Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 875) (1894 05 01)
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orp eee + al Tn @at's 2s ee ail ‘ M ie ESS <T Get ‘i iets RS am it ih SSS Ta lt +3 Nt ln! ti i — shel Tiina TAN Entered as Second Class Matter at the New York, N. x, Post Office, pikes 1844, by BEADLE AND ADAMS. May 1, 1894. $2.50 PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BE ADLE AND ADAMS. Price, No. 875. ob i ia RI cara No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, ‘NE Ww shine wed PO Ty 5 sapen'ie Th _Vol UO. DETECTIVE D DAVE AVE'S CLOSE oLOSE CALL. BY DAN DUNN shabu, of the Bennet Sekvion eee i \ i hy 9 | MK i Hl i STRUM ULULCLCCCCCUCLMLCOLNCUTTUUMUOOITCOLCALLCCTCOOTUTUTUTICUNN TT OTT dea Hit en MH Why Nay LUN “ SAN IN RESPONSE TO THE SUMMONS OF DICK, THE RUFFIAN, THE PARTY WAS ADMITTED. 7 t
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a Detective Dave's Close Gall: , Farrel Fox, the Man of Many Faces, BY DAN DUNNING, (of the Secret Service Corps.) CHAPTER I. A MIDNIGHT MYSTERY. It was about two o’clock in the morning when three men entered the residence of Mr. Benjamin Hunter. Evidently the men were expected, for a peculiar knock on the base- ment door caused it to be opened, and entering the men ascended to the parlor floor, where two of them remained, while the third, hav- ing removed his coat and shoes, left the par- lor carrying a short iron bar in one hand, and a dark lantern in the other, ‘**Did you see who it was let us in, Jim- my?” ‘* No,” was the equally guarded answer. ‘** Don’t know whether it was a man or a woman, I suppose?” persisted the first speak- er: ‘*No, no! See here, George! This is Kelly’s job—don't try to pry into how he managed to get in; I don’t know and don’t— Ha! What's that?” , “ That” was the muffled sound of a heavy body falling on the floor above, and the men in the parlor listened intently, and in evident alarm, for ‘further indications of trouble. Ten, twenty, thirty minutes passed in anx- ious silence—and then the watchers were startled by the noise of the opening and closing of the hall door. «It was done softly—cautiously—but to the listeners, the noise seemed loud enough to wake the dead. There was a dim light burning in the hall, and, a half-minute after the closing of the door the men in the parlor saw a man steal- ing up the stairs. ‘“ They’re onto us! Kelly ‘ll get the collar sure!” excitedly whispered George, adding: ‘I wonder if they’ve got the house sur- rounded? Come, let’s try out’ thé back way!” ve however, was made of sterner stull:. «7 ; ‘Shut up!” he commanded in a hoarse whisper. “If it is a ‘collar,’ the house is surrounded, but they’ll have to fight for me.” Another hour elapsed, the burglars in the parlor—now feeling assured that there was nothing to fear fromvthe police—taking things quite coolly, although ‘‘ George” could scarcely restrain his uneasiness and curiosity regarding the movements of the third of the trio of burglars. Suddenly—just as the clocks were chiming the hour of four—the burglar who had béen designated as Kelly appeared at the door of the parlor and beckoned to his comrades to follow him down-stairs, On reaching the basement, Kelly went to the sink and washed his hands before exchang- ing a word with his confederates. ‘*We must watch our chance to get out, now, and be mighty careful about it, too,” he said on joining the others, who had observed a Ses sts se Detective Dave’s Close Call. two, later—having given “‘ Jimmy” a chance to get clear of the house, or return if he saw anything suspicious—and George, following the example of his confederate, slipped through the basement door and was out on the sidewalk, walking toward Broadway, within half a minute. Half a minute later, the leader followed the example of his confederates, joining them ‘before they crossed Broadway, where all three boarded a cross-town car bound east- ward, About an hour later, that is to say, about six o'clock, screams of murder coming from the Hunter mansion attracted the attention of a policeman who was patrolling Fifth av- enue, and running in that direction, he saw two young men standing in their night clothes on the stoop. ‘**Come in!” they. shouted. been murdered!” He hurriedly entered the house, and going up-stairs, was shown by the distracted young men the mangled remains of their father stretched on the floor of the front reom. In addition to the ordinary furniture of the room, there was a writing-desk and a small safe. The door of the latter stood wide open. The key was missing. Inquiry revealed the fact that it was William Hunter who discovered the body, and his ery had aroused his brother Frederick. The latter rushed into the room and knelt beside the body to ascertain if life was ex- tinct. This explanation was made to the coroner to account for Frederick’s night-shirt being smeared with blood. The policemen summoned by the young men found in the hall an instrement known as a carpenter’s ‘‘dog”’—a bar of iron about “* Pather’s eighteen-ipches long, turned down and sharpencth at each end, somewhat in the shape of ¥staple. “The incised wouprds were made with the sharp end, and the other injuries were caused by the blunt angle,” decided the coroner when looking over the affair before the in- quest was begun, “ Quite right!” agreed the police inspector, who accompanied the coroner. ‘‘ Quite right, sir; but does that suggest nothing to ou?’ ‘Well, no, I can’t say that it does.” ‘Then I shall be careful not to do so—at\ present. Instead, let me tell you that that ‘dog ” is a tool often used by workmen in building, and may have been in this house for years. ‘© Now, on the other hand, it is certainly not the kind of a weapon that a deliberate assassin or professional burglar would have carried with him. f * Another thing. Whoever committed the crime was thoroughly acquainted with | the premises—or was guided by somebody the great care exercised by the leader in clean- | ing his hands, ' rSabe Kelly seemed somewhat excited on joining his confederates, who now were peeping through the window curtains, watching for a favorable opportunity to quit the house, and this presented itself just as the leader joined them, : **Now’s our time! That policeman won't ‘turn his head again until he reaches Sixth avenue!” declared Jimmy, and at an assent- ing nod from the leader, started out of the basement. ‘Get along!” directed Kelly a minute, or who was. No one else could have so com- pletely covered up his tracks,” A light began to dawn upon the coroner— an awful, horrible light which caused him to whisper the question: ‘You don’t mean to—” ‘“T don’t mean anything, except that I’m going to sift this matter to the very bottom!” interrupted the inspector, adding: ‘* But, it would be as well to bear in mind that the hody was discovered by one of the handsomest and most popular young men in | the best New York socicty—consequently one requiring a very deep purse. “‘ And, still another thing. Mrs. Hunter being in the country there are but two ser- vants—the housekeeper, and a man who has been here for so many years that Mr. Hun- ter trusted him as much as either of his: sons. j “These ‘two servants sleep on the top floor. Underneath sleep William and Fred- erick Hunter, and’ underneath, again, the murder was committed. “There is every indication of a desperate. R | struggle, yet none of these people heard any unusual noise.” . ““T see what you mean,” muttered the- | coroner. | ‘*T’ve already told you that I don't mean ‘anything except to do my duty!” sharply | corrected the inspector, adding: ** And it. will be as well not to dwell too much on whatever I’ve said may suggest. It might give the murderer a hint to quit.” CHAPTER II. DARING DAVE DUNCAN. ‘‘MurDERED, of course, but why, and by | whom?” The speaker was a slender, unobtrusive- | looking young man of twenty-five. or there- i abouts, by profession a detective, and by name Duncan—‘‘ Daring Dave” his friends calied him. The detective was standing in the room in which Benjamin Hunter, the wealthy banker and broker, had been murdered the previous night. | * A very mysterious affair,” continued | Duncan, who was alone in the room. ‘A very mysterious affair, indeed, where a man | is murdered, and evidently after a struggle, ) and yet neither his two sons, nor the house- | keeper, nor the man-servant, heard any noise.” Nothing in the room had been disturbed from the moment the body was discovered : until the arrival of the police and coroner, but after the inquest had been held no fur- ther care was observed, and when the pri- | vate man-hunter arrived on the scene, the room had been cleaned and the furniture ar- ranged, ‘“Worse and worse!” muttered the detec- tive, observing tlre rearrangement of the fur- niture—the newspapers having described the room as being in a greatly disordered state. The coroner’s jury had rendered a verdict of murder against party or parties unknown, and immediately after heavy rewards were offered by the Stock Exchange, by the mayor, and by the widow of the murdered man. ‘*Poor prospects of my ever claiming any ae ; part of that money,” soliloquized the detec- tive, as having glanced around the room once more, he started to leave the house. On the stairs he met Fred Hunter, one of the murdered man’s sons. ‘** Well, what do you think of it?” asked the young man, ‘There is nothing to say—nothing more than the newspapers have said,” answered | the quiet man, adding: ‘Everything in that room isin its proper place, and all traces of the crime being re- moved, there is no opportunity of forming ~ any opinion, based.on the appearance of the room.” ! “Then you do not feel very hopeful of earning any of the enormous rewards which are offered?” ‘‘No; not very hopeful.” he Young Hunter uttered the monosyllablé in a tone which sounded curiously like re- lief, as the observant man-hunter noted with astonishment, and it caused a one Why should this young man feel relieved, because his father’s murder promised to be @ ase matter to bring home to the guilty party? 4 ‘*Pshaw! I must have been mistaken!” declared Duncan, as he left the kouse. “This is the good young man—the model son. If it were the other, now, there might be some reason for suspicion, ‘‘Fred sticks to business like a leech; bas no visible vices, and has from all accounts shown himself a good son, for the father a most improbable idea, to enter his min swore by him. “Will, on the other hand, gave no heed to —
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BN as J | green, as his father and protner did on *Change.”’ Thus musing, the man-hunter slowly strolled up-town, the last man on Broadway who would be taken for a detective. ** Well, I suppose there's no use worrying over it, though I might have found some Detective Dave’s Close Call. 3 “ J ’ I . . . ‘ business; drinks some, and gambles on the | out rather strong with this assertion, Dave Duncan shook his head doubtfully as he muttered: ‘*You are wrong, gentlemen. Will Hun- | ter had nothing to do with it.” As the detective uttered the words, his | | oflice-boy entered, and announced: ‘*Gentleman to see you, sir—won’t give clue if that room had been allowed to remuin | his name.” as it was before the inquest— “‘Wello! There’s Will Hunter, now—and drinking, too!” The detective had just entered the bar of one of the big hotels when he thus suddenly interrupted himself on beholding the elder son of the murdered banker. William Hunter was a fine looking young man of about twenty-eight. Always elegantly attired, and always well supplied with money, he was well known about town, and bore the reputation of being a ‘‘ jolly good fellow.” Just at present, Will Hunter was attract. ing considerable attention. Rumor was already at work, connecting the young banker’s name with the ol banker’s murder, and within a half minute after entering the bar, Dave Duncan realized that young Hunter was suspected of having had a hand in his father’s death. “By Jove! They have two Central Office men shadowing him!” mentally commented Duncan as his eyes fell upon two police de- itectives whom he recognized. Will Hunter looked worried—suspiciously so, and Duncan felt inclined to join in the suspicion already growing against the young man, but within a very few minutes the in- clination was quelled. ** No, he is not the man,” decided the de- tective as he left the bar, after listening for a few minutes to the conversation going on about him concerning the murder, and the actions of young Hunter since, and just prior to the affair. *«They were continually quarreling about money matters,” one of the bar-room loungers had remarked. ,; _ “So I’ve heard,” assented another, udd- ing: _“‘ And the pretty girl who helps to spend his momey, a8 well as keep him from busi- ness, formed another bone of contention be- tween them, I’ve been told.” “Tt looks pretty queer—black, in fact, against him,” declared the first speaker. ‘Tt does; for the servants, and the brother, have accounted for their movements until the old man himself came home near mid- night, but Will has admitted returning much later, and according to the doctors, about /the time his father was being murdered,” | / added the other. __ “ Yes; and everything goes to prove that, if an outsider committed the crime, it must have been with the connivance of one of the people in ba rat for there were no signs of forcible erftrance.” ‘Nevertheless do not believe Will Hun- ter had anything to do with the murder,” muttered the man-hunter ag he left the hotel. Why? Had anybody asked the question, the de- tective would have found it difficult to give a satisfactory answer, and: before another twenty-four hours had elapsed) the opinion expressed by the bar-room loungers was the prevailing one throughout the city. The gencral complexion of the case was - decidedly black against Will Hunter, and he appeared to be the only-person oblivious of the fact. _ ‘He will be arrested after the funeral is over,” was the general opinion, followed by an equally general outery because the day following the interment of Benjamin Hun- ter found his son William still a free man, ‘“A poor man would be in jail,” was the cry of press and people, This was, probably, true; but sitting in his office reading a newspaper which came | $$$ There was nothing strange about the re- fusal of the visitor’s name, and the man- hunter ordered: “Send him in!” A moment later, William Hunter was standing before the detective. CHAPTER III. THE NEW CLIENT. ‘THe general outcry has reached, and aroused him,” thought Duncan, on behold- ing in his visitor the very man he had been speaking of. He was right, but it was not directly through the newspapers that William Hun- ter bad been stirred into action. Immediately after returning from his fa- thers funeral, William Hunter received a letter reading as follows; “‘Apparently, you are unaware, or care- less, of the way your name is being copnect- ed with the death of your father, and I feel it my duty to call your :@tention to the in- sinuation that you are drinking to drown re- morse! ‘Read the newspapers.” There was no signature, nor was any needed; for, though the writing was not particularly familiar, it was enough so, to cause the astonished young man to exclaim: ‘Nellie Butler! Can it. be possible that— Yes, it is her stationery. I know it. She has it made to order.” The Miss Butler referred to was a young lady with whom Will Hunter had quarreled several months previous to the opening of our story, after a very brief engagement. Mr. Hunter was astonished at receiving the letter from Miss Butler, because the lat- ter had refused to recognize him from the day the engagement was broken; but the letter set him thinking—with the result that next day he called on Detective Duncan as above stated, ‘* Well, sir, what can I do for you?” asked the detective, ' **T don’t know whether you can do any- thing; but ’m anxious you should try, and am willing to pay well for the effort.” The visitor spoke slowly, thoughtfully, at the same time taking from his pocket the let- ter which had aroused him, and placing this before Duncan continued: ‘© You know me, I presume?” The detective nodded, “¢Well, that is a letter which I received last night, and which awakened me to a realization of the fact that I am suspected of the murder of my father. Read it.” Duncan glanced at the note, and then at Hunter, saying: “This is from a know, I presume?” ‘*Yes,”’ asserted the visitor, colorin slightly, and thereby causing the Kean-eyed man-hunter, to mentally declare: ‘Just what I thought, the man actually blushed because the letter comes from a lady. ‘* All the money he has spent, and all the knocking round he has done, hasn't spoiled him, yet.” Unconscious of the good impression he had created, Hunter, meantime, was saying: ‘* You have doubtless heard what that note | hints at, and it is to clear me of that vile charge that I wish to employ you.” friend—and one ‘you “Which means that the murder must be proved against somebody else,” remarked Duncan, adding: * And, to do that will be difficult, or other- wise, actording to what you can tell me.” * I told all 1 knew at the inquest,” declared Hunter. The detective—without appearing to do so —shot a lightning-like glance at his would- be client, who after a few moments’ silence, continued; » “If you can think of anything that I might possibly have forgotten, why fire away with your questions, for there’s no use denying that I was pretty well mixed-up the morning the inquest was held.” ‘Oh, there’s, no trouble about finding questions to ask. The trouble is, can you, and will you, answer them?” ‘* All that I can answer, I will. It's easier to answer you than a police justice, and from the fact that I was shadowed by two Headquarters men this morning, it looks as if I would have a chance to do that before long.” The suspected man spoke calmly, but it was a desperate calmness, and the unusually pale face, flashing eyes and compressed lips plainly revealed how bitterly he felt and re- sented the cruel suspicion now being almost openly expressed regarding the Hunter mur- der. ‘Murderer indeed—bah!” mentally ejacu- lated Duncan, and aloud: “Very good, Mr, Hunter. Tell me what you know and suspect, and I’ll guarantee to put the blame where it belongs. ‘** Now, to begin with, what time did you get home that night?” ‘* About two, I think. It may have been a little later, but it was, certainly, between two and three.” ‘** Heard nor saw anything unusual?” ‘“* Nothing.” ‘‘T fell asleep as soon as I reached my room, and did not awake until about six o'clock,” “Good! That’s all straightforward, but how about the others, Mr. Hunter?” ** What do you mean?” ‘Why, you know everything points to the theory upon which you are beginning to be hounded: that the murder was com- mitted either by, or through the connivance of an inmate of the house. ‘“You have had quarrels with your father over various matters, and that’s why they have selected you— But have you no sus- picion as to the murderer?” “No; I can’t say that 1 suspect anybody,” replies ‘Hunter in a thoughtful tone, ad- ding: “It is true there were frequent disputes between my father and myself, for, as is claimed, I was careless about business, but there was no open rupture between us.” ‘“And the servants—are they above sus- picion?” “T would as soon suspect my brother!” was the prompt response. ‘*And he, of course, is above the breath of suspicion?” slyly suggested Duncan, “Why, oprtatnly?” indignantly exclaimed the client, | ‘‘ What do you mean?” ‘* Just what I said. There is, apparently, no doubt that, if the crime was committed by outsiders, they were admitted to the house, and, therefore, some of the four re- maining inmates was a party to the murder, _ You are suspected by the police—that is quite evident; but, if I,am to prove you in- nocent, and you declare the two servants as much above suspicion as your brother, there appears no reason why all three should not be looked after.” : William Hunter looked rather bewildered at this, and before he recovered himself, Dun- can continued; L “From all I know, or can learn, the in- -quiry is narrowed down to three people, and before looking elsewhere I shall go for them,” Diy ete "adi erat aed -“ eo
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‘**But you surely cannot suspect—” began the client, when the man-hunter inter- rupted: “‘Mr. Hunter, I must conduct this case in my Own way, or not at all!” ‘* Very well, do as you think best,” agreed the other, and asked: “ What shall I pay yon?” ** Nothing now; wait till I make a report.” CHAPTER IV. A DISCOMFITED DETECTIVE. For a week following his consultation with the quiet little man sometimes called Daring Dave Duncan, William Hunter impatiently awaited a report, During that week he remained at home nearly all the time, and, when he did go out, did not visit any of his former haunts. One afternoon while taking a stroll, he met _ Miss Butler and because of the warning let- ter would have stopped to speak to her, but the young lady swept by with a look which plainly forbade his addressing her. ‘“* What the deuce does that mean?” won- dered the astonished young man, sorely puz- zled by the actions of Miss Butler. | ‘““Though it may be that she noticed those two fellows who are constantly dogging me,” he muttered, tone to the detectives: i who had been shadowing him ever since the murder, A little further on, Hunter met another member of the Butler household—Jessie Spencer, a cousin of the other. This young lady, unlike her cousin, greet- ed Hunter with a pleasant smile, and after a few sympathetic words, suddenly asked: “But why are you not looking after your ‘business, Mr. Hunter? ‘* Even the mere pretense of business would tend to divert your thoughts from this ter- rible affair,’ ’she hastily added, while coloring te under the amazed stare fixed upon er. “Tam not attending to business, Miss Spencer, but”— forming a sudden resolution —‘‘the best way I can show my apprecia- tion of your kindness is to do so, and 1 shall begin to-morrow. ‘* Another thing,” he continued, ‘TI find there is a monstrous suspicion against me. To clear that away I’ve engaged a detective and am expecting a report from him every hour,” The color on the girl's face deepened, and with a hasty wish that he would find the change beneficial, she left him—as much puzzled by her kindness as her cousin's cold- ness, ‘*Know her, Steve?” asked one of the shadows as the girl passed the corner where. they were loitering. ‘* Yes, she’s a daughter of Spencer who was a partner of Butler’s. Firm bu’sted just before Spencer kicked the bucket—guess it killed him—and she’s been living with Butler since. He and Spencer married sisters, but this girl's mother’s been dead for many ears,” “ But this Butler's well fixed, isn’t he?” *‘Oh, yes. There’s always something out of a big wreck, and he’s worth more to-day than before Butler & Spencer went up.” “Then this girl must have got something out of it?” ‘* No, I don’t think she’s got a dollar. The creditors gave him a chance, and hedid pull himself together with a rush, but I guess she’s little better than an unpaid servant— may be a companion to Bucler’s daughter—” “Hello! There goes our man into Blank House,” interrupted the otker detective, * Going to break out again. You go in and see what he’s up to; I'll stay outside,” directed Steve. The latter was nearly Miss Spencer's position in’ the Butler house- hold, but wrong in saying she had no money, for through her mother she had an income just about sufficient to clothe her. } correct in defining | paral ea th Diane “ FMed Detective Dave’s Close Call. Leaving Miss Spencer and her affairs for the present, we will precede the officia] sleuth - hounds in ascertaining what William Hunter was ‘‘up to” in the Blank House, It was not tothe bar the suspected mur- derer was bound, (as the detectives sup- posed,) but to the telegraph, office, and by the time this fact was discovered the follow- ing message had been sent to Mr. David Dun- can: **Anxiously awaiting your report. Let me hear from you immediately.” ** And, now, I guess I'll go home and stay there until until he calls,” thought Hunter as he left the office. It was not to be, however, for as he step- ped into the hall one of his friends met, and exchanged a few words with him. ‘“‘Steve’s ” partner, meantime, having dis- covered that his man neither was nor had been at the bar, hurried to the street, but **Steve,” of course, had seen nothing of Hunter. ‘* You stay here,” directed Steve, ‘‘ I'll find him in a few minutes.” He did, too, for just as he entered the cor ridor Hunter’s friend had left him, and the former appeared to be coming out of the tele- graph office. ‘Ha! Been sending a message, eh?” mut- tered the detective, and as he hurried to the office; “‘T must see that message! Morris [his partner] will take cgre of him,” Entering the offic@, he found the operator sending off the last‘of several messages which had been received before and after Hunter’s, and demanded: “Ts that the last message you received ?” ** Yes, sir.” “« Let me see it!” The operator laughed, and continued send- ing the telegram, “Stop that!” ordered the detective, and displaying his shield, angrily explained: ‘I’m an officer, and that message must be held until I’ve seen it!” The operator hesitated a moment, glanced at the shield, and then at the message, and then handed over the latter, protesting: *‘Tt’s in direct vidlation of the rules, sir, and I’m liable to lose my ob.” Paying no attention to the protest, the de- tective glanced eagerly at the message, and asmile of triumph lighted up his counte- nance as he read: ‘‘Meet meat Jersey City depot eleven- thirty to-night,” . The message was addressed to a notorious —rather than celebrated—criminal lawyer, and was signed ‘‘ Green ”’—but the signature amounted to nothing, ‘‘It’sa name agyeed upon. He’s getting uneasy, and will probably skip—or rather try to skip—to-night,” Thus the hunter as, having handed back the telegram, he hurried after his partner and their ‘* game.” He was not a particularly stupid man in his profession, but he was taking too much for granted, and on gaining the sidewalk, and failing to see either Hunter or his com- rade,-he made another blunder when con- cluding: ‘* Gone home to pack up, I suppose. Well, Morris is with him (though he’s safe enough until after ten o'clock), so as there’s no use of two wasting time, I’ll have a game of bil- ‘liards, and then go down to the office, “It’s a big thing for us, by George! Wouldn’t be surprised if he’d break down when we put a stopper on that trip.” Thus soliloquizing, tle self-satisfied detec- tive turned into a nearby billiard parlor. A couple hours later, Detective ‘‘ Steve” Morgan was in consultation with his chief, | who was much pleased to hear of his sub- ordinate’s discovery of the intended flight of the suspected murderer, and who ordered: ‘ | to board the train. : ‘ coming back after consulting Lowe.” ‘Don’t show your hand until he’s about: This may end by his. ‘“* All right, sir.” “Better join Morris, now,” directed the: chief, and Morgan started for the Hunter residence, Although he started off promptly, the de- tective stopped at several places on the way, and did not arrive at his destination until after nine o’clock. ‘* Where the deuce is Morris?” he mut- tered, looking vainly for his partner at and about the place where they were accustomed to meet and keep watch for the appearance: of William Hunter. ‘‘“Can’t be possible he left the house un- guarded!” continued the surprised detective, , and then, as the idea occurred to him: * By George, it would be rough if they had started for Jersey. He'd get all the: credit of the arrest, though I did euchre him: out of all credit on the telegram. “Then again, instead of stopping Hunter, he might take the train—and that would get, me into a nice scrape.” Morgan instantly hit upon a plan which would (so he imagined), not only get him out. of the threatened difficulty, but give him a fighting chance to at least share in the credit. of arresting the suspected man—and the: profit, too, if the latter made a confession. . Calling a messenger-boy who happened to» be passing, the detective said: ‘Here, sonny, run across the street and: ask if Mr. William Hunter's in. If he is,, say a gentleman sent you from the ‘ Fifth: Avenue,’ and will call himself in a few min- utes. Understand?” . Ves; sir. ‘*Look sharp, now, and meet me at the corner. It’s worth a quarter,” The boy darted across the street, and Mor gan walked to the corner, where the former’ met him within five minutes reporting: ‘“* Not in, sir.” ren," ‘*Good!” exclaimed the detective, and: handing the boy the promised quarter, jumped on a car, muttering: ‘“«T’'ll be there long before the lawyer, for it’s not ten, so I'll be in for a share, if not: all, of the gold and the glory.” At just eleven o’clock, Morgan stood in the Pennsylvania depot, Jersey ey? and. spent a bad quarter of an hour looking for Hunter and Morris, At 11:15, the lawyer entered, looked around. the waiting-room, and, then at the clock, af- ter which he sat down, causing Morgan to. utter a much relieved: “Jt’s all right! Hunter is around, and. Morris is looking after him.” i But it was all wrong, for at precisely 11:30 a man whom the detective had never before: seen entered the waiting-room and shook hands with the lawyer who jumped up and. advanced to meet the new-comer: At 12 o’clock, the lawyer and ‘“ Green ” took the midnight Express for Washing-. eg Detective Morgan returned to New ork, © “‘Three bad breaks in one day—yes, four,. for how can I face the ‘super’?” he asked himself as he stepped off the boat on the: New York side. Hoping against hope, the discomfited de- tective hurried to the rendezvous opposite the Hunter residence, but there was no Morris to be seen, and shortly after daylight. when the man-servant came out to wash off the sidewalk, the now desperately-anxious. watcher, putting a bold face on the matter,. crossed over and asked: ‘* Would it be possible to see Mr. William. Hunter at this hour?” ‘No, sir, for he isn’t home,” replied the- man, glancing curiously at the inquirer, and. adding: | a He’s not been home since yesterday af-- | ternoon,” | .
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i ra = a) ba ee Ser erect - he should go. CHAPTER YV. -MISSING—QUEER COMMENTS—STRANGE DIS ; COVERY. AFTER this information the detective de- ‘cided to have some breakfast, and then come back to the rendezvous, “That fellow must have shown me the wrong telegram,” he muttered—and rightly, ‘too, but wrongly added: "oe ‘Morris has been knocking around all night with Hunter, so I mustn’t be long away or he’ll be sending to the office after mv—for they’re sure to be getting back pretty soon,” It required fully twelve tiresome hours of “watching to convince the man-hunter that “he was mistaken, It was six o'clock in the afternoon before Morgan arrived at this conclusion, and dis- patched a messenger to Headquarters for a man to relieve him—having been thirty-six hours without rest. The relief arrived promptly, bearing a message for Morgan which directed the latter ‘to report, at once, at the residence of the superintendent, Just what the discomfited detective re- ported matiers little, as we are practically through with him, but the ubiquitous re- porter had not been idle, and the next day’s papers Linted in the morning, and boldly as- .Serted in the evening, that William Hunter was a fugitive. How the news had leaked out nobody knew, but the fact that the suspected man -had been missing for forty-eight hours, ap- peared to be as well known to the news- papers as the police, Three times during the previous day, de- tective Morgan had noticed a strange caller vat the Hunter residence, but though each time looking a different person, it was the ‘same man all the same—Dave Duncan. “Strange—very strange!” soliloquized Duncan as he read in the evening paper a con- firmation (?) of what had been hinted at that ‘morning. ; **T’d stake my life on that man’s innocence! He’s a pretty high-strung fellow, and not “hearing from me, and hounded by the press and police, he may -have become quite un- easy. I'll have to look him up.” “Good!” exclaimed the missing man’s brother as he glanced at the evening news- ‘paper, ‘‘ That covers everything, and he is “no worse off. Public opinion had already -condemned him and he was liable to arrest at any moment, so, he’s well out of the way —for his own sake, and a great deal better for mine, even though it does convict him.” _ The model young man smiled wickedly as he uttered the last words, and then glancing ‘at his watch, continued: ‘Tt was a good idea and well carried out. *“ Now, Iam free to do as I please, and I must keep that man Price on the lookout for ‘interference by the police, and the private Hawkshaws as well,” It was now about eight o’clock, and. the ‘model young banker, who had remained in his office long after the usual business hours, rung, and on the appearance of the solitary man-servant announced himself in readiness to dine, ; The response to the bell had been very ‘rapid—suspiciously so, it struck Mr, Fred Hunter, who when the servant quitted the room, muttered: ‘‘T don’t like that fellow, William ; pee TT _get rid of him! He looks and acts infernally -suspicious—and what did he mean by that look? ‘© Well, he kyows nothing, but it’s better He makes me uneasy.” When cautious men do blunder, they blun- ‘der terribly. ere __ Mr, Fred Hunter was an exceedingly cau- ‘tious man, but it would have been much wiser had he not gi. utterance to his ‘thoughts, for as he advanced toward the door _ pat the conclusion of the last sentence,“ Will-. Detective Dave’s Close Call. iams” fled from the keyhole—first shaking his fist at the door, and hissing as he turned to go below: * “You hypocritical villain!” A minute or two later, the young banker entered the dining-room where Williams waited upon him in silence until the simple repast which had been prepared by the house- keeper—the cook being in the country with Mrs. Hunter—was finished, Then, the young man said: ‘Williams, you’ve been a long time with the family?” “Twenty years, sir.” ‘“And are getting pretty old?” ‘Only fifty-eight, sir” —deprecatingly, “‘Hum. Well—as you pleasé about that. “What I was thinking of in speaking of yourage and long service here, was your connection with my father and his liking and confidence in you.” “Yes, sir!” “Well, you know, of course, that my mother has been completely prostrated by the recent trouble here, and—well, it has oc- curred to me that your presence here on her return would revive unpleasant memories, so—ah—so, I’ve concluded—” ‘‘That it would be best for me not to be here?” suggested Williams as the young man paused, apparently at loss how to express those very words—in a more delicate way. The master shot a suspicious glance at the man. Respectfully as the words were sug- gested there was something in the tone which the former disliked. ‘That is not the way I wished to express it, but it covers my idea—partly. There is something more, however. From the mo- ment you secure another employer, you will receive half your present salary—which is, I believe, about double that ordinarily paid men in your position.” ‘Yes, sir; Mr, Hunter was very kind to me,” ‘“T hope you do not consider this proposi- tion to pension you as otherwise than kind- ness?” sharply questioned the young man, : ‘ Oh, no, sir! How could I be so ungrate- ul?” But, again there was something unsatis- factory in the servant’s tone, and the master spoke more sharply when he left the dining- room, warning: ** Better attend to the matter immediately, for the house may be closed up any day if my mother should decide to go abroad.” “‘Tll attend to it, sir,” assured Williams, and when the other was out of ear-shot, added: ‘And to you, too, my lad!” ‘*T believe that old rascal would be dan- gerous if he knew anything, but he doesn’t, and I have him started for the street, so it’s all right,” muttered Mr. Hunter to himself. On reaching his room the young banker had bolted the door, but that did not prevent Williams from using the keyhole a few min- utes later. f What the spying servant saw was of a character to confirm his opinion that Mr. Frederic Hunter wag a magnificent fraud—a hypocrite of the first water. “*Ha, ha! Now, I’ve got you!” muttered Williams as he beheld the yous banker complacently surveying himself in a mirror, his effeminately handsome, beardless face now adorned with a pair of whiskers and a mustache, _ “Yes, that will do,” murmured the young man after a few minutes, and removing the false beard placed it in a small box which he slipped into the pocket of his light overcoat. *‘He’s going out,” decided Wiiliams, ob- ‘serving the light overcoat thrown over a chair, ‘‘T'll go, too.” * Had the spy waited one minute longer he ‘would have seen his employer unlock one of his bureau drawers, from which he took another false beard. There was a grate in the room, but no fire, nor the means of making one, and, after i hesitating a moment or two, Hunter placed this beard, too, in the overcoat, evidently abandoning his intention of burning,it. Then putting on a light colored soft hat, and throwing his overcoat over his arm, Mr. Frederic Hunter left the house, Half a minute liter, Mr. Williams passed out of the basement door, and began dogging his employer. ) At the same moment a man who had been standing directly opposite, crossed the street and fellin behind Mr. Williams. CHAPTER VI. THE MYSTERIOUS FRENCHMAN. LEAVING shadowed and shadowers for the present, we will accompany Daring Dave Duncan in his work of “looking up” the missing Mr. William Flunter. Ever prompt to act, the private detective picked up his hat, and left his office, imme- diately after declaring his intention of search- ing for his client. ‘That telegram came from the Blank House, and it is there I must look to pick up his trail,” he decided, taking his way toward the hotel referred to. Although casually acquainted with a great many, few people outside of those who had employed him, had any suspicion of Duncan's business, _ Of those who did know him as a detective, the clerk of the Blank House was one, and to that affable gentleman Duncan applied for information, saying: ** Well, Mr. Parker, what have you done with Will Hunter?” ‘Tm afraid you’ye got me,” was the laughing reply. “Well, this is the last place he was seen,” retorted the detective. ‘Oh, no! You're away off there. I hap- pen to know that he made, and kept, an ap- pointment to meet a certain gentleman at Cousidine’s an hour after he left here— And, by the way, there’s the man himself!” As the clerk interrupted himself, he nodded toward au elegantly dressed gentleman who passed through the corridor, | ‘**Now, how about this being the last place in which Will Hunter was seen?” bantered the clerk. ‘*You gentlemen behind the desk seem to know everything, as well as everybody. ment was kept—or anything at all about it, beats me! ‘ ** Are you a mind-reader?” an ‘*No, no! Notas bad as that, Duncan, I happened to be standing outside the desk, wa saw Will Hunter meet Cartier outside the telegraph office. 4 ‘“They parted after a few words, and Hunter’started to go out but turned back, and asked me to tell Cartier that he had changed hie mind, and wouid meet him at Considine’s in an hour.” ‘Oh, that’s it, is it? Now, I understand your apparent mind-reading.” “Why didn’t he tell Cartier himself? And, how do you know the appointment was kept? 3 ‘‘ First, though least important, I imagine that Hunter’s reason for leaving the message with me was because he didn’t care to go into the bar—he hasn’t been there for over a week, you know.” (Duncan did not know, but was glad to hear of his client’s abstinence on the day of his disappearance.) Second,” continued Parker, ‘I was in Considine’s for a few minutes that evening and saw Hunter and Cartier together—the former winning heavily—so, I know the ap- ‘pointment was kept.” Wer The keen- witte hugging himself with delight, for he had ina porters had in forty-eight hours! How the deuce you know the appoint- . man-hunter left the desk, ~ ew minutes managed to learn more than the whole police force and newspaper re-
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= at oan ieee eae et ’ roars aes re ene ee ST a eat ee Detective Dave’s Close Call. Cartier, as Duncan was well aware, was as | of the driver, who was standing a few yards great a mystery to the people with whom he | away conversing with another cab-driver, came in contact as he himself was, with the difference, however, that while a great many people worried themselves about the former, ‘Keb, sir?” cried the night-hawk rushing to his rig. . ‘No, I thought I saw a friend of mine get very few bothered their heads about the lat- | into this cab a few moments ago. ter. ‘* Well, he didn’t, see!” was the savage re- The man-hunter had himseif become in- | ply, for the driver felt hurt over the disap- terested in the mysterious Frenchman, and | pointment. had only refrained from satisfying his curios- ity because of lack of time. Now, it be- ‘Cartier, by all that’s good!” exclaimed Duncan, who, watching from the other side, came necessary to do so, and he was glad of | saw and heard what was going on. ° the necessity. ‘Now, Mr. Cartier, what have you been Sauntering into and through the bar, Dun- | doing that causes this shadowing me?” can found that the bird had flown. ‘‘He went out this way—probably gone home,’’ was his mental comment. It was about eight o’clock when Duncan left the Blank House and strolled in the di- rection of Cartier’s residence, which the CHAPTER VII. DUNCAN PLAYS A NEW ROLE. Wuen Duncan called at Cartier’s residence former had accidentally discovered adjoined | he bore his usual ‘‘ business ” appearance— that of the Hunter family. that is, he wore a full beard, which being of ‘Wonder if he did go home?” soliloquized | an iron gray color, made him look like a man the detective, as he stood opposite the mys- terious Frenchman’s house, ‘ Well, I might of forty-five to fifty. While Cartier was speaking to the cab- as well find out at once,” he decided, and | driver, the man-hunter removed the beard, crossing over rung the bell. and threw away the stiff hat he was wearing, ‘Yes, Mr. Cartier was in,” the servant | substituting for it a light-colored ‘‘ pocket” who came to the door informed him. ‘“*Mr. Albert Cartier?” hat: This, of course, was hardly a half minute’s ‘Oh, no! There is only one Mr. Cartier | work, and when the now doubly mysterious here, and his name is Paul,” answered the | Frenchman hurried away, the detective was servant, and murmuring something about | close behind him, murmuring as he started: “ wrong address,” Duncan thanked her, and resumed his station across the street. Thinking deeply over the case in hand, “ Great thing to be in disguise, instead of having to get into one.” Cartier was pushing his way through the ware to account for the disappearance of | crowd at a lively rate, looking right and left ill Hunter in some Way other than flight | all the time, causing his shadow, now, to through fear of arrest, as well as to remem- ber all that he had heard regarding Paul observe: ‘‘ Looking pretty sharp for fear he’ll pass Cartier, the detective did not feel the time | me. passing until a neighboring church clock struck nine, ‘‘ Hello! He’s easing up—what does that mean?”—and the man-hunter stopped chuck- ‘By Jove! That fellow is taking his | ling long enough to ascertain the cause. time,” he muttered, but had hardly uttered ‘‘Oh, I see! Caught up with the Hunter the words when Fred Hunter followed by | party, and wonders where I am.” Williatns made their appearance. A crowd was nothing to this man. He A keen observer—the first requisite in a | seemed able to look right through the peo- great detective, Duncan saw in an instant ple. intervening between himself and his that the young banker was being shadowed. “That’s queer!” he- commented; ‘* guess T'll take a hand in that game myself, The other fellow can wait until to-morrow.” Crossing over, the man-hunter dropped in behind Williams, rather amused at the idea of shadowing a shadow, though quite at sea as to the identity of the latter. : | Although he had called three times at the Hunter residence, Duncan had seen Williams but once. That, however, was suflicient; for when the shadowing servant came into the glare of an electric, on reaching Broad- way, he was recognized. Half a minute previous, Duncan made the somewhat startling discovery that he himself was being shadowed! ¢ ‘“Wonder how many of us are in line?” he muttered, rather amused over the dis- covery. ‘Now, what does this fellow know that leads him to shadow his employer? I must cultivate his acquaintance, ‘* First, however, I must have a look at this fellow behind, and find out whether it’s me or them he is after,” To an expert like the speaker, this was merely a question of how it could be done object. In this case he could see the Frenchman slacken his speed, and from the latter’s un- certain movements deduced what afterward proved the facts as he had expressed them. At the next corner, Fred Hunter turned into a side street, each of the shadows in turn following suit and the last one murmuring: ‘* Considine’s, or I’m a dough-head!” The last word was barely uttered when Hunter entered the doorway leading to the gambling-rooms. Williams passed on, but Cartier followed the young banker, and was admitted at the same time as the latter. Duncan halted near the corner to see what the shadowing servant would do, feeling quite certain that the Jatter would turn back, but in doubt as to whether he would risk en- tering the gambling-house, As expected, Williams returned within five minutes, stood hesitating at the doorway nearly five more, and then entered. ‘* Wonder what kind of a place he thinks it is?” thought the detective, as he followed Williams into the hallway. There was the regulation grated iron door at the foot of the stairs, and an electric bell tosummon an attendant from above, but easiest and least likely to alarm his shadow.:| Williams apparently did not dare make use of it All along the curb of the block they were then in was a string of cabs, the doors of most of them thrown open, and these sug- . gested an old plan which was instantly ex- ecuted. Jumping into a cab, Duncan quickly open- ed and passed through the other door which Be closed after him, and then awaited re- sults. The wait was a short one. Within a quarter of a minute a man stood hesitating before the cab, thus attracting the attention “Would you please tell me what kind of a eee this is?” he asked when Duncan enter- ed. “Certainly! This is Considine’s, and every- body knows it’s a gambling-house,” — ‘Hat A gambling-louse, eh? Now—” Williams _ stopped short, looking rather confused, and turned toward the door. ‘‘What, not going up?” exclaimed Dun- can. ‘No, not to-night,”—and Williams hurried away, while the detective pressed the but- ton, and a minute later was admitted, being well known in his character of a man about town, | : Up-stairs, a rapid survey of the tables re- vealed Cartier watching a young man who had just sat down at the faro table. ‘Ah! That's the servant’s man,” thought Duncan, and, then, catching a side view of the young banker’s beard wondered if he was not mistaken. Stepping into the circle of spectators stand- ing around the gamesters, and directly be- hind the object of Cartier’s attention, the keen-eyed detective quickly discovered that. the beard was false, and detected the identity of the wearer. Hunter was winning heavily within five minutes after sitting down, and this gave color to the remark which Duncan addressed to an attendant at the buffet: “There don’t seem to be much for the house in admitting strangers. How did you come to let him in, Sam?” ‘‘Oh, he ain’t no stranger, sah. He’s a. ‘high roller,’ too, ’n’ loses moah times ’n’ he: wins,” ‘Why, I never saw him here before. By the way, Sam, I forgot something last time: I was here.” The dollar which found its way into the: darky’s hand as the speaker finished, proved wonderfully effective in loosening his tongue, though, had Sam suspected that that was the object, he would not have been so communi- cative. So to testify his gratitude to the gentlemam who seldom played, but invariably gave a doilar, the darky continued: ‘*'Yaas, sab, he’s a reg’lar pattern (patron), but doan’t come till one ’r two o’clock— though he ain’t been here lately, that’s a fact. —not sence the night o’ the murder!” _ ‘‘Confound it! There goes my theory,” was the listener’s mental comment, but on the nil desperandum plan observed: ‘“‘You must have a pretty good memory to» fix the date of any particular man’s visit— among so many.” . ‘“Yaas, sah, but ye git used t’ it after aw’ile. I rec’lect Mr G— kem in jist "hout/one, dropped “bout five hundred ’n’ left. *bout two, ’r a little after, mebbe.” “um! Not so bad, after all. He stilb had time to be in it,” reflected Duncan, and then, happening to glance toward Cartier, was struck by the look of intense interest with which the Frenchman was watching” the young banker. “Odd!” he muttered, and with a compli- ment to Sam on: his memory, returned to his: former post behind Hunter's chair, The room was warm, and on sitting down the young banker had thrown his coat in a careless fashion oyer the back of his chair. As the lynx-eyed hunter of men ap- proached the faro table, he observed three things: First: the hypocritical young banker was. yl continuing to win heavily, and becoming for that reason somewhat excited. Second: that in moving about on his chair, the light overcoat had been so disarranged that the pockets had been turned almost up- side down, as well as outward. Third—and most important—that there was something hairy sticking out of one pocket. ? The hairy object was, of course, the false beard taken by Hunter from the bureau. It took Duncan just about one half-minute to guess the truth, and nearly as long to de- cide that he must have the beard. As expert a pickpocket as any thief that. ever ‘‘swiped a super,” the detective quickly and deftly transferred the beard from the banker’s pocket to his own. It was still quite early, and had he left immediately Duncan might have escaped trouble, for although neither the owner of the beard, nor those on either side of him,
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man in a tone of autaority. had noticed the act, a man some ten feet away had. The observant spectator was the mys- terious Frenchman, but Duncan’s movements were so quick that he did not see what was taken. **A button from that coat would be a handy thing to have,” thought the ‘‘ pick- pocket ” and Cartier, who was staring at him in mingled astonishment and suspicion, saw the coveted article cut off and placed with the beard, Duncan, in his assumed character, was well known by sight to the Frenchman, and when the former happened to glance at the latter and caught the expression of his face, he knew that his actions had been seen. *“‘Confound the fellow!’ muttered the angry man-hunter, who was disgusted with himself for having been caught. The detective wandered into another room, and remained watching the gamesters there for fully two hours before it occurred to him that it would be as well to keep an eye on Cartier, for fear the latter might begin talk- ok ett very night. eturning to the outer room, Duncan was surprised to find that both Hunter and Cartier had quit the place. ‘<T wo nice blunders inside of two hours,” he murmured on discovering that both his men were gone. He knew where he was pretty certain to find both men next day, although Cartier would receive attention first, because of his meeting with Will Hunter at the gambling- house. | ‘¢ Well, Sam, your ‘high roller’ has gone,” remarked the detective, as he stopped to get a cigar at the buffet. ‘“Yaas, sah; goonh some time, I gave him ah note from a gen’l’men here, ’n’ he quit right off,’ explained Sam. ; ‘*Sure it wasn’t from a lady?’ smilingly asked Duncan, ‘‘Shuah! That French gen’l’man gave me a dollah foah takin’ it.” ‘* Well, here’s another—and good-night to you,” ‘‘By Jupiter that sounds queer!” com- mented Duncan as he left the gambling- house. ‘Sent a note tohim, eh? Wy didn't he go to him instead of writing? **Looks as if there was some connection between those two and that they wish to keep it secret, but they’ve overdone it.” On leaving Considine’s, the man-hunter had turned toward Sixth avenue. It was midnight, the street dark and silent, and buried in thought, the hunter paid no attention to anything but the game he was tracking.“ A short distance below the gambling-house stood a carriage with the driver on the box— nothing unusual in the vicinity of Consi- dine’s. . As the detective approached. the carriage, the driver spoke to the horses, and at a slow walk they started toward Sixth avenue, “Tired standing,” muttered Duncan, his attention momentarily attracted by the noise, and with down-bent head continued: ‘There's something to be carefully sifted in this appointment with Will Hunter, note- writing to Fred, and this disguise—” A stunning blow cut short the detective’s ; reflections, and he would have fallen but for one of the two men who bad jumped from the off-side of the carriage, and stealing up behind the thought-engrossed man, struck him senseless, Q ‘In with him—quick!” hissed the man who held Duncan. The carriage had stopped at the curb, scarce six feet away—the door held open by a third man within—and half a minute later the victim had been picked up and thrown into it like a bundle of rags. : ‘Bind and gag him!” directed the third Detective Dave’s Close Call. ,*” ‘Guess there ain’t no need o’ hurryin’, growled one of the ruffians, ‘*He’ll sleep fora good while—if he ever does wake up!” assured the other. The moment the carriage door was closed, the driver started the horses, and at a rapid rate the party was carricd down to Fulton Ferry, which being crossed, the horses pro- ceeded at a still more lively gait through Brooklyn, until as the first streaks of dawn were lighting the horizon, the carriage stopped opposite a tumble-down house, mid- way between what is called South Brooklyn and Bay Ridge. ‘‘Now take and do with him as you did with the other one,” ordered the leader, or employer, of the murderous rufflans, add- ing: ‘‘T'll see you within twenty-four hours. If anything unusual turns up, telegraph.” CHAPTER VIII. WITHIN AN INCH OF HIS LIFE, Tue house opposite which the carriage had stopped, was situated about one hundred yards from the road, and almost hidden by trees, The direction to ‘‘do with him as you did with the other one,” was followed by the picking up and carrying toward the house of Duncan and departure of the carriage. With the exception of the order to bind and gag him, in New York, and the one quoted above, in Brooklyn, not a word had been exchanged during the long ride. This was rather annoying to the man who had almost willingly become a prisoner to the murderous ruflians, for the man-hunter was playing ’possum! Although buried in thought when the at- tack was made, the detective had instinctive- ly thrown himself forward, and thus the blow had failed to do its deadly work. In thus voluntarily submitting to being made prisoner, and risking what might fol- low, Dunean was giving an exbibition of the wonderful nerve which had gained for him the name of ‘‘ Daring Dave.” He had heard, and almost unconsciously noted, the stopping of the carriage, and with the attack, like lightning came the thought: “This is no ordivary robbery! It's Hunter or Cartier—or both!” And, accordingly, the cunning detective became a mere bundle of fleshand clothing— limp and insensate as the blow should have rendered him; but thus far he had learned nothing. Now, however, he was to begin to gain something by his nervy trick, ‘*Why’n thunder didn’t he tell us t’ pitch him overboard?” growled one of the ruflians, as they carried the (willing) victim toward the house. ‘Might as well for he feels like a ‘stiff,’ anyhow,” assented the other, ‘Poll says t other duck’s pretty well out of his head,” remarked the first speaker, who was carrying Duncan’s feet. ‘** Ought ter be wud the smash he got,” re- turned the other, chuckling like the brutal fiend he was, and adding: °‘D’ye know who he is?” } ** No—d’you?” ‘* No, ’n’ don't care!” ““T do,” was the, significant rejoinder, “Why ?”—wonderingly. “Why? Why because it might give usa grip—a chance t’ bleed this Frenchman, or whatever he is, by ’n’ by.” “Ye'r’ right, Dick! Let’s try ’n’ find out somethin’ about him?” ‘It’s risky business, but I’m goin’ t’ try it on,” asserted Dick, adding: ** Ye know he said we'd never get no more if we tried t’ stick our noses inter his basi- ness—when we took the job.” * Blufff’ ** Guess so,” agreed Dick. **Know this duck?” he continued, ** No—’n’ | don’t think he does either,” “Why ?” ‘* Well, I dunno exactly, but it looked as if he was talkin’ straight, ’n’ he said ’twas on’y t’ find out somethin’ about this duck, that was wanted. ‘Tt looks more’s if ’twas t’ get somethin’ out of him,” continued the ruffian, ‘‘ for he went through him soon as we chucked him into the carriage.” ‘* Get anythin’?” “Yes. Couldn't make out what it was though, ‘count of its bein’ so blamed dark.” Dunean had been a little dazed when thrown into the carriage, and barely noticed that the third man’s hand touched his coat- pocket. Now, he realized that the beard was gone, and partly understood the cause of the attack, But what object had Cartier in recovering the beard? The detective had noticed that, except once, the ruffians had invariably referred to their confederate and employer as ‘‘ he,” but why should the mysterious Frenclrman run any risks to help Fred Hunter? The house was reached while Duncan was puzzling himself over these questions, and in response to the summons of the ruffian Dick, the party was admitted. ‘* What, another?” exclaimed a coarse fe- male voice, as the prisoner was unceremoni- ously dropped on the floor. “Yes, he’ll be company for the other mug,’ was the reply. “Then somebody else’s got t’ look out for him, for I've got all I kin do t’ tend the other one,” angrily declared the woman,: ‘Guess this one won't trouble ye long, Poll.” soothed Dick. ‘* We'll give ye hand until the boss comes, or sends word for us.” * Take him up ‘longside t’other one,” she continued, ‘‘and you'd better give him a dose o’ rum, if yer got any.” , In accordance with \he-woman’s sugges- tion, Duncan’s teeth were pried (!) open after he was laid ona bed ina room on the floor above, and some liquor was poured down his throat. Although the stuff almost choked him the prisoner gave no sign of consciousness, and the ruffilans could net see that the effort to repress a fit of coughing sent the blood in waves to his face, ‘Ye must’ve soaked him hard, Nick,” re- marked Dick. ; ‘Wish I'd soaked him harder!” ec Why bold ‘“Why? because it looks as if he was goin’ t’ croak, anyhow, an’ if he was finished at first, we could’ve chucked him inter the river. Then, when he'd be picked up, there, wouldn’t be no trouble There - ain't no mark on him, ’n’ it ’d be ‘ accidental drown- in’, but, now, if he croaks, we'll have t’ bury him—'n’ that’s allus liable t’ show up ag’in’ ra,” ne That's so,” assented Dick, adding: “But he ain't croaked yet. Hadn't we better loosen him? It’ll give the blood a better chance, ’n’ there ain’t much danger of his gittin’ out o° here.” The other nodded moody assent, and the speaker cut the cords binding the detective’s legs and arms, remarking as he did so: ‘* He's as limp as & wel rag.” Puncan was now at liberty to use his limbs; in his pocket was a self-acting seven- shooter, and fora moment he was tempted to make prisoners of the two rufflans (who were completely off their guard.) A minute later he bitterly regretted not having adopted this course. ““What's the matter wud goin’ throueh him?” exclaimed Dick, turning back at the door. by “Well, we are a couple of chumps!” as- sentingly declared his confederate, and both returned to the bedside. lt was now too late to reach for his pistol,
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q i _ the latter solid and wel CFE SLES IN OM RE ints ‘none’ Me 18 Pes pees Ponca ta IES Nae ee Dave’s Close Call, even if he wished to do so, but as yet Dun- can had no desire to resist the search. In his character of man-about-town, the detective never carried anything which would betray his business. No cards, nor letters, and his badge could not be found without stripping him. ‘“’'Pain’t so bad—about a hundred and—” began Dick, who was estimating the value of the jewelry and cash already taken from the prisoner, when he was interrupted by a hor- rible oath from his confederate, who was do- ing the searching. “he latter had just reached the detective’s pistol-pocket, but with the weapon came something else, and the rattle told Duncan that he had inadvertently allowed .a pair of handcuffs to remain in his pocket! ‘“‘ Look!” hoarsely exclaimed Nick, holding up the bracelets which had adorned the wrists of many a famous felon, A good detective must be a good actor. The tigerish ferocity with which that one word “ Look !” was uttered, betrayed the deadly intentions of the bloodthirsty speaker, and would have caused nine men out of ten in Duncan’s situation to betray themselves. But the man-hunter never moved a muscle. Like the experienced tiger-hunter when his gene gets the upper hand, he remained per- ectly quiet—even when, as the eyes of the confederates met, Nick, in the same voice, hoarse with fury, exclaimed: ‘* Now, be must be finished!” ‘* All right!” responded his confederate, placing his hand on Dunean’s shoulder. The latter was about to grapple with the: ruffian, when the grasp on his shoulder was relaxed, and he heard the question: “* See here, Nick! We're not dead sure about this, ’n’ he might kick up a row if we put him out of the way. ‘*S’pose we tie him upag’in ’n’ wait for the We'll finish bim now ’n’ say he died,” was the savage reply, and the speaker raised his murderous weapon—the sandbag, CHAPTER IX, FARREL THE FOX, Miss Spencer was seated in her room one afternoon, when the door-bell was rung, and a few moments later a servant announced; “A gentleman to see you, Miss Spencer.’ “To see me?” echoed the orphan, “Yes, miss, He is an old gentleman, and says you wouldn’t remember his name— and— ‘* Well?” encouraged the girl, as the servant hesitated and looked embarrassed, ‘* Well, | may be mistaken, but—well, he looks as if it was money he wanted,” Miss Spencer sighed, and bade the girl say she would be down i in a few minutes, Mary invited Miss Spencer’s caller into the arlor with as much deference as if he was one of Mr. Butler’s millionaire friends— though she had hesitated about allowing him ! to remain inside the door a few minutes be- fore, And, certainly, the caller’s appearance went far toward | justifying the servant's suspicion that he was a beggar. The only things about him which did not look worn out and shabby were his eyes and his shoes, The former were i, gy: and piercing, _— made, The clothes and hat looked shabby, and the face, wherever it showed through the ragged white beard, looked worn an wrin- _ Not an attractive man by any mears, nor yet particularly repellent—one upon whom you would not waste a second glance or thought, which was precisely the point aimed at by the old man, for he was a famous detective. The door of the den which this shabby looking old man called his office, bore a tin eb ae upon which ae barely discernible the | possible. name “ Farrel Fox,” but none of the many other tenants of the building believed that to | be his real name—though many of them, (and | especially the young men and boys,) adopted the name to the extent of corrupting it into ‘* Farrel the Fox.” They might better have dubbed him Fox the Bloodhound, for once on a trail he never relinquished it until the ‘‘ game” was ‘* treed ” So much by way of introduction to the man, who as Miss Spencer entered the parlor, and looked inquiringly toward him, arose and in a low tone asked: ‘* Miss Spencer?” And receiving an affirmative reply con- tinued: ‘*T have a matter of considerable impor- tance to reveal to you concerning yourself, and the family with whom you “are living, but it must be in private.” “My uncle and aunt, and my cousin, have gone to the theater, so ‘there is no danger of anybody intruding, » assured Miss Spencer, who was, of course, astonished by the strange announcement made by her visitor. ' “Very good,” quietly commented the lat- ter, glancing at an old-fashioned silver watch, and began: ‘* First, I must inform you that my name |} is Fox, and that I am a detective.” ‘A’ detective?” exclaimed the girl, start- ing back in alarm. “Hush! Not so loud, if you please, for your relatives must be’ kept in ignorance of my visit, as well as as what 1 am about to say, As 1 have told you, Iam a detective— a private detective, and, in the course of my business, have recently come across certain information, which leads me to suspect that you were not fairly dealt with in the settle- ment of the affairs of Butler & Spencer. Now, Miss Spencer, have you any papers which belonged to your father?” ‘“No, Ido not think so. My uncle took charge of all my father’s papers, but there may “possibly be some which he did not get, because my mother had a bundle of docu- ments in her trunk, some of which, I remem- ber her saying, were in my father’s hand- writing. ** Where is that bundle?” ‘‘T am not certain whether my uncle took it at the time my mother's will was proved— I think not, because the will, and some other “| panes, were in the envelope i in my mother’s esk.” ‘*Can’t you find out—without asking your uncle?” asked Fox. ‘Oh, yes! If he did not take them, they are still in the\old trunk.” ** And that is where?” **TIn the store-room, they call it, on the top floor—or, perhaps, ‘it was put in the cel- lar, for it was very old.” ~*© You could ascertain about that bundle of papers by noon to-morrow, could you not —that is, without attracting attention?” Just as the detective asked the question, a young woman paused at the partly-closed parlor door, The young woman was Julie—Miss But- ler’s French maid—the only servant in the house who did not like Jessie Spencer, Hearing voices in the parlor, curiosity had led the French girl to stop. She heard the question, or enough of it to cause her to continue playing the eavesdropper, and a smile of malicious triumph overspread her countenance as she heard. Jessie’s pendcent answer: . **Oh, yes! Ican look on the upper floor either etors the servants retire to-night, or after they get up to-morrow, and if the trunk isn’t there, I can search for it in the cellar while the others are at breakfast.” “Good! Now be careful, Miss Spencer. Do nothing to arouse your uncle’s sus- picions, but endeavor to find those papers, and bring them to my ‘office as ne&’r noon as Here is my address. | Be very ! ney you to clear it out?” | careful that you are not observed—especially if you find the papers, for they may prove of great value,” ‘‘T will—” began Jessie, and then dis- covered that she was alone. So quickly and quietly—so like a fox —had he departed, that the eavesdropper was nearly caught in the act, while Jessie could not realize that he had really gone until she heard the front door closed by her visitor. Confused by her narrow escape from be- ing caught, Julie had barely a glimpse of the departing visitor, but consoled herself with the thought that ‘Jessie’s efforts to avoid observation would be thrown aw ay. ‘“ And I will have a pretty story to tell, even if I cannot describe the man, “muttered. the malicious Julie, and, then, as the idea struck her: ‘But why shouldn’t I have a look at these precious papers? It isn’t nine yet, and she won’t dare come in while I’m there, so V’ll have plenty of time to search for them,” CHAPTER X. MISS SPENCER SHOWS HER SAGACITY. IMMEDIATELY after the departure of her visitor, Miss Spencer determined to begin the search for her mother’s trunk at once. On ascending to the servants’ quarters, however, Jessie saw that the gas was lighted, and hearing somebody moving about within, was compelled to abandon her purpose. It was the French maid, of course, who was in the store-room adjoining the servants’ quarters, and who had lighted all the gas on that floor to warn off the expected inter- ruption, but that shrewd damsel was not quite a match for the well-named Farrel the Fox. Jessie had not been five minutes in the parlor, after her unsuccessful attempt to enter the servants’ quarters, when a mes- senger-boy arrived with a note reading as follows: ‘“‘There was a young woman outside the parlor door when I left. From her actions, she had been eavesdropping. How much she heard is beyond me, but to be on the safe side,do. nothing for the next i a ag ne ‘Tf you can manage it quietly ascertain the name of the inquisitive young woman,’ “Oh, gracious! Who could it have been? “Who would be so mean?” As the guileless Jessie thus expressed her , wonder at this instance of human weakness, it suddenly occurred to her that the person ‘‘who would be so mean,” would be apt to endeavor to profit by what she had over- heard, by forestalling her (Jessie) in the | search for the trunk, ‘And she’s up-stairs at this minute! T’ll ask Mary about it,” concluded Jessic, and summoning the house-maid, innocently in- quired if any of the servants was ill. “Why, no, miss,” replied the svrprised Mary, ‘* ‘they are all down-stairs except John (the coachman) and that French maid” — with scornful emphasis—‘‘and she thinks herself too good to associate with us, I sup- oO ” i pe Oh! That accounts for it,” said Jessie, as if thinking aloud, and explained that she had seen a light up stairs, ‘‘It's her, sure enough!” declared Mary. ‘She doesn’t think us fit company for her.” ‘Well, as I’ve been making a mountain out of a mole-hill, Mary, please say nothing more about it.” requested Jessie. “Oh, certainly not, as longas you say 80,” promptly, responded the servant, always glad of the slightest opportunity of serving one whom she both loved and piti “Thank you. By the by, ary, do you remember that old black fetole of mine—the one that was stored uway somewhere four or five years ago?” .. “To be sure I do, Miss Jessie! Didn't 1 »
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would help that little woman to with her rascally uncle. **T had forgotten that. Then, there was nothing in it when it was carried up-stairs?” ‘*No, not that I can remember. Bui, maybe there was something—a ring or a pin might have got among the old papers, and bits and scraps that were in the bottom.” Plainly the speaker supposed it was a piece of missing jewelry—some memento of earlier and happier days—that Miss Spencer was seeking, and the latter did not unde- ceive her, saying: ‘ ‘J should like to look through that trunk, Mary. Do you know where it is?” “Tm not sure, though I think it’s still up- stairs; but, wherever it is, whatever was in it is safe, for you locked it yourself before it was moved out of your room,” _ “Locked? Then there must be something ‘in it.” ‘Well, I don’t say there isn’t, but I’d not be so sure of it.” ‘‘T’ve a reason for wanting to examine it,” persisted the girl, ‘and should like very much if you would help in finding it.” ‘* With all the pleasurein the world! Shall we look for it to-night, miss?” ‘*No, but you can ascertain whether it’s up-stairs before coming down to-morrow morning. If it isn’t, then we must look in the cellar—but don’t mention it, or let any- one see or know that you are looking for it.” **Oh, you may trust me for that,” assured _ Mary, and when alone Miss Spencer—feeling ‘that she could, as she really did, place im- plicit confidence in her—very complacently remarked: ** Now I feel relieved, for even if the trunk is up-stairs, it’s locked, and if there's any- thing in it, Julie can’t get at it,” We must go back to the time of the Fox’s sudden exit through the doorway of the But- ler parlor. As proved by the note sent to Jessie, the detective had caught the French maid eaves- dropping, but pretending not to notice her, he hastened to the nearest messenger office, and wrote and dispatched his warning. **T don’t think she could have heard much, if anything,” he soliloquized, as he strolled toward Broadway, ‘‘ but it’s better to act as if she had, and any watching done for the next couple of days will be useless. “Tf the listener is friendly, forty-eight hours’ waiting will do no harm, and if other- wise, that ae of time spent in useless watching should be sufficient to throw dis- ‘credit on whatever story she may tell that rascal Butler.” And having arrived at this satisfactory conclusion, Mr, Fox decided that he was en- _ titled to have something to eat—especially as he had been too busy to think of food since breakfast. ‘Strange, strange how these things crop up, no matter how carefully concealed,” _. mused the detective, resuming the train of . thought which had "been tntereupted wile he was disposing of a substantial meal, ** Stranger, too, that I should run across the Butler-Spencer raseality while running down the Hunter mystery, for it is a mys- tery yet, although I'll have the nigger out of the fence before I quit the case—but the Spencer business first. ‘“‘T don’t see, however, that there is any- thing to be done just yet. We must await the result of this eavesdropping, before imak- ing a move in the Butler-Spencer business, and that means a clear loss of two days.” The veteran detective shook his shaggy white head dubiously, as he contemplated |. this awful waste 0% time. ‘*No, it would be simply sacrilegious to sit idle for two days,” he decided, “ though Td willingly do nothing for two years, if it “Tdleness will not help, however, so I Shp might as well change my face, and see what _ there is in that last Hunter clue.” ; ‘Spencer, It is doubtful whether you have Syl beens g further to be done in the mat- Ret, get even Detective Dave's Close Call. In the ‘‘ profession,” Farrel Fox was gen- erally Known as the ‘‘Man of Many Faces.” “Give him a half-minute—long enough to turn his head—and he'll show you a new face,’ was a common assertion among both police and private detectives. ‘*And not one of us knows which is the real face,” was an occasional admission. Leaving the quiet chop-house which was his favorite resort when time and opportunity afforded, the Man of Many Faces walked slowly across town, It was about half-past twelve—for we have given only the results of the detective’s re- flections—which occupied nearly two hours —and just after passing Sixth avenue on his way eastward, Fox witnessed a strange sight. Far up the street, fully a hundred yards away, were three men, one of whom pitched forward just as the detective glanced in that direction. The falling man was caught by one of the others, and then bundled into a carriage standing at the curb. “‘A drunk! Lucky for him he was caught before reaching the flag,”” commented the spectator, but the next instant exclaimed: ** Foul play, by the Eternal!” CHAPTER Xl. MISS SPENCER AND THE FOX, AND THE PED- DLER,. ‘Four play, by the Eternal!” With the first word, the veteran detective was flying along the sidewalk, at a gait which would not have disgraced a ten-second man under similar circumstances, It was too late, however. The speed with which the carriage was whirled round, and driven down-town—which caused the declar- ation of foul play—proved too much for the runner, When Fox reached Broadway, the car- riage was out of sight. So were the police- men of whom he might have made inquiries, “Well, I’ve got pretty nearly as. many irons in the fire as I can attend to,” muttered the detective, ‘‘but I'll look out for that soni gg I'm pretty sure to know ‘em 00.” ° : Then the Man of Many Faces went home, and enjoyed the luxury of sleeping in be for the first time since the night of the Eunter murder, $ Next day at noon, happening to be in bis office for a few minutes, Mr, Fox was sur- prised to receive a call from Miss Spencer, who immediately announced: ** We can’t find the trunk!” . “Why I wrote you after leaving last night to do nothing for forty-eight hours!” sharply exclaimed Fox, momentarily losing control of himself, ‘Oh, yes—I got your letter all right, and I found out who was eavesdropping—” and the fair visitor proceeded to relate in detail how she had discovered Julie, the conversa- tion with Mary, the house-maid, and finally the ill success of the morning search for the trunk, When she had finished her story, Jessie leaned back in her chair evidently expecting to be commended for acting in direct op- position to orders. Observing this, the detective—who had been indulging in bad language, under his breath, during the recital of his visitor's story—could not refrain from saying: ae our shrewdness is truly amazing, Miss ee the compliment in ertire good faith, Jessie thanked him, and smiling sweetly took his breath away ‘by adding: _ ‘Oh, T-was perfectly sure-that you would approve of what we were doing(!),”” _ ** Well—I’ll—be—” gaspingly began Fox, ] ~ aa Poh DAE Te t but stopped short. Words were useless, No language could express his feelings, and for several minutes he remained silently con- templating the ceiling. At length he asked: ‘You would recognize that bundle of papers, I presume, Miss Spencer?” “é Oh, yes!” ‘‘Well, they are doubtless to be found among your uncle’s private papers.” Has he any special place—such as a safe, or desk —for things of that kind?” , ** Yes; a big, old-fashioned desk in the library—one that he bought as a curiosity.” ‘Very good! Now, Miss Spencer, those papers belong to you—may be the means of establishing your claim toa large sum, which ‘your uncle is wrongfully withholding from ou, sar Look in and around that desk at every opportunity, and if you find the bundle, on’t hesitate to take it, ‘‘While your memory is probably all right, it may assist you to know that the pame Hunter will appear on the papers, in connection with that of Butler & Spencer,” ‘« Hunter?” echoed Jessie. ** Yes; Benjamin Hunter.” ; ‘Why, that is, or was, the name—” ‘Precisely. The man who was murdered, He had business dealings with your father, and your uncle.” . ‘Dear me! How strange!” murmured the visitor, and quite irrelevantly asked: ‘* Mr. Fox, do you heal a detective of the name of Duncan?” Yes,” assented the detective looking a little curious. - ‘*Well, a week before Will—that is, Mr. Hunter, disappeared, I met him and he told me that he was going to engage Mr.. Duncan to clear him of the cruel suspicion of having murdered his father—as suggested by the newspapers. ‘*Now, I’ve tried to find Mr. Duncan, but cannot, Will you please do it, and ask him what has become of Mr. Hunter?” Before any reply could be made to this ap- peal, there was a timid knock on the office door, and.in response to the detective’s invi- tation a rough, but honest looking man en- tered. Being assured that Mr Fox stood before him, the new-comer extended a dirty, crum- pled envelope, upon which was penciled: ‘* Sept. 8 A. M. ‘* Whoever presents this envelope unopen- ed before noon, this day, to Farrel Fox, No. 10 —— street, N. Y. City, will receive a re- ward of $10.” After a hasty glance at the contents of this strangely addressed envelope, Fox asked; “Where did you get this?” dler, ’n’ went toa house there t’ see if they wanted anythin’, but got chased away by a tough-lookin’ woman. my feet, ’n’ when I looked t’ see where it come from, I saw a chap lookin’ through the bars of a window, on the floor above the rround.” ; go with me?” , “No, sir, I’ve got my business t’ look out for, ’n’ I might as well give it up, if I was seen with you, but you can’t miss it—” upd the messenger described the appearance and situation of the house to which Daring Dave Duncan had been conveyed, “Do you know anything of the people in that howse?” asked on ¥ hi “No, sir. Never noticed it was occupied till this morning when I saw the chimney smokin’,”. “IT see. Well, I'm obliged to you for your ‘That letter was from the very gentleman, j ‘‘Down near Bay Ridge, sir. I’m a ped- . ‘“As I was comin’ away that letter fell at | Tell me exactly where it is—or can you , promptness,” and turning to Miss Spencer, — ‘while the messenger was still within earshot, the speaker in quité a loud voice continued:
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A 10 ‘ Detective Dave’s Close Call. you were inquiring about. I'll go see him to-night, ana let you know in the morning.” Then us the door closed on the messenger, the veteran detective snatched the bat which he had laid aside while talking to Miss Spen- cer, and jumped up exclaiming: ‘‘Tfurry up, Miss Spencer! I must be after i that fellow like a shot,” and pushing the as- ; tonished girl ahead locked the door. ‘* Don’t forget what I’ve told you, and for heaven’s suke keep it to yourself!” CHAPTER XII. r AN INNOCENT THIEF, LEAVING the bewildered girl staring at _ and after him, as if she thought he had sud- denly gone mad, the Man of Many Faces rushed down-stairs at the same marvelous speed he had displayed the previous night. This time, however, the chase was success- ful, for on reaching the doorway the detec- tive saw his late visitor going toward Broad- i way, but only about twenty yards distant. ¥ “Tt’sa ‘plant’ as sure as fate: but he overdid the thing—described everything too clearly fora man driven away by an angry woman, on his first visit to a house,” 7 Thus meditated Fox as be started in pur- suit of the Brooklyn peddler. { Broadway was ‘but fifty yards distant. On the corner stood one of the stalwart ; oy on reaching whom the detective said: “Jim, I’m going to lose my watch in less than a minute! Keep your eyes open!” The big policeman grinned as he nodded understandingly, but the speaker was off as he uttered the last word—the messenger be- ing only a few yards ahead, and moving sates © Although not familiar with Duncan’s handwriting, Fox was quite satisfied that the former was then, or had been ‘very recently, in great danger, and had written for assist- ance, because no one knew that they were even acquainted. : But was that the letter as originally writ- ; ten? and was the house referred to the real place of Duncan’s confinement? The letter purporting to come from Dun- can was an #ppeal for assistance, and read as follows: ee, ee on ‘“‘T have been trapped, and am threatened es with death at any moment, in an old house / situated about a hundred yards off the road, \ half-way between Brooklyn and Bay Ridge. ‘‘The Hunter business is, I feel sure, at \ the bottom of the affair. a. ‘‘There are two men—(Nick and Dick), and a woman—(Poll)—in charge here, and another prisoner besides myself, ** DUNCAN.” ‘“P. §. You may possibly be too late. If 4 so, look in mattresses of all rooms on second ; story—can't give exact location of mine—and R you will find mems, of what I know and sus- pect about the Hunter case.” ‘ Genuine or not this letter demanded imme- diate attention, Fox’s language indicated that he was sus: f picious of a trap. ; Under ordinary circumstances, the veteran would have shadowed the messenger, but thers was no time for that now—a man’s life “a might be at stake. a Rushing across the street after leaving the policeman, the detective hurried to the corner ie below, where he re-crossed, aid advanced to Be sy meet the messenger, aoe. Short as the interval since leaving the aa policeman had been, Fox’s wonderful talent j had been brought into play, and the removal Py. of his shaggy white beard—done while cross- | ae ing the street—more than counterbalancing | a the wearing of the same clothes, he was now ae aa entirely different looking man. Little dreaming of what was in store for on him, the messenger was slowly walking se along, staring into the shop windows every | now and then, when he suddenly ran plump ) tation, walked to the end of the corridor into a respectable looking old gentleman go- | furthest from Fox’s office. . ing in the opposite direction. In about ten minutes, the detective reap- The latter promptly grasped the Brook- | peared looking fully thirty years younger— lynite and demanded the return of his watch, ; that is to say, about thirty years of age—but “‘T ain’t got yer watch!” was the indignant | by no means as respectable, response, Glancing around to see if he was observed ‘Come, come, sir! Hand overmy watch, | as he locked the door, Fox saw a man walk- or I’ll hand you over to the police!” threaten- | ing up and down, and quickly passed out of ed the old gentleman. the building. It requires but very little time, and hardly But for the locking of the office door, the any cause, to collect a very large crowd on | stranger would not have believed such & Broadway, and in less than half a minute the ; change possible. That act. however, was respectable looking old gentleman and his | sufficient to prove the detective's identity, captive were surrounded by an immense ' and the other followed him, muttering: throng. ‘Now, it’ll be a race to the house, and Before the accused ‘could respond to the | I've got to look sharp or he’ll beat me!” second demand for the watch, two policemen | pushed through the crowd, and. inquired | - CHAPTER XIII. { what was the matter. ‘«This fellow has got my watch,” explain- ed the old gentleman, at the same time point- ing toa chain hanging from a button-hole of his vest. “‘T ain’t got yer watch! watch at all!” angrily exclaimed the accused. ‘‘ Better search him at once or he’ll be pass- ing it to a confederate,” suggested the old | gentleman—‘‘ if he hasn’t already done so.” “Jim ”—one of the policemen—looked curiously at thé speaker, but adopted the t suggestion—and found the watch in the | other murderous ruffian to delay placing man’s vest pocket! Duncan’s head in the desired position, and A surprised oath escaped the prisoner’s ; when Poll entered she saw Nick with the lips on seeing the watch. | deadly sandbag raised, impatiently awaiting Recovering from the genuine surprise | his confederate’s attention, which the finding of the watch had caused ‘‘Hullo! ‘What’s up?’ she exclaimed. him to exhibit, the man who had declared Dick pointed significantly to the handcuffs himself a Brooklyn peddler began to protest | and revolver. his innocence, but was interrupted by being Advancing to the table, Poll looked atten- suddenly handcuffed to one of the big police- | tively at the articles, then demanded: men, while the other grasped him by the ‘* Well, suppose he is?” left arm which was free. **There’s no suppose about it!” retorted ‘*You needn't ‘cuff’ me,” remonstrated | Nick. ‘‘He’s one o’ them bloodhounds, but the prisoner, ‘I'll go without your doing | he’ll never run down another man.” : that.” “ He’s a bloodhound, is he?” echoed Poll. “That’s. all right!” laughingly returned | ‘‘ Well, so much the better. Ten t’ one the Jim, ‘‘That’s all right, Jack, but we've | other fellow don’t know it, an’ he'll give up heard of your little tricks, and would rather | twice—yes, four times as much t’ get him be sure now that we’ve got you.” out o’ the way, when he does know it!” ‘* What d’ye mean? My name isn’t Jack!” ‘*Poll’s right!” exclaimed Dick. ‘ ‘“Oh, no—certainly not! Never heard of | “Ye kin just gamble on that!” affirmed Honest Jack Hart, of course,” was the iron- | the woman, adding: : ical reply, as, at a nod from Jim, both officers | ‘‘ Instead o’ knockin’ what life there’s left started with their prisoner for the station— | out o’ him—as ye were goin t’—ye ought the affair of the watch being entirely over- | t’ be tryin’ t bring him round a bit, for looked by everybody when the name of «| the better he is the more you'll get.” badly ‘* wanted” notorious Western burglar, ‘“We did give him some whisky,” ob- smd suspected murderer, was mentioned by | served Dick, * but it hadn’t no effect,” the officer. “Try again,” was the laconic rejoinder. ‘¢Honest Jack Hart!” muttered Fox, as The ruffians obeyed, and again a small the crowd dispersed. ‘‘ Then it is a trap! | quantity of the flery fluid was forced down lll have to be careful.” the detective’s throat. At the same moment a_ well-dressed, “That'll do. If he’s goin’ t’ recover at shrewd-looking man who had arrived on the ; all, that'll bring him round after a bit,” scene just in time to witness the departure ; declared the woman. { of the officers and their prisoner, was say- ‘Ye might as well come down for & ing to himself: while,” she continued, and glancing at the “Well, that was a mighty queer caper of , money and jewelry on the table, asked: Jack’s! ‘How much is that worth?” ‘* But I must watch that old guy, for if we “ About a hundred and a half,” promptly can manage to bluff the other charge it | lied Dick, foreseeing what was coming, won't do to have this affair coming up.” ‘I believe ye’r’ lying,” calmly declared Having decided that wnusual care would | Poll, ‘‘but that don’t make any difference, have to be exercised in visiting the’ house | Question is, what are ye goin’ t’ do—divide near Bay Ridge, Fox hurried back to his "mong us three, or mong the hull gang?’ office to assume another and more elaborate | The men looked somewhat confused, and disguise. alittle angry too, noting which the woman DUNCAN’S DISCOVERY. WE will precede the detective—now truly Farrel the Fox—to the house on the road to Bay Ridge, resuming the story there at the Ain’t got any | point where the rnffian, Nick, declared his intention of “finishing” Daring Dave Dun- can. Again, the latter was about to spring up and make a fight for his life, when the door was thrown open, and the woman entered. The turning of the knob had _ caused the The stranger who had expressed his inten- | continued: Pa tion of watching the ‘told: guy,” followed ‘Oh, I see!’ It was goin’ to hea quiet lit- the detective—at a safe distance until the | tledivvy between yourselves, eh? latter entered the building where his office ‘“‘Well, it'll have to be three, or all, now. was located, and then quite close until the Which way’ll ye have it?” office itself was entered, * ‘Tt wouldn't buy more’n cigars ’n’ drinks ‘Farrel Fox!” exclaimed the shadowing | if it goes round, so I spose we'd better call strangeg reading the sign as he passed by | it ‘‘ three,” answered Dick, looking inquir- the door, ingly at his confederate. . ‘Great Scott! It’s the very man Jack Phe latter nodded sullen assent, and was sent to decoy.” © sweeping the booty into her apron the wo- The spesker was fully as shrewd as his, man directed the others to follow _ her, fuce indicated, and after a few minutes’ hesi- | adding: ST) LEAS RF, eT aL HES ® TT »
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hands in it.” The threat was sufficient, and the ruffians promptly followed her, locking the door, but forgetting in their eagerness the ques- tion of leaving the prisoner at liberty to move about. Duncan listened until satisfied that there was no immediate danger of their return- ing, then jumping up looked at the win- dow, and sounded the walls. * Window’s barred, and this wall is solid,” soliloquized the detective as he examined his surroundings. ‘‘The~other prisoner must be in the room on this side.” ‘ He was crossing the floor to the other side of the room while speaking, and had just reached the wall, when the rattling of a chain accompanied by a faint moaning sound, fel) upon his ear. The noises came from the adjoining room —that of the other prisoner, of course—and as the detective applied his ear to the wall, there was a Startling increase in the sounds. Inured, as he was to all sorts of sights and sounds of human misery, Duncan could not repress a shudder as he listened to the pitiful moaning of the prisoner and pictured the scene on the other side of the wall. Suddenly the oa changed to horrible cries and curses, the loud rattling of the chain telling how the unfortunate prisoner was tugging at it, and then as suddenly came the sound of a heavy fall—and, then silence. ‘¢ Horrible, horrible!” muttered the listener. «The fiends will kill or craze that poor fel- low in short order—if they haven’t done the last already.” Returning to the window, Duncan gazed out at the lonely roadway, tried the solidity of the bars, and then threw himself upon the bed to think over the situation. He was not at all put out at finding the window barred, for, even if it was not, the detective had no idea of attempting to es- cape, Lying on his back with his hands clasped under his head, Duncan had been buried in thought about a quarter of an hour, when suddenly the door was thrown open, and two men entered the room. There had not been the slightest noise— nothing to warn the prisoner of the proximity of the new-comers until they opened the door. ; CHAPTER XIV. . AN OMINOUS VISITOR. PLAINLY the intention was to surprise the prisoner, and the latter had no desire to con- zeal from them that they had accomplished their purpose. On the contrary, he exhibit- ed just a trifle more surprise than he really felt. Both men wore black masks, neat clothing and rubber-soled shoes, the last accounting for their noiseless approach. ; “Well, sir, how do you feel this morn- ing?” asked one, approaching the bed. ** Bad—my head aches terribly,” answered Duncan, and still preserving the appearance of surprise and bewilderment, asked: «But how did I get here? What has hap- pened me?” At ~ “Your head is injured, I understand, and a friend of yours brought you here in his earriage. He will tell you all about it by and by;’ answered the man who had ad- dressed Duncan, — The speaker was evidently of a very differ- ent class to the ruffians who had preceded him, and his visit seemed to be the result of 2uriosity, for after a long, searching look he surned away, saying: *¢ Your friend will be here about noon. If res, oor. I’ll send up 4 stick to you,” ou need anything at any time, rap on the | a Detective Dave’s Close Call. “Better do it now, or you'll have all This carefulness seemed to amuse him, and laughing softly he muttered: ‘*So, there’s been an argument below. He was sent up to identify me—and failed. I wonder who he is?” Subsequently events proved that Duncan was correct, ‘There had been quite an argu- ment over him, and it was renewed with in- creased interest when the man sent to see if he could identify the prisoner reported in the negative. ‘** And I’m willing to gamble that, if he is a detective, he doesn’t do business West of the Rockies!” exclaimed the companion of the man who had done the talking with Duncan. The latter was the most expert counter- feiter this, or any other, country has ever produced—Charles Frederick Ulrich—a man with whom the U. 8. Government has gone to the extent of making terms, in order to insure the destruction of certain plates. Ulrich was then engaged on a big job. The house had been engaged by iim for that purpose, and he did not relish the idea of hav- ing it used for anything else—least of all, anything liable to attract the attention of the police. ‘* You should not have had anything to do with such work!” he declared to Duncan’s assailants, adding: ‘I don’t care what you have got, or are to get. We are not here for that kind of business, and you must drop it. ‘‘Tam going to New York, and when I return to-morrow, shall expect to find this house free of every person and thing not re- lated to the purpose for which it was en- gaged.” ‘*He’s got his Irish up, and you've got to knuckle,” commented Ulrich’s companion as the ‘‘ boss ” counterfeiter (having issued his fiat) left the room, Both Dick and Nick scowled at this, and the speaker ey continued: ‘You fellows begged your way into this thing, and you'll do just what Charley orders—d’ye understand? We're not going to allow you to ruin us by getting him r’iled —not, by the Eternal, if we had to pitch you and your people into the bay! ‘* You've got twenty-four hours. the most of it!” ‘Hello! Here comes somebody, and look- in’ for you, I'll bet!” interposed Poll at this point, and secretly glad of the interruption, Dick (to whom the words were addressed), jumped from his seat, and went to the door- way, A few words passed between the new- comer and Dick, after which both passed up- stairs to the room where Duncan was con- fined. 3 Without any preliminary the stranger (who was in disguise on his arrival, and who now wore a mask borrowed from Dick), ad- vanced to where the detective was lying, and demanded: ‘* What was your object in stealing that beard, in Considine’s, last night?” The detective simply stared at the speaker by way of reply—his astonishment at the openness of the question helping te give a natural appearance to the houriderea look he assumed, ‘** Come, come! There’s no use trying to fool me!” continued the ‘stranger, and turn- ing to Dick, ordered: ‘You and the other man mu‘t see to it as you see fit; but, between you, you must manage not to leave this man alone again until there isan answer to the question you have just heard me ask. “If there’s no answer by noon, then use him as you did the other fellow,” and the speaker nodded toward the room adjoining. The stranger paused to note the effect of Make - Punean could hardly detect the turnin g of | his words, but he might as well have looked - she key, as the door was locked after the de- bs, speiere of the masked man, 80 gently was it _ done, a r or _ 4 "ot f 7 > : ‘? . e € v —— * aad . Se Be apie on oie loves 8 a at the wall. ‘* Look out that you don't carry that game too far!” he wenton, ‘‘ You have a chance amine SE et Ge ee ee eee ee ee ee eee yeas eas a to explain now; but if you don’t do it before noon, then you never will—you'll never have: ‘ the opportunity! D’ye understand?” The prisoner made no response. He was. staring at the ceiling, and apparently did not even hear the ominous words of the stranger. Angry at being baffled, and not so certain as he pretended to be that the prisoner was really sensible of what was being said, the stranger, after a few moments’ hesitation, quitted the room, followed by Dick. **Don’t do anything until I—until Mr. G—— arrives. He’ll be here about two this: afternoon, and this fellow may take a notion to talk by that time. Better tie him up again as soon as you’ve had breakfast.” These instructions were given by the stranger as his confederate unlocked the door, but the detective caught only enough to warn him that something was to happen him after the ruffian Dick had breakfasted— something evil, of course. “Wish I knew what it was,” muttered Duncan, as the footfalls of his visitors died away. After a few minutes he got up and ex- amined what had been thrown aside as worth- less, when Poll was carrying away his money and jewelry. ‘‘Ah! As I expected,” he murmured, and picking up an old leather pocketbook, ex- its contents—just as Poll had before discarding it, because of its ungainly size and. worn appearance, A few envelopes, and a half dozen sheets: of ag was all there was in the pocket- book, but with a lead-pencil they were just then worth more than thousand-dollar bank- notes. Sitting down on the bed, ready to stretch out at full length at a moment’s notice, Dun- can wrote a letter to Farrel Fox, and inclosed it in an envelope. | Placing the letter in his pocket, the detec- tive began writing again, covering four sheets of paper before ceasing. These he folded and placed in another envelope (also: directed to Fox), and tearing open the tick- ing of his mattress with his teeth, placed the: second letter among the straw, ‘* Now, to find a messenger!” he exclaimed, and going to the window looked out. Situated so far from the road, and almost hidden by trees, it seemed impossible that. anybody—except those connected with the den—would pass close enough to attract their attention, but just as Duncan reached the window, & wagon stopped in front of the house, ‘* A peddler!” exclaimed the detective, reading the sign on the wagon, and noting” the barrel aad baskets it contained, “Now, I’m all right!” he continued— thinking not of himself, but his case. ‘Ten dollars will be more than this man would make in two days, though Id treble it, only he might think the service too important.” | The entrance to the house did not face the road, and the peddler who was ap- proaching would have to pass under Dun- can’s window, asthe latter surmised, As. the man drew near, the detective thrust his arm through the bars, afthe same time cau- tiously calling: ‘*Hello! Hello! Look at this!” ‘The man looked up, as Duncan with the last word threw the letter to him. It was. picked up, and eagerly examined, and then with a significant nod, the peddler entered the house. ‘* Now, if I had my revolver, I'd laugh at them!” Exultantly exclaimed Duncan, little: dreaming that the peddler’s wagon was used toconvey the results of Ulrich’s skill to the: various Express offices; that the barrel and ‘baskets were only a blind, and that the pre- tended peddler was one of the gang! Half an hour later, Duncan heard foot- i approaching, and threw himself on the ed, J H
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forts to free hi - room where lay the sleeping detective. 12 ** Now, we'll see what it is,” he auampecedl adding, “Wish that fellow had sent the cane.” In a few moments, the door was thrown open, and the ruffians Nick and Dick en- tered—Duncan keeping his eyes fixed on the ‘ceiling, pretending not to have noticed their ‘entrance, The men approached the bed in a careless ; ‘way, but when within reaching distance both sprung upon the prisoner, who, taken ‘completely by surprise, was quickly bound and agged. he fixing of the time as noon, was ‘merely a blind to throw me off my guard, ‘They have come to ‘finish’ me!” the thought ‘that flashed through Duncan’s mind. He was quickly undeceived as to’ the reason for the sudden change from compara- ‘tive liberty to bondage by” the ruffian Nick, who mockingly inquired: ** Ain’t got any more letters t’ send t' New York, have ye, Mister Duncan?” Although the latter partly guessed the truth, and knew further deception as to his physical and mental condition was impossi- ble, he made no response, causing his ques- ‘tioner to hiss: ‘Curse you, you'll talk plenty by’n’by! Ay, you ll beg for a chance t’ talk’ pray— but you'll not. get it!” ever mind that, now!” interrupted Dick. ‘ We must get t’other one out o’ the me first—let’s go for him.” Reluctantly, as if scarcely able to restrain himself from ‘‘ finishing” the prisoner at once, Nick followed his confederate into the sadjoining room, from which quickly issued most appalling cries, mingled with the -sounds.of blows and threats, and curses, CHAPTER XY. REMOVED TO NEW QUARTERS. For a minute or two after the cries in the :adjvining room ceased, there was a dead si- lence. Then came the rattle of the chain, and “the noise of a hammer and a chisel, ‘*Removing the poor fellow’s irons,” com- mented the detective, and then came the ‘thought: “When they are through with him, my “turn will come.” After a few minutes be heard the chain ~ fall on the bare floor, the muffled sounds of ‘men talking and moving about, and the foot- Steps of the two murderous ruffians as they passed out of the room, through the hall, and down the stairs, Minute after minute passed until an hour vhad elapsed, and still the expected visitors did not put in an appearance, nor was there any indication of life about the house, he silence puzzled the detective. During the early morning he could hear all kinds of noises below, and occasionally catch the sound of a voice. Now, all was still as » death, ‘As may be imagined, Duncan had not been idle while awaiting the return of the ruffians, who it was an even chance would ~come back only Hi ride 4 him, but his ef- clf were as vain as they were exhausting, and by the time the second hour had elapsed he was compelled to desist. ‘‘ Strange that they don’t return,” he mut- ‘tered, sinking back on the bed, and five min- utes later was sound asleep! Shortly after the exhausted detective had fallen asleep, a carriage swung out of the road, and, notwithstanding the dangers and difficulties incurred, was driven to within a short distance of the house where finding further progress impossible, three men jumped out, and a minute later entered the It needed but one glance te satisfy the ~new-comers that the sleep was genuine, and “one remarking ‘‘it makes it all the easier,” took a box eda es pocket, and from the — hai sie pistol leveled at the new-comer. tter was the apex ‘of a triangle box a damp sponge, which he applied to the sleeper’s nostrils. ‘* Now, hustle him into the carriage,” di- rected the man with the sponge as he restored that article to the box, adding: ‘* Better look sharp for the other fellow. He isn’t called the Fox for nothing.” ‘* He’ll never know what happened him!’ grim! assured Nick. ot on this side o’ the Jordan!” added Dick, as he grasped Duncan by the shoul- ders, while his confederate picked up the legs, and thus they carried the prisoner to the carriage. “You'll have t’ keep your eyes peeled, boys, or you'll be dumped, for ‘the Fox’ is a terror, now I’m tellin’ ye,” again warned the third ruffian, as he took his place in the carriage, which was immediately driven away toward the city. A scornful laugh greeted the warning, and as they re- entered the house Dick re- marked: ‘He can ’t get here before one or two, an’ it ain’t more’ ‘n eleven yet, SO we may as well take it easy.’ The two worthies had the house to them- selves, all the others having departed, and everything relating to the counterfeiting business having been secreted, shortly after Ulrich left for New York, This was the result of a consultation among the gang—the intercepted letter hav- ing created no small alarm. * We'd better shut up shop entirely for a or two,” said one of the counterfeiters. Cbs fellow appears to have been perfectly whitole all the time, and it’s possible that this isn’t the only letter he wrote.” ** You're right,” agreed another, express- ing the general feeling. “You're right, and we bad better be prepared for a visit from the nearest police station.” An hour later, the counterfeiters having removed, or concealed, all traces of their presence, took a twenty-four hours’ vacation, Jeaving Nick and Dick in charge of the house —these worthies expressing their willingness to risk a visit from the police. The counterfeiters lived well, and there was no lack of good wines and liquors in the cellar. Having full sway now, the guardians of the den proceeded , to show their trust. worthiness by sampling the various brands of wine and liquor, with the result that both were in a drunken stupor long before the time fixed for the arrival of ‘‘ Mr, G——.” CHAPTER XVI. MR. FULLER FROM ‘‘ RUFFLE CRICK,” . Av 1:45 P. M., Messrs. Dick Norton and Nick Diamond, the guardians of the counter- feiters’ den, were aroused in no gentle man- ner by the shrewd-looking man who had started from New York to 3 give warning of the arrest of ‘‘ Honest John Hart,” and of the coming of Farrel the Fox. The “guardians” were seated opposite each other at the dinner-table, upon which rested their heads. Between them was a half-emptied bottle of whisky. Choice aan too, were scattered over the table and oor With an angry oath the new-comer picked up a bucket of water, and dashed’ an even half of it into the face of each manas near as he could get at it. _ Both men recovered their senses almost in- stantly, and both in an equally angry mood, “What the—” began Nick, rushing to- da the new-comer, but was interrupted f Shut up, you drunken fool!” The order was emphasized by the revolver which was leveled with lightning-like rapid- ity, and the ruffian came to a_ sudden halt, but Dick—the coldcr-blooded of the two—had been thoroughly aroused, and The . se Ee. ee ‘mond and Norton they had been forced Le ; ss which the three men formed, and did not realize his danger until Norton jeeringly ex- claimed: ‘Fire away, Carpenter! that when you pull, so will I! ‘*Reckon I'll have t’ take a hand in this leetle game myself, pardner—just t’ sort 0’ even up things. So, when you pull, I'll fol- low suit— Stand still!” The three confederates, forgetting their quarrel for the moment, turned toward the doorway on hearing these words—the order to “stand still!” being delivered in a tone that fairly lifted Dick from the floor. A moment before Carpenter was at the mercy of Norton. Now, through the timely intervention of the stranger standing in the doorway, the situation was practically re- : i versed for Diamond carried no pistol. fA | { i} But don’t forget ? ter,” continued the man in ube doorway, ‘‘ it might go off, ye know— Drop it, I say!” Like the order to ‘stand still, * the last words came like a thunderbolt out of a clear sky, the cool, easy tone of the speech preced- ing them giving no warning of the terrible energy with which those that followed were hurled forth. As much cowed by the stranger’s manner as his pistol, Norton obeyed the last order by placing his ‘‘ gun ” on the table, and was then politely requested to: ** Get back t’ the other end o’ the shebang, blast Pah f Now, pardner, I wud ’em?” asked the stranger, as he stepped { forward and picked up Dick’s revolver. H | ‘Oh, I guess it’s all right as itis,” replied = . { | ‘‘Guess you’d better drop that gun, mis- ! \ : Sean e what d’ye want t? do 9) | Carpenter, after a few moments’ hesitation, and smilingly added, ‘’It was a kind of a famil fight.” | | x-cuse me, then, for stickin’ my oar in, but that cuss looked as if he meant busi- — | ness.” Bi Carpenter glanced curiously at theroughe looking speaker, who, from his style and by general make-up seemed more at home in a ; Western mining-camp than the peaceful suburbs of Brooklyn, Still, the stranger had done Carpenter no . small service, and the latter was not slow to acknowledge it, saying: | “There’s no mistake about that part of it) ©) | is you may be sure—he did mean business. Ten to one I'd have been well on the road to Kingdom Come but for you. What shall I call you?” The stranger looked sharply—suspiciously —at the counterfeiter before replying: ‘J reckon you ain’t dirty enough t’ hurt a man that pulled ye out _ of a hole, so I’ll tell — f be “Folks at Ruffle Crick used t’ call (me “424 Fuller—Handsome Hank—’cause I’m so »' | durned ugly, ye know, But ther’ wuz a th urn stage stopped near Ruffle Crick, ’n’— well, | it got sort o’ onhealthy in that neighborhood, a so as I had a leetle dust I thought re travel ane, around for a while.” Carpenter smiled at this RRNA he! warmly declared: oe ‘‘Mr. Fuller, you’ve done me a great — service by your timely interference, for those — scoundrels hate me, and though I could have Hi managed one the other would have managed abe? me.’ ht ‘* Well, I’m glad t’ hear it’s all right, but A why’ n thunder don’t ye fire ’em out—get rid of ’em?” asked the Westerner, PaByee Ne be Why indeed? Here was a man worth the @2)))\/h pair of fhem—and one who would be satis; |) fied with doing the work prescribed by the _ gang, and not endanger the success of the : ‘‘job,” as well as the safety of all, by doing outside work. et The counterfeiters had nothing to do with hye the Hunter murder—“ didn’t care two straws - about it,” asone of them expressed it, yet through the unauthorized conduct of Dia- Re ail the affair.
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yl FP. “Tl risk it—at all events keep him until f the boys have passed on it,” thought Car- penter, and motioning Fuller to follow, walked outside, ‘*T don’t want those skunks to hear what I’m saying,” he began, as they walked to- ward the road, and then as if suddenly re- minded of something exclaimed: ** By Jove, I forgot to warn them! “Come back to the house, Mr. Fuller.” The Westerner nodded, and when they tie reached the house stood at the door, while nee Carpenter entered. 7 Completely sobered by their recent ex- im? perience, and somewhat fearful of the result of their attack on the man who stood next to Ulrich in the gang of which they were the humblest members—mere watchmen—the counterfeiter found Diamond and Norton sullen—suspicious, but servile. ‘You are a precious pair of skunks!” scornfully exclaimed Carpenter on entering. t ‘‘T rushed down from New York to warn | | you that Honest Jack had over-reached him- self in some way, and had been arrested at the request of the Fox, who must be un- acquainted with this locality or he would be } here by this time. What have you done Ig with those two men? No lying, now!” ‘‘ Moved ’em down the road ’bout half a mile—red house near the shore,” answered { (2) Diek. ih oe ‘* Too near—but that’s your lookout,” re- marked Carpenter. ““Couldn’t get no place else in a hurry,” + replied Dick. and ‘‘ Well, it’s none of our funeral at any me but you are to meet somebody here to- ay?” te Ves~-bught t’ be here now,” “Then, let it be the last appointment at this house, and when he comes take him off “to where the prisoners are confined,” directed _ Carpenter, and, then, as another idea occurred to him, continued: ‘Or, better still, you go there now. I've ‘seen your man and will send him after you. This Fox is liable to drop in with a squad of policemen at any minute.” 7 ‘Getting very careful about us,” looked Nick. Carpenter understood and explained: “‘Oh, as far as you are personally con- cerned, I wouldn’t litt a finger to save you from hanging, but you are the only people mentioned in that letter, and the chances are that the Fox knows both of you, soif he found you here it might cast suspicion on the _ house.” his sounded reasonable, and was all the | more forcible because of the bitterly scornful ~ tone of the speaker. . The nen exchanged glances, and each read assent in the eyes of the other, for neither eared to meet Farrel the Fox under the cir- cumstances suggested by Carpenter. © Well, I guess ye’r’ right—we’d better slope,” agreed Norton, slowly arising from -hisseat, and, then, after glancing at the clock, gave minute directions for the guidance of _ his employer—to all of which the man out- _ side paid strict attention. -. For a few minutes after the departure of the two ruffians, the counterfeiter sat ‘thinking deeply, and, then, as if coming ‘| toa sudden determination, jumped up call- ing: “ Come in, Fuller!” |. The Westerner lounged into the room, and | the other asked: , - You’re not doing anything, I suppose?” ‘“ ” ‘ 0. . Well, if you'd like to take the chances, I think IJ can’ put you in the way of doin _ something big, i it's not certain until I've | seen some other people. aie Good bis Aga ye think I kin do it, unt me in, Dust is runnin’ low ’n’ ther’ in’t no stage t’ hold up round these dig- an “No, I'm afraid stages of your kind are a | jae a — ” EW ii. PRED TE, a ae Dr tee ee are ee ie _ P a ae Detective Dave’s Close Call. rather too scarce to be profitable,” laughing- ly returned Carpenter, adding: ‘*But, never mind that—I guess you can do as well with us, and at less risk, ‘* Now, first, did you hear what that fel- low said about directing a man to a house, about a half mile from here, near the shore?” ‘** Yes, blame him, 1 did.” : ‘‘Well— See here, Fuller! I’m going to take chanceson you, (though it’s ’way out 0’ my style to do it,) but you look square—and I want a lift.” ‘* Let ’er rip, pardner! thin’, spit it out.” ‘‘Good! The game I’m interested in is ore which makes my meeting the police here undesirable—even if I disguise myself. Still it’s necessary that somebody should be here to direct the man who is coming to meet those two scoundrels—one who can risk meeting the police. Can you?” ‘‘Reckon I kin. They wouldn’t know me from Adam’s brother.” ‘All right! Then you stay until this man arrives—unless the police force you to quit. They can’t do anything, however, for the house is clear of everything suspicious. Sa you’re taking care of it for Mr. Frederic Ulrich] and the agent will support you if necessary. I'll be back after dark.” Carpenter left almost immediately, fearing to meet the police in the expected raid. Five minutes later a carriage came tearing along the road from Brooklyn, and the Westerner muttered: ‘* Here’s my mutton!” If I can do any- CHAPTER XVII. MR, FULLER HAS SOMETHING TO SAY. Tur carriage referred to was a light buggy drawn by a magnificent horse which evident- » had not been spared in the drive to Brook- n. As the Westerner appeared to expect, this carriage stopped opposite the house. The driver jumped out and came rapidly toward the house—Fuller examining him sharply as he advanced. ‘Where's Norton?” demanded the stranger, halting before the Westerner who stood in the doorway. ‘‘Are yon the man who was to be here some time ago?” counter-questioned Fuller, ‘** Yes, yes—I’m a little late,” impatiently admitted the other. ‘* Reckon youre the right man, then. Come inside.’ The stranger followed the Westerner into the house, and the latter continued: ‘«There’s been somethin’ of a change here ’n’ your folks are gone t’ safer quarters, If you'll jest look out for things down here for a leetle while I'll go ‘long ’n’ show ye where they’ve gone to.” The stranger nodded assent, and Fuller left him—ascending to the floor above, where he began examining the mattresses in the different rooms! After ten minutes’ absence the Westerner returned to the impatiently waiting man below, and expressed himself as ready to: start. “Tt is time!” muttered the other—in French. , “What'd ye say?” “ Nothing—come!” and the stranger led the way to the bugey, ‘Let me drive—l’ve got t’ pick the road as well as the place,” said Fuller as the stepped into the buggy, and without waiting for permission picked up the reins. The stranger muttered something, but his guide apparently did not hear it, and started the horse down the road. Not a word was exchanged during the ten minutes’ drive which followed, but when the ped at the house described buggy was sto by Reston, Re lctanpes said: “You need not come in.” “That’s where ye jump the track, stran- ger,” returned Fuller, ‘‘1 do need to come ‘*Why?” sharply demanded the other, ‘‘ Orders,” was the Jaconic answer, ‘‘Confound your— But, come! I’ve no time to waste””—and the stranger led the way” to the door, where he rapped for admission, ‘Hello! What the deuce are you doing here?” exclaimed Dick—who responded to» the stranger’s summons—on seeing Fuller. ‘‘ Orders,” answered the latter, repeating his laconic explanation to the stranger. Norton looked somewhat suspicious, but. as before intimated neither he nor Diamond were of any account among the counter- feiters, and, therefore, he was unaware of the fact that Fuller was not yet even a mem- ber of the gang. On the contrary, looking: upon the stranger as one of the principa men in the Western part of the gang, Nor-. ton asked: ‘* Any orders for me or Nick?” ‘“Yes, I'll give ’em t’ ye soon as this: party is through here,” and with a careless. —almost contemptuous—nod toward the- stranger, Fuller pushed by Dick and entered’ the house. “Who is that fellow? What does he- mean?” furiously demanded the stranger— the employer of Norton and Diamond, ‘A good deal bigger man than he looks,’ confidently answered the tool, and as the re- cent scene in the other house came before: him, added: : ‘And he’s an ugly customer, too, Mr, Gilon. Don’t meddle with him—he’s dan-- gerous!” . Mr. Gilon shook his head impatiently at. the warning, like a spirited horse chafing at being restrained. “Well, well,” he began, then stopped: short, and abruptly demanded: ‘*Has that man said anything?” ““Nary a word.” With a muttered curse, ‘‘ Mr. Gilon” began» pacing the floor, but after a few minutes; stopped before Norton and asked; ‘* Ts there any way to make him talk? To make him tell who and what he is, and what- he’s after?” ‘ Then, for the first time, Dick. recollected the postscript to Duncan’s letter. The trans- ferring of the prisoners, and the subsequent. drunk, had caused him to forget it until that . moment, The counterfeiters, he knew, would not trouble themselves looking for the - memorandum mentioned by Duncan in the intercepted letter to Fox. They had no in- terest in the affair. ‘It’s there yet, and it’s just what he» (Gilon) wants,” thought Norton, and ie ‘See here, Mr. Gilon! What is it worth. t’ find out who he is, ’n’ what he’s after?” ‘‘Oh—anything you like! Say five hun- dred dollars.” “Tf you'll wait here half an hour, I'l guarantee t’ be able t’ find out what ye» want t’ know.” Gilcn stared at the speaker but the latter - was not prepared for an explanation, and . asked: : «Will ye wait?” ‘Certainly! But aren’t you mistaken?” — “Don’t think so. You'll find Nick up-. stairs takin’ care of ’em,”—and laughing like. a fiend, the ruffian departed. — Mr. Gilon stood staring after his tool until the latter disappeared from view, and, then, remembering the’ reference to Nick, started _ up-stairs. On reaching the head of the stairs, Mr, Gilon was a little startied to find himself» confronted by Fuller. é “Come in here—I’ve got something to - say to you,” declared the latter. -Wonderingly, Gilon followed the speaker - into an adjoining room. ; ‘« Sit down, for I've got a lot to tell you,” — asserted Fuller; and when the astonished 4 listener had seated himself, began:
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t du : _ the exo pao to charge for driving him to Bay Ridge. . Sic Ae pai RATE 14 f nis ‘You are anxious to find out who and ‘what this man, Duncan, is?” Gilon nodded, and the other calmly con- tinued: ‘* Well, I can tell you all about him. First, he's a private detective, looking for some of the rewards offered in the Hunter affair, in- cidentally, but employed to hunt down the murderer or murderers. ‘Just where you come inJ am not yet certain.” *“Eh?, What d’ye mean?” exclaimed Gilon, starting up from his seat. ‘*Sit down, sit down,” quietly directed Fuller, and as the other sunk back pale and trembling, continued: ‘After you saw him this morning, this private detective—Duncan is his name— wrote a. letter—” : ‘* Who saysI saw him?” interrupted Gi- on, “Tf you don’t keep quiet, I’ll shut up,” threatened Fuller. ‘‘ What difference does it make whether you are wearing a full black beard, or auburn whiskers?” Gilon made no reply—seemed unable to— and Fuller went on: ‘‘As I was saying, this Duncan wrote a letter toa man named Fox—another detec- tive—asking for assistance, and saying that if Fox came too late to save him, a full ac- count (?) of what this Duncan knew of the Hunter murder would be found concealed in his mattress,” ** Good heavens!” gasped Gilon. ** Yes, it does look pretty cloudy for you,” assentingly observed Fuller, and looking sharply at his companion went on: **'This Dick has gone back to look for that memo. in the mattress, but won’t find it— he’s too late entirely.” : ‘““Why? How do you know?” asked Gi- on. ‘* Because it’s in my pocket. ‘** You needn’t worry about it, I'll let you see it before you leave here,” he continued, and walking toward the adjoining room, called: ‘ ‘*Come in here, Dave! Bring the other fellow with you.” * You see,” explained Fuller, turning to his amazed companion, ‘‘ Duncan can make things clearer than I can—even . with, the statement he left for me—so it’ll be better to talk to him, Don’t ye think so?” Gilon made no reply—seemed incapable of doing so, and Fuller watched him sharp! while from the adjoining room entered Nick Diamond and Dave Duncan—the former handcuffed, and the latter free! CHAPTER XVIII. THE FOX AND THE FRENCHMAN. Grion stared in a dazed way at the late prisoner and his companion, apparently un- able to comprehend what the reader has doubtless already surmised—that Fuller and Farrel, the Fox, were one. Shadowing a man whose business it is to shadow others, is very delicate work at an time, but when that man is of the caliber of Farrel, the Fox, it is impossible—for any length of time—and before reaching the ferry the detective was aware of the fact that he was being shadowed by the shrewd-looking man-~Carpenter, The latter meant to drop the detective on the Brooklyn side of the ferry, but the Fox was not to be dropped. When leaving his office the latter looked a wreck—the bleary eyed, dissipated remains ofa young bummer, On the ferry-boat he lost_ Carpenter, but the shadow paid little heed, having followed him on board. On arriving in Brooklyn, Carpenter stopped for a bit f few minutes to remonstrate against rbitant amount which a hackman * a} ‘ nae wane 3 et Fin Sprenyeomen ct SIS NST Nea RC eae es eee While the counterfeiter was thus engaged a sharp, tough-looking man pointed to the seat of the carriage, held up a dollar to the driver, nodded at Carpenter, and slapped his trowsers-pocket significantly. In the language of the day, the driver ‘caught on,” and as he did Carpenter said: ‘* ¥t’s dead robbery, but if you'll keep those horses on the jump all the way, I'll give up ten dollars.” “Tll send ’em along for all they’re worth,” assured the hackman. ‘‘ Jump in!” ' He nodded to the tough-looking individ- ual at the same time, and while Carpenter was getting into the carriage the other slip- ped up on the box. The same maneuver was gone through on arriving at the counterfeiter’s den—the driver engaging Carpenter’s attention, while his other passenger slipped down on the other side of the carriage. Thus it happened that the Westerner— Farrel the Fox—was on hand when the two ruffians attacked the counterfeiter, and al- j though he had only changed a battered —————— OO stn derby for a broad-brimmed slouch hat, the latter failed to recognize in his rescuer the man whom he had been shadowing an hour previous. And, now, to return to our story. Unable apparently to comprehend the change in the situation of the late prisoner and his ferocious guardian, Mr. Gilon looked appealingly at the Fox. *« Yes,” responded the latter, ‘‘ that’s the way itis. If there’s anything you'd like to have explained, I guess Duncan won’t mind telling you for he’s a good-natured fellow— though he was choking your man to death when I came up-stairs, ‘And speaking of choking, I don’t sup- pose you remember me, but you do, o course, the case of poor Marie Lazard?” While asking this question, the Fox was passing his hand over his face: When he removed it his face no longer bore the stamp of the Western ‘‘bad” man. Instead, he looked a bright-eyed, volatile Frenchman. With a cry of terror, Gilon sprung to his feet, exclaiming: ‘In God’s name who are you? What do you mean?” “‘T am, or rather. was, Crapaud. You know who Marie Lazard was. ** And, now, Mr, Cartier,” continued the Man of Many Faces, resuming his official tone and expression of countenance, ‘‘ we have another murder mystery to solve, but I don’t think there will be much mystery left after you’ve told your story—and that ou will do in preference to going back to aris, I’m quite sure, eh?” Cartier—for ‘“Mr. Gilon” was the mys- terious Frenchman in disguise—shuddered as he bowed assent to the Fox’s proposition, and the latter’ looked significantly at Dun- can, who responded by asking: , ‘* What have you done with that beard?” The Frenchman’s reply was a gesture to- ward his breast pocket, and having secured the beard, Duncan continued: oe Now, why were you so anxious to obtain this?” Although amazed by the change in the situation at first, Cartier had been gradually recovering himself, and though pale and ner- vous, there was a dangerous gleam in ‘his eye. ‘‘He has formed a plan—is nerving him- self for something desperate,” thought the lynx-eyed Fox. ‘‘I’llsee if the Lazard affair won’t take the starch out of him.” It did. most completely, and until Duncan asked the cause of his anxiety to obtain the beard, Cartier seemed to have lost the power of speech. Now, however, he started up as if suddenly awakened, and in a voice hoarse with fear, revenge and desperation, aaked: “If I tell you all, will you be silent re- garding the Taran murder?” — “Yes, that is out of my hands. Your Detective Dave’s Close Call. countrymen may do their own tracking—if you act square.” “© T will, I will! exclaimed Cartier. T’ll tell you all!” eagerly CHAPTER XIX. CARTIER’S STORY-—DEATH AND DESTRUCTION, ‘*My anxiety to obtain possession of that beard was because it is stained with the blood of Benjamin Hunter,” began Cartier. ‘It fell from my face into a pool of blood. ‘“‘No, no!. I did not commit the crime!” he exclaimed, catching the significant glances between the detectives. ‘*No,” he continued, ‘‘I did not commit the crime, though I made arrangements for it—or rather arrangements which led to it, for murder did not enter into our scheme at any time.” Then in a dreamy, straggling fashion, Car- tier went on to tell how he had formed the acquaintance of Fred Hunter some years pre- vious while in Vienna, in which city the lat- ter had been anything but the model young man he now was, or rather pretended to be. After the murder hinted at by Fox, Car- tier had wandered through various cities, finally fetching up in New York where he met Hunter. The Frenchman had some money, and Hunter had the handling of immense sums— but not much of his own. Both were inveterate gamblers, and even before the arrival of Cartier, the hypocritical young banker was making free with the funds intrusted to him by his father. After Cartier’s arrival the stealings grew larger and larger, for through the Frenci- man the young banker was enabled to gamble in Wall street during the day, as well as in Considine’s at night. About the time of the murder, young Hun- ter was enormously behindhand, and noth- ing but his father’s implicit confidence in him prevented this from being discovered. Two days previous to his death, the old banker informed his younger son that he in- tended to withdraw a large sum from the concern, and then resign all interest in its management, “I do this,” said the confiding father, **to show how pleased. I am with your care and attention to the business. week, you will be the controlling power. Perhaps your brother will begin to realize that pleasure and profit seldom run together when he finds that you have stepped over his head.” This was very flattering to Frederick’s skill in dissimulation, and would have been very agreeable a week previous—before the young speculator was caught in a ‘‘ corner” for nearly fifty thousand dollars—but at the moment it was very alarming intelligence. the sun, and as Frederick well knew, the slightest indication of a desire to delay the delivery of the required amount would cer- tainly excite suspicion, and probably lead to an investigation. In this dilemma, Frederick sent for Car- tier, and after learning that Hunter, Sr., wanted the amount to be in certain Govern- ment bonds, devised a scheme which prom- ised to cover the son’s defalcation, ‘Stay a little later than usual that night, and when you get home he will probably be in his room, as you say he generally is while your mother is away. Have the supposed bonds in an envelope—a genuine one on top, and the rest blank paper. Say you want to consult him about something—you can easily get up a story—and at the same time ask for — the key of the safe to putthe bonds »way,” advised Cartier. ‘But suppose he asks to examine them?” _ objected the other, In business matters, the old banker was as — ‘Then a theft must have been 5 ted in the office instead of the burglary wh fter this | | | | ee —— j / )
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ae — Fi will arrange for the house,” was the sig- ' nificant reply. __.* All the explanation you need give will be that you left the envelope with the bonds on your desk, or in the open safe: Further than that you know nothing,” added Cartier. So it was arranged—young Hunter agree- ing to notify his friend in case the burglary should be necessary. Receiving no notice to the contrary at the appointed time, the Frenchman notified the men he had engaged that everything would be in readiness for them, and then to be doubly sure, called on the young banker. As they were not supposed to be acquaint- ed, Cartier wore the beard in order to avoid being recognized by the servants, and meet- ing his friend, learned that everything was progressing satisfactorily. Hunter, senior, had a meeting toattend to that evening, and left home immediately after his arrival, first giving the latter the key and directing him to place the bonds in the safe. *‘So there is nothing now to be done except to have the burglary committed,” _ Frederick had said, and as the old gentleman was not expected back until nearly midnight, the confederates sat talking and plannin until the closing of the front door warne them that it was later than they thought. The remainder of Cartier’s story may be given in his own language: ' *“F didn’t eare about being forced to re- main until the old gentleman fell asleep, for it wasagreed that I should admit the burg- lars, as there was danger in letting them know ~ that Fred was privy to the affair, and, more- over, he was crazy to play that night. ‘*Well, I admitted my people, and then _ . went home—next door, but instead of going - to bed as intended, I grew uneasy—so much so, that about half-past four I stopped ms my parlor floor and went next oor. * Going softly up-stairs I glanced into Mr, Hunter's room—on my way to Fred’s—and was fairly paralyzed to see him lying on the floor apparently dead, ** After I had pulled myself together a lit- tle, I went on and aroused Fred, He seemed as much horrified as I really felt, and to- gether we visited the scene of the murder. «Everything was just as described in the newspapers, and the bogus package was one—(although Mr, Hunter’s death had one away with the necessity of takin g it)— and we agreed that it would be wise t> let somebody else discover what had happened. ‘*As I was about to leave, the false beard became disarranged, and in trying to adjust it, I let it drop. Fred picked it up—and kept it, saying he would burn it. He didn’t however, and twoor three times since has intimated that he could hang me—making the threat in a_ half-jest—whole earnest - fashion that has made me feel very uncom- _ fortable.” Where was Will Hunter all this time?” - asked Duncan, as Carlier paused’ as if his story was finished. *T don’t know where he was, but I do _ know that he had not been home, up to _half-past four. He must have found the ‘body immediately after returning.” — ry ‘“And you do not know who committed | the murder?” asked Fox. nie ‘‘No; I do not know,” significantly an- - swered Cartier. ‘‘I have not made any in- - quiries of the men I engaged, because—” ‘* Who are they?” interrupted Duncan. Instead of answering, Cartier uttered a cry of terror, and before. the others could inter- fere Will Hunter had him by the throat! _ Together they rolled over and over the floor, ‘struggling like demons. Suddenly the ‘Frenchman tore himself from Hunter's grasp, and with one mad plunge went ( Fbrongh the window. Phe his very short but intensely exciting ee TC ¥ : Detective Dave’s Close Call. standing in the doorway—Carpenter and Norton. Not so Diamond, who, as Cartier plunged through the window,.made a rush for the door, At the same moment, Norton hurled into the room! There was a tremendous crash, the three within fell to the floor, and the three with- out tumbled down stairs. To avoid injuring his confederate Dick had been compelled to throw the bomb against the opposite wall, and while every- thing in that room was wrecked, the wall it- self knocked to pieces, and the three men rendered senseless by the terrific concussion —that on the extent of the damage. No- body was killed, or even seriously injured. ‘*They’ve got clean away from us,” rue- fully remarked Duncan, as he arose from the floor, ‘*Looks like it, but we'll make a try at the other house,” returned Fox, and having removed Will Hunter to the nearest house, the detectives, accompanied by a squad of police, made a descent on the counterfeiters’ den—but there was nothing to be found, Cartier’s plunge through the window had resulted in his death—his body being im- paled on the iron railings surrounding the house, CHAPTER XX. THE LAST ACT—IN FOUR SCENES. Scene I. A WEEK subsequent to the events nar- rated in the preceding chapter people gen- erally, and the ‘‘upper ten” of New York in particular, are startled by a rumor that Will Hunter has returned to the city, after having a narrow escape from death at the hands of unknown kidnappers—and, for once, Rumor is right, Weak from ill-treatment *and lack of proper nourishment, Will Hunter had suf- fered most from the shock caused by the ex- pltsion of the bomb, but when he did finally fully recover consciousness, he also recovered his senses. Fox had had him removed to New York —to his (Fox’s) own house, and the physician who was called in having declared that per- fect quiet and careful nursing were all that was needed to restore the patient to his former self, the two detectives held a con- sultation, the upshot of which is best told by the following conversation between Miss Jessie Spencer, nurse, and Mr, Will Hunter, patient, on the morning the rumor referred to began to gain ground, The patient is about to call on his brother upon the advice of the detectives—one of whom has preceded him to the office in Wall street while the other is in conversation with Mr. Williams in the Hunter mansion, ‘‘T don’t know what to say, or do, Miss Spencer,” declares the patient. ‘‘ The doctor ‘says it is altogether owing to your care that I have recovered, and Mr. Fox tells me you urged him to search for me—or for Duncan, and through him for me, so that I owe you my life twice over,” iss Spencer colors slightly, and looks a little confused, under the earnest gaze of the speaker, and murmurs something inaudible. _ “1 wish I could see my way clear,” con- tinues the young man, ‘“‘but until this mystery, and the monstrous suspicion at- tached to me regarding it, is cleared up, I know not what to say or do.” There is a third party present—Mrs. Fox, the mother of the old (?) detective—who thinks it a pity that these two should be kept apart for the want of a. little common sense, so she says: . + “Don’t you think, Mr. ‘Hunter, that: it would be good idea to say what you've got what proved to be a small dynamite bomb | | ‘“Yes, this same man has watched Mr. 15 we — scene so engrossed the*attention of the de- | in mind, now, and marry Miss Spencer as tectives that they failed to perceive two men | soon as she will let you, instead of putting it ‘off until another man steps into your shoes? (!) ‘* People so much in love with each other, should not be so shy about speaking of it,” added Mrs. Fox, and then disappeared like the wise woman she was, leaving confusion on both sides behind her. | _ The man is first to recover, and noting the downcast eyes, and burning face, of his fair companion asks: ‘*T know Iam not justified in expecting it, nor did I mean to declare my love until my reputation was cleared, but may I hope that Mrs. Fox was not altogether wrong regard- ing you, Miss Spencer—Jessie?” He was advancing while speaking, and with the last word took her hand, She did not attempt to withdraw it, and when the young man started down-town an hour after, he was the picture of happiness—and half an hour late, That half-hour cost a man’s life. Scene IL. Farrel the Fox has just laid before Fred Hunter, the banker, the story told him by Cartier. ‘*A pretty tale, truly,” remarks the young man with a ghastly smile, and with a tremendous effort pulls himself together to / | ask: “But who do you think will believe this story? The man who you say told you this, is dead—so it looks like blackmail,” ‘* Mr, Hunter, you are deceiving yourself,” quietly replied Fox. ‘‘ The gambling-house attendants will identify when placed in dis- guise—” A knock at the office door interrupted the pi Sean te and @ moment later a clerk announc- ed: ‘* Gentleman of the name of Duncan wants to see you, Mr. Hunter,” “Duncan, Duncan? What does he want?” ‘* Wants to see you in private, sir, That's all he'll say, but—” The entrance of Daring Dave interrupted the clerk, who, at a sign from his employer, retired as Fox said: “‘This isa gentleman who, like myself, is endeavoring to clear up the mystery sur- rounding your father’s death, ‘To do that, it is necessary that you should inform us who / were the men engaged to commit the burg- | lary. I believe Mr, Duncan has learned ' something which will convince you that at- | tempting to shield those men will only injure yourself, ‘‘Am I right, Dave?” ‘You are, sir. I have just left a man who will swear that Mr. Frederick Hunter - returned home about the time the murder was committed; that about half past four somebody rapped upon his door, and that after a few minutes’ conversation Mr, Hunter and the unknown descendéd to the second floor—where the murdered man was discov- ered an hour or so later.” Fred Hunter was now the color of death, and not deeming further proof necessary, Fox said: » ‘*Thope you are satisfied, now, Mr. Hun- ter, that safety lies only in helping us, Will you tell me the names of those men?” ‘‘T don’t know anything about it,” was the dogged response, ** Anything else, Dave?” asked Fox. Hunter disguising himself night after night, and has followed him to Considine’s gam- bling-rooms—proving that Mr. Hunter has been, and is, leading a double life.” ‘Now, will you tell me?” asked Fox. “‘T don’t know anything about it,” reiter- ated the young man. / Then the Fox became a little tigerish. _ “Dave, you go get a warrant,” he direct- ed, and turning to the banker continued: | ‘You have just one half hour to decide /
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~—_ Pe om Gi " y : 5s peas, as 7 Pp TOR yy Ey epson aiken ey’ Lye ems Maas ae 16 Detective Dave's Close Call. which you will be—friend or foe. If the | «Sit down, Mr. Butler, and I'll read you latter I can assure you that you will spend some hard facts.” this night behind the bars—charged with | The millionaire uttered an angry oath, and murder! calmly closing the note-book, the detective ‘‘T shall wait outside until the warrant ar | asked: rives—ready to hear you if you decide to ‘Would you prefer to have the story of talk, and to prevent you from escaping if | how you defrauded your orphan niece read I you attempt it.” in court—with you a prisoner—to hearing it The young banker made no response, but, | here?” as the detectives left him, Fox heard a weary ‘‘ Here!” gasped Butler, who had turned sigh, and caught the muttered words: deadly pale, and as he spoke sunk into a chair, ‘Only twenty-four! It’s hard—very | apparently unable to support himself. Be | hard!” For ten minutes Fox read from his note- “Perhaps he will talk when his brother | book, and, then, was stopped by: arrives?” remarked Duncan as he was about ‘‘Enough! Enough! What will you ac- j to go for the warrant. cept as the price of your silence? Name ‘Possibly. I wish he’d come,” returned | your own figure, and with it I'll give youa Fox, who was puzzling over the words he | guarantee that my niece will lose nothing by caught when leaving the private office, it.” ‘* He’s liable to be here at any minute; ‘* Give me the guarantee—that’s my price!” iy late now,” said Duncan, as he started | replied the detective. i off. a But, as the reader knows, Will Hunter was Scene IV. a very much engaged that morning, and did rg ‘not put in an appearance until it was nearly time for Duncan to return. ‘*Go in to your brother and try to per- » suade him to tell you, or me, the names of eit the men who were in the house the night your father was murdered,” hastily directed the detective. It is just one vear since the murder of Ben- jamin Hunter sent a thrill of horror through the good people of the City of New York. Assembled in a quiet country church near the city are a dozen people—there for the purpose of witnessing the wedding of Jessie Spencer to William Hunter. After the wedding the party adjourn toa : es “6 ’ . ” ey unk ola aterrar”| ret ties i i neiige ont hese 12 ignorance as far as possible, stared at him in eel ing ton toast, the bridegroom arises to ia CRE. eeThave but Hittl d that littl im The young man obeyed—slowly instead aps * hoy £0 “00:60 wif ¢ e Lt of hurriedly—but, a half-minute later came | MUSt be neither o¢ my wite nor mysell, for | | life, liberty, reason—and my wife!” t h ] = . . ob eae Jeetne: pao wpe pane 11D ee £0 The gentlemen referred to were Fox and Peat iy sac Fred’s committed sui- Duncan, and though wedding presents were cide!” ; forbidden, they certainly were not forgotten, by the bridegroom, for each of the detectives found under his plate an envelope containing a check which fairly astonished him. THE END, . **Run for a doctor, Dave!” exclaimed Fox, aa § as he rushed into the office, Hy It was useless, however. Fred Hunter oo ae was dead before his brother entered, and a yn ee of strychnine showed how he had iar ied. ® pa , *«Tt’s too bad; he’s carried the secret with Pa? him,” remarked Duncan, as he and Fox Bt started up-town. ‘* Yes,” assented the latter, ‘‘ but I’m very Bony | much inclined to believe that the burglars ue! had little, if anything to do with the murder, ; and for our man’s sake we had better drop the case right where we are,” Duncan did not appear to be very much b. Be astonished to hear this, for he bowed a silent ot assent, and his companion continued: “Tl go on, and put. the screws to this rascal Butler, and will see you to-night.” Next Hautr-Dime Lrprary, No. 876! é Deadwood Dick, Jr's, Decoy Duck: OR, THE Cowboy Chief's Tenderfoot-Tangle. BY EDWARD L, WHEELER. Cowboy against Granger! The War of the Ranges! Deadwood Dick against the Field! Pete Parrot on the Rampage! A Girl Granger the Prize! The Officer Traitor and Spy! : The Detective Eagle’s Swoop! | These are the main features of this new page in the record of The Meteor Detective of the West! It is a wildly exciting story, with three leading elements of interest—every one a story in itself, and | in which the pards invincible — Dick and Pete— play for big stakes, and play a rake-in game. Read Scene III. 1 Mr. Butler was just about leaving his ‘ee: palatial residence when Mr, Fox was an iy nounced: pity e The millionaire looked troubled on hearing pe the name of the caller, for Jessie had been . followed on the day she visited Fox’s office, and for the past two weeks she had been iy missing, which, in view of what Julie had (as overheard, worried Mr. Butler very-much. “Mr. Butler, I’ve come to talk to you re- ‘aap garding your niece—Miss Spencer,” began Am ox calmly, and, without being invited, seat- Ue ed himself. iy ‘*Then you had better be quick about it, \ for I have no time to waste re you—or her,” aga aed Pai : a eS _. shar ly returned yd de par” 4 : ie “Oh, yes you have!” co ontradicte %. Use H } Ht ie ioe Brean Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. the visitor. ‘‘ You are Miss Spencer’s cen. and as she will be of age in a few BY OL. A. F. HOLT. Wideewake, ihe Traiti-boy Detective. cea iteht pai en or, Duke Derby. : Harry's Haul; or, The Railroad Pards, « ead ' Headli arry’s Siren; or, Mad Madge. Headlight warez Veritage. ; ondtight arry’s Hunts or, The Cache of Gold, lack ekakin; or, The Masked Men of Death Canyon, 1 » the Knife-King: or, The Doomed Six. htfoot, the Pilot of the Woods. Sports or, The King Pin Conspirator. 1S ey ays, I’ve called to give you a friendly oe : hint that when you turn over her property ae: | it will be wise—very wise—to turn over the a ae whole of it.” ane a ““What? Do you dare insinuate—” ae ee Noe, sir; I don’t insinuate anything,” in- terrupted Fox, and drawing a note-book from his pocket, continued: _ ‘ ° CSRS ING running to the door, and Duncan arriving | those two gentlemen I am_ indebted for { iat eA pa EN cil Sad a al ae PMMA ES CD PP fT Ph peer TELE TT nnn ———————— tod . ~ — . z ‘ ~ j it «ss oy i ht a se BY J. ©. COWDRIOK. Broadway Billy Novels. 868 Broadway Billy Shadows London Sluma. 490 Broudway Billy, the Bootblack Brave. ; 514 Broadway Billy’s Boodle; or, Clearing a Strange Case, 586 Broadway Billy’s ‘ Ditlikilty.” 557 Breadway Billy’s Peath Racket. 579 Broadway Biliy’s Surprise Party. 605 Broadway Billy; or, The Boy Detective’s Big Inning, G28 Broadway Billy’s Dead Act: or, The League of Seven, 669 Broadway Billy Abroad; or, The Bootblack in Frisco. 675 Broadway Billy’« Beaty or, Beating San Franciaco’s Finest,. 687 Breadway Billy in Clover. ; 696 Broadway Billy tn Texas; or, The River Ruetlers, 708 Broadway Billy’s Brand. 71l Broadway Billy at Santa Fe; or, The Clever Deal. 720 Broadway Billy’s Full Hand: or, The Gamin Detectives. 785 Broadway Billy’s Business, 788 Broadway Billy’« Curious Case. 758 Broadway Billy in Denver. 762 Broadway BKilly’s Bargain; or, The Three Detectives, 769 Broadway Billy, the Retriever Detective. 775 Breadway Billy’«a Shadow Chase. 788 Broadway Billy’s Beagles; or, The Trio’s Quest, 786 Broadway Billy’s Team; or, The Combine’s Big Poll, _ 790 Broadway Billy’s Brigades or, The Dead Alive, 796 Broadway Billy’s Queer Bequest. 800 Broadway Billy Baffled. 805 Broadway Billy’s Signal Scoop. 810 Broadway Billy’s Wipe Out. 7 815 Broadway Billy’s Bank Racket. Rig 3 S21 Broadway Billy’s Bluff. f 826 Broadway Billy Among Jersey Thugs. S88 Broadway Billy’a Raid, S889 Broadway Billy’« Big Boom, os. 844 Broadway Billy’s Bi ane ‘ y 849 Broadway Billy’s #100,000 Snap. ‘a 8656 Broudway Billy’s Blind: or, The Bootblack Stowaway,’ ee 862 Broadway Billy in London. aa pi 860 Silver-Mask, the Man of Mystery; or, The Golden Keys, ase 869 Shasta, the Gold King} or, For Seven Years Dead, edhe 420 The Detective’a A paren tees or, A Boy Withouta Nam@s, 424 Cibuta Jonm; or, Red-Hot Times at Ante Bar. \ 489 Sandy Sam, the Street Scout, 467 Disco Dan, the Daisy Dude. O06 Kodlight Ralph. the Prince of the Road. ks 524. The Engineer Detective; or, Redlight Ralph’s Resolve : 548 Mart, the Night Express Detective. ae 571 Air-Line Luke the Young Engineer; or, The Double Cage . ue 592 The Boy Pinkerton; or, Running the Rascals Out, sagt 615 Fighting Harry the Chief of Chained Cyclone, t 640 Bareback Reth, the Centaur of the Circle, 647 MF hed hho ad Tilly, the Merchant’s Ward. 4 659 Moonlight Morgan the “ Pizenest ’’ Man of Ante Bary ; BY COLONEL PRENTISS INGRAHAM, ead R65 New Vork Nat’s Masked Mascot, 859 New York Nat, the Gamin Detective. 858 Dick Doom’« Kiduapper Knock-Out. Mora S47 Dick Doom’s Ten Strike. ’ 842 Dick Doom’s Flush Hand. ep tc. 772 Dick Doom’s Death-Grip; or, The Detective by Destiny, 4 77 Dick Doom’s Destiny; or, The River Blackleg’s Terror, + 784 Dick Doom; or, The Sharps and Sharks olf New York, 788 Dick Doom In Boston; or, A Man of Many Maske. : 798 Dick Doom tn Chicago, a 798 Dick Doom in the Wild Weat. \ di 808 Dick Doom’s Clean Sweep; or, Five Links in a Clue. a 808 Dick Doom’s Death Clue. ! S18 Diek Doom’s« Diamond Deal. Bee 819 Dick Doom’s« Girl Maacot. ie 829 Dick Doom’s Shadow Hunt. 885 Dick Doom’s Big Heul. , 749 Dashing Charlie: or, The Kentucky Tenderfoot’s Firct Trait. 5 756 Dashing Charlie's Destiny; or, The Renegade’s Captives Dashing Charlte’« Pawnee Pard. py 766 Dashing Charlie, the Rescuer. 7 197 Buck Taylor, King of the Cowboys. vost 787 Buck Taylor, the Comanche’s Captive, 7s 748 Buek Taylor’s Boys; or, The Red Risers of the Rio Grande, 560 Pawnee Bill, the Prairie Shadower. } 718 Pawnee Bill; or, Carl, the Mad Cowboy. Shs 19 Pawnee Bill's Pledge; or, The Cowboy's Doom. so inayat 25 Pawnee Billy or, Daring Dick. nek 692 Redfern’s Curfous Case; 01, The Rival Sharps, 7 a 697 Redfern at Devil’s Ranehy or, The Sharp from Texae, {abe ee TOP Redfern’s High Hand; or, Blue Jacket. . veal oy TOT Redfern’« Last Trail; or, The Red Sombrero Rangers, Bay 668 Red Ralph's Ruse; or, The Buccaneer Midshipman. ‘Le 674 Red Ralph’s Bold Game; or, The Wizard Sailor. a 679 Red Ralph, the Shadower; or, The Freebooter’s Legacy, ds 644 Butterfly Willy's Disguise. , irl ay 650 Butterfly Billy, the Pony Express Rider. Ny A 656 Butterfly Billy’s Man Hunt. a 662 Butterfly Billy’s Bonanza. 565 Kent Kingdon; or, The Owls of the Overland. Kent Kingdon’s Shadower ; or. the Card Queen, 57% Kent Kingdon’s Duel; cr, The Surgeon Scout, - BRE Kent Kingdon’s Doom; or, The Buckskin Avenger, ee 545 Lafitte Run Down: or, The Buaaneers of Barrataria, i » 550 Lafitte’s Legacy: or. The Avenging Son. i" 555 Latitte’s Conferatons or, The Creole Corsair. My Dies 520 Buckskin Bill, the Comanche Shadow. fog! 525 The Buckskin Brothers in Texas. — im 580 The Buckskin Bowers; or. The Cowboy Pirates, ety 5685 The Buckskin Rovers; or, Tho, Prairie Fugitive. _- Spi 640 The Buckskin Pardes’ Quest; or, Captain Ku-Klax, ve, And Fifty Others. , hy LATEST AND NEW ISSUES. iy 870 D. od Dick, Jr., in Mexico: or, The Gir) Prisoner um ; yr 1g natteka iby eaeaed L. Wheeler. ; kn Pip Et STL N Nat and the Grave Ghouls; or, The Yorn Fares Arizona Ally. By Col, Prentiss Ingraham, 7 6 wmen Detectives in Colorado} or, Pete ee Ne x Pusu oe Vagebond Tramp. By Lieut. 4, K. Sime, : 4: Sik 878 Deck-Hawk Roy’« Big Scoop; or, The Sea Rover's ‘nati 4 Protege. By Col. Prentias Ingraham. yee 8 Billy’s Frénch Game: or, The Miner Mik ie ok 4 jpn seve Be the Sharpers of Paris. By J, C. Cowdrick, anhe s 875 Detective Dave's Cl Calls or, Farrel Fox, the Man peg Von Faces. By Dan Sanstee; (a! the Secret Service Comper a 876 Deadwood Dick, Jr's, Decoy Ducks or, The Cowboy s) Bete. Tenderfoot-Tangle.” By Raward L. Wheeler. tue ey 877 New York Nat’® Trump Card; or, The Dare Devil + Detective’s Draw. By Col. Prentisa ay t re a 878 The Street Arab’s Blind; or, Scooving the Swindler Scamps. By Jo ae erce. , ‘Sax A New Issue Every Tuesday. Pes The Half-Dime Library is for sale by all newsdeaers, fv@ Gente per eopy, or sent by mail om receipt of six conte euch. — issot BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publisher, = 98 Williom Street, New York, — « 1 andy ther 4 1) tal at ee SPE Ua. Rates bik: te Pee hil cc nll EE A ale,