"Not a damn sign here, Shorty. It looks like the fellow maybe did get away. But it beats me how. There ain't no place now for us to look but the alley."
"An' if he ain't there?"
"Then we'll hop this dump mighty sudden, I'm telling you. We'll slip out and leave Mike to explain how he got his coco cracked. With that guy loose, it won't be healthy for me hanging around here."
"He ain't got the goods on you, has he?"
"No, he ain't got the goods, but he is dead wise to some things, and he didn't get out of that shindy up stairs without getting hurt. He'll be sore all right, and will raise all the hell he can. It's safer to keep out of the way."
"An' what about that other buck, Hobart? It won't do to have him picked up, if this guy gets the harness bulls to take a look around here."
"That ain't his style, Shorty; he won't spiel anything to the cops about this row. He's an ex-soldier, a Captain, and he's nuts on the girl. That's why he dipped into this mess--trying to save her--see? Maybe he won't be so keen now, after the song and dance she gave him up stairs. I'm half inclined to think the guy will drop out entirely, damn glad to get off alive, now he believes she is as rotten as the rest of us. But I ain't sure--maybe he is the kind that sticks. That's why I don't take any chances just now. Things ain't quite ripe for a get away--see?"
"Sure; she gave him some straight stuff, hey?"
"She certainly did; she's as smart as she is good looking. It somehow don't strike me this guy is going to bother her any more. I'm figuring that he's out of it."
"But his partner?"
"Oh, we'll leave him somewhere propped up against a door. Likely he'll never know what happened to him, or where. He ain't nothing to be afraid of--just a butler with a cracked head. It's the other guy who has got the brains. Come on; let's take a look out in the alley."
Their shadows vanished up the stairs, the glow of light disappearing, and leaving the cellar in impenetrable darkness. West did not venture to move, however, content to wait until thoroughly assured the way for escape was clear. He had not learned much from this conversation, except to increase his conviction that a serious crime was being consummated. The full nature of this conspiracy was as obscure as ever; rendered even more doubtful indeed by the active participation of Natalie Coolidge. This was what puzzled and confused him the most. He could no longer question her direct interest in the affair, or her willingness to assist in overcoming his efforts. Even without the free testimony of the men this fact was sufficiently clear. She had deliberately lied to him, attempted deceit, and then, when he refused to yield to her efforts, had so reported to Hobart, and left him to his fate. It was manifestly impossible for him to believe in her any longer. Yet what could it all mean? How could she hope to benefit by such an association? Why could she thus shield the murderers of Percival Coolidge? What possible object could there be in the commission of this crime, except to gain possession of her own fortune? It was all mystery to his mind; a new unanswerable question arising wherever he looked.