smiled as he asked:

"Now, then, feel better? If so, let's tackle the next problem. What's your grief?"

The woman stared at him a long moment before she made reply. Then she exclaimed suddenly:

"You ain't no kind of 'bull,' are you? Nor plain-clothes man?"

Gabriel shook his head.

"No," said he, "nothing of that kind. You can trust me. Let's have the story."

"Hm! It ain't much, I s'pose," she answered still half-suspiciously.

"Bill and me was livin' together, that's all. No, not married, nor nothin'--but--"

"All right. Go on."

"That was last winter. When the kid happened--Ed, you know--Bill, he got sore, an' beat it. Then I--I went on the street, to keep Ed. Nothin'

else to do, Mister, so help me, an'--"

"Never mind, I understand," said Gabriel. "What next?"

"And after that, I gets sick. _You_ know. Almost right away. So I has to go to St. Luke's hospital. I leaves Ed with Mrs. McCane, at the same house. That place in the alley, you know. Well, when I gets out, the boy's dead. _An_' they never even tells me, till I goes back! An' I can't even get his things. Because why? Mrs. McCane's gone, Gord knows where, an' Mr. Micolo says I still owe two-seventy-five. I want to get down there to Scottsville, to my sister's; but curse _me_ if I'll go till I pay that devil an' get them clothes!"

A sudden savage light in her blurred eyes betrayed the pa.s.sion of the mother-love, through all the filth and soilure of her degradation.

Gabriel felt his heart deeply moved. He bent toward her, across the table, touched her hand and asked:

"Will you accept five dollars, to pay this man and get you down to Scottsville?"

"Huh?" she queried, gazing at him with vacant, uncomprehending eyes.

He repeated his query. Then, as he saw the slow tears start and roll down her wan cheeks, he felt a greater joy within his breast than if the world and all its treasures had been his.

"Will I take it?" she whispered. "Gord, _will_ I? You bet I will! That is, if I can have your name, an' pay it back some time?"

He promised, and wrote it down for her, giving as his address Socialist Headquarters in Chicago. Then, without publicity, he slipped a V into her trembling hand.

"Come on," said he. "_That's_ all settled!"

He paid the check, and they went out, together. For a moment they stood together, undecided, on the sidewalk.

"Couldn't I get them things to-night, an' start?" asked she, eagerly.

"There's a train at 11:08, on the B. R. & P."

"All right," he a.s.sented. "Can you see this Micolo, now? It's after ten."

"Oh, _that_ don't make no difference," she answered. "He runs a p.a.w.nshop over here on Dexter Street, two blocks east. He'll be open till midnight, easy, tomorrow bein' the Fourth."

"Come on, then," said Gabriel. "I'll see you through the whole business, and onto the train. Maybe I can help you, all along."

Without another word she started, with Gabriel at her side. They traversed the main street, two blocks, then turned to the left down a narrower, darker one.

"Here's Micolo's," said she, pausing at a doorway. Gabriel nodded. "All right," he answered. He had not noted, nor did he dream, that, at the corner behind them, two slinking, sneaking figures were now watching his every move.

The woman turned the k.n.o.b, and entered. Gabriel followed.

"It's on the second floor," said she. Gabriel saw a sign, on the landing: "S. L. Micolo, p.a.w.n Broker," and motioned her to precede him.

In a minute they had reached the upper hallway. The woman opened another door. The room, inside, was dark.

"This way," said she. "He's in the inside office, I guess. The light must ha' gone out here, some way or other."

Gabriel hesitated. Some inkling, some vague intuition all at once had come upon him, that all was not well. At his elbow some invisible force seemed plucking. "Come away! Come back, before it is too late!" some ghostly voice seemed calling in his ear.

But still, he did not fully understand. Still he remained there, his mind obsessed by the plausibility of the woman's story and by the pity he so keenly felt.

And now he heard her voice again:

"Mr. Micolo! Oh, Mr. Micolo! Where are you?"

Striking a match, he advanced into the room.

"Any gas here?" he asked, peering about for a burner.