I needed a place, not an explanation. Bell used several rooms when he wanted men close at hand without keeping them under his roof, and I started with the nearest. At a lunch counter I pushed through steam and wet coats to look behind the curtain. Two cardplayers stared at me. No Esther. The counterman told me to take my troubles outside. I left her hat in my coat pocket, where its bent brim pressed against my ribs. At the next address the shutters were down. I struck them with my palm until somebody upstairs threatened to empty a basin on me.
By the third place my legs had begun to tremble from the running. It was a rented room above a closed notions shop, reached through a passage smelling of boiled cabbage. A young fellow sat on the second stair with a newspaper spread across his knees. He folded it when he saw me. I had once persuaded Bell to keep him on after he lost a week's collections from our card games. Now he rose and filled the passage. “Morris is busy.” I took another step. “Then he can tell me himself.” The boy put his hand flat against my coat.
I caught the banister and pulled myself past him. His fingers tore a button free. He could have hit me from behind; I waited for it with my neck tightened. Instead he followed, saying my name in a low, urgent voice. At the top I found Bell beside a table with three empty cups. His coat hung from a nail. A narrow inner door had a chair wedged beneath its knob. I looked at the chair, then at him. He spread one hand as though I had arrived during an ordinary argument about expenses. “You made a mess downstairs, Sam.”
I went to the inner door. One of the other men stood up, but Bell motioned him still. Perhaps he expected me to ask permission. I gripped the chair by its back and pulled. Its legs dragged against the boards without coming free. From the other side Esther said, “Who is that?” I told her. She said nothing more. I planted my shoe against the baseboard and hauled again. The chair came loose suddenly, striking my knee. I nearly fell with it. When I opened the door, Esther stood beside a small washstand, one hand curled around its chipped edge.
Her coat was twisted at the shoulder. She straightened it herself before she moved. I held out the hat, and she took it without looking at me. “We're leaving,” I said. Bell came away from the table. “She could have left when she settled down.” Esther walked into the larger room. There was nothing in her manner to suggest she accepted that account. “You brought me here,” she said. Bell looked at me instead of answering her. “The meeting was going bad. You know what happens when everybody starts shouting.” I knew shouting. I also knew a blocked door.
I moved the chair out of our way and set it against the wall. It was a small act, but I wanted the passage clear before anyone changed his mind. “I gave her my word,” I said. Bell touched my sleeve where the button was missing. “Your word isn't separate from us.” For years I had liked that thought. It meant a man did not stand alone when rent came due or a foreman wanted him dismissed. Now it meant that he could put his hand on my arm and expect me to stop a woman leaving a room.
I pulled my sleeve away and opened the stair door. The young lookout was coming up; another man stood below him. Esther stopped at the first tread, refusing to squeeze between them. I went down ahead of her and faced upward. “Make room.” The boy glanced past me toward Bell. I put my palm against his shoulder and moved him to the wall, slowly enough that he could yield without falling. His companion stepped down backward. Esther followed me, keeping one hand on the rail. Above us Bell said, “You'll come back.” I did not answer. I could promise nothing honestly just then.
At the street door three workers waited, Isaac among them. They must have followed my searching or made their own; I did not ask. I offered Esther my arm over the uneven sill. She drew hers close against her body and stepped down unaided. Isaac moved toward her, then stopped to let her choose where to stand. That courtesy stung because I had once thought it mine to give. “She is out,” I told them. Esther turned before anyone could answer. “His promise didn't bring me out safely,” she said. “It got me taken.” She walked away with them, leaving me holding the door.