Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 1098) (1900 02)
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Se” {a aoe PEeEEEPePees oe aa ~ CopyRIHT, se, y Beapte & ADAmMs. ENTE! RED AS ancien CLASS Marrer at THE New Yorks, N. Y., Post Orricr. ‘February, 1900. a, » th, 1088. Publied every I HVERS & CO. Publishers, parom 5 cuNTS to Mu | Month. 379 Pearl Street, New York. 50c. a . fear. THE “TETERTIVE. QUARTET LIBRARY OF RUTH NEUMANN, BY TOM Ww. KING. td i iN i | ay aes AU ; MAY Lift Te ACC ins Wey at SV HH Ui HNN \ : pina] | IN a — Mal / ANN | | ull i iti i : | Hn 00, THE MYSTERY OF HENRY WARENNE’S DEATH WAS SOLVED! THE KKENEST OF THE DETECTIVE QUARTET HAD TRIUMPHED,
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_ ~ headquarters, 3 The Detective Quartet: Suicide, Murder or Accident? The Story of Henry Warenne. f BY T. W. KING, _ AUTHOR OF ‘“ THE DAUNTLESS DETECTIVE,” “PONY, THE COWBOY,” ETC., ETC. CHAPTER I. DETECTIVE BRONSON’S DISCOVERY, TO LET—That very desirable three-story and basement stone and brick house, No. 16 West 80th street, near Central Park. Newly decorated and in perfect order, Can be seen at any time. Owner on premises, / This ‘‘ad” caught Cameron Bronson’s eye as he glanced through the advertising columns of _ the Daily Messenger. He had been looking for a house in tuat locality, and this appeared favor- able; so he cut it out, He was at breakfast at'the St. Cyr Hotel, _ and opposite him was seated his wife—a bride of a little over a month. They bad just returned from their weddin porns and Bronson, tired of hotel, flat, ee rding-house life, had proposed to his-better- half that they rent a house somewhere near Central Park, and stay there during the summer —not necessarily continuously, but make it their She seconded the proposition eagerly. Raised in a small village in the interior of the State, a residence in New York—the great metropolis— seemed to her like the realization of a cherished dream; so as Cameron laid asidv the paper, he remarked: * “I think I have found it, dear!” and handed ber the slip he had cut from the Messenger. “On, Cam!” she cried, ‘‘ what a lovely loca- ' tion. But—” and her pretty forehead grew into corrugated roughness as she stopped in a de- _ lighbtful perplexity, But what, child?’ he asked, . * The rent—it must bb ENORMOUS!!!” _ Nothing but capital letters and three exclam- ation points can express her dismay as she pro- nounced the word. | **Tnat remains to be seen,” replied her bhus- band, encouragingly, “‘so if you will be ready in half-an-hour, we will take a run on the Elevated up to Highty-first street station and in- spect.” Which they did. _ The locality charmed Mrs, Bronson, and she said to her husband: “Cam, if you were not a detective I would wish you were—” ** What, little one?” ** A millionaire,” ** Well, I may be one yet; a detective may be- come a millionaire, but. I'll guarantee that no millionaire will ever become a detective.” ¢ Thus chatting, they walked over to the avenue, __ turned south for a block and into the street on which the advertised house was situated, “Number 16,” said Bronson; “that must be on the’south side of the street and not very far from the corner.” In a few minutes they reached it. “Oh, Cam!” cried the delighted girl who ac- - companied him, ‘isn’t it lovely?” __ “Tt 1s a magnificent location, and if the rent is not too high for our small purse, we’Jl take it, That is if—” If what, Cam?’ =o “Tf the interior meets our expectations; we are not going torent a house simply because it has u handsome exterior and a good focatian. “ Certainly not,” “Then we'll ring the bell and inspect the _ premises,” _ With a promptness that bespoke well-trained _ servants, the door was thrown open in response -to his touch on the electric button. _ “Tam here to look at this house,” said Bron- son, “ which, I believe, is advertised for rent in the morning papers.” _,| Yes, sir; walk in, sir, And the lady too, sir. Step into the parlor, sir, and you too, madam. Mr. Warenne is ir the library—that little room at the end of the hall, He told me to send any one there that called in relation to the house,” “* Then shall I go in there?” SITS “tiles MSE down, and ater 1 nar ‘Then, Mollie, sit down, and after I have spoken to Mr. Warenne, as his will go over the house name seems to: . 2 ~e The Detective Quartet. ‘Very well, Cam,” returned his wife, who was very deep Mi the mysteries of some beauti- ful piece of embroidery she had found on a stand in the corner, The servant led the way to the back room, tapped on the door, and without waiting for an answer, threw it wide open. Bronson stepped in. Mr, Warenne was seated at his desk, in front of a window that looked out on the back yard. He seemed to be reading or writing or some- thing of the sort. Bronson waited, thinking that he would turn in a few moments and speak to him, He did not wish to interrupt bim. He waited and waited, until at length he grew tired. Perhaps,”’ he thought, ‘‘he was so occupied with what ho was doing that he did not hear the servant announce me,” : So he spoke, ‘Excuse me, Mr. Warenne, bur No answer. Mr. Warenne did not move. Perplexed and a little vexed, Bronson steppec forward and touched the silent figure on the shoulder, ; It was seated in a revolving chair, which at Bronson’s touch turned swiftly, And the es it was nothing more than that—pitched headlong to the floor before the detective could grasp it, Instantly Bronson was on his knees at the side of the man, crying for help and feeling for some sign of life, : But there was none, Eeury Warenne was dead, CHAPTER II. MURDER OR SUICIDE? In an instant the house was in an uproar, Servants ran hither and thither, Bronson’s wife hastened to his side, and in a few moments the dead man’s widow hurried down-stairs. Shrieking, she flew to his side, shrieking flung herself prostrate on the floor. Bronson, the only one who preserved his senses, turned every one else out of the room but the two ladies, and sent the man who had admit- ted.him for a policeman. Before the latter arrived, he turned in an am- bulance call. And soon the clattering wagon dashed up to the door, and the prompt surgeon in charge sprung from it and up the front steps. He moderated his pace as he approached the library, and spoke low before the great grief that he saw there. “‘T can do nothing,” he said, as he felt the dead man’s pulse, And then, as he passed out, he whispered to Bronson, whom he recognized from former and somewhat similar meetings: **This,” said he, “is a case for the coroner, Mr. Bronson.” And then he added, significantly : “ And for you,” Bronson followed him out into the hall, clos- ing the door behind him, ** What do you mean, doctor?”.be asked, The doctor looked about him to see that he was not overheard, and replied: ** Murder—or suicide,” \ ‘* What do you mean?” , **Did you not notice the bullet-wound in his head?—but of course you did not; only a prac- | ticed eye could see it at first glance.” ‘* A bullet-wound! And where?” — ** Just over the right ear—so small as to be scarcely discernible,” * But, doctor—” **T can anticipate all of your remarks in that direction,” ; “ Well?” | ; “The bieeding, as is often the case when a gunshot-wound, made by a weapon of small cal- iber, closes behind the missile, was internal and not external, so no traces of it are visible.” ** And you are positive—” “ As positive as if I had made a post-mortem ex.niination,” ** Which you will make, later.” **No, that comes in the province of the cor- oner,” ‘* Murder or suicide, you sa ye” * One cette atten prababty thelatter. The at may decide.” : . Will decide, you mean,” © *No; I have not the slightest doubt that dozens of men are laid away in this a every Saeperobed by ihe hand of wa hemaehh " : ; the hand of an as: er! 3 "eT ben, doctor, if science is so weak,'we will | : er. -murder, try by the addition of a little skill, to fathom the mystery—if mystery there be.” ““Good, my friend. Investigate thoroughly, and what you may learn will be of great as- sistance to the coroner, I am sure,” ‘© Hoe shook Bronson’s hand warmly, sie I must be off,” he said. ‘*Good luck to you. ‘ “Thank you, doctor, for wish and warning, Pil try and aid the coroner to decide which it is,’ The doctor left the house, and ‘‘ Cam” returned to the library, ? There he found his wife endeavoring to quiet Mrs. Warenne, who was moaning and sobbing by her husband’s dead body, in a perfect frenzy of grief. By persistent urging, joined almost to com- mands on his part, she was at length induced to retire to her room, up-stairs, whither Mollie accompanied her. p P Bronson was left in the library, alone with the ead. He examined the room carefully. First the window. The two sashes were locked tight, and, be- sides, the desk at which Mr, Warenne bad been seated completely filled the embrasure, The top of the back of it was covered with books, neatly piled, notons of which had been disturbed. It was certain that no one had passed out through the window since the commission of the crime, Unless, indeed, a confederate had arranged the books and fastened the window afterward. The only other entrance to the room was through the door, A steam radiator stood in the corner of the room. There was no fireplace—no flue, If it were murder, tbe murderer had used the oor, If suicide, where was the weapon? Inch by inch he searched the room, as care- fully as if he were seeking for buried treasure, but found nothing, P The body he did not disturb, preferring to leave that to tke coroner, He knew that those gentlemen were very touchy about their official di eb That they objected most decidedly when any one usurped any of their prerogatives, So he waited for the gentleman’s arrival. It was not very long before he came, : Policemen swarmed about the house by this time, and every one of its inmates was virtually mee. arrest, Every one except Bronson and his wife. For all the officers knew the detective, and de- ferred to him in a matter like this, And, of course, no one disturbed Mrs, Warenne, who remained in ber room, “ What do you make of it, Mr. Bronson?” asked the coroner, ‘“‘T can make nothing of it yet.” ‘“‘ Suicide, or heart disease? Poison, or what?’ “That, sir, is for you to decide. My business is to find the motive.” ‘¢ It looks very much like heart disease,” con- tinued the official, a ‘Doctor Herbert spoke of a pistol wound.” ‘* Where?” ‘*Over the right ear. “Hum! This complicates matters, And you found no weapon?” * Nothing. * Any smell of smoke?? 66 None,” : ** Who let you into the house?” “This map,” The coroner turned to the old servant, down whose cheeks tears coursed rapidly. “* When did you see Mr. Warenne last—alive?” ** At nine o'clock, sir.. He stopped as he went into his room, and told me if any one called in relation to the house to show the visitor into the library.” \ “* And who called first? “This gentleman here”—indicating the de- tective. ’ “No one else?” “No one else, sir.” ‘* Where have you been since?” : “In the dining-room, where I was polishing the silver.” 4 #8 hg is the dining-room next to the library?” es, sir. a : * “ And you heard nothing—no voices, no sound of pistol-shot?” a S255 . “ Nothing, sir?” ieee “You were on good terms with your late “The best, sir, ‘To-day is the twentieth anni-
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The Detective Quartet. versary of my entering the service of his father —I bave been in the family ever since, this morning Mr. Warenne gave me this,” It was a handsome gold watch inscribed in- side: “for James Rawson, for his faithful services of twenty years’ standing. Henry WARENNE,”’* ** Any questions to ask, Mr. Bronson?” ‘Thank you. You say you were cleaning the silver in the dining-room, ment,” and the detective led the way. ‘*Please stay bere a moment,” he added, to the coroner. ‘* When I rap on the wall, strike the desk heavily; [I want to see if I can hear the sound,” In a moment more he wrapped. And plainly heard the sharp tap of the ruler with which the desk was struck, But the sound seemed to come from tbe buffet or sideboarc, that stood against the wail on that side of tho xoom, Bronson threw the lower doors orev and stuck his head inside the buftet, ‘Tap the desk again!” he cried. The sharp sound came direct to his vars and he knelt, “* Bring a candle here,” he said to the butler, and, getting it, he examined the inside of the sideboard, And found a sliding panel in the back through which he crawled into the library, through the side of the desk. . “T think it’s murder, sir, and that you had better arrest the butler.” » ‘*T think so too,” replied the coroner, and he ordered the man under arrest, ‘Were you in the dining-room all the time?” asked Bronson, : ** The dining-room and pantry, except when I let you in, sir, And oh, sir! T don’t know anything about it, I swear to you!” “That’s what I am going to find out,” and Bronson ied he into the pantry that opened out from the dining-room. The window was open nd he looked out from it into a side yard, Back of the house was 1: vacant lot, ** The silver!” It was the butler who called out, Bronson hastened back, The butler bad been peering into the buffet, and was white with terror when the detective returned, ‘* There was a box of solid silver in there last night, sir, and—” e was interrupted by the entrance of the coroner, who had returned to the library. ‘Mr, Warenne was robbed, besides being killed, Bronson,” he said, ‘His shirt is torn, where the studs were wrenched out, and be has no watch or chain on. Nor has-he a cent in his pockets,” , ** Robbery and murder, then,” replied the de- tective, ‘‘and the thief got out of the pantry window and escaped while the butler was open- ing the door,” CHAFTER III. A VERDICT OF MURDER, THERE was a moment of silence. **-You think so?’ asked the coroner, *T know it. You might as well release the butler at once, and we’ll both apologize to him,” And then turning to the butler, he added: **Go out in the yard and pick up the chain that lies under the pantry window, You can eg vine it as being the property of r, Warenne, The thief probably dropped it as he climbed out of the pantry window.’ In a few moments the butler returned. 3 He had the chain in his hand, and on his face a look of double horror and perplexity, “ Ob, this is too awful, sir!” he cried, as he en- tered the room, ‘Then the chain was Mr, Warenne’s?” ** No, sir, if was never his, **Good!” cried Bronson, “Then it belonged to the thief, and we'll catch him through it.” ‘Ob, don’t say that, sir; don’t say that!” cried the butler. ‘I’m sure Master Charles never did t. ‘* And who is Master Charles?” ‘Hoe is master’s nephew, sir, Mr, Charles Lawrence,” ‘* Been here lately” ‘ ‘“* Not for more than a year,” ** Much here then?” ** He lived here, sir; but he and his uncle quar- reled and Master Charles left the house and _ swore he’d never enter it again,” ‘And while Mr, Charles lived here, did he sigs a latch-key?” — house, Come in there a mo-. h, yes, sir, Ho had the freedom of the “While you were at work here, was the door leading into the hall open or shut?’ * Sbut, sir,” ‘So any one coming in by the front door could eae into the library without your séeing m, , “Yee, sir.” ‘* But you were here all the time.” ‘“‘ Not all the time, sir. I was in the pantry for half an hour or so, And, sir, when the water is running, it makes such a noise I could not hear anything else.” ** So, according to what you say, 4 man could have come in at the front door, gone into the library, quarreled with and shot Mr, Warenne without your knowing anything about it,” ‘Yes, sir; but Lam sure Master Charles—” “‘Wever miud Master Charles, And then this man. if he knew of the existence of this secret passage-way between tbe library and the dining- room, could baye crawled out that way, taking the silver with bim.” Fee ** He might, sir.” ** And when you went to the front door, he could have gone into the pantry, gotten out of the window, and escaped by means of the yard and the vacant lot in the rear.” ‘* He would have been seen, sir,” ‘He might have been seen, youmean, Per- haps he was, Now, one more thing: did you know of this passage between these two rooms?” ‘‘There wasa register there, sir, before we put steam io.” ‘* And before the buffet was placed here?” ‘Yes, sir. Mr. Charles was very fond of wood-carving, and he made the buffet, and gave it to Mrs, Warenne.” ‘* Oh, he did.” ‘Yes, sir. And the desk in the library was his work, He is very smart, is Mr. Charles,” ‘¢ He seems to be,” remarked the detective, dry- ly. ‘‘Do you know what he and Mr, Warenne quarreled about?” “Tm not sure, sir; but I think it was the young lady.” ‘* Oh, there’s a young lady in the case, is there? And who is she?” ‘*Mrs, Warenne’s daughter, sir.” it Then—” ‘“Mrs, Warenne was a widow when she mar- ried Mr, Warenne, She had one daughter, Miss Lucy Bryton.” ‘And where is\she now?” “T don’t know, sir,” ‘* Well, never mind; we’ll find her when she is wanted.” “Through with him?’ asked the coroner. “Yes, And I think that you will agree with me that the guilty man is Charles Lawrence,” **Tt looks like it,” “Very much like it. He has quarreled with Mr. Warenne; he has a latch-key; he is familiar with this buffet and the desk; we find his watch- chain outside the pantry window. What con- clusion do you draw from all this?” “The same that you have reached,” “Yes; and he blackened his crime still more by adding robbery to it,” And then, with a sudden thought, Bronson turned to the butler again. ‘*Was—or is—this Mr, Lawrence poor?” he asked, “Very poor, sir. He had nothing, and when he left here he took up cabinet-making to support himself,” “And finding his trade not very remunera- tive, took up murder and robbery to increase his income, Do you know bis present address?” ‘No, sir.” *¢ Well, we'll find him, also,” A jury was quickly gotten together, and the remains viewed, Mrs, Warenne’s examination was very short, and revealed nothing new, The butler was the only man whose testimony amounted to anything, and it was corroborated by Mrs, Warenne. Bronson “summed up” the testimony, and told of seeing the watch-chain, It took the jury but a few moments to reach a conclusion, aud render a verdict: ‘* Henr Warenne came to his death from a pistol-shot fired by Charles Lawrence,” CHAPTER IV. MRS, BRONSON TURNS DETECTIVE. BRONSON and Mollie left the house and walked east and then south, 4: She had not recovered from the shock and he was very thoughtful, ; ““ What makes you so silent, little one?” he distance, finally asked her, after they had gone some his manin a few moments. “T was afraid of ig? ge you,” she replied, ‘* That you could not do, I know you are full of questions, and Iam sure you can help me, — Talk away as much as you want to,” “Then, Cam, tell me: Do you really think that — 7 this young man—Lawrence—was that his name? Do you think be killed his uncle?” ‘ ‘*No; unless he is as ingenious in crime as in cabinet-making. Sage ing is too well put to- gether, there is not a single flaw in the chain of evidence against bim.” ‘* But you almost argued the coroner and jury into bringing in that verdict. You know heard every word from the hall where I was ~ wrk . ‘*T had a motive in that.” ** A motive?” “Yes, it will be an item to the effect that lam full convinced of the guilt of Lawrence; the real cul- prit or culprits will be lulled into security and their chase and capture simplified.” “ i see,” ‘The onl how Mr, the house.” A moment of silence, and then— “ee Cam?” “ Well ? thing that troubles me is toexplain “Could not be have gone out the same way — that he went in?” ‘*What do you mean?” ‘“‘That any one possessing a duplicate key, or — a skeleton one, might have entered the house by the front door, gone to the library, fired the shot and robbed the body, and then bave walked out the front door again.” ‘“*He might, but he did not, He went out through the desk and buffet and took the boxof silver with bim.” ~ “You seem to be pretty sure of your theory,” “Tam certain of it, I found this envelope in the buffet.” : ** An envelope?” “Yes, I did not think it necessary to tell the coroner all I knew, so said nothing of this, put it in my pocket, and did not even look at more than the address,” ‘* And that is?” “It is directed to Mr, Henry Warenne, No, 16 West 80th street, City, and bears the city post- office mark, dated yesterday,” “Mr. Warenne was robbed, and that was taken from his pocket and afterward dropped by the thief,” ee ‘Probably, Now let us seo what is inside,” and he drew out the inclosure, which he opened, It bore but a line or two, “Dear Uncie:—I will call on you to-morrow — morning. Itis time matters were settled once for all between us.” ‘And it is signed?” asked Mollie, as Bronson paused in his reading, ‘** Charles Lawrence,’” Again there was a silence, This time he broke it, “That bit of paper will hang him,” ‘* Lawrence?” " No! The man who wrote it!” “Then you do not believe that the nephew wrote it?” **No, again, It was written by the man who placed the chain where I first saw it, who stole the silver, who killed Henry Warenne, He built well, but he has overreached himself, The = letter is the step too far.” ‘*Oh!” cried rence, and I never even heard of Miss Lucy Bry- he is innocent,” ton before to-day; but I am so glad you think 3 **T am-sure of it, The man who committed The verdict will be printed; added to ; arenne’s assassins got into and out of | olly, “I donot know Mr, Law the crime and who plotted to ruin the nepkewis an enemy of his, probably a rival. If he has a warm friend, who knows Miss Bryton, and who is familiar with Lawrence’s past life, th is the murderer.” *€ And you think you can find him?’ “*Oh, that I can’t say. But we will try.” “We? Are you going to let me help you? “Tm going to ask you to. Will you?” ** So eladl . What can I do, though?” “Much, While I hunt for Lawrence, you = Miss Bryton, Then we'll find the erer. 2 CHAPTER V. MR, LAWRENCE IS DROWNED, Arter leaving Mrs, Bronson at their hotel, : “Cam” started out to look for Lawrence, and, thanks to the knowledge he had of his occup: the boss. = “saa eae” dress given, he inquired for atfriend mur- i’
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ae _ quired, ** Boss is not in,” was the somewhat surly re- ply, given him by the joar. of whom he had in- “ Where is he ?” **So you said before. Where has he gone?” **Tt?s none of your business,” Perhaps it isn’t,” calmly replied Bronson, keeping bis temper, ‘‘ And again, perhaps it is. In any case if it isn’t PU make it so.” He threw back his coat, displayed his shield, and spoke again, but this time sharply: - **Youwll save yourself trouble and me delay if you'll answer more civilly: where is your em- ployer?” - The man’s manner and tone changed at once, “A policeman came in a while ago, sir,” he replied, respectfully, ‘‘and asked to see him alone, In a few minutes they went out to- = oeoel and I heard the ‘ boss’ tell the foreman hathe was going to Police Headquarters,” * Who is foreman?” _“ He’s over there by the window. Shall I call him?” * No, ’'l) speak to him myself,” and the de- ~ tective crossed the shop. _ ** You are the foreman here?” he asked, * Yes, sir; what can I dofor you?” **T want to see you alone for a moment.” * Very well, sir; step this way.” And the foreman led the way to the office, into _ which he invited Bronson to enter, and then ‘closed the door. _ Without any preliminaries the detective .be- - gan: You have a man working here by the name _ of Lawrence?” pet Yes. sir,” “ Charles Lawrence?” * That is his name, I think.” ** Where is he?” ** He has not been here to-day. ** When did you see him last?” Yesterday afternoon. He said then that he had an engagement for this morning, and that he would not be here until late, to-day, if be came at all.” ae “That I can’t tell you. killin’ an’ robb s “ What did the policeman who called want ‘with your employer?” do not know, sir; he did not say.” _* Have you Lawrence’s address?” -_* Tt is on the books, I think,” “Would you mind giving it to me?” * Not at all, if you'll give me a good reason for _ BO doing.” _**Ts that reason sufficient?” A glance at the badge of authority was enough, an ina moment more Bronson left the shop _ with the desired address in his note-book. The house in front of which he shortly stopped was a pleasant-looking one enough, and in an- swerto his ring a:comely woman of forty or thereabouts opened the door. *Mr,,Lawrence!” she repeated, in answer to his question. ‘‘ No, sir; he’s not in. 1 don’t _ know when he will bein. He told me he would- n't be back fora long time, He left about noon, _ Ethink.” _ “And where did be go?” < : He drove up to the door in a cab, hurried up-stairs in a perfect gale, tumbled his things isto his trunk—I saw him, or he called me to come up and get my pay— _ handed me a month’s rent more than was coming to me—” * He had plenty of money, then?” | * Lots of it—more, I believe, than he ever had in his life before.” - ** And then he left?” ** Bundled his trunk down-stairs and onto the - top of the cab, tumbled in and banged the,door, ‘all “ allright! be cried, and they were out of sight _ before [ had finished wiping his parting salute from off my cheek.” _ ** Did he seem excited?” “Excited? That he did. Jumped at every noise, ran to the window twenty times and look- ed out, got so mixed with bis packing tbat I said to bim: ~ ** Charley, yore as excited as if ye’d been 1’ some one!’” _ ** And what did he eay to that?” _ “He got white asa ghost, looked out of the window once more, and then he whispered: ‘If 7ou love me, mother,’ he always called me moth- , sort o’ friendly hke, ye see.” ** Yea, yes; go on!” “*Tf you love me, mother, don’t speak those ords to me,’” : And that was all?” ‘Wasn't that enough?” ~~ noe didn’t happen to notice the number The Detective Quartet. ‘* Nor the horse, nor the driver?” ‘“*The horse wasn’t worth’ noticing, as for the driver, I never notice him at all,” **Do you know him?! ‘That { do, and mighty little good of him do I know,” ‘* And what is his name?” 5 ‘* Marty Mulvaney, the good-for-nothing, He keeps his vehicle and horse in the stable around the corner, and he keeps bimself hanging ’round my door more than I like,” “Mr, Mulvaney is a bachelor, I take it?’ ven- tured Bronson, who could not resist teasing her, even at the loss of a moment’s time, ‘* He’s worse than that—he’s a Widower.” “Ob! and he aunoys you?” ** Whenever his horse is resting.” *T'll put a stop to that,” said Bronson, grave- ly. ‘**Vilarrest him and put him under bonds to keep away from you.” "Oh, sir; don’t do that, sir! The poor man keeps out of mischief when he’s here, and if he wasn’t bere he’d be in Haley’s grog-shop, so don’ disturb him,” ‘*T won't, then,” laughed the detective. ‘* But when do you expect him back?’ **He drove his horse to the barn just before you came; he'll not be long in getting here. There he comes, now.” The figure that came around the corner was that of a descendant of the Irish kings without doubt—his bearing was royal in the extreme, His face shone with a recent scrubbing, his cuffs were six inches wide below his coat-sleeve, his hat was carefully brushed, his coat spotless, his trowsers trim. His scarf was of vivid green, and he blushed with conscious pride, He looked, and no doubt felt, a conqueror, as he stepped out to lay bis daily siege to the heart of the comely landlady, who blushed distress- ingly as he approached. As he came within earshot, Bronson spoke: ‘*Good-day, Mr. Mulvaney; what have you done with Mr. Lawrence?” ‘*Drownded him, sir, I think,” was the reply. CHAPTER VI. MR. MULVANEY APPEARS, Tur Jandlady — Mrs, Conlay —-gave a long scream and fell back into the hall on a chair, ** Drowned!” she cried, ** Mr. Charles drowned! And only a short time ago he kissed me good- A “He did, did he?” and Mr. Mulvaney’s shake of the head was full of dire possibilities. ‘* Kish- ed those fair chakes that should be vargin to all imbraces but moine, Ah!” The ‘‘ah!” was a combination of grunt and roar, and further indicated Marty’s desire for revenge, * An’,” he continued, “if be kished you wid yer full consint an’ approval, thin am I sorry in trut’, in the bull trut’, an’? in nothin’ but the trut?, that he ain’t drownded, r’aley an’ trooly, instid of hypothetically an’ sp’akin in the terms of metaphor, so to say. Whew!” And having delivered himself of this oration, Mr. Mulvaney ejected a long breath, spat vigorously and then, with his bat poised over his left ear, gazed with pity at the deceiving charmer in the hall, She fanned herself vigorously, but deigned no reply, comprehending from her visitor’s some- what mixed speech, that Lawrence was not, in reality, drowned, but that something had _ oc- curred which, in due course of time, would be told. a The detective came to the rescue, “What do you mean by your insinuations and your wanderings? Speak out, or I'll march you down to Ludlow street and leave Mrs,—” He cast an inquiring look at the landlady, “Mrs, Conlay, sir.” ‘*Mrs, Conlay,” echoed Mulvaney, “ but only Mrs, Conlay for the prisint. Wid the sanction of StateVand the blessing of Church, this lady has consinted to subshitute the more appropriate cognomen of Mrs. Marty Mulvaney for the aforesaid,” T don’t know which to congratulate first,” murmured Bronson, meditatively. He saw the kind of person that he had to deal with, and re- alized that flattery would accomplish more than force with the Irishman, So he continued: ** On the one hand, youth and beauty; on the other, elegance and grace, What a coupling of all human accomplishments!” 5 Mulvaney swelled with pride until his vest buttons creaked, “*Sorr!” he began, and the rolling of bis ‘ r’s” and | was like distant thunder, ‘‘ Ye are a mon afther me own h’arrt; an’ so long as you kape on that | coorse, an’ don’t git afther the haart that b’ates _ | for me beneath the fair forrm of Mrs. Mulvaney in futuro—to be—I am your sarvent to com- mand, sorr, and riddy to do and extind to you aany of those faviours that can be elaborated bechune mon an’ mon, “ Whew!” And leaning far back, Mr, Mulvaney placed one hand beneath his coat, poised the other on his hip, and looked around for admiration, To add that this was lavished on him by the adoring but coquettish Mrs, Conlay is super- fluous, “Thank you, sir,” replied Bronson. “TI trust you will honor me with an invitation to the wedding.” “Consider yourself so honored!” exclaimed Mulvaney, extending bis hand, which was quickly grasped and shaken, ‘“ And now, sor, phwat can I do fur you?” added the Frishman, becoming natural as much as he could, . “Where did you drive Mr, Lawrence this morning?” “Do you ask that question as fri’nd cr inemy?” demanded Mulvaney, on his guard at once, * Entirely as friend; there is a conspiracy against him, I verily believe, and I wish to save him and capture the conspirators—something I can only do with your aid,” ** A conspiracy, sor?” ‘¢ Yes: some one is trying to saddle a murder on him.” “‘Murder! He niver killed no one, I'll shwear. Ah’ T'll tell ye all I know,” .* “Do, and you'll help me wonderfully.” a This day, about noon, I was comin’ home to eed,’ ‘¢-Your horse?” asked Mrs, Conlay. - * An’ mesilf, too. Don’t interrupt, darlin’! Fwhin I hear yer swate v’ice, chimin’ in like a p’ale o’ shweet-ringin’ bells, I lose all ricollection of my idintity, and can only lishten?” “Tm dumb,” smiled Mrs Conlay, ““Thank you, my shwate oyster, Fwhin I drove up to the shtable, Chaarley was waitin’ fur me.” “+ Marty! sez he. “¢Powat!’ sez J, ‘*¢ Are ye my fri’nd? axes he, “¢T am!’ sez I. ‘¢¢ Then help me escape.’ ‘¢¢} will, From who?” “ ¢ The police,’ \ ‘¢ Are they afther ye? says I. ‘6 «Sharp aun’ fasht.’ “¢Thin come on! sez I, an’ we stharted for the cab door. But—” ‘“¢* Howld on!’ Isez, ‘I ain’t goin’ to help no man to get away from the law what is guilty. Air ye?’ ““¢T shwear by my mother’s grave that I’m not!’ be said. *¢*T belave ye, me b’ye;’ sez T; ‘come on,’ ‘‘He jumped into the cab, I shut the dure, came here an’ got his thrunk, and away we wint.” ‘¢ This looks bad!” said: the detective, ‘‘and I fear, my honest friend, that you’ve gotten your- self into trouble,” ‘*Thrubble, sor?” ‘“‘-Yes, You've aided a possibly guilty man to escape, and have thus become a confederate,” “Ob, Marty!” cried Mrs, Conlay; ‘‘I always knew you'd get into trouble through the good- ness of your heart.” “I'm afraid,” continued the detective, with- out paying any attention to the interruption, ‘that I will have to put you under arrest.” “You are an officer, sor!” cried the cabman, astonished. ‘* A detective,” ‘The saints be praised, thin! I hire ye to ane charge of this case, Lawrence varsus the police, ‘‘T am sorry,” smiled Bronson; ‘ but I am already retained on the other side,” “That's too bad!” said the Irishman. And then he added: ‘* Perhaps, sor, I’kin help ye more on the out- side than if ye lock me up,” vc How?” ‘* By turning assistant detective.” This in the purest English, without a trace of mae ‘* Hello!” cried Bronson, ‘* what’s this?” ‘A little masquerade Mrs, Conlay and I get up once in a while for the benefit of ourselves and our visitors, sir. Come in and sit down, and we'll tell you all about it.” a Too much astonished to speak, the detective followed the other into the house, wbere Mrs. Conlay, scarcely able to suppress her laughter, dusted off a chair for him with her apron. Then they all sat down, and Bronson learned the truth about matters. — — = _ Ge : 7 By, . <n v Se irsecel eects seneneraoe siege epee ed
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732 5 1f>, Gd re pee > J Se) ll . i <] ae is a Seat 4 = room,’ ‘¢ Marty Mulvaney,” as he called himself, was in reality Mr, Conlay, who claimed Cincinnati as his home, He had accumulated considerable money in the hotel business in bis native city, bad moved to New York and, baving decided detective tal- ent and liking for tke profession, had become the secret agent of the French Government in New York. His favorite disguise was that of Mulvaney, for as a cab-driver he conld go anywhere and everywhere without exciting any suspicion, * He had gotten thus far when Bronson inter- rupted him: ** But Lawrence—what of him?” **Ob, he’s down on South Fifth avenue ina hotel. Do you want to see him?” ‘*T want to arrest bim,” ‘Then [ll take you to him.” **Thank you; but one moment, first,” CHAPTER VII. THE QUARTHT IS FORMED, Mr, CoNnLAy sat down aguin, **Do you know this man Lawrence, well?” It was the detective who spoke, ‘‘ Well? Very well, He is my nephew.” ‘Your nephew ?” ‘¢Ves; my sister’s son, And I hope, sir, that before you arrest him you will give him a chance to explain.” , Bronson was silent for a full minute. Then be asked: “Do you know any one by the name of Warenne?” * Warren?” *No. Warenne: renpe,” **No; never heard the name before, to my recollection,” “Ts your nephew a cabinet-maker?” iii Yes ” W-a-r-e-n-n-e. Henry Wa- ** And has he been in the city long?” ‘No; he’s ouly a Jad, I knew when you spoke of murder that you’d confounded him with some one else,” ‘* But ho told you the police were after him, you said,” ‘And for that reason I drove himaway, I ’ wanted him to tell me all about it before they caught him, and did not want the boy locked up for nothin.” : ** And he told you?” ‘¢-Yes, the young rascal had been doing noth- ing more serious than buying pools on horse- races in a room that was raided. It was his ‘first step in crime,’ as he called it,” * He got away?” **'Yes, jumped out of a window on a police- man’s back. The officer was knocked senseless, and Charley thought be bad killed bim, The boy had just won, and was excited anyhow.” ‘Then be came to you?” ‘* Yes, and I took him to a down-town hotel, kept by a friend, I thought at first that you wanted him, having recognized him in the pool- “No indeej, It’s a case of mistaken identity. I want a Charles Lawrence, who is a cabinet- maker, but not your boy.” ‘The charge is a serious one you say, sir?” ** Murder,” : Conlay sat, thinking hard, for at least five minutes, his ‘‘ Marty Mulvaney ” face perspiring under his shining hat, Then he made a propo- sition: “ T don’t know you, sir—” ‘*T am called Bronson, Cameron Bronson,” * And you married Mollie Fuller?” cried Mrs, Conlay. “T did indeed.” ‘And her mother was my best friend ten yearsago. I saw her wedding announced in the papers, Oh, I want to see her!” ** You shall, if Mr. Conlay—” **Call me Mulvaney; I want you to get into the babit of it—for reasons.” “Ali right. Let’s hear them—if Mrs, Conlay yimite, 2 22 ‘Certainly. Business is first, always,” ‘Mr, Bronson,” continued ‘ Mulvaney,” ‘1 know you by reputation and I know that you have considerable ivfluence. If want you to get my crs w out of his scrape.” ‘‘ Why, they wouldn’t have done anything to him, except that they might have taken his name and address, and detained him a little,” “Phen that’s all right, And if it isn’t we'll get you to make it so,’ Ee **T can do that, easily, and will, of course.” “Thank you, And let me do something for ‘you. Let me help you in this case, I don’t want anything for my services, Ilike the work, _ and we don’t—fortunately—need the pay.” a. oe ke 7 eS a no ll ih The Detective Quartet. ““Gladly. You deceived me so completely that I am sure your services would be ipvalu- able, Llalieady have one recruit, and now ac- cept one more,” ‘**T wo!” corrected Conlay. ‘‘ My wife is equal, if not superior, to me.” ‘“* Who is the other?” asked Mrs. Conlay. ** Mollie—my wife.” “Splendid!” cried Conlay, ‘‘ we'll all work together,” ** And if Mrs, Conlay will come with us, we'll bring the quartet together at once.” ‘“* Certainly,” said that lady, rising; ‘‘ it won’t take me a minute to get ready.” ** And Pll get into my own togs,” said Conlay, oa T can’t go to your bouse in this garb, 80 excuse us, In. a short time they reached the St. Cyr, aud Bronson Jed the way to their rooms, where Mollie was waiting for him, Mrs, Conlay greeted her warmly, ‘* And now,” said Bronson, *‘ we'll have a glass of wiue to drink to the ‘ Detective Quartet ’!” ‘ CHAPTER VIII. MISS LUCY DISAPPEARS. ‘THE first thing to do, it seems to me, is to try and find Charles Lawrence—I meun the Charles Lawrence we want.” It was Bronson who spoke, after the quad- rilateral had settled down to business, ‘*Let me see that note you found, Mr, Bron- son, will you?” asked Conlay, “Certainly,” and the detective handed it to bis new partner, who examined it carefully, holding it up to the light and turning and re- turning it in every direction, Finally he said: ‘Have you a magnifying-glass?” ‘¢ Assuredly,” ‘Lend it to me for a moment, please.” 5k was Mollie who found and handed bim the ass, , Conlay took it and scrutinized the sheet under it, in the strongest ligbt that he could find, “Humph!” he muttered, ‘I thought so.” ‘* What is it?” asked Bronson, interested in this possibly new development, ** Acid has been at work here, and the date has been erased,” ‘*By George! you’re right!” cried Bronson, taking glass and paper and looking intently at the spot indicated by Conlay. ‘‘ What can this mean?” “Tl make a guess, and then you can agree with me or not, as you see fit. The person who dropped that letter in the buffet was not a skill- ful forger. He could direct a letter ina hand- writing that would resemble that on the in- closure.” ‘*'They do resemble each other,” “The resemblance is not very close, but as close as that existing between writing by the same hand on letter-sheet and envelope,” ‘*Then you think they do differ?” ‘‘In nine cases out of tena man’s writing changes when he directs an envelope. The per- son who ‘ lost’ that letter in the buffet, mailed it to Mr. Warenne, but as the date on the note would not correspond to that on the pust-mark, he found it easier to erase the old, than to write in a new date.” “You arrive at a conclusion with the quick- ness of Vidocq. ‘ Mulvaney,’ and I—” *** Mulvaney?” asked Mollie, questioningly. ““ Yes,” explained her husband, ‘ Mr. Conlay bas an alias,” 2 “Several of them, Mrs, Bronson; but that is my favorite,” : **Pm half inclined to think your explanation the ge one,” continued Bronson; ‘ but the mo- tive ‘*A simple one, The sender argued that Mr. Warenne would either have that letter in bis pocket, or would place it in bis desk after read- ing it, where it could be found and then dropped as an additional piece of evidence against Law- rence,” “That seems plausible enough. I certainly would bave respected Mr, Warenne’s correspon- dence had T not found it where I did.” © ‘* Let Mrs, Conlay bave the letter and the en- velope, She is an expert at such matters, and is always called in by the courts af bome when there is any doubt as to a persoo’s signature.” Bronson did as requested and Mrs. Conlay be- gan studying the writing carefully. The two men walked to a window, and, in low tones, continued their conversation, * “T must tefl you,” said Bronson, “that we have two strings to our bow.” * And they are—?” Lucy Bryton, with whom he is in love,” | en route, ss ‘Young Lawrence is one: the other is Miss | | RF PT rere. - cs MAS pe bey ota x: ‘* Who is she?” er deo ‘‘ Mrs, Warenne’s daughter; the late Mm Warenne’s step-daughter.” ae “And where is she?” A ae i **T don’t know, nor did the butler.” a! ‘* Who does?” "Se Ad “ Her mother, pines! \ Pigs ee i “*Didn’t you ask her ?” eae)’ **T couldn’t, under the circumstances; I can | to-morrow, or the next day. That isa matter that can wait.” ie “Certainly. But isit not rather singular that — “Yi the butler did pot know? Youtoldmeonthe | way up servant,” ae “It was strange; bct the whole business par- | took so much of the same quality, that nothing | struck me as being particularly odd at the ~ iy time, ‘Ua At that moment Mrs. Conlay called to her | husband, ae ‘* Well?” be asked, going to her side, followed by Bronson. ola ‘There are such radical differences between the two writings, that [ bave no hesitation in | saying that they were written by two different _ persons,” See; **T thought as much,” rae ‘“* And there is another thing that struck me — particularly,” 5 2a ‘What is that?” : ee ‘The name on the snvelope—‘ Henry War- enne’—is written as if the writer were in the habit of writivg it, It looks more like a signa=~ ture than anything else.” ‘It does indeed,” es ‘Of course young Lawrence was in the habit =| of writing to his uncle frequently, and thismay = explain that.” ~ eos" ‘And may also explain the difference appar- | ently existing between the two writings?” “Of course,” az ‘Then, Mrs, Conlay, you could not swear that — they were not written by the same hand.” ae ‘* No—I would not swear to it,” ‘*A note for you, Cam,” said bis wife, who had answered a knock, ix ‘*Eixcuse me,” said Bronson, as Le opened i and read. att Phew!” he whistled; ‘listen: * My denr sir My daughter, Lucy, bas disappeared, Pleas come up at onee, Amanda Warenne,’” CHAPTER IX. . AN ABDUCTION AND A KNOCK-DOWN, ~ Tue party broke up burriedly, Bronson going at once to see Warenne, and Conlay undertakin the attempt to find Lawrence, be, JT should not be at oll surprised if I cam across the late Miss Lucy Bryton,” said Conlay, as he turned to go. (one ‘+The late;’ what do you mean?” iat “That by this time she is doubtless Mrs. Charles Lawrence; that would explain her dig- appearance,” ca “Not entirely. From all I could gather th mother did not oppose the match, and I think ~~ Miss Bryton would have written her mother bee | fore taking such a step as the one you mention.” ‘J “Possibly. But we'll see, Good-night.” | ** Come, little gir),” said ‘* Cam,” when the Con= lays bad gone, ‘I’m not going to leave you alone any more this day, We'll get something : to vat, and then you can go up to al Warenne’s,” Oe inn ae “Thank you, Cam,” she replied. ‘It’s good of you.” : {a “Selfish, you mean,” a. A couple of hours later Bronson was admitted " to the Warenne house, rs ame! He found tie widow expecting bim, and wai ing for him in the parlor, f She was quiet, but bore traces of her grea grief, and the tears that bad been caused by it, Mrs, Warenne placed the detective in posses sion of what facts she had regarding ber daugh- ter’s disappearance, ina few words, = Miss Bryton bad bean visiting friends, an was to have returned home. two days befa but had telegraphed that she was going to 8 0 Where, she did not say, only stating | two days’ time from that day she would | home, : : :
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The Detective Quartet. ** My dear aunt!” he cried, ‘*I have only just heard of your great trouble, of our great loss, ‘Ts it true?” “Tt is only too true, Henry,” replied Mrs, Warenne, somewhat: coldly, Bronson thought, and giving him her band, instead of the evident- ly-expected cheek. “Poor uncle! bat I see you have visitors; I'll wait in the dining-room until you are at _ jiberty.” No, remain, Perhaps you can aid us. Mr, Bronson, this is my nephew—or rather my late bhusband’s nephew—Mr. Henry Warenne, Jr. Mrs. Bronson, will you let me present bim?” The two visitors bowed and Bronson eyed the new-comer closely. “Tl have your signature, my shift q young aan friend, before I am many hours older,” he ‘thought. an And Mr, Henry Warenne certainly deserved to be called “shifty,” for his roving, restless eyes never for a moment encountered those of any one else, he asked, But before she could reply the detective answered: “ Yes—if it can be called business, Mr. Warenne, I am a detective, and just now Iam looking for two persons.” ' “Pwo? I thought detectives always had at least a dozen persons under search,” ** Not always, as you see,” : “ And is Mrs. Bronson aiding you?” "She will, I hope, later. Just now she is net very familiar with the work.” Mrs. Warenne evidently wished to turn the conversation, for she spoke to Mollie, “Did you say, to-day, dear, that you bad been married but a month?” ** A month to-day, yes.” 5 “ Hxcuse me, aunt, for interrupting,” broke - in Warenne; ‘‘ but Iam curious to know who ' Mr, Bronson is looking for, and how his search brings him here,” “JT am looking for Miss Lucy Bryton, Mr. Warenne, and for the murderer of your uncle.” ** And I hope your search may be successful; but you surely don’t expect to find them in one and the same person, do you?” ‘That I will tell you latec. ; ‘* What does Mr, Bronson mean by saying he is looking for Lucy; is she not at home?” “ She left Saratoga a week ago, and yet sent mea dispatch from there two ays AO, saying _ that she would be at home to-day.” “J will go at once and send a message to Saratoga,” said the young man, rising, “ if Mr. and Mrs. Bronson will excuse me,” * Certainly,” answered Cam, for both. ‘‘ But, - Mr. Warenne, I shall want to see you frequent- ly, and would be glad if you would favor me with your address,” ** See me?” Certainly, you will want to act for your - aunt in this matter, will you not?” me Ot course,”-and the nephew and namesake of the murdered man laughed uneasily. ‘‘ I'll give you oue of my cards—here it is.” 7 “Thank you,” said Bronson, taking it, and _ Yeturning Warenne’s bow, as the latter went out, As the front door closed after him, Mrs. Warenne gave a deep sigh. ** He is Mr. Warenne’s namesake, nephew and heir, yet I never could like him.” _ May I ask you why not?” inquired the de- tective, That I can not say. He was devoted to Mr. - Warenne, but—well. he was and is in love _ with Lucy, and Mr. Warenne urged his suit.” And you favored Mr. Lawrence’s, [ see,” * Cam!” came warningly from Mol’ But Mrs, Warenne replied: ronson, > lie, your.” - “Thank you, madam; even without that ow o—! think to Saratoga, t>- and will work from that end.” they walked down the street a carriage, g from up-town, passed them. riage, sir?” the driver. ” and as the vehicle drove up to the d stopped, Cam opened the door. Molli® was dragge inside, less, and away the carriage ines Dee, e Mr, Bronson is in business in the city aunt?” He must and } ment, t ars I would have done my best, | w lw flew, the:door being banged to, and the coach- man lashing his horses to a run.” The street was almost deserted, and the atten- tion of nobody was attracted in that direction, The carriage disappeared, and Bronson lay close to the curb, where he had fallen, But presently a man, walking hurriedly, came in that direction, and seeing the prone figure, stopped, bent over and examined it, ‘** Dead, or—drunk?” he muttered, as hestruck a match, and flared the light in the face of the prostrate man, ** Bronson, by thunder!” he ejaculated, and he bent bis energies toward reviving the detective, who soon recovered consciousness, His bat had broken the blow, and he was only stunned, As he staggered to his feet, he recognized, in the man who was helping him, bis acquaintance of a few minutes before—Henry Warenne,’ ‘* Are you all right now?” asked the latter, as Bronson thanked him, ** Ob, yes!” And then he spoke again: “That is—I think not!” and fainted, CHAPTER X. CONLAY FIGURES IT OUT. WueEn Bronson recovered consciousness, he found himself,in bed, and his friend, the butler, bending over bim. ‘* Where am 1?” he asked, as he raised himself ou bis elbow, ‘Safe in Mrs, Warenne’s house, sir. to keep still, and ask no questions,” Bronson ignored this, ‘*Ts it to-day or yesterday ?” he asked. ‘*T hardly understand, sir.” ‘¢ Was it on yesterday that I called to see the house, and found your master dead in bis chair, or to day?” ** Bless you, sir! that was a week ago,” ‘* What!” and Bronson’s voice rose toa shriek. **You must not do that, sir!” expostalated the servant, ‘‘ The doctor says as how you mustn’t get excited.” ‘*Do you mean to say that I’ve been lying here a week?” <Pdovers: “ And my wife?” **T don’t know nothing about her, sir.” ‘* Hasn’t any one been here to see me?” ‘Only a gent as called himself—let me see—bis card is bere somewhere,” ‘* Was it Conlay?” ‘*That was it, yes, sir. He asked after your wife, too; but we couldn’t tell him anything.” ‘* Where are my clothes?” “Surely, sir, you're not going to get up.” ‘*T am that.” ‘** But the doctor, sir?” “Hang the doctor; give me my clothes,” And in spite of the butler’s protests, Cam rose, and, with some difficulty dressed himself. ; Then be made his way down stairs, where he asker! for Mrs. Warenne, ‘* My dear madam,” he said, as soon as he en- tered the room, ‘1 thank you for your hospital- ity and care, and cnly wanted to see you to say that and good-by.” ‘*But, Mr, Bronson,” said she, “‘ you surely are jn no condition to leave here yet,” ‘Tam very weak, Mrs, Werenne, but were I unable to walk, I would insist on being carried to my hotel,” ** But why this haste?’ - ‘Because the night I was knocked senseless, my wife was carried off,’ ** Tmpossible!” ‘Not only possible, but true.” ‘*T wondered where she was, but had so much to think of—” ; : ss So, ycu see, I can not be blamed for leaving ere, ‘No, I will not even attempt to detain you.” ‘*One word more: Have you heard anything from your deughter?” “Not a word, and once you have found your wife—” “J will find Miss Bryton—be assured of that.” “Thank you, sir! I know it,” “Ts your nephew in?” ‘No; it is not’ yet time for his daily visit.” -** He calls every day, does he?” “Yes, he has been most solicitous about ou, and bas not missed a day since you were urt.” “That is very kind of him, Now, Mrs. Wa- You're -renne, I want you to do me a favor.” * A hundred, sir.” - _ “One willdo: when your nephew comes, do not let him know that I bave gone; Jet him think that I am still up-stairs,” ‘* May I ask your reason?” “Why not? I donot want any one to learn that I am out again, News travels fast, and my wife’s abductors would soon learn that I had recovered.” ‘“*T see,” ** So long as they.think that I am confined to my room, just so long will they be less careful,” **T will do as you wish, sir, and instruct my servant to do the same, No one has seen you except the doctor and the butler, and I will speak to them,” “Thank you a thousand times, Mrs, Warenne. And now if you will see that the coast is clear,,I will go.” ‘*Mrs, Warenne preceded Bronson to the door, looked up and down the street, and, seeing no sign of her nephew, gave him the word. In a short time the detective was on an elevat- ed train and being whirled rapidly south, It did not take him long to reach his hotel, when he sent a telegram to Conlay, and then spoke to the clerk. “fam not here, you understand. A gentle- mau will call soon and show you a dispatch om me, To him 1 am here, but to no one else. ‘Very well, sir,” replied the clerk, who knew Bronson well, and who asked no questions, So, taking his key the detective went up stairs to his room, unlocked and opened the door and entered the little parlor, where everything re- called Mollie, ~ It was only after he bad looked on the table and piano, and then on his dressing-case, that he admitted to himself that he had cherished a faint hope that there might be a note there from his wife. But he found nothing, and sick, weak, tired, despondent, he threw himself on the sofa and buried bis face in his hands, How long he lay there be did not know, but he was roused from his reverie by a knock at the door, He opened it, and found Conlay standing out- side, ' “Come in!” he cried, ‘‘and thank you for coming so promptly. ‘¢ What’s up?” asked Conlay, ‘‘ and what the deuce have they been doing to ycu?” Bronson told him all, Conlay sit down and thought for fully half an hour, without saying a word. **T have it!” he said, finally. CHAPTER XI. MR, WARENNE GOES AWAY. : ‘¢WuarT is it—what is your explanation of this business?’ asked Bronson. “Pl tell you when you’ve made me a prom- ise—one that you'll keep faithfully.” _“ All right; [ know you wouldn’t ask me any- thing unreasonable, so I promise to do whatever you ask—if I can.” **] won’t ask much, only that you go to bed wen I leave you @nd get a good night’s sleep, while I work.” e “Pil go to bed fast enough; but as for the sleeping part 1’m not sosure, ‘Well, you can try; and now that I have your promise, I’]l keep mine.” ‘¢ All right—go ahead.” ‘‘T think that the same person, oF persons, carried off your wife who abducted Miss Bry- ton,” ; “ And your reasons?” ‘‘That you may be induced to give up the search for Miss Bryton so as to take up that for Mrs, Bronson,” k ‘‘ That seems plausible—but—” “But what?” ‘**In order to be posted regarding my connec- tion with the case, they must have, or have had, an accomplice in the house,” : * Well?” ‘Who is it?” : ‘Well, if you want me to make a haphazard guess, I will.” ‘Tf this were a horse-race, and you were about to guess the winner, I’d bet on your ‘ guess,’” “Tank you.” ‘* But you need not, I’ve thought of the same person.” ‘You bave?? ‘“*T think so.” “¢ And who is the person?” ‘* Henry Warenne, Jr.” “ He’s the man.” “* Shadow him, Conlay;I beg you, until Iam able to do it, and in him I firmly believe that we will find three persons.” : “The abductor of Lucy Bryton, the kidnap- per of Mrs, Bronson and—’ *« And the murderer of Henry Warenne,” and in bis excitement and weakness, that made him
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forgetful, Bronson raised his voice higher than was prudent, There came a knock at the door, and before Bronson could reply or Conlay reach it, the knob was turned, the door swung open, and in walked—Henry Warenne! ‘* Excuse me,” he said, smiling and bowing, **T hope Ido notintrude, I was passing your door—” Pare a there, you mean!” cried Cam, hotly. ‘Pardon me, passing it, I said,” replied his visitor coolly, ‘‘ and, hearing my name mention- @.1, I took the liberty of learning who was mak- ing so free with it,” : ‘Mr, Warenne,” said Bronson, collecting him- self, *‘let me introduce you to my friend Mr. Conlay.” , “Delighted to meet Mr. Conlay,” said the new-comer, and the two men shook hands as Bronson motioned to a chair. “Sit down, sir,” he said. ‘‘Mr, Conlay was talking about the sad affair of a week ago, and I was just speaking of the murderas you assed,” “*T called at my aunt’s house a short time ago, and, baving a latch-key, let myself in and went right to your room, which I found vacant.” ‘ And then came here?” ‘*T am living here,” ** Ah! I did not know that you and I lived under the same roof,” **T have only just moved in; my tenancy only dates from to-day,” “Then I hope to see much of you!” cried Cam, cordially. “The wish is mutual,” and Warenne bowed, ‘*Mr, Warenne,” broke in Conlay, ‘‘do you know Mr, Lawrence?” > Charley Lawrence?” ‘* Well, I should say that I did, Charley and I are cousins, and as intimate as—well as brothers.” ** Do you know where he is?” «. ‘* Haven’t seen him for a week.” ‘*Do you know where he lives?” ‘*N-n-o,” theanswercameslowly, ‘ The last time I saw him he said that he was going to move into new quarters, and he promised to send me his address,” * And did not?” ** | have not received it.” ‘* Where does he work?” ‘*T never asked him—I knew him as a gentle- man, not a8 a workman,” ; “Are the two occupations incompatible?” ** Yes, most certainly.” “Mr, Warenne,” said Conlay, rising and taking his hat, ‘‘ if you will excuse me I will go home,” ‘* Certainly,” replied Warenne, “if you must 0. ‘Sorry to lose you so early,” said Bronson, rising. ‘*‘ Come up to-morrow,” Bronson escorted Conlay to the door, where they separated with a hand-shake, Bronson re- turning to bis visitor, while Conlay went on down-stairs, ‘**Can I offer you a cigar?’ asked the detective, as he sat down, ‘©)f Mrs, Bronson does not object.” “Mrs, Bronson is not in, this evening, and even were she here, would not, I know.” _‘* Then,” said Warenne, taking a cigar and lighting it, ‘‘Mrs, Bronson is out of town?” Yes,” replied Bronson, slowly, ‘‘ Mrs, Bron- son is ont of town.” “ And—if I am not too curious—whken does she return?” ‘* You, Mr, Warenne, can, just now, answer that question better than J.” re ** What do you mean?” ‘**T mean, sir, that you are playing a desperate game, and are playing it well, I admit that.” “Thank you!” interrupted Warenne, snecr- ingly. “But I don’t understand what you mean,” “Yes, you do!” cried Bronson, who, weak as hea was, could not restrain himself atthe thought that his wife had been abducted, he nearly mur- dered; by that handsome fiend sitting there; “*you understand only too well what I mean, You are playing a tremendous game, and I am your opponent!” ‘““And what are the stakes?” quictly asked Warenne, examining the tip of his cigar, / ‘Your life—for the murder of your uncle; your iiberty—for the abduction of Miss Bryton?” “Isthatall?” - : “No!” and the detective leaped to his feet. But his strength .was only fictitious; it gave out, and Bronson fell back, gasping. “If you will excite yourself, my dear fellow,” ee “of wine with me fcr old times’ sake, ey The Detective Quartet. eer Warenne, ‘“‘ you must expect bad ef- ects, ‘*Leave me!” whispered the detective, ‘‘ Don't stand there taunting me, or, as Heaven is my judge, I'll shoot you where you stand.” “Certainly I will go,” replied Warenne, ‘I am only a guest in your room, and—” Bronson pointed to thé door, and, without fur- ther speech, Warenne opened it, disappeared, and closed the door bebind him, Bronson locked it, took a drink of brandy, and, going to bed, was scon ina sound sleep, from which he did not waken until a late hour the next morning. When be went into the parlor, feeling com- paratively well and strong, he saw something white under the door, which he picked up. It was an envelope, addressed to him, and con- tained the following inclosure: ‘““My pEAR Mr. Bronson: lam geing away fora few poy be and hope on my return, to.find you in a better humor than last night, I attribute your ill- humor to your weakness, and assure you that I have no ill-feeling toward you,”’ And this document was signed “Henry War- enne, Jr.” ** Gone!” cried Bronson, ‘and I’ve let him es- cape me!” es CHAPTER XII. MULVANEY’S PASSENGERS, WuHeEN Coulay went down-stairs, he stopped for a moment in the office, to glance at the regis- ter, and as he did so, the clerk, who had been busy at the cashier’s desk, turned, saw him, and called out: “Well!” he cried. ‘‘ Where on earth did you spring from?” Conlay looked up, and ina moment the two had locked hands, “Why, Wally, my boy, I’ve not seen you since ou were head bell-boy in the old Cincignati ouse, “Nor I you, Mr. Conlay,” replied Wally. ‘But, 1 tell FS I'm mighty glad to meet you once more, ou must come ® and bave a bottle ~ lve not forgotten how good you were tome out in old Porkopolis.” Wally’s relief came on just then, and Conlay and his former employee were soon seated in the o1fe, enjoying their wine, Their conversation grew more and more con- fidential, the result being that the proprietor of the houses was finally sent for and introduced, ‘*Certainly,” he replied, when C@nlay’s re- quest and its motive had been made clear to him; “I'll do that and anythipg more in my power, Mr, Conlay.” y It was not long after that the trio separated, Conlay leaving the house and going straight home, for it was late, But the result of the conference between Wally, the proprietor and Conlay was easily dis- cernible the next morning when Warenne came down-stairs, sachel in band, stopped at the desk, paid his bill and ordered a carriage—* not a cab,” he said distinctly, In a moment the team stopped at the door, and, as Warenns came out and lingered a mo- ment to hand the porter, who carried bis trunk, a quarter, it was our old friend, Marty Mul- vaney, who was arranging something about the harness; and as Warenne rh into the vehicle it was Mulvaney who closed the door and waited at the open window for directions, ‘*My man,” said Warenne, in a loud voice, **do you know where Cottage Place is?” ‘*Do Oi!” said Marty. ‘* Don’t Oi! Lid not me poor ould mither—the saints rest her sow] in Paradise, she’s been dead these twinty year— didn’t she useter kape the linen an’ the otber good of one o’ the bist blooded families in the whole strato as c’ane an’ shwate as the néw- mown biy? ** Didn’t she—” ‘Well, never mind that,” interrupted War- enne, impatiently. ‘Drive there and don’t waste all day talking.” * An’ at phwat number would yer;Hondr loike to shtop?” ‘*T don’t know; I'll point out the house when e get there.” ‘All roight, sor; I'll take ye there in the whiff of a poipe.” “4nd in a moment Marty was on the box and the horses had started of at a smart tret. But as they crossed Fourteenth street, at Fifth avenue, Warenne leaned from the window and called out. : Mulvaney drew up, and waited, **f don’t want to go to Cottage Place,” said Warenne; “drive me to Sixth avenue, and up there, I'll tell you where to stop.” : ** A'l right, sor,” replied Marty, as he turned and drove in the designated direction, - And as he drove be thought; ‘* Your first direction was only a blind, in case any one heard you and reported to Bron- son, ‘* Never mind; I'll tell him all about.it, later.” And Marty doubled up with laughter, forget- ting bimself for a moment, and nearly running into a street car, But the driver whipped up, cursed Mulvaney, and brought him to his senses, s> that no fur- ther incident occurred until they were near Twenty-third street, where Warenne again stopped him, Marty drew up in front of a saloon, accord- ing to orders, jumped down and opened the door, ‘“*! am going in here,” said Warenne, as he stepped out, ‘to get a drink, Will you have ne?’ “That will Oi, sorr. I howld it’s no harrum to a mon’s intarnal arrangements, or to his ex- tarnal exterior, if be teks a drop. or two of the cer’atur’ phwin nature directs, your pocket con- sints, or you be invoited.” : Tike ee of, Warenne. after pay- ing, said: ‘*T have two passengers at a boarding-house near here, for the New Orleans steamer. Their trunks have gone by Dodd’s Express, We will o ard get the ladies now, and then you will es them to the pier; [ll join you there after- ward, and pay you.” “ All right, Sor,” replied Mulvaney, getting on the box. ‘‘W here to now?” He called out “‘ Allmgbt!” to Mulvaney, and returned to the house, followed by the landlady, Mulvaney whipped up his horses, and tbe car- riage dashed off down the street, bearing the two passengers as well as Warenne’s baggage, Bronson was sitting in his room, wonderin why on earth his friend Conlay did not appear, when there came a rap on the door, **Come in!” cried Bronson, The door opened and Marty Mulvaney whip in band, stepped in. “ ‘© Ah, Conlay!” began Bronson, waen the other stopped bim, : ‘*Phwist!” he whispered, “ fwhere’s your mimory? D’ye_moind that Oi’m Marty Mul- vaney, keb-driv@r?” ‘“¢ Well, well,” ejaculated Bronson, “ there’s no one to hear; what harm can it possibly do?” “Ye kan’t tell, But Vil not kape ye ahny longer in suspinse as to the raison av me Visit. Oi’ve a visitor out here fur ye—two av thim,” ‘* A visitor?” asked Bronson, and he half rose, But before he stood erect the door burst open, a woman entered and threw herself into Bron- son’s arms. ** Cam!” she cried, Jt was Mollie, his wife. Mulvaney looked at the couple, sniffed sus- piciously once or twice, end then stepped into the hall and closed the door, A lady stood there, waiting, ‘‘O7ll give thim wan minnit,” said Mulvaney, ‘Cin fich to recooperate, au’ thin Oi’ll knock wance moar!” Y She made no reply, but trembled so violently that she bad to Jean against the wall for sup- ts) * 3 Seeing this, Mulvaney knocked, ‘¢ O71 wait no longer!” said be, Bronson opened the door at once, ‘Come in! my good friend!” he cried, as he grasped Mulvaney’s band, ce And then, as he saw his companion, he con- tinued: ‘*But who is this?” ; ‘*Some one in sore n’ade of a drap o’ brandy, an’ ye have it.” ; Mollie came to the door, : f i: ““ Ob, how selfish happiness is!” she exclaimed, — “T had forgotten all about her,” ise She flew to tbe lady’s sido, took her hand, passed her arm about her waist, and led her into the rocm, ¥ , ‘*Come, dear,” sbe said, ‘‘ you are safe here,” She seated her on the sofa, ‘* Who is she?” asked Caz, of Mulvaney, _ ‘Mish Loocy Bryton,* bereplied, = —
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© CHAPTER XIII, BRONSON GOES SOUTH, bent over the sick girl, ‘‘and is now scarcely able to stand,” ‘* And where have you been all this time, Mollie?” asked Cam, ‘¢*A close prisoner in a house on—I do not know what street,” ‘*Twinty-ate,” prompted Mulvaney. I was carried away.” “* By whom?” ‘“* By Henry Warenne, of course.” “1 thought so. Bat his objact?”’ * Heaven only knows, He was trying to force Lucy to marry him, but when be saw bow that close imprisonment was telling on her, he grew frightened.” ** And released you?” “Only partly. He made us swear that we would not attempt to escape, and assured us of the kindest treatment.” Well?” “Of course I did not consider such an oath - binding, and bad determined to jump from the carriage a3 soon as we were out of sight of the a house, but—” -—_-** Oh, there is a ‘ but;’ what is it?” : “Lucy.” “Ob, I see!” : “Tn her weak state I conld not leave her; I dared ask no aid from the driver—not knowing it was Mr, Conlay,” and she smiled on bim. ** Moolvayney,” corrected that worthy, with a rin, en Judge of my surprise, then, when, as svon as we bad turned the corner, the c rriage stopped and Mr. Con—Mulvaney sp me,”” ‘What is it?” I asked, ’ ** And when he told me he v - me straight to you—ob, Cam, Cam!” _ And the poor girl burst out crying; the strain was too much for her. 7” ‘* Where were you told to take them?’ Cam asked, when she grew guicter, © ‘To the Noo Orleens bote,” replied Mul- vaney. k “Ah! He was going to leave the city with them, washe?”’ ~ ~ = He not only wuz,” said Mulvaney, but he “ What do you mean?” ~« * “* Jist phwat Oi say.” ra . *T don’t understand,” “Thin O’ll explain clarely and succinctly, _ Misther Warenne, bad ’cess ter him, és goin’ to _ Noo Orleens—phy?” “T don’t know.” — £7 ‘*No more do Oi. But we'll find out—how? __ By shtoppin’ pe trip? No; by ‘goin’ wid him.” “You and I? a “No; you an’ the two leddies, Me an’ _ Mishtress Mulvaney ll shtay here an’ kape watch on this ind of the loine, an’ if the sarcum- vintin’ raskil attimpts annything here—here woe airs Re" re, _ “Tts true if he goes to the boat and don’t find the girls there he’ll suspect something.” # Yis; he’d shmell a rat as big asa Connaught ‘ While, if we go with him—” ** You'll catch a waysel asblape,” Right you are, Mulvaney, and we'll go—if Miss Bryton consents,” “TY can not, sir!” she cried, ‘my mother, - my---” she stopped, blushed, and buried her face in her bands, “But, Miss Bryton,” exclaimed Cam, step- ping toward her, ‘‘do you not see how impor- tant it is?” You'll trun Warenne offen his gyard,” _ added Mulvaney, ‘tan’ inable me to prove the - innocinse of Mishter Chaarles Larrince.” “Oh, you think so!” and Lucy sprung up and - looked at Mulvaney as if she would read his 80 ._“Indade, an’ I know it, i Mulvaney alone fur that,”’ “Then Dll go, at once. Come, we must reach cue boat before he does, or it will ruin every- thing. ae aig Nave ye’re talkin, miss. An’ I'll sp’ake to ___— yer mother, so don’t worry.” ~. “TL won't! Come!" ' “Yes, come!” crie| Mollie, equally excited. _ * But, Mollie,” interrupted her husband, * your things!” _ _ “Qh,” she replied, laughing, “ I’ve been shar- a Lucy’s; we're about the same size, But I L’ave me and Missus Rx a few necessaries in five minutes, if Mulvaney will give me the time,” fin, ma’m, af ye wish, 2 og =. tu The bote don’t sail ‘*T have been kept there with Lucy, ever since | appearance, nn Ss th in your weak condition, The Detective Quartet. till foive, an’ that'll give ye lashin’s o’ time. I don’t belave bis job-lots ‘ll hurry to go there.” In much less than the allotted time, however, “Sue has been very ill,” said Mollie, as she | Molliecame from her room and joined the trio in the little parlor, And a few moments after the carriage dis- appeared around the corner, leaving Bronson looking out of the window after it, Mulvaney drove straight to the pier and de- posited bis load, and then, going on board, he learned that Warenne had not ** That’s lucky !” he soliloquized, and, returning to his team, he drove away, going back to the stable of the hotel and then home, where be re- lated to Mrs. Mulvaney—or Conlay—every- thing that bad happened. **It was a lucky thought that suggested their going on board,” said she, when they were seated at lunch, Mulvaney having once more become Detective Conlay. “Tt was the only thing to do,” he replied, ‘* for Warenne is a smart one, and we will have to watch him mighty close,” ‘*Tn what character is Bronson going, do you know?” she asked. : ‘TJ did not inquire. I think, though, Pll go over to the pier about sailing time, and if he has anything to say it’]l give bim a chance.” “Do,” she said;*t but let me suggest one thing.” “ Well?” ‘* Don’t go as you are; go as Mulvaney, look- ing for Mr. Warenne—and your pay.” “Phew!” he whistled, ‘* to think that I clean forgot all about that. He’d know something was wrong, sure—unlgss he thinks it’s charged at the hotel.” § ** Certainly he will. Goas some one else, for some of the ladies might forget and speak to ou. $All right. Tl go incognito.” It was getting on toward the hour of sailing, and all was bustle and apparent confusion on board of the steamer, The last loads of freight were arriving anda long line of trucks barred the way, A cab, driven at full speed, came down one of the side streets aud drew up at the corner. The occupant looked out. **Oan’t git no furder, boss,” said the driver, pointing to the blockade with his whip. *AlO, KE, Pll walk over, How much?” ‘Two dollars.” ‘* Well, here’s a drink my/health,” **Tbank yer Honor.” ‘** You're welcome, I’m sure,” and the speaker, sachel in hand, after waiting a moment, darted across ths street, threading his way in a man- ner that bespoke long acquaintance with the streets of the city. ‘* Mebbe he’s from the South, an’ mebbe he haia’t. Annybow he’s gi’n me an extry quarter, an’ Vil jesJgo in yer’ an’ git-a taste o’ old ale.” And the driver disappeared behind the swing- ing doors of a saloon, Afithe gangway a couple of policemen were busy; one short and thin; the other tall and stout, evidently a German, ; As the Southerner came rapidly toward them, Warenne appeared. The Southerner saw him and immediately stopped to buy a paper. — The German policeman stepped up to him and said, quietly: “Take off that ring, Bronson.” CHAPTER XIV. MR, WARENNE IS HASTY. THE detective’s self-control was something wonderful, yet he almost dropped the purse he held when'the policeman spoke to bim, ‘But be quickly recovered bis nerve, and paid for the paper, while the policeman walked away toward the end of fhe pier. Meantime Warenne had crossed-the gangway and disappeared, : : The Southerner placed bis sachel at bis feet, and folded bis paper. When the operation was completed, be put it in his pocket, and when his hand re-appeared no ring shone on his finger, He bad taken the ad- vice of the tall policeman, In tarn he went on board the steamer, but only to check bis sachel at the coat-room. for he quickly reappeared without it, looked hur- riedly aroun! and walked bebind a pile of in- coming freight, that had not been removed, and where the German policeman awaited him. “Tbauk you, Conlay,” said Bronson, as he came within earshot, “For nothing. It was an oversight excusable quarter extra in which to Sod 5 eng | —————— —=—s : : —— — ——————————————————————_ ——————————————eE’OCOOeee—=m~”"—000 SS ‘*Tt was inexcusable,” “Oh, no, But Warenne might have seen the ring on your finger and remembered it,” “Then you think that without it, he won’t know me?” “Tam sure of it. Part of my business is to pevetrate disguises, but if it had not been for that curious ring I certainly should not have recognized you,” ‘** And I certainly was never more surprised in yet put in an | my life than when you spoke to me. 1 took you for a member of ‘ the Finest,’ ” ** And so I am—wbhen I[ want to be, I have full permission to wear this uniform whenever I lease.” , oki And to make arrests?” ang. BY ‘*Then, if you wished Pa could go on board that steamer and arrest Harry Warenne for ab- duction.” ‘Certainly. But as we think him guilty of the graver crime of murder, yet have no proof, it is better to let him go free for the present, in the hope that he will commit himself later on. ‘** Yes, and furnish the proofs that are now totally wanting.” ‘*And it rests with you to obtain those proofs,” : ‘* Yes, sah,” and Bronson’s voice drawled out in the intonation of Louisiana, ‘t And it is fo? thet reason, sah, thet [ em ’bout returning to my plawntation, sah.” ‘**Und I hopes as you vill baf a most bleasant churney. Goot-pye, und goot loke!” “Thanks!” and the Southerner turned and walked toward the gangway, and went on board, while the policeman, a moment later, resumed his former position. He had stood there but a few minutes, when Warenne appeared, hurrying toward bim, and when within speaking distance he spoke: ‘* Officer, [ want you to come on board the steamer. _A woman there bas stolen my sachel, and I wish ber arrested,” ‘* Veil,” replied the “German”, slowly, “I donno ’bout dot. Opb, oph I mages der arrest, und dere vas no one to maig a gomplaint, v’ot vill der judge say to me? % know, und, py jiminy krouts, 1 know too vell. ‘He'll say: ‘ Hans!’—dot vos me, dot Hans— ‘ Hans!’ ‘*Und I vill say; § Vell? ae der judge vill say: ‘Nein, it is not vell! ‘*Und do you know v’ot vill happen?” “Come, come, my man, don’t waste any more time,” cried Warenne, impatiently, ‘‘ the boat’s time is nearly up, and if you don’t make the arrest pow, you never will.’ “That’s exactly what I am figuring on,” thought Conlay, as be puzzled his brain in vain conjectures as to what this new move on War- enne’s part might mean, ‘*Some scheme to separate Mrs, Bronson and Miss Bryton,” he decided, as he replied: ‘*Of I arrest dis young leddy, den must I also, yust der same, holt you asa vitness. So gcom along.” . “Hold on! said Warenne, ‘That would never do; [ must sail to-night.” Den I kin do nottisks.” “Tt looks as though you couldn’t, or wouldn’t ; perhaps, however, your partner migbt.” “Dry 7i.a,” was the German’s only response, and Warenne crossed over to where the short and thin policeman stood idly twirling bis club, . “Tt Inks to me loike a case af abdookshun an? * kidnappin’,” be replied, ‘‘ an’ Oi’ve more’n balf amoind torun yezin, But af yez'll git out av me soight an’ lave me in p’ace to continue me miditations on tbe buk of Ignaashus Donnelly, me namesake, Oi’ll let yez escape, an’ niver say a word,” It is probably needless to remark, bere, that the short and thin Irish policeman had heen * posted,” long before,- by the tall and stout Germsn one, Warenne, at the words “ abduction and kid- napping,” had started and turned pale; but be collected himself, and, drawing out note-book and pencil, be quietly took the policeman’s bum- ber, remarking as he did so: : “ All right, my fine fellow; but Pll just report you at Headquarters, and we’llsee what the com- missioners will do in your case.” And then he went on board again, and was seen no more, But the Irishman was uneasy, He walked over to his German friend and told him what Warenue had done and what be had threatened. “Och, Himmel!” ejaculated his companion, “let him rebort, Of be does dot, he'll gif bim- Y Ps oe ~¥ ate e. a ’ Ps ~y OE x aa Ld i Wi xy +) “heed A + ae one *, . Wit Tait * ‘ ms 2 BB a Fe 5 ’ ~
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self ted avay, und doan’ you forgot to regal! it! Ain’t dot so?” ** But av Oi’m foired from off the foorce—” be- gan the Lrishman, when the other interrupted. **Shoost you led dot ben sot. Doan’ you vorry, an’ I bromise yuu dot you vill not pe firet for dof pizness, nus so lopg as my name vas— Conlay.” The last avord was whispered, and instantly an expression of relief cased the oue of perplexity from the Irishman’s face, ‘Ob! he smiled, *‘ av it’s you—” * Vell, it am, so shut.” And the two resumed their stations, Meantime Warenne had returned to the cabin, or saloon, of the steamer and had rapped on the door of one of the state-rooms, It was opened by Mollie, who held her finger up, warningly. “Hush!” she whispered, ‘‘Miss Bryton is asleep.” ‘‘] don’t care for that!” he replied, rougbly, “T want my sachel that you tock from the table where [ left it.” “Your sachel!” ‘* Yes; and it contains some valuables that money could not replace.” ‘“*T do not know what you are talking about.” “Ob, yes youdo, And I advise you to give it up, and to go ashore, or else I will have to get an officer to arrest you.” ‘© What do you mean?” she said, stepping out- side and closing the door so as not to disturb ner : ‘““Ts this some new change in your plans? one ~ made go that you can get Miss Bryton away from her friends? ; “T tell you f will not go and leave her help- ess.” ** You will not?” ** No, I will not,” “‘ Then you sleep in the station-house to-night.” ‘*T shall sleep in that state-room.” ‘* And I say you will not. Come, I will march you outside and—” be laid his hand on her arm, At the same instant he, was seized by the collar _ and flurg clean across the cabin. CHAPTER XV. CONLAY IS RECOGNIZED, WHEN Policeman Hans returned to his home aud once more appeared in the garb of Detective Conlay, he told his wife everything that had oc- curred, like a good and dutiful husband, ‘* And what are you going to do next?” asked his better-balf. \ “Tm going to try and find young Lawrence, I do not believe that the police Lave arrested him yet.” ** And you are going to?” as First catch your hare,’ is an excellent max- ** And ‘courtesy costs nothing,’ is another ex- cellent one,” “True, my dear, So give me a cup of your excellent teu, aud I'll tell you exactly what I propose tc do,” Somewhat mollified, Mrs, Conlay prepared the tea, and long before their evening meal was fin- ished, they were on the best of terms again. So when Conlay left the house, the wish—ex- resse@—followed him that his duties might not np him out late, 6 had learned, through the papers, of an im- pending strike among the cabinet-makers of the city, and of a meeting in relation thereto, that was to be held that night, ~- He knew that the meeting was to be a secret one, bat hoped either to learn something con- cerning Lawrence from some of the men outside tha ball, or that he might be able to slip inside and pursue his investigations there, So he strolled Jeisurely along toward the place of meeting, and reached there a few minutes be- fore eight o’clock,. Knots of men stood about talking, and every now and then some of them would disappear up- stairs. ConJay waited, hoping to see his nephew, to whom Mrs Conlay had conveyed the welcome information that he might venture out in safety, But eight o’clock struck, the last of the men went inside, and Conlay was just about to in- quire of the doorkeeper, who stepped out to see if there were any more coming, when be was hailed: _ Hello! uncle.” * Well, [ did expect to see you, and was wait- ing for you,” said Conlay tc bis nephew-—for it Was he—as he linked arms with him and walked toward the door, The man in charge, knowing Lawrence and I didn’t expect to see you here, hearing him cali Conlay “ uncle,” coucl Sn eee RT Ta IO IM LIAISE RE I OTE re The Detective Quartet, it was all rigbt, and allowed them to pass with- out question, And as for young Lawrence, be was so eager- ly engaged in telling his uncle how he bad passed the daysof bis imprisonment that he had uo thought of what he was doing until they hud seated themselves in the large room where the meeting was to be held, But suddenly he realized his position. ‘¢ Wor Heaven's sake be careful!” he whispered to his uncle, ‘* What’s up?” ‘ ‘‘There are some men here to-night wio are all but desperate, and if they thought there were any outsiders here—” “Well?” ‘**'Theg put them down as spies.” ‘And the result would not be altogether pleasant for me.” ** Quite the reverse,” ‘* Then suppose I get out?” A man who had risen a moment before and rapped for order spoke at that moment: ‘**Lock the doors,” he said, “‘admit no_one; allow no one to leave the ball.” ** It’s too late!” cried Charlie, 2 ‘* Never mind,” added his uncle reassuringly, “*T won’t tell on you.” “1s that a promise?” ** A sacred one,” “Then we’)! keep still and hope for the best,” The chairman continued: ‘All of the doings at our former meetings have been reported to the bosses, and, in some instances, reported in the papers, ** Now, one of two things,’ “What are they?” cried a brawny, helf-in- toxicated attendant, from the center of the ball, ‘‘ Rither we have traitors among us—” ‘* Yes—and the other?” ‘“* Or spies.” “Jf there be traitors here,” said the giant, spri nging on a chair, ‘* we'll brain ’em, won’t we boys!’ “That we will,” ** And as for spies—what’ll we do with them, eh?” ‘ Hang ’em!” cried a man near where Conlay and Lawrence sat. . ** Ay, tbat we will!” ‘*Order!” cried the’ chairman, ‘and you, Blacky Welton, sit down, or I'll have you put out. ‘*T won't sit down and I won’t be put out, What I want to know is if there is any cussed traitors or spies in this here room.” “Sit down and we’ll find out,” ** Honest?” ‘* Honest,” _* Allright, go ahead, but-—” ‘*Oh, sbut up!” cried a man alongside of him, as he caught hold of bis arm and pulled him off the chair, : And Blacky, coming down in a heap, imme- diately shut up, and bezan to bammer his neigh- bor with both fists, he retaliating in kind, Order was eventually restored, however, and the chairman was once more able to make bim- self heard, **] want all of you to go to the back part of the hall, and then come forward, up the center aisle, giving your names to the committee as you pass, one at a time,” **The committee don’t know every man in the ball,” growled ‘* Blacky.” ‘* No,” replied the chairman, ‘‘ but we bave here an alphabetical list of our members, and if any one passes that the committee don’t know, we'll bunt up his name here,” * All right!” cried Blacky, as he rose, and staggered down the aisle, ‘* come on, boys!” ““t appoint our two secretaries such commit- tee,” called out the chairman, as the crowd surged back, There were fully two hundred men in the ball, made up of al) nationalities, One little fellow was talking and gesticulating furiously, He was French, and he spoke a mix- ture of French and English that could scarcely be understood, ** Tt's getting pretty hot!” whispered Conlay to Lawrence; ‘‘I wonder if I hadn’t better make a break.” ; ‘““Not for the world. Give your name as Harvey Hunter. He’s a new man in our shop, and his name is on the roll.” **Tsn’t he here?” ‘No; he’s laid up with rbeumatism, I’m sure no one knows him, ‘¢ Some of your fellow-workmen may.” ‘There are none of my shop-fellows here to- night. They sent me as their representative while they hold a secret meeting somewhere else.” liar. It’s part of his bizness, i = ~ oP ks 7 4 ‘¢ What for?” ‘*'To decide whether they’ll join with these fellows or not,” As they talked the men were going forward, giving their pames to the secretaries, and as these latter were personally acquainted with nesrly ali of the members, the work of identifica- tion went on rapidly, Finally Lawrence and his uncle were leftall but alone, and the former said: ‘* Well, bere goes; don’t forget the neme,” and Charlie took up the rear of the procession, * He is my uncle.” Fo “Ob! That is different. But this falsename — —how do you explain that?” ‘Listen, and I promise to make everything so clear that you will not only allow him to go, ~ but will shake his band and beg his pardon; for 4 if there is any one to blame, it is I,” “Go.abead, we'll listen,’ “ Nen! non!” sbrieked the little Frenchman, “Tsay he eez von r-raskil spy, an’ zat ye vill pg bim!” ; ga ‘Ob, close your face!” cried one of Charley’s intimates, as be shoved the foreigner i: to a — chair; ‘you make me tired.” jie Quiet baving been once more restored, and = the Frenchman subdued, Charley explained = everything; how he had met his uncle, the lat- — ter’s errand, how he had come in, and how be | had been induced to give a false name to sim- plify matters, ee : rz ‘“Your explanation is perfectly satisfactory — to me,” said the chairman, ‘‘ and I believe it is” to the meeting.” ; “Certainly!” cried several of the men; but the majority, ahong whom were Blacky, who — was ugly from drirk, and some of the foreigners, — enly grumbled and sbook their heads, eed ‘ That’s a likely lie,” said Blacky, “‘ but I don’t take no stock in it, sec?” Pa mac ‘** Nor I,” muttered one of his pa 2 eee ‘* He’s a detective,” continued Blacky, getting on a chair, and speaking louder as he obtain listeners. ‘ He's a detective, and, consekently,
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10 * An’,” broke in Frenchy, ‘“‘an’ he sont my broz-r back to la belle France, vere zey guillo- tine bim—v’at you call eet?—zey cot off hees Yead |” ‘*An’ a good thing it would have been if they'd cut yours off at the same time,” said one of Charley’s friends, For the crowd was rapidly becoming divided into two factions, one for and one against Con- lay, who still remained silent and watchful. And, unfortunately for the detective’s ulti- mate chances, the opposition seemed to largely outnumber his allies, There were numbers of French, Swiss, and Germans there, all of them more or less tinged with anarchy. For them, the question of what Conlay was doing there, or how he came to get there, was secondary. The mere fact that be was an officer and represented the law was sufficient to inflame their anger. With them sided Blackey and a few others of bis class, who were always ready for a row, even anxious for one, Blacky was by this time in a perfect fury of passion, but a3 the chairman rapped once more Sr pia he paused a mioute to hear what was said. ‘*T will entertain a motion,” said the chair- man, “to buve the door unlocked and to allow Mr. Lawrence’s uncle to leave the room,” ‘*T make such a motion!” cried Charley, and it was instantly seconded, The chairman put the question, and those voting ‘“‘ ay” were numerous, But when he said: ** Those oppossd—” A storm of noes” arose that showed which way the current was flowing, Nevertheless, the chairman, who was one of Coarley’s friends, declared the motion carried, and ordered the doorkeeper to allow Conlay to pass out, ‘*No, he sha’n’t!” cried Blacky, ‘I'll knock any man down that starts to open that door!” A wild yell of applause followed this utter- ance, Then for the first time Conlay spoke: ‘“Yf you will give me the key, sir,” said bo, ‘I will open the door.” Ho stopped a moment, and then added: ‘And if any one attempts to knock me down, 4 promise to make it exceedingly interesting for in, ‘*Hurrah for Lawrence’s uncle!” cried one of Charley’s friends, ‘Now, Cully Blacky,” yelled another, ‘‘ show your nerve,” “Settle it between the two!” suggested an- other, an admirer of the Marquis of Queensberry. = Yes, let’s have a ten-round go on the stage,” added another. But Conlay, not heeding these remarks, step- ped up to the stage, where the chairman, to whom had been given the key, handed it down, Ths detective started for the door, » Tben Blacky, leaping from his chair, aimed and delivered a right-band blow that would hare : eeeoned Conlay on the floor, had it reached its mark, B it the detective, throwing up his left elbow, tossed the blow off his forearm, _ And at the same time he twisted on his heel, turning completely around, and as hetwirled he threw all of his force into a terrific swing. The tough was taken completely by surprise and he had no chance to dodge the clinched fist, _ which took him just behind the left ear, with an _ awful crash, And Blacky fell sprawling to the ground and dey there as if dead. fhe terrible force of the blow, the quickness, _ agility and skill displayed by the detective, para- 1} zed the crowd for a moment, And Senne Sook advantage of this, The little Frenchman stood near him, and seizing the foreigner by the back of his neck and ois shoulder, Conlay started on a run, shoving Frenchy before him, The crowd pes and before they recovered, the detective had reached and opened the door, end escaped with his prisoner, A shout went up from Lawrence’s friends, _ This roused Blacky, © For heaven’s sake,” he stammered, as he _ tat np, * what kicked me?” ‘ CHAPTER XVII. = BEAULI£U'S GUILLOTINE, ___ Wuen Conlay reached the stree with his capture, __he turne+ in the direction of the station-house, that “he ey noe ares the pert corner, : a: you going to do me?” inquired the Frenchman, as the detective Lustled him along. - The Detective Quartet. ‘**Going to see that you get three months on the Tsland,’’ “On v'at char-r-ge?”’ ‘Oa general principles.” “I make von bar-1-gain vid you.”’ Well?” * Loose me, an’ I t ll vere zat young man—how you call him—Larrence—eez.”’ * You know?” ! ** Ver’ vell.”’ “Tt’s a bargain,”’ | **Goot. Come wiz me, an’ buy a leetle glass—un oc verve—of coznac—ezu de vte—br-r-andy, an’I tell you.” ‘“*Come along,” said Conlay, readily agreeing to the proposition, the more so that he had in reality no specific charge to make against the man. The Frenchman led the way to a little bar room near by, presided over by a black-eyed, black-beard- ed, black-browed compatriot, and soon they were seated in a little back room, with a bottle of vrandy and two glasses before them. . Now, fo ahead,’ said Conlay, after the French- man had filled and emptied two glasses in rapid suc- cession. « *T tell a vair Charles Larrence eez in a minute,” he replied, ‘‘I no laik z t br-r-andy,. an’ vill ordair ze ozzer kin’, if you vill excoose me.” He rose before the detective could interpose a word, and.went to the door leading into the bar, where he called the host. The man came, and the two exchanged several rapid sentences in a whisper. hen the proprietor disappeared, and the French- man returned, after closing the door behind him. ‘Ze br-r-andy vill be here instantly,” he said, as he resumed his seat. ‘Did it taks all that whispering to order some brandy?” asked panies * Zis ees a ver’ excellent kind. E t ees not giv’ to all zat ask for eet. I mus’ gif ze password—ze countersign—to get eet from ze lan’lord,.”’ ‘*Oh, I see,’ said the detective; ‘smuggled goods in all probability, and goods that may prove dear to the owner.” ‘Oh, non!” with a shrug of the sholuders. ‘“ Zs goods haf’ pass’ ze d@ wane, ze costom ’ouse. Z’is man ees n> swindle.” . “ Maybe not, kut I'll not touch any of the stuff, just the same.”’ ** An’ vy not?” “Tam afraid your friend might have put a little something in it—a knocker-out, for instance.” **Oh, sare—”’ **Never mind that. Let’s get down to business: wrere can I find that man Lawrence.” ** T vill tell ae pra sontlee,”’ ‘*You’ll tell me n w, or go to the Island; I’m in no humor for trifling.” “Nor am I. Va!” (go!) cried the Frenchman, and at that moment a noose was dropped over Con- lays shoulders, and about his arms. Then he was jerked back against the wall, the noe wa; drawn so tight as to cut into the flesh, and he sat there, ‘ike a trussed fowl, incapable of movement, as far as the upper part of his body was co»cerned, His f et and legs were free, but that did him no good at a'l, He was utterly powerless, and at the mercy of his ee is position explained the whispered conversation that had taken places, and He realized, thoroughly, that he had fallen into a trap A trap set for him by this vindictive Frenchman, who thus avenged the part Conlay had taken in che arrest of his brother, 4 That brother who was ‘‘ wanted” In France for murder, who had been taken there and had his head cut ¢ ff carly one mornisg in May. How many victims had preceded che detective in the chair on which he sat, he could not, of course, even guess. Certainly the contrivance had not been arranged solely for his benefit. He had noticed, as he sat down in ths chair the Frenchman drew cut f>r him, a curtain hanging against the wall, just behind him, ut he suspected no trap, and did not pay any at- tention to the covering cf the window or door there. And now that it was to» late, he saw that the cur- tain was hung there for just such occasion. - os these thoughts passed through his mind like a ash, Meautime, the lit Je Frenchman, who chuckled all the time, examined him to see if his bonds were secure. - Sstisfving himself of this he walked up in front of = detective, and glared at him like a hungry wolf, ‘“ Aha!” he cred, and he executed a sort of war- dance before his prisoner. “aha! I haf’? you now. he shall be avenge’!”’ He leaned forward, took hold of and deliberately pulled Conlay’s nose. It was one of the most unfortunate pulls on record—f r the pull: r. It has been stated above that Conlay’s arms and the upper part of his body were as useless to him. as far asoffense and defense are concerned, as if they did not exist. _ But his feet and legs were free, and as, after pull- i-g his nose, ths Frenchman stepped back, Conlay inserted the toe of his heavy viet tormentor’s chin, And the kick was g’ven with such forces and dex- terity that the Freachmar was lifted clear off the [ground and thrown backward onto the table be- j hind bim, An’ my broder’s deat’, t boot under his The only wonder was that his neck was not dislocated by the sudden jerk. He Jay there for a moment, incapable of speech, or action, while the detective, despite bis unpleasant position, could net réfrain from laughing heartily. Butin afew moments Louis came tv, and taking a safe position on the other side of the table, well out of reach of that formidable foot, he hissed, as well as his sore chin wonld permit: “ Sacremint-! bot I feeks you for zis keeck!”’ And then he went toward the door. » If looks could have killed, the glance he gave Con- lay as he left the room would have laid the latter back in the chair a corpse. ; It could not be much more than nine o'clock, Con lay thought, and certainly if he cried out some one on the street must hear bim. It was worth the trial. So he drew io his breath, preparatory to a power- ful shout, when, as if some one behind him had no- ticed the motion, a wire screen was drawn tight over his lips. He could breathe through it, but could not open bis mout» wide enougn to call ou’. It was more and more evident that the French- man’s accomplice, or accomplices, was, or were, watching his every movement. A moment later and the chair on which he sat was drawn back, and between the curtains bebind him, they falling in front of and leaving him in darkness. Then he began to ascend, wits a motion as if he were on an elevator, or a dumb-waiter, while the pulleys over his head creaked as if they were but rarely used. .A minute, and the upward motion ceased, a door in front of him slid up in its grooves, disclosing a dimly-lighted chamber in front of him, into which he was pushed, : 5 And batons him stood the Frenchman, leaning against a guillotine. CHAPTER XVIII. A GAME OF POKER. As Warenns rose, after his stunning fall, he was dazed for a moment. But he was quickly brought to his senses by the voice of the brawny young Southerner, who stood beside him. ‘*Tf, sah,” he said, in low tones, but tones that vi- brated with passion, ‘if, sab, yo’ attempt to Jay yo’ hand on thet innocent gyurl, I’li—I’ll, why, sah, Tu bre’k every bone in yo’ body, sah’” ‘“ Who are you that come interfering between me and my sister?” cried Warenne, ‘*T don’ believe she’s yo’ sistah, sah; an’ ef yo’ don’ laik the way I do buginess, sah, why, sah, send me yo’ frien’s, an’ l'il ’commodate you, sah,” Abd lifting his ha’ he started away, but in a mo- ment turned and came back. *-T will say to you, sch,” be added, “thet ef yo’ mek’ any moah bre’ks of thet so’t, P'll shoot you as I would a no ’ecount corn dog, sah, Yo’ heah?” Warenne made no ope ‘*¥o’ won' answer? Then Iiltell you what I'll do: Til go to the captain, who is a pussonal friend 0’ mine, sah, an’ I’)l tell him how Jaik a cur yo've act- ed, an’ 1’ll have him put yo’ in i’ons, sah, fo’ the res’ 0’ the voy’ge.”’ . This would n‘t have suited Warenne’s plans at all, so he grufily replied: ‘‘T may have been a little hasty, and if the young lady wil come out of her room, Pll apologize.” ‘Very weli.”’ And the Southerner knocked on the door, and ina moment Mollie appeared, **L owe you an ap* logy,” said Warenne, “ and be your sh deat 2 Lope you will grant it, and I, for my part, promise never to repeat the offense.” Mollis bowed and disappeared, and the Southern- er, turning, left tte cabin and went on deck, while Warenne going to his state-rcom at the other end of the cabin, threw himself on his berth and cursed his impetuosicy. he bell was ringing, overhead, and the vices of the stewar’s, warning visitors on board, were heard all over the vessel: , ** All ashore that’s gcing!”’ ** All ashore that’s going ashore!” And hurried good-byes were being said in all quar- ters. In a short time the vessel began to move, and bls ogee burying his anger for the time, went on deck. One of the first persons that he saw wes the Southerner, standing on the bridge of the steamer, talking with the captain. os They seem thick as thieves,” grumbled War- enne. “I guess it stands me in hand t» lay low while on bi ard, for 17m in the minority.” And a mcment after, as Lucy and Mollie came on deck to ta”e a parting Jook at the city, he thought: ‘* Why was I such an idiot as to bring that woman along? I mighs have left her in the city, fast enough.” He paced back and forth, ** But, then,” he added, ‘‘ she would have betrayed me to that husband of. hers. Ha! ha! how I’ve fool- ed that idiot!” And he was so pleased at the thought that he went to the sincking-room and ordered a brandy and soda, in which to drink his own health. He felt so well after it that he ordered ancther, and by the time the bell rung for the ph a. es he was another man: everything loo ed bright. “ll win the girl this trip ’ he soliloquized, ‘“‘and the handsome little fortune she possesses will go far toward poying my debts.”’ : This rhonght was so entirely satisfactory to him that he did full justice to the evening meal. and also to the cigar that he puffed in the smoking- 5 ee Sh) SA. eee Mae is are nee: OP BF a dees uf 2 ae ee 4 | | | a | hb | — (i A ppp eae ae sa Hp ty od y + SBMCCET I Te aR eR tis + a
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room This soon began to fill up, and when Warenne, who had stiolled out on deck for a mo- ment, returned, he found several games of ca”ds in fu'l swing. He looked on for some time, until a gentleman, who was playing poker at a taple with the Southeraer and three others, rose. “IT am an unfortunate traveler,’? he said, in apology, ‘‘but I always get sea-sick, no matter if the ocean is as quiet as an inland lake in a calm. “Tit’s constitutional, I suppose, and is my only apology for quitting you; but I’ve got to retire. * Perhaps,” looking at Warenne, “‘ this gentleman might sit in so as to keep the quintette intact.” *T should be glad to do so,’ replied Warenne, who Joon inveterate p ker-player, ‘if there is no ob- ection, ‘*Thave none,”’ said the Southerner, and as it was to h m that Werenne had apparenily addressed his remark, the others added their willingness, and in a moment more Warenne had taken the vacant seat. The game_ continued without incident, or any very heavy play, for some time. Te party was surprised, however, at the return of the sea-sick player, who came back in the course of an hour. “Why,” said Warenne, ‘you back? Take your pare in the game, sir; I do not wish to rob you of it. ‘No, no,” pro‘ested the other, “I would not dare. The sea is so perfectly quiet that there is no excuse for even me to be ill. ‘There is not the slightest motion. ‘*But I would not dare to go into the game again, forI may have to get out at an instant’s warning. “Th sit down a moment, though, if there is no ob- jection and look on. ** You don’t mind?” He addressed his question to the Southerner, who replied, warmly: * W’y no, sah, not at all. ovab my hand, sah. * No gen’leman could objic’ to anutha gen’leman’s doin’ thet.”’ So the stranger drew his chair behind the South- erner and the game proceeded. The ‘ante’ was not very large and\they were playing a ‘‘ limited” game, so that there was but a small! amount of ex- citement. But at length, after a somewhat breez pot,’ the Southerner dealt the cards, “ og dia as did the dealer, and the rest ‘‘ dropped out.’ ‘How m ny kya’ds?”’ asked the Southerner, of Warenne, ; ‘*‘Hold on a minute,” said the latter, ‘‘ I've got a proposition to make,” ; ‘** What is it, sah?” ‘‘Let’s drop the limit, for this hand, and bave a little fun out of it; the game is getting slow.” “I’m agreed, sah. Do yo’ betting.” “T'll raise the blind fifty,” said Warenne, as he tossed an *‘L”’ on the table. ‘Thet is not enough, sah,” quietly replied his op- ponent, “Vil hev’ to mek’ thet an even hundred.” And a ‘“‘century ”’ was thrown alongside the fifty. “Well, just to make it in eresting, 1’ll cause it to cost you just a hundred more to draw cards.” And Warenne placed a hundred and fifty dollars on the board, It was growing interesting, and several spectators crowded ar und the table. *T'll not be the first to cry quits, sah, T assure yo’ o* thet,’’ replied the planter, as he drew out a roll of bills as large as a man’s fist. “Thar’s yo’ hundred, an’ I'll raise yo’ an even thousand mo’,”’ Warenne “skinned ” his cards over carefully, and then glanced at—or past—his adversary, who took no pains to conceal his hand. $ glance se-med to satisfy him, for he drew out his purse and was about to speak, when he was in- terrupted by a voice behind him. ‘‘Hold on, here, gentlemen,” said the speaker, **there’s cheating here.”’ CHAPTER XIX. THE ACCUSER AUCUSED, THe interruption was a startling one, and to no one more thanto Warenne. : At that moment, too, the man who had been sit- a beh.nd the Southerner, rose and started for the oor. *Excussa me, gentlemen,” he said, ‘‘ but this time Iam really sick.” “Hold on!” cried the man who stocd behind Warenn, ‘ you’re interested in my remark and had better wait.” j It is doubtful if this suggestion would have had any effect, had not the Southerner risen and stepped in fron: of the door. *No one goes outen hya’,’’ he said, quietly, ** ontil this mattah is settled.” And then he turned to Warenne and added: “Am I not right, sah?” e “ Perfectly,” replied Warenne, wo had remained seated, and curiously quiet, not . ven turning to see who it was behind him that had spoken. He had started as if shot at the first words, but “made no further sign. : ** Now, sah,”’ asked the § sutherner, “ what do yo’ mean by this hya’ statement of yo’s?” There was a breathless silence as he waited for a Glad to hev’ you look ‘* Jack ep. ; ut it came promptly. ‘IT mean that I saw the man behind you making our he made his last signs to opponent, who looked at him before e Yo’ are fe Varenne. The Detective Quartet. “Sure? Yes. ‘“‘And as 1 know this man here,”—his hand fell heavily on Warenne’s shoulder as he spoke—‘and | have heard him boast of his system, I am perfectly familiar with it.” He paused a moment, and then added: ‘*To prove my statement I will, with your per- mission, tell you what cards you hold.” The Southerner hesitated. Warenne spoke, at last. “Since,” said he, ‘‘we are interrupted by on- lookers, I propose, sir, that each one of us draw down his stakes,” And without waiting fora reply, he picked up his money, and put it back in his purse, _ * Now. sah,’ ssid the Southerner, without touch- ing his money, “tell me what kya’ds I hold an’ prove what you say.” The man behind Warenne answered, without an instant’s hesitation: ““T saw the gentleman who sat behind you take a cigar from his pocket, and cut off the end with his knife, using the large blade,” “Well, sah?”’ “We clesed the knife toward him—and you will see that every movement means something. ‘*He put his knife in his coat pocket—the left-hand ae felt in his vest for a match with the same and.’ : ia Go on, sah; yo’ watched him pretty close, I see et.’ ‘*Now I'll explain: he has two knives, each with four blades; the blades mean the cards from ace to eight-spot. “Had he bitten the cigar’s end off, holding it be- tween the thumb and first finger of his right hand, that would have meant a pine spot, two fingers a ten, “Yes, sah. Is that all?” “The same manner ot holding the cigar with the left hand would indicate the Jack and queen; for the king he would have held the third finger under- neath the cigar, carrying it to his lips with the thumb, first and second fingers.” ‘*Very ingenious, sah.” ‘* Yes, he thought so the night he told me of -it— not stating that he intended using it, but explaining how simple it would be, provided an accomplice could catch sight of an opponent’s hand.” ‘This is all romance,”’ cried Warenne, ““And a decidedly lying one at that,” added the accused man. ‘* Wait a moment,” continued their accuser. ‘Yes, yo’d bettab!"’ added the Southerner, frown- ing slightly. “When that man cut his cigar, he did it with the large blade of a peari-handled knife—meaning the ace,” ee Go on,”’ ‘When he placed it in the le*t-hand lower pocket of his sack coat, it meant tiree.” ‘*T—”' interrupted the Southerner, “One minute, pee: Wait until Iam through.” ** Certainly, sah.” ‘“When he felt in the upper right hand pocket of his vest for a match, it meant a pair—your band, sir, consisted of three aces and a pair of something—the size of the pair does not jaffect the valu2 of your full-hand.” ‘* By gawge, sah!—” ‘One moment more: I ama poor man. having nothing in the world but a round-trip ticket to New Orleans, my trunk and its contents and a hundred dollars. a **T will place that hundred d Mars in the hands of any one here except tivse two robbers—to be given to the Sailors’ Hospital, if this man's hand coes not beat yours ” Warenne leape? to his feet. “Twill not stay here any longer to be thus insul'ed!"’ he cried. ‘1 wanted toh arthe end cf your fairy tale, but will hear no more. ‘** Let me pass!”’ ** Sit down!” cried the Southerner, and saveral of the spectators echoed his words angrily. Warenne sunk back in his chair. ‘“Gen‘lemen!” said the Southerner, as he leaned toward the table, ‘‘ here is my hand; Icok atit.*’ And he spread out the five cards he held, faces up. Tihere were three aces and two tens. The stranger had read the cards correetly, That there bad been collusion was evident. A murmur of anger went up from all those stand- ing around as they looked curiously at the man who had exposed the gamblers, He was young, fair, and bore in his face the traces of recent illness, i ; { Indeed his voice trembled with weakness, and it could readiy be seen that he was far from strong. During all the time that he was speaking: Wa- repne hever once turned and looked at him. H» acted as though he knew, and yet did not know, the man who was accusing him. When the S -utherner had shown his cards, one of the party spoke. **Come, sir,” he said, addressing Warenne; “it's your turn. That’s a pretty good hand on the table and if yours does not beat it, you will be cleared from this charge.” : \* Yes*yes, show your hand!” cried another, an- rily. \ 7 ‘A third reached forward and looked under the table, where Warenne’s hands were hidden. The fic or was strewn with little bits of pesteboard. ‘* He’s torn his cards into a thousand pieces!” he cried. ‘Ah! then he must be guilty.” Enh “Perhaps he is, but you can’t prove it now.” 11 “We can't, eh? How about looking through the pack to see what S are m ssing?” ? The Southernempieked up the pxck and sorted the cards ioto suits, in the midst of a dead silence, The four sevens and the king of clubs were want- ing. Wskiine had held fours agains’ a full hand, and would have wonthe money beyond doubt, for ne ther would have drawn a card. “Thief! hissed the Southerner. ‘ Yes,’"—and he looked from one to.th other—" thieves!” Warenne rose, and for the first time looked at his accuser. ‘Ah! he cried triumphantly, “a worthy witness you are, Murderer Charles Lawrence!” CHAPTER XX. THE CAPTAIN TAKES A HAND, Tus charge fell like a thunderbolt on the crowdin the smoking-reom, But interested as were Warenne and the man he addressed, they were not more so than the South- erner, The man whom Warenne had addressed looked him square in the face, ‘*Murderer?”’ he repeated. —are you drunk or crazy?” “Neither,” replied Warenne. “Then exp'ain.”’ “Do you deny t. at your name is Lawrence?” *T do not,” “Charles Lawrence?” “That is perfectly correct.” “Nephew of the late Henry Warenne, of West Righticth street, New York City?” ‘The late Henry Warenne, you say?”’ ra “ ¥Yea,*" .““ Heavens! Js my uncle dead?” * “ Yes, as well you know, for you murdered him,” ‘*T—murdered him?” ' Here the Southerner interrupted, ‘Yo’ did me a favah, sab,” he said to Lawrence, “and I’m goin’ to try an’ do you one, “Don’t say any moah then yo’ hev to, fo’ itll count against yo’ on yo’ trial, ye know,” ‘You are kind, sir” said Lawrence, “ but I have no fears of that nature. I am as innocent! as you your elf can be, and was, until a moment ago, utterly ignorant of my uncle's death.” “Your assumption of ignorance con't go down, sir. You, ard you alone. are guilty. The fact alone that your chain was found in the yard—” ‘My chain? What chain?” “Y ur watch-chain, that tad evidently become loosened as you crawled through the buff-t, and thet dropped off under the window.” “Tf you mean that gold and p!-tinum chain, the one uncle gave me, I can say that I r‘turned it to him afcer our quarrel,”” ‘* Does any one know it to be so?’ * You are insulting.” ” “Ts it possib'e, Mr, Law’ence, thet you did not know of yo’ uncle’s death?” ‘*T knew absolutely nothivg of it until this man spoke of it.” . “But the popes were full of it.” ‘*T have been ill, sir. very ill, fr the past three weeks, at the house of ome peor German friends. “They read no papers; never sav one while there, ‘ IT left there this afterncon, and came on beard this vessel, as my old German doctor told me that an ocean voyage would set me on my feet ac once,” “Yo? uncie was mu’de’d io his tibrary, an’ t e co’ne’s jury, sitting on the case, brought in a ve’dict of guilty against—yo"!” ‘“Avainst me! Oh, sir, you do not, can not mean it! We were n:t the best of friends, Lut kill him! Oh, no, no, no!”’ “No, of course not,’? sneered Warenne, * and, be- sides, you did not take the box of silver; did not tou _h uncle’s watch-chain, money and studs, Bah! I bate a liar as, much as I doa thief.” * Henry Warenne,” cried Lawrence, “I am weak from the effects of my recent il'ness—so week that I ean scarcely stand—yet, by Heaven! if you do not cease your sneers and false charges, 1’ll choke you ‘““What do you mean where you stand, until your face is as black as y. up shed q craven heart!” And Lawrence fisw at Warenne with all the str neth of desperation. But the Southerner interfered: Hol’ on, gen’lemen!’’ he cried, “ doan’ mek’ no spectacle of yo’selves, / “Ef you, Mista La‘nce, killed yo’ uncle, ycu kin fight this man. ; “Ef you didn’, you kein’t. “Fo” he’s no gen’leman, sah, an’ is not wo'thy of yo’ ekquaintance.”’ S “What do you mean?” cried Warenne, *T mean, sah, that you abducted two defenseless vimmin-folks, sah. “Thet they air both on boa’d, now, an’ thet this ve’y evenin’, sab, you insulted one of them befo’ my face, sab,” : : ; S one suppose I did; what right had you to inter- ere “What right! The right that every man, who és aman_ has to protect defenseless woman: ood, sah!” Th’ “sah,” in this speech, was the only werd that bore any trace of Sou: hern accent, The fe Southerner” had forgctten bimself for a mom nt. ; “Bah!” sneered Warenne, “that’s a good senti- ment for a Bowery melodrama, but such talk is ev oy here,”’ is ** Not so cheap as you think, sah!” : wr And the Soutbernér touched a bell that stood near — m. One of the stewards appeared immediately, -
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12 He had evidently been listening outside the smok- ing-room, e Southerner took a card from his case and gave it to tne waiter. i “Present my compliments to the captain,” he said, ‘‘ and request him todo us the honah of coming heah fo’ a moment.” * Yes, sir,” and the steward disappeared. “T stay bere no longer,’’ muttered Warenne, sul- lenly. “Tm going on deck.” “One moment, please,” interrupted the South- erner. : “The captain will be heah in a moment, an’ I want him to heah yo’ story. ** An’ I reckon he’ll be moah then interested in it.” “Don’t oppose mé, sir!’ cried Warenne, threat- ening j **don’t stop me, or I will make you regret t ” He stepped forward. _ Instantly the Southerner made ‘two motions, Tapid as one. ith his left hand he caught Warenne by the col- lar, with his rigot stuck the muzzle of a revolver into his face. shee ** Sit down, sah, or I'll put a hole in yo’ head yo’ kin sling a dog into!” : And he swung Warenne heavily back into the chair from which he bad arisen. * An’ yo’, sah,” continued the Southerner, with- out evincing the slightest excitement, and address ing Lawrence: ie’ be. ‘You sit down ovah theah an’ wait till I get _ through with you.” He leaned over and picked up bis money as Law- rence sat down, and then resumed his former posi- tion by the door, : “Gentlemen,” sail Warenne, ‘‘I must protest against this exhibition of brute force, and must ap- peal to you for protection,” At this moment the captain of the vessel appear- ed, and the Southerner stepped aside to let bim enter, ‘* What is it?” asked the officer. ‘*‘ What is want- ed? Some gambling trouble?” he contnued, seeing the cards. **Wo’s’ then thet, sah,”’ replied the Southerner, *it’s a question of an abduction, and a murder!” * What do you mean?” *“T mean, sah, thet I cha’ge thet man with ab- ductin’ a young lady, an’ thet he, in tu’n, cha’ges thet man with mu’da’!* ‘ Warenne broke out: * Whatever bas been done, was done under the jurisdiction of the United States, whose power does not extend béyond three miles from shore. “On the open seas I defy her laws and her offi- cers, if there be any on board; they have no right to arrest me, or any one else.”’ “They hivey’t, eh?” cried the captain, getting angry, *‘ we'll see about that! *T am captain of this ship, and I sail under the Stars and Stripes. This is an American vessel, commanded by an Ameri*an. ** And if you've done anything that lays you liable to arrest, why, sir, you shall be arrested.”’ * You are no officer,’? retorted Warenne, *“ who is there here to put me under arrest?” * I!’ said the Southerner, taking off his hat, And Warenne recognized Bronson, CHAPTER XXI, A WITNESS DISPOSED OF, THERE was a moment’s silence, Then Bronson spoke: **You are right, Mr. Warenne,” he said, ** Ah?’ sneered the other. '“Yes,” continu-d Bronson, not heedifig the inter- ruption, ‘your interpretation-of your position is correct.” “Tam most grateful—” began Warenne, when he was interrupted * But the moment we approach the coast, I shall take charge of you And with no further words Brouson left the room. Then th - captain spoke again. “Thave no doubt,” said he, ‘‘ that Mr. Bronson is Boorrect.” ; And then he stepped close up to Warenne and laid a heavy !'and on his shoulder. “The crime for which you are wanted was com- mitted on United States soil.”’ - *Corre:t,”’ repli d Warenne, unmoved, “Therefore | have no jurisdiction over you,” added the captain. ** Precisely what I claimed.” “ But if you do avything out of the way on board this vessel, or attempt to, I'll iron you as certain as you're detecte |.” And then the captain left the room, in his turn, followed b» Warenne’s parting shot: * Th nk you for the warning!” _ And then he added, in a lower tone: “*T'll take care not to be detected.” He started for the door, giving en almost imper- ceptible glance at bis late partner in the game as he went cut. ; : That man in turn rose and left the smokiag-room, others followed, and in a few moments the place was empty, save for young Lawrence, who remain- Bronson had asked him to weit there, and he de- termined to d > so. He wanted to Jearn more of the murder. For - is scare. ly necessary to state that he wasin- nocenf, __ Some one, he saw, had endeavored to fasten the’ crime on hit. © But who? 2: This he determined to find out. The Detective Quartet. a And he also determined toask Bronsontoaid him. we'd win enough to enable me to pay you and some- For he realized that the former Southerner wasa detective. No one else would masquerade as he had done, So Lawrence waited, while the others left the , room, Warenne went on deck, whither his ex-partner in the poker game followed him. : | ; : thing more.” “ Exactly.” ‘You worked the sea-sick racket beautifully; you should turn actor.” : “Td rather turn dealer; so give me erough to start a bank and we’il cry quits.” ** All right; I happen to be in funds, so I'll pay you They sought a secluded spot, where they would | your three ihousand.”’ not be overheard, and where they could scarcely be | seen. *Ourse the luck!” cried Blimm-—for so he was calied—as he approached his friend. Ee ctan don’t do any good,’’ replied Warenne, uietly. % ‘* Well, what will?” asked Blimm. ** Curse the man—or men—who interfered in our nee ‘With all my heart. But—” “Well?” ‘*T don’t see that such a proceeding wouid do any more good than the other.”’ ‘*True; mere cursing won’t do.” * What else, then?’’ “We must act.’’ Act! how?” **Oh, get even with that man Lawrence.”’ ‘““Th n send him to the gallows.” “*T wish I could.” “Well, can’t you?” asked Blimm., ‘**T don’t know how.”’ “But this murder!” * Oh, that. I only know what the papers said about it.” ‘Yes?’ and Blimm raised his eyebrows incredu- lously. “What do you mean by your confounded insinua- tion?”’ “You know.” **T do not.” : ** Oh, yes, you do.’ * And I say, no!” ‘And [ say, yes!” And Blimm stepped close to Warenne and look him steadily in the face. The latter turned and tossed his cigar over the bulwarks and then spoke: J ‘*“Look here, Blimm,” he said, ‘‘what are you driving at?” “Simply that I believe you know more abcut that murder than any one else.’ * Row should [?” * Because you had 4 hand in it!” ‘** You're crazy—or drunk.”’ ‘*No; lam neither.” “Then explain yourself.” “The night before that murder was.committed, you lost a little over three thousand dollars to me.” “ Correct.” “And gave me ycur I. O. U. for the amount, promising to pay me the next morning.” “ Correct again.” “That next morning you went up to your uncle's Howes: und let yourself in at. the door with a pass- cey. Warenne started. ‘** How do you know that?” ‘* Because I * shadowed’ you.” He paused a m’ ment. “But,” he continued, “you did not come out again.” “ Ah » dw “No, for I watebed for you until after the murder was discovered and-then mingled with the crowd about the house.” “Well? ? **And*you were not there when the police ar. rived,” “So you conclude, Mr. Blimm—”’ “That you killed your uncle, after his refusal to give you the money, and then escaped by the back way « hen the butler went to the door to let Detce- tive Bronson in.” “Ts that all?” ** Ain’t it enough?’ ** Not nearly.” “Then Vil add alittle more.” Thanks.” Warenne’s voice was as quiet as if he were car- rying on social converse in a drawing-room, Then he added: ‘** Suppose that we sit down.” He did so, using the rather low bulwarks for a seat, and holdi g on by one of the shrouds * You went out through the pantry after hiding in the buffet, and dropping a letter there—”’ “Did you see me? * ‘“*Ne; but I’ve re:soned this matter out correct- ly, I know.”’ “Ah? Go op.” “The letter implicated your cousin, and was a clever stroke.”’ “Thank you ” . But in dropping the chain yon overreached your- self. “Thnk so?” “ee Ss. ” “ How ?” “Because you made the proofs too clear. One was sufficient; two too many.” ae =e you think, my dear Blimm, that I lailled my uncle. - : “Si do? ‘** What motive had I?” **'Pain’t enough.” ** What do you mean?” Warenne had placed his hand in his coat pocket, but took it out again. “That I want $10,000,”’ “Blackmail, eh?”’ se Yes,”’ “Then take it!2 and Warenne struck him a terrific blow between the eyes, knocking him overboard, senseless, while Warenne yelled out: ‘‘Man over- board!" CHAPTER XXII. THE CAPTAIN POINTS. As the man fell into the waters below with an un- heeded splash. Warenne removed the brass knuckles from his right hand, and toss d them overhoard. He then stepped leisurely on deck, and was about to walk away, whev a man dropped from the ratlines overhead, alongside him. It was the captain. And it was the captain’s hand tbat, for a second time that evening, fell heavily on Warenne’s shoul. der. ; But cne word came from his lips. Yet he hissed this out with the intensity of a dozen sentences: ** Murderer!"* For the first time, probably, in his life, Warenne sbrunk under accusit on. The fact that the captain had dropped from over- head undoubtedly proved two things: That he had heard ali of Blimm’s aceusations,. And that he had seen Warenne knock the mar overboard. : With the falling of the captain’s hand—:s if that act had been a signal, the steamer stopped, and in obedi*nce to the boatswain’s pipe one of the boats was lowered in an instant. And at the same momenta bright light burst out from the waves some distance astern. The ccean was lit up by a dazzling, blue glare. And the boat pulled steadily in the direction of the blaze. Tue crew gave & loud cheer, which was answered by a faint yell from the distance. It was net long before the little craft entered the circle of light. And in ancther moment a second cheer sounded over the water, the light was extinguished, and soon the clank of the oars in the returning boat could be plainly heard, A Bengali light burned on the steamer’s quarter, showing her position to the coxsvain of the boat, and it wes not long before she came alongside. Falls and tackle were quickly hooked on, and a minute afterward the boat was swung inboard on the davits. One cf the first to spring from the boat onto the deck was Detective Bronson. The captsin walked up to him and shook his band. His grip was still on Warenne’s shoulder, the lat- ter following unresis'ingly. He seemed t» be temporarily paralyzed, and with- out volition. “What have you been doing, Cam?” asked the captaio, “Trying to save Mr. Warenne’s friend,’’ r. plied Bronson. * And you succeeded?” **T fear not.” “ Then—’”’ “The man must have been dead before, or soon after, be steuck the water.’’ “You found the body?’ “Oh, yes. I saw the blow from where I was watching the two.” e And heard what they said before?”’ oO “Well, I did; go cn.” “Twas standing by the life-buoy, and, fortunate- ly, had my knife out, cutting some tobacco for my ipe. ‘That was lucky,” “Very. S>»I cut the buoy loose and jumped over- board with it. I think the body and I must have : eached the surface of the ocean nearly at the same ime.” “Quick work, that!” “ At any rate my hand struck it a very few sec- onds after I leaped overboard,”’ * And you pulied if out on the buoy?” “Yes, and then felt for the port-fiie. I found it after a littl» trouble, pulled it, and lighted the torch, and here I am,” Meantime the sailors had lifted the body out of the boat, and had laid it on deck. Ti ere tbe ship’s doctor «examined it by the light of a lantern. The examination was soon finished. The doctor rose and shook his head. “ What is it, doctor?’ asked Bronson. “‘ The man was dead b fore he reached the water, ‘Robbery. You owed me that money; he refused or so nearly so that he never breathed again.” io give it to you, and you killed him,” * And theo robbed him?” 4 Css And after robbing him you did not pay until to-night,” “When I told you that if you’d sit in that game for you know that [ have never seen you since, , had whispered a few words to the doctor ‘* How could that be?” ; ‘“‘ His neck was broken by the force of the blow.” ‘* Where was he struck?” asked the captain, who ‘ore the latter began his examina’ tion. See “Under the chin, and with some blunt instry
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' as Ser be .. ry tar Bio Si ae Steyn ear ie i eer. eS rep a ak Tk de cae ew) es ir ee as -" wads ment,” replied the doctor. ‘‘ His chin is crushed in and his lower jaw shattered.” ‘Then he is stone-dead, doctor?” asked Bronson, ‘* Stone-dead,”’ ** And 1 ot from drowning?” ‘*No, Your heroic effo:t was made in vain, sir.” ** No,” replied the detective, ** not in vain.”’ ‘What do you mean?” “That if his body had not been recovered, the jury might have disagreed.” “Oo what groun:?’ *‘ That Warenne’s blow did not kill him; but that he died by drowning.” “And now?” **And now we will prove by your testimony that the man never breathed after he touched the wa‘er.”’ ** And that it was the blow that killed him,” add- ed the doctor. ‘*Preci-ely.”’ : “T will be ready to give my testimony wherever and whenever it may be needed.” “Thank you, doctor.” * And,” added the captain, ‘between us, doctor, we'll hang this fellow. ’ “That we will.”’ *Tt’s a pity we can not hang him twice.”’ oe Twice?’ , “ Yes.”’ **For what?” “First, for the murder of his uncle; second for the murder of this man.”’ sd ““Tnen."’ caid Bronson, is guilty of the first crime?’ **T know it.” ** You know it?’’ “Yes, There remains not the shadow of a doubt ” “Will you explain, now, captain? or do you prefer to wait? ** Just as well now as later.” All c ustered closely about him. And then he related how he had seen Warenne leave the smoking-room. And had noticed that his confederate followed closely behind hiro, He had oa his eye on the two until they met and began to tal Then, thinking that they might be plotting fur- ther mischief, he determined to hear what they were sayiag. : The two men were standing on the starboard side of the vessel. The captain bad gone to the larboard shrouds, and had climbed the ladder until he had reached the top, had crossed over and descended until within ear-shot, : The two men had not noticed him, and, with the exception of tee commencemens of their conversa- tion. had caught every word, And bad heard Blimm aceuse Warenne of murder- ing his uncle. , Which accusation Warenne had not denied. “Tt’s a clear cas ,”’ said Bronson. * And if he don’t hang for one murder, he will for the other,”’ added a bystander. “Certainly,” continued Cam, ‘‘He must have struck that man with a pair of knuckles, and the fact that he put them on will show premeditation.” **T certainly heard a slight splash just after the body feli overboard, ’ cried the captain ‘** That splash was doubtless caused by something Warenne threw overboaru,”’ exclaimed Bronson. And then he added: “‘T- wish I had youin New York, Mr. Warenve.” *“You shall have him there to-morrow!” said the captain, pointing forward. a you think that Warenne = CHAPTER XXIII. WARENNE’S REVENGE, Every one looked in the direction indicated by the captain steamer was rapidly approaching them, show- a5 me red and green lights. esides this. she was burning a signal, composed of various-c ,lored fires, indicating the line she be- longed to. i “That is the twin steamer to this one,’’ explained the captain. re “And bound to New York?” inquired the detec- sive.’ +s ” es, e an you not bail ber and transfer me to her?” “ Ocrtainly; that is what 1 meant when I said that you could reach there to-morrow.” E “Then | will get ready at once, and inform the ladies that we are about to leave the vessel.”’ “The ladjgs?”’ a4 Yes.”’ . ** What ladies do you mean?” **My wife and Miss Bryton.” Lawrence, who had been an attentive listener, started forward. : _“Did you say. that sir?” he exclaimed. ‘* Yes, she is below with my wife.” **Miss Lucy Bryton?” ae Yes. ” cs **But— Gh, impossible!” “Not at all; Mr. Warenne is responsible for her being hers.” ** What right had Mr. Warenne—”’ It was Warenne who interrupted: ‘*The right of a husband, sir.” “A husband! Surely you are not Lucy Bryton’s Miss Bryton was on board, husband?” __ “Surely I am; or, rather, 1 am the husband of Lucy Warenne, who was Lucy Bryton.” TT's a lie!” ; : . = S : i—-_ 73% ay > ae EIR RE aa eae aes The Detective Quartet. All started and looked around. For it was a woman who had spoken the words written above. It was Lucy Bryton, Or Lucy Warenne, Which? P A rocket hissed in the air over their heads, and ex- ploded in a thoasand sparks. And a glare of light burst out from the bows where signals were burning. The captain had not forgotten his promise to Bronson, He had signaled the approaching steamer to stop, His signal was promptly ans«ered. And the two steamers began to reduce speed as they neared each other. But Warenne pee no attantion to all this. * It is the truth!” he repeated, ** And I say that itis a lie!” And Lucy Bryton, closely followed by Mollie, “2a into the circle formed by the listening crowd, Instantly Cam stepped alongside his wife, while Lawrence followed Lucy closely. ‘*Lucy, my child,” said Warenne, quietl soothingly, “‘you are not yourself. Go anc When you are better—”’ ““Not myself? Then I have acted better than I knew,”’ * Acted?” “Yes. You thought ge ill—half-crazed; that 3 was without will-power, and entirely subject to you. & And so you were.” Kes apperens ys yes; but I wes deceiving you all the time, Long have I suspected you, long wanted an opportunity to unmask you!”’ rs Lucy—” “Yes; when you came to Saratoga with that story of my mother’s illness, I suspected you more strongly than ever before. And [ left there with you and stepped off to visit Jenny Reynolds, at Rondout, at your request, while you went on to New York.” ‘* You are improvising!” “Not wishing to worry mother, I did not let her know of my departure from Saratoga, I seconded ou _in everything,”’ * Even to marrying me.” ‘A lie! Istayed with Jenny until you came and told me my mother was well again,”’ ** My dearest Lucy—”’ ‘“Hold your tongue, sir!’’ cried Bronson, ‘or we'll find means to make you!” * “Then,” continued Lucy, “I went to New York with you, Jenny accompanying us, for I was ill,”’ *“ Yes, poor child, very iil!” “In imagination,” laughed Lucy. ‘And I con- tinued ill until yon brought Mollie, here, to me, and Lucy went home.” “Yes,” broke in Mollie, ‘‘and a more clever actress, on or off the stage, never lived.” ‘Thank you, Mollie,’ smiled Lucy, “You nearly deceived me, even after you told me you weré masquerading,” replied Mollie. ‘*A tissue cf lies!’ cried Warenne; “you and I were marvied in Saratoga, and you know it.” “When?” asked Lucy, sarcasticaliy, ‘ On the day you sent-my mother the message that I would be home in two days, dating your message Saratoga when I had been away from there a week rd ** How did you find that out?’ cried Warenne, off his guar), “ Mollie found it out for me.” ““And you’ve committed yourself,”’ added Bron- son, ‘‘se get ready to go back to New York and an- swer to two serious charges,”’ ‘ “And can I go too, Cam?” asked Mollie, ** Certainly, child.” “and 1?” added Lucy. * Yes, and this gentleman will take charge of you.” Lucy turned, and for the first time saw Lawrence. Charley!’ sie eried, and held her hands out ‘to him, regardless of everything else, except that she saw her lover again, But Lawrence shrunk back, * Lucy,” he said, “1 am charged with the murder of your mother’s husband.” * But you are innocent, { know.” . ‘ Innocent, I swear!” ““And I believe you, though the whole world ac- cuse you!” “Thank you, served.”’ And taking her hand, which he drew under his arm, he walked aft. But the captain stopped them. “lm sorry, my children,” he said, * to have to in- terrupt you: but time is extremely valuable. You must get ready to leave the vessel.” : “Very weli, captain,” returned Lawrence, “ and thank you for the opportunity.” “But your heaith—the trip to New Orleans ordered by your doctor?” _‘ Here is my health, my strength,” he replied, simply, locking fondly at Lucy; ‘she will @o me more god than all the sea-voyages ever pre- scribed.” “T believe you, my boy,” and the captain slapped him on the shoulder. 4 * You must be married, captain,’ hazarded Lucy, smiling a little, but with a tear shining in either eye. SE am, my lass, and one of my girls is about your €. and rest. Lucy; your faith is not unde- wy want to know her some day, sir,”’ ‘*That you shall, When I get beck from this trip, I'll bring her to see you.” By this time the two steamers were lying close ee each other, rocking gently on the quiet ee ee ee Lights were burning brillian‘ly, and the transfer could be easily and rapidly made. Sachels and bundles were quickly brought from below and harded into the boat, As for their trunks, they were deep in the hold, aud they would have to wait until the return trip of the steamer to get them, Many a warm hand-skake was given and returned, and many thanks showered on the captain. inaily all entered the boat, and she moved away, amid a volley of cheers aud waving of handkerchiefs, Suddenly, ani without a moment's warning, Warenne, who sat near Lucy, leaped to his feet. And as he did so he caught the gi'l by the arm, Then, with a mighty impuls’, he leaped over- board, dragging her with him, and sunk out of sight. CHAPTER XXIV. LOUIS JOINS HIS BROTHER. Wuen Conlay recognized the ins rument against whicn the little Frenchman was leauing, he could not repress a shudder, And with every sign of exultation the man stand- ing there noticed this, “ Aha!’ he shoured; ‘you t-r-r-emble!" and he chuckied loudly. ‘Sink, eef you tr-r-emble now, w’at vill be yo’ feeleenzs ven you see ze knife cut your t’roat.”’ He waited a mou ent, apparently for a r- ply, Then appeared to realize that Conlay could not an- swer on ace unt of the wire gaz Le wore, So, carefully avoiding those dangercus feet, he stepped to Conlay’s side and removed the fixture. *Zere!”" he eried, now holler your lungs out; no one can ’ear you,”” C nlay drew a long breath, and looked his captor squarely in the eye, **So, my frien”,’’ he said, to your other crimes,” * Assassinativn!” cried the Frenchman, Yes.” “Zis eez not assassination; venge!”’ The rolling of the “r’s'’ in the last word was like the patterin + of hail on a tin roof, The foreigner was crazed with drink, or crazy naturally, and Conlay realized the fact that no mer- cy would be shown him. , * Oh,” be said, quietly, determining to gain all the time he could, “* you think lam respoasible for your Rens Saale “You forget that he deserved death; that he—” ‘*Nevaire min’; he die, an’ you sent ’ecm back to Fr-r-ance; you capture ’eem ’ere,”’ “True, and a yood job it was—one of the best pieces of work I ever did.” * Vell, as 'ee die’, so die Biri I cot off your ‘ead wiz ze knife; bot fir-r-st 1 drivk to ze ‘ealth of Mad- am Convay.”’ He l+ft the room by means of A door that he closed behind him, and in a few moments returned. He brought a bottle and one glass with him, seat- ed himself at a small table, and poured out some brandy. “I drink to your healt’.”’ he laughed, as he swal- lowed the liquor at a gulp, and then tossed the re- maining drops into Con ay's face, * You are in good healt’ now, bot in a few min- ute’ you vill be dead.” : He poured out some more tiquor. : * Blood and cognac mek one ercel/ent d ink: eef you had ze time 1. would advise you to try bin,” Ag in he filled and emptied the g-ass, Conlay sealized that he was drinking so heavily in order tu nerve himself for the approaching climax, And the detective—cruel as his position was— could not repress a grin of contempt for a man who had to get drunk before committing a crime, for he knew that te greatest cri:inals and the most suc- Cegsful law-breakers never drink atleast not while “On duty,” on crime intent, When they need all their ie to bring their perilous ventures to a successful end, Once through with the ‘ job,” they drink and carouse their fill, alti ough there are exceptions to “you add assassination eet eez r-r-r-r-re- this as to every other rule, for some criminals are. strictly temperate, and will have nothing to do with any man who drinks, But, Louis did not mind the sneer. Already the fiery liquor was beginning to affect his brain. 2 His legs, however, were still steady, and his tongue was not the least bit thick from its effects, H- arose and pushed the table directly in front of Conlay,. and seating himself opposite the detective, he leaned over the table, until his face nearly touch- ed his prisoner’s. “You may watch ze bottel',”’ be said, and he pointed to the half-emptied brandy-flask that stood at his elbow. ‘*V'en ze las’ drop has been flung in your face, z’en vill I prepaic ze guillotine,” Again he filled and emptied his glass. “Tevez not a hard deat’,” he said, as he rose and went to the instrument. He looked at the knife, felt its keen edge, and then pulled the cord, the “aco blade slid down noiselessly_ ona, struck ‘he block at the bottom with a dull souné, ‘*Tn ordivaire cases,” said Beaulieu, ‘ze man is strap’ face down on ze board.” H- pulled the knife up between the aprghn as he spoke, until it rested in its original position, - ‘* But wiz you I shall do different.” He resumed his seat at the table. “T s’all tie you face wp, so you can see ze knife fall!” “ I'll shut my eyes,”’ and Conlay actually sneered in the Froagken ate face. ie: 4 ke: ‘Shut your eyes, vill you?” and the little foreign- co yaar * ~~” he % *
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er’s orbs fairly blazed with rage at being thus taunted by the undaunted detective. “Shut your eyes!’ By gar, I vill prop zem open wiz ze eure-d-nt/—ze toos-peecks, so you can not shot zem!”’ and he washed down his indignation in another glass of brandy. Then he again rose and went to the guillotine. The instrument was patterned after those used in France for the execution of all criminals convicted for capital crimes. The drunken Frenchman Jaid down on the board ota to receive the body of the victim, and rs a ‘*Seel Zis ees ze way you shall lie!” The table being between Conlay and the instru- ment of death, he could only see the head of his 7 mat and that only by twisting his neck to one side. arm! Slowly, quietly, cautiously he worked and twisted his hand, until, analy it slipped through the noose that held it and was free! The heat of the room had caused Conlay to per- spire freeiy, and the delay of the now drunken renchman bide fair to be fatal to the latter, Quietly Conlay wormed his hand back to his hip pocket—quietly he drew out his revolver; but, as he sat there, still bound, he could not reach the French- man with his bullet, for the table intervened. Should he wait, and, as the foreigner arose, end the matter there and then? But, suppose Louis should, before rising, call his accomplices? for he doubtless had some. Then Conlay would be worse off than now. He leaned to the left and looked. The Frenchman still lay there, and, just over his head, hung the fa'al cord, a pull on which would release the knife, Conlay’s eye followed the cord until it reached the int where it crossed the frame, and a thought hed through his brain, following which he raised his hand, aimed steavily and fired. The bullet cut the cord and freed the knife, which slid down like a flash. Louis had joined his brother! And a voice below cried: “ That’s Conlay’s barker, an’ I'll bet on it!” CHAPTER XXV. EXIT HENRY WARENNE, As Warenne and Lucy disappeared in the water,, Lawrence, who was seated well forward, leaped after them. Cam also rose, but, instead of following Law- rence, he steod still and watched the surface erly. Seconds that seemed hours passed, and then Lawrence’s head appeared close beside the boat. Instantly Cam grasped his arm and drew him up. Lawrence placed one hand on the edge of the boat, ani pulled, and as he raised his other hand, it could be seen thas he was the uppermost link in a living chain—a chain of which Lucy was the second link, and Warenne the third! For the girl had twisted herself away from the man, and now he held her by one hand, while Law- rence held the other. The latter and the girl were drawn on board by sturdy hands, and Warenne, whose grasp had been loosened, came next, : The first two were in full possession of thej senses; but Warenne was all but dead. His leap overboard had been a deliberate attempt at suicide, and as he sunk beneath the surface, he had drawn his lungs full of the fluid, so that when they reached the steamer, to which they were trans- ferred, he was all but insensible. Lucy was burried to her state-room, to which Mollie followed, and saw that she was made com- fortable before pe es her, Lawrence also was bundled below, and drank hot potions until he fell into a profuse perspiration and a deep s'eep. As for Warenne, the ship’s surgeon took him in hand, but, it must be confessed, not very tenderly, for his actions in leaping overboard, and pulling Lucy after him, had ‘been plainly seen from the steamer. Besides this, Bronson had spoken to the doctor. ate Save him, doctor,” he said, “if you possibly n. “I don’t know whether he is worth it,” replied the puysician, coldly; and be looked at Bronson as ig he = like to pecs pe pare ‘ica with you, perfectly,” laughe e detec- tive, * cot I have particular use for him.” ‘What under the sun is such a cur fit for?’ asked the doctor, surprised, and somewhat. mollified, “Wit for on oo thing iu the world,” that?” “ Aangi ” “Oh! Then—you- ?” “Tam an officer; that man is my prisoner!” “tT “* A . kad he is, I think, guilty of murder.” “Yeas aid ad t of the Wi Yes; you read an account of the Warenne . murder, in New York, some time ago?” y. _ “ Well, that is the murd man’s hew, and r | 7 i his rc n’s nephew, and, ‘The Detective Quartet. ‘Then, if he’s born to be hanged, he certainly can not be drowned, so we'll see if we can’t bring him to,” and the doctor worked away twice as hard as he had before this colloquy. : It was not very long before his efforts were crowned with success. Warenne opened his eyes, heaved a deep sigh and looked around, He saw Cam, shuddered and looked at the doctor. ‘Where am I?” he gasped. ‘* You are on the steamer, bound for New York.” ** Then I did not drown?” ** You certainly didn’t.’’ ‘“‘And the young lady who fell overboard at the same time that I did?” * Fil overboard?”’ “ Yes.” ‘“Was dragged overboard by en you mean!” And, disgusted at Warenne’s cold, deliberate false- hood, uttered almost in the face of death, the doctor left him, for he knew that the man required no fur- ther attention from him. Then Bronson stepped forward. “Tl take charge of you now,” said he, and he clicked a pair of hanc cuffs together, significantly. “Tf you will go below, and submit, quietly, to be locked in your state-room, I will not insist on put- ting these on you,”’ e waited for a reply, but none came. “Sulking, eh?” he said. ‘‘I'llsoon cure you of that complaint,” and, stooping over, he snapped the ‘bracelets ” on Warenne’s Wrists, ‘* When you come to your senses and show a little more disposition to be decent, I'll take them off,”’ he added. “Tt don’t make any difference to me whether I wear them or not,’’ and Warenne, though weak, rose to his feet. “*T can walk and talk well enough with them on, avd as I don’t intend to go inswimming again to- ni Ht, I can dispense with the use of my hands for awhi e.’ His teeth chattered as he spoke. ‘*But, I say,” he continued, as Bronson turned away. * Well?” asked the detective, * I’m beastly cold; can’t you let me have a drop of brandy?” ** Certainly; I don’t want any one to suffer,” “Then [ll go with you ard get it.” pbey walked a few steps and then Warenne ‘* After I get my drink, I’ll get you to let me step into the engine-room for a moment.” ** What for?” asked Cam. *To get warm: you must not forget that my clothes are soaked.’ * True,” “And I am, consequently, uearly freezing.” ‘“ Why not take off those clothes and go to bed?” “In one of those narrow, coffin-like berths?” * Certainly.” ‘“ After my late experience? No, thank you!” * What do you mean?” “That the being dragged back to life, after being neal ly drowned, is more torturing than if I had died.” “ Well?”’ “Should I go to sleep in a berth, I would surely eam ” ““ What then?” “The sense of suffocation that overwhelmed me as the water filled my lungs was nothing compared to that I would feel in the close, narrow confines of astate-ro.m.’’ “T see, and understand clearly.” “Then you will let me do asI ask?” * Cert: inly.”’ “Thank you.” “For nothing. You are my prisoner, accused of murder; but because you showed no pity, it is no reascn that I should show none.” ‘“*T did not murder my uncle.” “That we will see,” “We certainly will.” “And we won't discuss it now; here is your brandy.”’ Warenne gulped down the steaming mixture hastily, and then led the way to the engine-room, Bronson folowing him. : The warm air from the furnaces made the place intensely hot, but the detective bore it patiently. From where they stood they could see the work- ing of the ponderous machinery, as the steamer glided rapidly on. The great masses of iron and steel slid and slipped noiselessly backward and for- ward in the perfection of human invention. Suddenly, without a word, Warenne threw himself into the mass of mechanism. And before Bronson could utter a sound, the man was crushed and ground into a shapeless mass. CHAPTER XXVI. . MOLLIE CRIES, : THe sudden and awful taking-off of Warenne seemed a fitting end to his crimes, yet it was days before fhe detective recovered from it. The shock had been a severe «ne, and on the arri- val of Bronson, his wife and Miss Bryton in New York, he felt completely unnerved. They drove at once to the St, Cyr, from which place Cam notified the authorities of what had hap- ‘ pened, He also sent Conlay a dispatch. It was not long before Lawrence was under arrest, and the coroner had charge of Warenne’s remains. A reply to the message came, stating that Conlay would there during the afternoon. It was from Mrs. Conlay, and stated that he was out. but, that, as soon as he came in she would call, with him, on Mr. and Mrs, Bronson, So, leaving word that they would soon return, the two ladies and the detective left the hotel and went to Kightieth street. Arrived at the Warenne mansion, they rung the bell and asked for Lucy’s mother. ; Ske was up-stairs, and would be down in a mo- ment, the servant said. L ‘* You go and see her,’ urged Mollie, speaking to ucy. **T will,’ replied the latter; ‘‘she must be in a ter- rible state,” meee: So the girl went up-stairs, while Cam and his wife sat down in the parlor. a How much had transpired since their first visit to that house! : They remained quiet for a few moments, buried in their own thoughts, when suddenly Mollie spcke: “Cam,” she said, “‘ this is a shame!” * What, Mollie?’ “That we should be sitting idly here while Char- ley Lawrence is in jail.” ‘What can we do?” “Do? Why, go to Police Headquarters, tell them what we know, and free the boy!’ * What do we know?” ‘‘Tha, Henry Warenne ki led his uncle)!’’ **Oh, but we don’t know that!” ‘*But Blimm’s charges?” * Only guesses.” “Ts that all?” “*'Yes. We haven’t as much proof against War- enne as exists against Lawrence.” * You don’t believe him guilty.” **No I don’t!” ** And you do believe the other guilty?” 1 don’t know that Ican say Ido. ‘The evidence on both sides is certainiy wholly circumstantial, and uvfortunately for Lawrence, the proofs in his case exist. : ** And in Warenne's?” ‘*We have—or will have—only the testimony of the captain.” “Which, it seems to me, should be sufficient,” ‘Not at all.” “ And wl y not?” and Mrs, Bronson seemed to be slightly excited. ‘ * Because,” replied her husband, quietly, ‘the human mind dces not retain impressions clearly.” ‘* What do you mean, Cam?” : “Simply, that’ by the time our friend, the cap- tain, returns from New Orleans, he will have for- gotten most of the conversation he heard that night. * You think so?” “1 know it ”’ ‘* And the result will be—” : ‘That the counsel for the prosecution will twist him up so, that—and it’s ten to one lam right—he will contradict himself twenty times.”’ ‘Then our poor friend Lawrence—” : “Will, I fear, have to suffer, that the reputation of the prosecuting attorney may be sustained,” _ “You do not believe him guilty?” ‘TI know ke is not.” . * And vou can not save him?” ‘*T do not see how I ean.” ‘Then what can he do?” ‘** Save himself.”’ “How?” = By proving an al di.” ‘You think he can?” : “Tf he tells the uth there is no doubt about it,” ‘*Oh, I know he tells the truth. Lucy has told me all about him, and I believe in him thoroughly.” - “My dear,’ replied Bronson, “I would rather have you decide by intuition, with Miss Bronson’s help, than have a verdict from the justest jury in christendom!”’ “Then, Lawrence innocent, Warenne must have been fruity, poor soul!” LS, y t at ” 7 “He staked his future on that murder, and lost everything.” J ** Well, he seems to have been utterly irresponsible, and one can hardly hold him guilty.” ‘* You mean—”’ “That be was undoubtedly crazy.” ‘When he committed the murder?” * No; when he committed suicide.” Seis ‘ You don’t believe he murdered his uncle, in his sane senses, coldly and deliberately?” ‘*My dear child, [ do not believe that Henry Warenne murdered his uncle at all!” ** Youdo not?” ‘* Most decidedly—no!”’ * What makes you think that?” ‘*He was too smart a man to convict himself beforeband, as he would have done d he left Blimm, entered the jhouse, and killed his®#fmcle then and there.” ‘Then, Cam, who killed Henry Warenne?” Lucy and Mrs. Warenne entered the parlor at that moment, unseen by husband or wife, who were deeply interested in the conversativn. Both of them heard Mol:’'s question; both held their breath and awaited the answer For a moment the room was as still es death, for all the sound that was made within its walls. Noth- ing could be heard but the rush and the rumble and the roar of the Elevated trains. Then Bronson spoke. ““ Mollie,” he said, ‘I have been on the force for over ten years.” : “*T know it, Cam,”’ she replied. ‘And until now,” he continued, “I have never been baffled.” He stopped a moment; then he added: ** You ask me who killed Henry Warenne?” ‘“*'Yes, Cam.” “T du not know.”
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-*But you have your suspicions?” **T suspect no one.”’ “Then what shall you do?’’ “Throw up my commission, buy a farm, and go to raising potasoes for the Western market; that’s all I’m fit for, I guess,” ‘*Nonsense, Mr. Bronson!”’ It was Mrs. Warenne that spoke, Cam and wif turned quickly. Ina moment Lucy was b side Mollie, and Mrs. Warenne bes‘de the the detective, * Nonserse!”’ repeated Mrs. Warenne, “ you will do no such thing.’ *“T can do nothing else. madam,” replied Bron- son quietly, but with + certain despondency in his manoer that made Mollie heart-sick. She rose, and went to him. *Cam,”? she said, “remember that you have allies, and if you have failed in your search for the murderer, there remains some one who will discover the mystery of this crime.” ‘Who is it?’ he askeu listlessly. “Ty? And Mollie burst in:o tears, CHAPTER XXVII. MRS. CONLAY’S STORY. It took some time to quiet the hysterical girl, who was so wrought up by her husband’s apparent despondency that she had given way all at once. Mrs. Warenne, Lucy and Cam bustled about, and the old butler, who was still in service, came hurry- ing in, in answer to the bell. Seeing a lady half-fainting and wholly hysterical, he hurried out and in a moment returned, He had a glass of water that, in his eagerness, he spilled down Bronson’s neck, He carried an onion that he cut as he entered and held it under Lucy’s nose, causing her to shed innu- merable tears, neither of joy nor grief; and he held under his arm a feather duster! This latter was the most horrible of all the articles with which he was provided, for, taking a match from his re he ignited the whole business, and then heid the flaming, smoking, crackling mass under Mollie’s nose. The stench that arose therefrom was almost un- bearable, and ia the midst of the excitement a cab drove up to_the door, from which a lady descended and rung the bell, while the cabman, leaving his horse, ascended the steps and stood by her. The butler, still flurried, opened the door, and the first thing he did was to stick the mass of burning feathers into the faces of the new-comers! “Ugh! ah! oh!” they coughed in unison, while the cabman, seizing the stick, flung the obnoxious thing far into tue street. “Av a dacint, onasooming gintleman teks the pains an’ the trubble to call an ye, l’avin’ behint him the n’ise an’ bustle av the shtrates, to injy a bit av p’ace an’ quietude— A coughing spell interrupted him, and the lady was compel ed to speak, “We are looking fora Mr. and Mrs, Bronson,”’ she said, ‘* Are they here?” E “They are,’’ cried Cam, from the parlor, coming to th: door, and shaking hands warmly with Mrs. Conlay. “They told us at the hotel that you had come up se So, being anxious to see you, we drove up.” “ Yis! It was Mr, Mulvaney who spoke, and he shook his head as he sniffed at the lapels of his coat, “ An’ it’s an owdashus thin, intoirely, fur a da- cent man to be disintecthed, as if he was a pest- house payshunt, instid of bein’ recaved wid open arrums and welcomin’ wurrds!” “Come in, Conlay,’’ said Bronson, as he laughed at his fellow-detective’s make-up. “Come in, drop the Mulvaney part, and tell me the news,” ‘Is thet Warenne mon in thayre?” “He is nor.” as An phwere is he?”’ ‘Dead!’ “Dead? Then there is no necessity for any more masquerading here,’ and the couple followed Bron- son into the parlor, where they were introdneed to Mrs. Warenne. ’ Their arrival had a good effect on Mollie, who soon regained control of herself, and welcomed her friends warmly. - It did not take long to put Mr, and Mrs, Conlay in fult possession of all that had happened during the ocean voyage, including the death ot Warenne, Then it was Conliy s turn. : He told of the trap he had fallen into, and of the French cafe—how he was bound and expected at ever instant to™be guillotined—and of the shot he had fired, which freed the knife and sent it on its deadly mission, Then Mrs. Conlay took up the tale and told her stery. She had gone out for a time, and, returning, had found young Lawrence waiting for her. Hetold ber of his experience ai the meeting, and how Conlay had left the hall, using the little Frenchman as a ' Pattering-ram against the crowd—how, after the de- tective had left the hall, the meeting had turned into a free fight, in which all had taken a hand—or * rather a fist—but in which no one had been serious- ly injured, but quiet t length being restored, nay adjourned, when, as Charley was leaving the hall, he had heard a whisper—a whisper that had not at- tracted his attention at first, but as he walked away, the wor.s he had heard grew on him until they sounded like loud calls. ; These words were but three: ‘ Detectif—Louis— Guillotine!” That was all he heard, but they shaped themselves as he walked, until they seemed ce Y The Detective Quartet. to mean something a thousandfold more dreadful than their mere sound, So he had hurried to the Conlays as fast as he could, and his fea s were redoubled on finding that Mr. Conlay heg not yet returned. He was about to go out ag«in when Mrs. Conlay came in. | When he had finished telling her what he had | heard, she asked him what he thought it meant, | Then he told her of stories he had heard in the | shop, but which he hid put down as entirely beyond belief—incredible, in fact—stories which related that in the city of New York existed the Society of the Red Republic, most of whose members were foreigners—French Ita ians, Germans—Swiss, per- haps, and that those members took a most fearful , oath not to divulge any of the svuciety’s secrets. Should any one break that oath, the punishment was swift, sure, secret—decapitation by the guillo- tine! and Louis Beaulieu was the executioner named by the committee, appointed by the director. All of this, in connection with what the young fel- low had heard, and Conlay’s continued absence, led Mrs. Conlay to the terrible conclusion that by some means the detective had fallen into Beaulieu’s power, and that the latter had avenged, or was going to avenge, his brother’s death, for she knew ot Conlay’s connection with the other Beaulieu’s arrest. It — not take a moment for her to make up her | mind. ““Come,”’ she cried, ‘° I know where the cafe is; at least I know where Beaulieu takes his meals.’’ ; They hurried to the saloon, but the proprietor | rofessed uiter ignorance of what they wanted to | cnow. He denied ull knowledge of Conlay and of Braulieu. “Then,” cried Mrs. Conlay, to her interested lis- teners, ‘‘ I took severe measures.”’ ‘What did you do?”’ asked Mollie ‘**T poured some brandy in his hand, while Charley | held him and told him I d light and burn it.”” She stopped a moment. . ‘“Then [ heard Marty’s pis’ol go off, knew it, went up-stairs—and, here we are!” CHAPTER XXVIII. MOLLIE DISCOVERS A SECRET. 5 ‘AND now that you are here” cried Luey, 1 know that this terrible mystery will be solved,’ © Thank you, Miss Bryton,” returned Conlay ; ‘* we will do our best.”’ Then Mollie rose. ‘*Mrs. Warenne,” said she, ‘‘may I see the room in which your husband died?” “ Certainly, my dear; come with me.” ‘*And wili you let me stay there alone, as long as | \ T want to?” ** Again, certainly.” es at is it, Mollie?’? demanded Bronson, as Mrs. ee and Mrs. Bronson arose and went to the oor. ‘A notion, Cam—a something I cannot explain— an idea; but please do not (ppose me,” “Nothing could be further from my thoughts, my good wife. ‘And if he tried to,” broke in Conlay, ‘‘I would not let him.”’ “Nor I,” added Mrs, Conlay. * For,’’ continued her husband, '‘ more than once T have failed, and Mrs, C. has stepped in, and, appa- | rently by intuition, discovered what had puzzled me , for days.” “T do not know that I can do anything,’ said Mollie; ‘* but-a suspicion has crossed my mind—one so faint and indistinct that it can scarcely be said to have tak-n shape.” * A suspicion?” It en Bronson who asked the question. a“ es.” ‘* A suspicion of what?” “I will answer that question when I have com- pleted my investigations,” ‘Let her alone, Bronson,” said Conlay. “Yes,” added his wife, ‘and Ill wager that she discovers sumetbing,” “Thank you, Mrs. Conlay,” replied Mollie, simply. ““Can I not go with you?” “T thank you again,” said Mollie, ‘‘but as a mem- ber of the ‘Detective Quartet’ I feel that I should do something alone.”’ “* As you wish,”’ So Mrs. Warenne conducted Mollie to the library, the door of which was locked. It has not been opened since theday of the funer- al,” explained the widow. ‘Then n thing bas been disturbed?” ** Everything is exactly as your husband found it when he made his investigations.” H She selected a key frm a bunch she carried at , her bel , unlocked and threw open the door. | ' Mollie stepped in. “Do you mind my remaining here alone for a time, Mrs. Warenne?” she asked, “Certainly not, my child; but—” ‘Tt will not be the pleasantest experience in the world, I know,"’ added Mollie, in reply to the un- expressed thought. + For that reason I was going to offer to stay with ou.’ £ 3 ‘*T am superstitious about this; something tells me that I am on the brink of a discovery, which I can only make al ne,” ‘*TnenI will leave you alone, dear. and good fortune!” And Mrs, Warenne closed the door behind her she left the library. : Mollie was alone in the room in which Henry Warenne had died—in the room in which he had , been murdered! \ By whom? Good courage, ! agination, in w 15 That was what Mollie determined to discover, if it were possible, So, slowly and systematicalty she began a thor- ~ ough examination of the room. Dust was over everything—dust on the desk, on the books, on the pictures, for Mr. Warenne had uite a collection of paintings, and several of the nest hung in the library. _One ag particular] tion. It hung on the wall to the right of the chair in which meget Warenne had died. The light from the window fell broadly upon it. It was a striking work—a vivid reproduction of a French artist's im- ch three figures were prominent. wo were seated—a man and a woman. between them was a small table; on this table tne remaixs of a supper and a flask. The girl wasraisi g her glass on high, pledging her companion ia the red wine it contained; she smiled ia his eyes, while, at the same moment, an assassin behind him buried his auife deep between the shoulders! om The expression of the murdered man was some- thing marvelous. The look of joy and love had merged into one of pain and horror—pain from the knife and from the knowledge that had come to him of her faithlessness—horror at the shought than she had entrapped him into supping with her that he might be killed—that she saw the knife raised and lowered behind him as she pk dged him ia the brimming glass. The paintivg was the work of an artist, and one looking at it must needs look again, The fascination it exercised was something terri- ble, and Mollie, try as she would, as she pursued ber investigations, c: uld not keep her eyes off it. She tried, turned her head away again and aga’n, but, do what she would, her eyes returned to the painting. **Come,” she said to herself, ‘ this will never do: that picture gives me the shivers,” She walked over to it. * I will tuen it to the wall,” she said, ‘and then it will not trouble me.”’ She took hold of the frame and tried to turn the picture wre fr m her, but it was fastened firmly, and she could not stir it, She stopped and thought. Then she looked at the other pictures that were scattered about, They hung loosely enough, swung as they were by cords or wire, Why was this particular one fastened to the wall? Because it hung so low? ; No; for others that hung at the same height were not fixtures, There must be some 7eason for it, and this reason Mollie determined to discover. On the desk lay a heavy bronze paper-cutter. Taking this, she tried to pry the frame away from the wall, but without result; it was fastened sv firmly she could not move it. A pea she tried, but again failed. Then she replaced tne pe per-cutter on the desk, and sat down for a moment. “This is nonsense,’ she thought, “The picture is simply fastened—nailed—there, because— * Because why? “T wish I had not seen it. It has spoiled all de- sire in me t» look further, It is a fact that I am now more interested in discovering the reason wh that picture is nailed to the wall, than I am in find- ing out who murdered Henry Warenne! ‘Is there any connection between the two?”’ The question startled her, She arose and walked to the picture again, and now examined it closely. Somethitg seemed to strike her, for she caught the frame in both hands, and the mystery of Henry Warenne’s death was solved. The keenest of the Detective Quartet had triumph- ed where the others had failed, CHAPTER XXIX, THE MYSTERY SOLVED. Tose waiting in the cth r room hurried to the library as Mollie called them. “Have you learned anything, dear?” asked Luey, “Yes; much—all,”) 3 ‘“What can you mean?” demanded the widow, “T have learned who killed Mr. Wareune., . It—it was not—” Lucy could not say a word more; she faltered, trembled, and would have fallen, but Mrs. Conlay caught her and drew her close to her side. *Courage!’’ she whispered. © ; “Tt was not Charles Lawrence!” cried Mollie, grasping her meaning. f hen was it my poor unhappy nephew?” asked Mrs, Wareune. pee? ‘No, it was uot he!” TThank God!” cried Lucy and Mrs. Warenne at the same moment. * Then, Mollie,’ demanded Cam, ‘‘ who was it?” Mollie turned to Mrs, Warenne, “What I am about to say will give you great pain, madam, but, lentreat you, try nd bear it,” ‘**Go on, child!” whispered Mrs. Warenue. * Henry Warenne committed suicide!” Like a thanderbolt these words fell on the ears of her listeners, “Impossible!” at length cried Bronson. searched carefully, and found no trace of a wea- ov.’ “For the simple reason,” returned Mollie, quietly, mish eldtoaiacoks d d e wen é picture and pressed her thumbs fe pines two slight projections on the lower part of e frame. ‘tsrn Ses attracted Mollie's atten- | NTe “that precautions had been taken to —
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‘4 Ke ASI 18 RS 9" a i ; ‘ {y * , 7. i - saddle a murder on him. The picture flew out at the bottom, being hinged at the top. She swung the frame up and disclosed a small cioset in the wall, In it were a revolver and a letter. The revolver was fastened to a staple at the back of the cupooard by a strong piece of elastic cord, the size of a man’s finger, When the weapon wastaken out and held by the chair in which Mr, Waresne had died, the cord was stretced to its utmost tension. Mothe laid the pistol back and took out the letter. ** Read it, Cam,” she said. The detective took the, letter and turned to Mrs, Warenne, . “You wish it, madam?” he asked. “Yes,” she replied. ‘I can bear anything better than this awful suspense.” So Bronson read: **T hate Charles Lawrence, and dying. shall try to My hope and belief is that he wil be hanged before this letter is discovered. I have changed the date on a note he sent me long ago, and mailed it to myse!f. I have threwn his chain under the window. I bave stolen the silver and placed it in the false closet made by the one in which I place this letter. ** The butler is in the eagle the noise of the run- ning water will drown the report of the pistol. **As I fire, the weapon will fall from my lifeless hand and be drawn into the cupboard. It will knock away the upright which supports the picture, when a will swing down and be caught by the catch be- ow. **T have experimented with this over and over, and fear no failure. ‘Again I say: I hate Charles Lawrence and die that he may hang. ‘‘ And in full possession of my senses, and with a clear mind I sign this: TENRY WARENNE.” That was all. The man had committed suicide, and his letter would clear Lawrence—which, in fact, it quickly did; for after a few legai difficulties, the young man was set free, and in a few days more was married to Lucy—the happy Lucy. The fg ence attendants at the wedding were: Mr. and Mrs, Br.nson; Mr.and Mrs. Conlay: The DETECTIVE QUARTET. THE END. Beadle's Dime Library. BY CAPTAIN HOWARD HOLMES. 664 Monk Morel, the Man-fun er. 654 Sol Sphinx, the Feriet Detective, 642 Red Pard and Yellow, 608 Silent Sam, the Shadow Sphinx. 592 Captain Sid, the Shasta Ferret, 579 Olid Cormorant. tue Bowery Shadow. 569 Captain Cobra, the Hooded Mystery. 659 Danton, the Shadow Sharp. 550 Suk Hand, tae Mohave Ferret. 543 The Magnate Detective. 582 Jacc Javert, the Independent. Detective. 523 Reynard of Red Jack: or, The Lost Detective, 512 Captain Velvet's Big Stake. 505 Phil Fox, the Genteel Spotter. _ “496 Richard Redtire, the Two Worlds’ Detective. 487 Sunshjne Sam, a Chip of the Old Block, 480 Hawkspear, the Man with a Secreu, 468 Coldgrip in Deadwood. 460 Captain Coldgrip. the Detective 453 Captain Coldgrip’s Long Trail. 447 Vo:cano, the Frisco Spy. ' 441 The California Sharp. 434 Lucifer Lynx, tne » onder Detective. 42+ Father Ferret, the Frisco Shadow. 413 Captain Coldgrip in New York, 407 Captain Coldgrip’s Nerve; or, Injun Nick. 400 Captain Coldgrip; or, The New York Spotter. 392 The Lost Bonanza; or, The Boot of Silent Hound. 882 The Bonanza Band; or, Dread Don of Cool Clan, 874 Major Blister, the'Sport of Two Cities. 365 Keen Kennard, the Shasta Shadow, 852 The Desperate Dozen. _ 847 Denver Duke, the Man with “ Sand.” _ 840 Cool Conrad, the Dakota Detective. _ 335 Flash - $21 California Claude, the Lone Bandit. 294 Broadcloth Burt. the Denver Dandy. Dan, the Nabob; or, Blades of Bowie Bar. 278 Hercules Goldspur, the Man of the Velvet Hand, BY WM. G. PATTEN. 663 The Giant Sport; or, Sold to Satan. #56 Old Piug Ugly, the Rough and Ready. 648 Gold Glove Gid, the Man of Griv. _ @41 Aztec Jack, the Desert Nomad. _ ‘631 Colonel Cool, the Santa Fe Sharp. ; fn spins Nameless, the Mountain Mystery. Dismal, the Range Detective. Hustler Harry, the Cowboy Sport. BY DR. NOEL DUNBAR. The Detective in Rags; or, The Grim Shadower. The True-Meart Pards, — A new issue every Wednesday. Be _ Beadle’s Dime Library a ue. sale by all : ten cents co) y mail on ae bach. BEADLE & ADAMS, | of twelve cents each, - el 5% William street, ‘New York. The Detective Quartet. Issued Every Wednesday. BHADLE'S POPULAR LIBRARY. PRICE, FIVE CENTS. This New Library will give only the Best Work of the Best Writers in POPULAR AMERI- CAN ROMANCE, Each and every issue will be a bright, strong, markedly original work, produced expressly for the series by special order, and wrought up to the highest standard of popular story excel- lence, Its field will cover the wide scope of Wild West, Border, Mining, Ranching, Detective, Secret Service, City ard Sea Life, and thus maintain, as a Library, an interest at once varied and commanding. As no inferior or amateur production is ad- mitted to the schedules, so everything of a questionable or vitiating character is studiously excluded. Therefore, with the trade as well as with readers, BEADLE’S POPULAR LIBRARY is certain to win a wide pcpularity, and become one of the standards in the literature for the people, : —Dandy Dick, Detective; or, The Still Hunt at Burnt Match. By Robert R. Inman. —-The Three Spotters; or, Running Down the Rogues, By Marcus H, Waring —‘‘Ser- geant Mark.” —Cowkoy Chris, the Man of Caliber; or, Hot Times in Hot Holes By Wm. West Wilder —‘ Wyoming Will.” —Dandy Dick’s Double; or, The Severed Head of Paradise Pocket, By Robert R, Inman. —The Street Spotters’ Weird Hunt; or, The Angel of the Docks. By Marcus H, Waring —‘* Sergeant Mark.” —Mustang Merle, the Boy Rancher; or, Old Joe Bundy’s Wipe-out. By Maj. Sam §. Scott. —Flip Fred, the Pack-Peddler Prince; or, The Witch of the Black.Swamp. By Edward Lytton. —Cowboy Chris to the Fore; or, Scourging the Scourge of the San Juan. By Wm, West Wilder. —The Three Spotters’ Dead Mystery; or, Blonde Bert of Brick Alley. By Marcus _ H, Waring—‘“ Sergeant Mark.” ait oe ears “ AX oy : = . r= + ; tos <n - Sree ierebann ens a, ee a a np ig ‘- As mee aes aa ae —Dandy Dick Decoyed; or, The Terrible Tussle at Satan's Delight. By Robert Randolph Inman. -—Rustling Rob, the [ramp’s Protege; or, The Master of the Cedars. By Edward Lytton, —Mustang Merle’s Mine; or, Dolores Dick and Pard. By Maj. Sam 8. Scott. —The Three Spotters’ Duel in the Dark; or, The Thugs and Trailers of Gotbam. By Marcus H. Waring,—‘‘ Sergeant Mark.” --Cowboy Chris in Cinnabar; or, Tbe Battle of the Blue Jeans, By Wm. West Wilder, —‘* Wyoming Will.” —Lightning Leo, the Behind-the-Scenes De- tective; or, The Square Sport’s Secret Trust. By Redmond Blake, —Dandy Dick’s Decoy; or, The Rousing Time at Rough-and-Tumble. By Robert Ran- dolph Inman. —Billy Bub, the Double Prize Detective; or, Old Arsenic’s Secret. By Edward Lytton, —Mustang Merle's Merciless Foe; or, The Ac- cursed Brand. By Maj. Sam 8, Scott. ~The Three Spotters’ Hot Heat; or, Running Down the Red-Handed Sport. H. Waring—‘' Sergeant Mark.” By Marcus —Cowboy Chris, the Desert Centaur; or, Hawking for the Human Hawk. By Wm. West Wilder—-‘‘ Wyoming Will,” —Lightning Leo’s Luck; or, The Rats of the’ River. By Redmond Blake, —Dandy Dick’s Dead-lock ; or, The Last Round at Nip-~n’-Tuck. By Robert R, Inman, Lion Heart Lee, the Lakeside Detective; or, Saved by the Skin of His Teetb, By Frank Fort, —Bullion Bret, the Giant Grip; or, The Rue- ‘tion at Git-Thar. By Edward Lytton. —The Three Spotters’ Convict Client; or, A Dead Man’s Device. By Marcus H, War- ing. —Mustang Merle’s Mandate; or, Wiping Ont the War Saddles. By Major Sam 8. Scott. — Detective Frank’s Full Flush; or, Dodger Against Dodger. By Charles Morris. .—Dandy Dick’s Defense; or, The Invisible Seven of Imperial City. By Robert R, In- man, —The Detective Quartette; or, Suicide, Mur- der or Accident?) By T. W. King. —Cowboy Chris, the Vengeance Volunteer; or, The Death Hunt Pards. By Wm. West Wilder—“ Wyoming Will.” —Poor-House Pete, the Postal-Clerk Detec- tive; or, The Precious Patrimony. By Ed- ward Lytton. : For sale by all newsdealers at five cents per copy, or sent, post-paid, on receipt of six cents each, hee BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William street, New York, _ : a Seay Bs te be wit finale a4) Sait aiid apnea nv 3 ee ee er rere rm a ae