"Uh, no, Klop, I, uh...she jist needs a place to stay," he answered, puzzled as to why he wasn't as slick a liar as usual. What's the matter with me, huh?
Kloppman nodded and muttered something to himself. "Well, d'ya want to stay upstairs in the girls' room - "
"No, no...thank you, sir," Madeline stammered. "Do you have someplace secluded?"
She don't want her presence known, I s'pect, Race thought, eyeing the girl who stood expectantly, awaiting Kloppman's reply.
The old man scratched his head, deep in thought. "Well, ah...no, missy. There's the attic, but - "
"The attic will be perfect, thank you," she cut in quickly, hoping that Kloppman would comply.
To her luck, he did. "Well, then, I guess there ain't no harm in lettin' ya stay up there...Racetrack, get 'er a couple blankets and a pillow, if ya can find one."
Race nodded and turned, heading upstairs. Kloppman, instead of leading Madeline in the way of the attic, eyed her and asked, "You, eh, hidin' from somebody?"
Madeline's blue eyes flashed shock, anger, and defiance at the old man's forwardness, which took him aback. In an indignant tone, she inquired, "And what would make you think that, sir?"
Kloppman, slightly intimidated, decided that he would be better to let it go. "Ah, fergit it, kid. C'mon, let me show you the way to the attic."
The old man made his way out from behind his desk, and Madeline followed a few paces behind him. She paid close attention to everything that she saw in the lodging house; every door, every window, every dark corner where a menace could lurk. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the smell of cedar, however old it might be.
Madeline followed Kloppman up two wide flights of stairs, down several hallways, and finally up a narrow, steep staircase that led to the attic. The room itself was covered in several layers of dust, and was dark and grimy. Trying not to show the least amount of disgust, Madeline thanked Kloppman and he left her alone in the gloomy room.
Feeling a bit nosy, she began to poke through several boxes and drawers, but found nothing of great importance. Bored with the attic already, she crossed the room to the window, which looked like it hadn't been cleaned in twenty years, and used the sleeve of her dress to smear away the grime on one pane.
Looking down on the street below, Madeline observed the people coming and going. She watched the newsies and the bootblacks hard at work, and had a laugh at the antics of streetside actors. Then, she saw him. He looked straight up and made eye contact with her, even from behind the grimy window pane. Gasping, she jerked away from the window and retreated to an especially dark recess of the attic.
Maybe it was all my imagination. Maybe he didn't see me, she thought, a cold shiver running through her body.
"Mad - "
She jumped, and placed a hand over her racing heart. Racetrack, too, was a bit surprised. Madeline swallowed hard. "Racetrack, I didn't know it was you!"
"Who else would it be?" he asked, putting down the two blankets and the thin pillow that he had managed to gather.
"No one," she whispered, remembering his face and shuddering at the thought.
"Is there...is there anything ya'd like to talk about?" Race asked her gently, sitting down in the floor beside her.
Shaking her head violently, Madeline answered, "No. I wish to leave it all behind, thank you."
"Well, ah, since you're sort of my prisoner...ya hungry?" he asked.
A smile played on her lips. "You're asking me?"
"Well, 'course. I couldn't be mean to ya, now could I?"
"Some prison warden you'd make," Madeline grinned.
Race blushed. "I know, I'm too nice, right? Well, c'mon, you wanna come eat with me? I'm goin' over to a hot dog stand."
"No, I don't wish to come," she answered, paling. "It isn't you, Racetrack, it's...I can't."
Nodding, Race asked no further questions. "Well, I'll bring somethin' to ya, then."
"Thank you," Madeline answered.
Racetrack stood up and waved a hand. "See ya 'round."
Madeline nodded and watched Race turn and exit the attic by way of the steep staircase.