CHAPTERXCVII.WATCHING AND WAITING—A TETE-A-TETE BETWEEN TWO DETECTIVES.When Mr. Wrench and his companion descended to the basement of the house they were invited into the parlour by the mistress of the establishment, who placed before them wine and brandy—they both elected to have a glass of the latter.“How do you think the doctor is? He seems very prostrate,” said Mrs. Bourne.“I think he’s going on all right, madam,” returned Wrench. “He’s weak, of course, but is far better than we had a right to expect, considering the damage to which he has been subjected.”“You think so?”“Oh, dear me, I feel assured of it. You need not be under any apprehension. He’ll soon be himself again, but we must now look after our man—that is the next duty we have to perform.”“You allude to his assailant, I presume?”“Precisely—to the man Rawton. It will be joyful news to you, I expect, when you hear of his arrest.”“It’s an unfortunate business, Mr. Wrench—very unfortunate. Rawton was not so very much to blame.”“Indeed!” exclaimed Shearman. “The attack was not made for the purpose of robbery, then?”“Dear me, no. There was a dispute—a wrangle—and words were used, and the doctor struck him first.”“Oh, oh!” cried Shearman, glancing at Wrench.“It does not matter,” returned the latter. “He is wanted—is charged with horse-stealing; this assault is only a secondary sort of affair, but of course it will have to be inquired into when we get our man. Did you see which way he went, madam, after he got out of the window?”This last query was addressed to Mrs. Bourne.“No, I did not,” she answered.“If it is not an impertinent question,” observed Shearman, “may I inquire how long you have been married to Doctor Bourne?”“Sir!” ejaculated the lady.“Pray excuse the observation. Do not imagine, madam, that I am inquiring out of mere idle curiosity. Gentlemen in our profession seldom do that.”“I confess I am at a loss to understand the reason for such a question, but there is no secret in the matter—indeed, there is no reason for secrecy. I have been married to the doctor between five and six years.”“More than five years of wedded bliss,” ejaculated the American.“I have not said so.”“Ahem! No. But I infer it. I hope the inference is a correct one, for your sake.”“I do not as yet see what you are driving at, sir,” returned Mrs. Bourne, a little nettled, “and for the life of me cannot understand what my wedded bliss, as you term it, has to do with you.”“Pardon my friend,” cried Wrench, coming to the rescue, “he’s at times too plain-spoken, and, I think I may add, a little too inquisitive, but it is a way he and his countrymen have, and which, I am sure, or at any rate I hope, you will overlook.”“I am not offended with the gentleman, but he is to me a perfect stranger. That you must admit. And—well, to speak plainly, he is a little peculiar for a stranger.”“I beg ten thousand pardons, my dear madam,” said Shearman. “I will not offend in a like manner again.”“I have already told you, sir, that I am not offended. Let that suffice.”“Let it suffice also for the present,” observed Shearman, “that as time goes on you will be able to discover the reason for my query, which, as I before observed, was not made out of idle curiosity.”“Good evening, Mrs. Bourne.”“Good evening, gentlemen,” said the doctor’s wife, as she saw her two visitors to the door.“Now, Shearman,” ejaculated Wrench, when they had got some little distance from the house, “you have your duty to perform and I have mine. In the first place, I must see and find my man.”“Certainly, by all means; the sooner the better, say I. Am I in your way?”“By no means. I shall be glad of your company, if you’ve nothing better to do.”“I’ve nothing to do at all just at present.”Mr. Wrench made direct for a public-house called “The Bag o’ Nails.” This place was nearly opposite the common lodging-house to which Rawton was known to repair. The detective’s object was to keep watch and ward over the entrance to the lodging-house from the front-floor window of the public opposite. He argued shrewdly enough that as the night wore on, the gipsy would pass in to the lodging-house in question, and when this had taken place, Mr. Wench proposed paying a visit to the establishment and capturing the runaway horse-stealer.The front room first floor of the “Bag ’o Nails” was used by the Foresters, who held their weekly meetings there. On the evening in question it was vacant, and this Mr. Wrench knew perfectly well.The detective was known to the landlord of the house, and a few explanatory words in the bar parlour with that worthy sufficed to make him comprehend that our two detectives wanted the use of the room for a few hours, and this was at once acceded them.They took up their station close by the window, but like bashful gentlemen as they were, they did not court the public gaze. Far from it—they concealed themselves, as well as they could conveniently do so, behind the thick wire blind which obscured the lower part of the window. There was a flaming gaslight immediately in front of the lodging-house, so that there was but little difficulty in observing those who entered the place after dark.Some brandy cold was ordered by the two detectives, who, after it had been brought in, closed the door, and took up their stations.“You know best, I suppose,” said Shearman, “but I should say the fellow would never be fool enough to betake himself to his old quarters since he must know he’s wanted.”“Well, he’s hard up, and has no other place to go to, I believe. Anyway, there is a chance, and I don’t care to miss it.”It is weary work watching and waiting in cases of this sort, and the outside world has probably no idea of the patience and unremitting attention which detectives have at times to exercise.In this case, however, Wrench had a companion, and that in a measure beguiled the tediousness of the hours.“The doctor’s wife must have been a beautiful woman in her early days,” said Shearman. “Indeed, she is so now, to my thinking.”“Oh, yes, very beautiful at one time, and was thought a good deal of in the fashionable world.”“Has been kept by one or more, I suppose?”Mr. Wrench nodded.“Bourne married her for money, I should imagine.”“For nothing else, money and patronage.”“Ah, just so. That I should imagine. Don’t hit it very well together, eh?”“Do people ever hit it who contract marriages of that description?”“Perhaps not. Still there are exceptions.”“Very few.”“He’s a bad lot.”“Dear me, yes, a very bad lot.”The conversation began to flag, and the first hour passed slowly away. Two more glasses were ordered, and two cigars, and the watchers shifted their seats and prepared themselves for a long sitting.“You’ve seen a goodish bit in your time, Wrench?”“Yes; and so have you, I expect?”“Certainly; but the life of chaps like us is very different, I should imagine, in the States to what it is in this country. You see, there is such an extent of territory, and it would puzzle a Philadelphia lawyer to tell which way your man has taken. But, mind you, your London thief is a match for all the world in cunning—he hasn’t any equal, I should say.”“None whatever,” returned Wrench, puffing blue wreaths of smoke from his cigar.“Your man don’t make his appearance as yet.”“No; and it’s precious tedious, this waiting. But don’t you stop unless you like.”“Ah, but I do like. I don’t find it tedious. We are all right here, in a snug room quite to ourselves. Did I ever tell you of a midnight adventure I had in the new country?”“No, I don’t know that you ever did. Let’s have it. Anyway, it will break the monotony of the evening.”“No one knows better than yourself, Wrench, that a detective’s life is full of incident and adventure. One hears this remark often enough, but few out of the force reflect upon what a multitude of remarkable circumstances and events such an experience does cover. You must know that at one time I was night policeman in the New York force.”“Oh, were you? I didn’t know that,” said Wrench.“Yes, was only a night policeman at the commencement, and I must say, that notwithstanding the many disagreeable things connected with the calling, on the whole I liked it.”“Ah, you would not like it in this country.”“Possibly not; but I did there, and took an interest in my business. Perhaps this is why I was in several instances more successful in certain matters of importance connected with our profession than were others of my companions, and eventually attracted the head of our department. At all events, I received a note from our chief, and was agreeably surprised upon calling, to find that I was to be removed from the position I then occupied, and was to be put upon special duty as a detective officer.”“Oh, that’s how it came about, eh?” said Wrench.“Yes, and you—?”“I commenced as a detective, but proceed.”“We have had an eye upon you, Shearman,” said our leader, “and in addition to you being a brave and efficient officer, certain matters show you to be ingenious and incorruptible—the characteristics which should be vital tests in the selection of our detective force; so you know the reason of your promotion.”“He was quite right,” observed Wrench. “I am sorry to say that corruption creeps in to no small extent here—I don’t know how it is in America.”“Oh, bad enough. I thanked him for my good fortune, and so much that was flattering confused me not a little.”“Now, Shearman,” said he, after I had concluded, “we are about to put you on a trail that will test your powers to the utmost, and one which, if successfully followed up to a favourable termination, will establish your reputation as a detective.”I eagerly listened to the details which were placed before me, and made careful and copious notes of the same; and when I left the office it was with the determination never to return unless as a successful man—that is, as far as this case was concerned.With an excess of caution I said nothing to my old companions about the change in my circumstances, for I had determined to be as faithful as I possibly could. The facts of the case were as follows:—A bank robbery, so bold and startling as to create a good deal of excitement, even in those days of sensation, had been perpetrated a few weeks previously on one of our State institutions, and the whole matter had been accomplished in such an exquisitely adroit and skilful manner as to baffle hitherto the most persistent attempts to discover the clever operators.A large reward had been offered for the offenders, but all seemed useless, and the losers had about made up their minds that the affair must go to their profit and loss account.I had little hope that I, so inexperienced, could succeed, where men thoroughly educated and disciplined by years of practice had signally failed, and almost grumbled that the department had put me upon such a case for my maiden attempt; still I determined to do my best.Of course, my first move was to carefully examine the premises where the robbery had taken place, and discover, if possible, some clue to the villains.From the style of the work they were undoubtedly experienced hands, but I was too new to the brotherhood to determine with any degree of probability as to the identity of the men from the character of the job, like others who had preceded me.I found nothing which would apparently throw the faintest gleam of light upon the matter, and in fact said as much to the president, as I was about to leave the place.The stone bank building joined the wooden building of the cashier, and was accessible from his rooms by a glass half door. It was plain enough that the thieves had effected an easy entrance into his house, and passing softly through his sleeping chamber, had gained the interior of the bank and the vaults by removing a pane of glass from the upper part of the door, and had escaped by opening a window from the back of the bank from the inside.The vault locks, themselves, had been destroyed in a common way, by the agency of gunpowder. While I was talking with the president, I stood idly drumming on the sash where the glass had been removed, and as I turned away, felt a sharp pain like the prick of a needle upon my right forefinger, and upon looking at my hand found that it was bleeding slightly.Naturally my first thought was that I had been cut with a piece of glass broken off in the sash when the pane was first removed, but not liking to overlook anything, however trivial apparently, I privately turned back, and upon examination, to my joy extracted from the wood-work the ragged end of a penknife blade, which had perhaps been used to remove the glass.I examined it intently, and found that the fracture was peculiar—rather a longitudinal one than the ordinary breakage straight across the blade. I said nothing of my discovery, but put the piece carefully away, perhaps for further use.Now all this seems a very small matter, but I well knew that a very slight clue would sometimes lead up to an important disclosure; still there was nothing at present to do, but to take the cars and return to New York.I had been riding for over an hour, quite amused by an animated political discussion between two gentlemen who sat directly in front of me, and, indeed, had come to the conclusion that they were both more than usually intelligent and interesting talkers, when a little incident put me once more on the extremest official alert.It chanced that a boy passed through the car with a basket of fruit and confectionery for sale, and my companions each bought an orange, a thing common enough, and which almost escaped my notice.I happened to be looking at the one who sat on the inside, as he took out a knife and began to peel his orange. An exclamation or annoyance which escaped him caused me to glance at the knife, when, to my astonishment, I noticed that part of the blade was gone, and, singularly enough, the fracture startlingly suggested the fragment that I had rescued from the bank window.I fancied I saw a look exchanged by the two men, but kept quiet and cool. My next move was to call back the boy, although I had refused to buy as he passed, and purchased an apple.This done, it was a delicate venture to request the loan of the aforesaid knife, pleading the loss of my own. As we had had some little conversation previously, he could hardly refuse, and, indeed, passed it with no apparent hesitation. I had, of course, taken care to have the fragment handy, and, when unobserved, tried the two. They were two parts of one whole.I was satisfied that I held the knife that cut out the bank window, but whether the man in possession of the same was the robber or not, was uncertain, but of course now I had nothing to do but follow up the trail opening before me.I returned the knife with thanks, and gave myself up to a severe study and scrutiny of the two, so that I could never forget or mistake them at any other time; but to my surprise, I discovered that to a great extent I was baffled in this by what seemed a design on their part.Instead of proceeding direct to New York, as I had supposed they would, at the next station they got out and took seats in a car running on a branch road towards the interior of the State.Of course I had nothing to do but to follow. I saw that they glanced suspiciously at me as I entered, and fancied that I detected a look of anxiety on their faces, but said nothing.“It’s best to say nothing in cases of that sort,” observed Wrench. “Many of our chaps spoil all by opening their mouths when they ought to be closed.”“Oh, and so do ours, but we can none of us be wise at all times.”“Well; how did you get on after that?”“You shall hear.”It was near nightfall when we all three dismounted at a lonely station, where a large old-fashioned house seemed to be the only indication of life about the place.I must needs make some explanation of my course, so I casually told them that I had come down into that part of the country to look up a desirable farm, with the idea of purchasing if suited.They accepted my explanation without comment, and as they informed me that the adjacent house was used as a sort of tavern, I accompanied them there, and engaged lodgings and supper, taking occasion to ask our host, a withered old fellow, in an audible voice, if he knew of any good farms for sale in that region.Of course I had to listen to a string of tedious enumerations in reply, but it answered my purpose very well, and I saw that my companions seemed easier than before.There were four other fellows in the great kitchen, and rough-looking chaps they were, too, and had I met them in the purlieus of Five Points, or Cow Bay, I should have instantaneously set them down as a quartette of arrant cut-throats and burglars; however, out here in the country that was hardly likely, and they were doubtless honest enough drovers or horse jockeys.I was, however, considerably worried when I saw a silent but unmistakeable look of intelligence pass between my gentleman friends and these fellows, and I speedily made up my mind that I was in the midst of a gang of desperate characters, and that my only safe way would be to leave the place, if possible, by the very first morning train, as I had ascertained that this being a branch road no night trains passed. I was well armed, but what could one man do against six such fellows as these?About nine o’clock I was shown to a large unfurnished room overhead, and, to my consternation, found that I must share my bed with one of these worthies; but fearful of exciting suspicion, I made no objection, but only partially undressed, and lay down not to sleep, but still pretended to do so, and was soon breathing deep and heavily.Everything was quiet until about midnight, when my companion stirred, got up in bed, and I was sure bent over me to see if I slept.I lay very still, and he, evidently believing that my feigned breathing was real, crawled softly over me, and stepped out upon the floor, where, hastily dressing, and taking a parting glance at the bed, he silently left the room. I heard him descend the stairs, and the next minute I was at the window.It was quite light without, and shortly I saw my friends steal out of the house, and move in the direction of the station. An impulse seized me, and I was quickly upon their track. I had no idea of their purpose, but I was sure that it was no good one.I soon reached the station, and almost stumbled upon them, but had presence of mind enough to conceal myself in a dark shadow, in time to escape detection, but where I could overhear their conversation distinctly, from which I soon learned that not only had I discovered the missing bank thieves, but come into possession of a number of other facts of great importance.It seems that they had become suspicious of me, and had determined to leave the place in the night, with which idea they had determined to break open the door of one of the railroad buildings, and stealing a hand-car, make their way with that to a junction some seven miles down the road, and there take an early train for the West.I heard the door burst open, and the muttered oaths as the party discovered that the car usually there was that night, unluckily for them, gone. It was then that I was seized with an irresistible desire to cough; in vain I struggled against it; it would come, and it did.I had hardly time to dart away when they were in full pursuit, and despite my utmost efforts, I was caught, knocked down, and borne back to the station; and now my heart failed me entirely, for I was completely disarmed, and I knew by the scowling glances, that I was in the deadliest peril. Still, I had only done my duty, and I determined if I must die, to do so like a man.There was little said to me, but I saw that they were deliberating as to the best way of disposing of me, and when two of them approached me, I thought that my time was come, indeed; but it was not to be so yet, for they pushed me into the empty car-house, and shut the door, leaving me to my reflections.I soon found out the motives of this; the house was to be fired, and I was to be burned alive! to destroy every evidence of guilt! I attempted to cry out, but the roll of thick cloth in my mouth stopped that effectually.The thought of my poor wife and child drove me to despair; could I have had a chance to die in conflict, selling my life as dearly as possible, it would be easy to such a death as this; but to be confined in a dark room, unable to move or speak, or to make a single effort for my own relief, to helplessly lie and listen to the crackling of the fire, and feel the gentle warmth at first, grow to a savage, terrible, horrid torture fiend eventually lapping the moisture from my bones and blood, and swelling my black and blistering tongue till, consumed by its own rage, it fell a foul and withered cinder in the common ruin.What a decree of deadly, deadly fate it seemed that only a week before, the night train that would at least have saved me from this kind of death, had been taken off, and no relief could come until eight o’clock the next morning, before which time nothing distinguishable would be left of me.I already choked with the smoke that came rushing in through the loose sides of the building, when something tore past the station with what seemed to me a scream of frantic exulting joy and hope. My heart leaped at the sound, and with a tremendous effort I snapped the cords that bound my arms.It was the whistle of an approaching engine, and I knew that, as this was one of the few watering places on the road, they would certainly stop there.My captors heard it, too, and in a minute I heard them at the door. I prepared myself for a rush, and, as it hastily swung open, I darted out, and struck wildly right and left at the desperate fellows who surrounded me.They fell upon me with knives, and I felt myself, although a very powerful man, and fighting as only a strong man can fight in the last extremity, half-blinded, badly cut, and gradually sinking under the terrible assaults of one huge fellow in particular. I slipped over an old dry-goods box that stood near. The fiend had me by the throat in an instant, and, poising his monstrous bowie-knife over my head, cried out—“D—n you! what can save you now? You miserable spy! This and this!”I heard a terrible voice cry, and then came the crash of a revolver, and the hand at my throat relaxed, and with a loud cry, my assailant fell heavily backward. I gained my feet, and to my utter amazement, saw the two gentlemen that I had first met on the train, struggling desperately with the other three.I was weak and wounded, but I did what I could to help. I heard a roar and a rumble, and a great blazing eye came out of the night, and an engine and car loaded with labourers stopped at our feet.I fell to the ground, and only knew that we were helped upon the train. When I came to in earnest, three days afterwards, I found two smiling and somewhat familiar faces at my bedside, who unravelled the tangled skein of my night adventure.I found my two companions to be detectives from Chicago, who, in the guise of swell mobsmen, had made the acquaintance of the real criminal in our party of that terrible night, and had gone down there with thesupposedintention of participating in a burglary already planned, but with the real purpose of preventing the robbery and arresting the party, with the assistance of others lying in wait at the selected house.But I had interfered with all their plans, and they had not dared to reveal themselves to a stranger, when with such a large party. Still at the same time I came so near being burned, they had made up their minds, despite the risk, to attempt a rescue, but the fortunate arrival of the train solved the difficulty partially. While with the robbers, a few days previously, they had come into possession of the peculiarly broken knife that had attracted my attention, and had retained it, thinking something might come of it, as there did, for the crime was traced beyond a doubt, to two of the prisoners, and they received a sentence that will probably furnish them with lodgings for a life time.You can imagine what this lucky exposure did for me. Had I not have been a new man in the force, the Chicago men would probably have known me.“Ah, yes; there is a great advantage in not being known; we all find that out,” said Wrench. “It’s a great drawback, and causes us no end of trouble.”“Does your man know you?”“What Rawton, Lord bless you, yes—know me? Why I gave evidence against him in a former case.”“Oh,” cried Shearman, “I shall have to tell you one or two more of my adventures, then.”While this conversation had been taking place, and the two detectives had been keeping watch over the entrance to the common lodging-house, a man with a shambling gait had made his way to the “Bag o’ Nails”. This personage was Cooney, and, as the reader will doubtless readily imagine, he had not paid a visit to the place without a purpose.His object was to have a word or two with the potman of the establishment, to whom he was very well known.Cooney’s circle of acquaintances, if not very select, might be considered extensive. Potmen he looked upon us his natural associates; any way, he generally managed to ingratiate himself in their good graces.Cooney entered the taproom of the house, and drew the potman on one side in a mysterious manner.“I say, Dick, old man—a word with you,” whispered Cooney. The two went into the passage.“Well, what’s the row?” cried the potman.“Just give us the straight tip. You’ve got two blokes—upstairs in the front room, first floor, aint you?”“There are two gentlemen there, I believe.”“Guessed as much. Gentlemen with eyes like gimlets, as can pierce through a four-inch deal board. Eh?”“I don’t know about that.”“They hail from Scotland Yard.”“That’s about the size of it, I fancy.”“Thank you, Dick. That’s all I wanted to know. Been here long?”“An hour and more.”“I see rocks ahead. Good night.”Cooney did not want to make any further inquiries. He saw which way the land lay, and acted accordingly. There wasn’t much chance of the gipsy making his appearance at the lodging-house for that night, or a good many more after. Cooney “blew the gaff,” gave the alarm, and of course Bill Rawton was very shortly far away from the scene of action.The night wore on.Mr. Wrench and his are anecdotal lively companion began to consider the case as hopeless. The latter had done so on the outset, and Wrench was fast inclining to his friend’s opinion.But Wrench was a most persevering officer, and was not one to give up easily when he had made up his mind to any course of action.“I guess we shall have to go away as wise as we came”, said Shearman, with a short, dry laugh. “The fellow’s fly, and it’s no use watching the dark shadows cast on yonder door.”“I fancy not. I shall give it up for to-night; but I shall have him before many hours are over our heads.”“I hope you may; but what are you going to do now?”“Cut it. Are you ready?”“I have been a long time ago.”The two friends passed out of the club-room, and descended the stairs. The obsequious landlord came out of his bar-parlour.“Are you off, sir?” said he.“Yes,” returned Wrench. “It’s been a bit of a sell, but it don’t matter. The bird has flown.”The landlord gave a mysterious nod, and the detectives took their departure.
When Mr. Wrench and his companion descended to the basement of the house they were invited into the parlour by the mistress of the establishment, who placed before them wine and brandy—they both elected to have a glass of the latter.
“How do you think the doctor is? He seems very prostrate,” said Mrs. Bourne.
“I think he’s going on all right, madam,” returned Wrench. “He’s weak, of course, but is far better than we had a right to expect, considering the damage to which he has been subjected.”
“You think so?”
“Oh, dear me, I feel assured of it. You need not be under any apprehension. He’ll soon be himself again, but we must now look after our man—that is the next duty we have to perform.”
“You allude to his assailant, I presume?”
“Precisely—to the man Rawton. It will be joyful news to you, I expect, when you hear of his arrest.”
“It’s an unfortunate business, Mr. Wrench—very unfortunate. Rawton was not so very much to blame.”
“Indeed!” exclaimed Shearman. “The attack was not made for the purpose of robbery, then?”
“Dear me, no. There was a dispute—a wrangle—and words were used, and the doctor struck him first.”
“Oh, oh!” cried Shearman, glancing at Wrench.
“It does not matter,” returned the latter. “He is wanted—is charged with horse-stealing; this assault is only a secondary sort of affair, but of course it will have to be inquired into when we get our man. Did you see which way he went, madam, after he got out of the window?”
This last query was addressed to Mrs. Bourne.
“No, I did not,” she answered.
“If it is not an impertinent question,” observed Shearman, “may I inquire how long you have been married to Doctor Bourne?”
“Sir!” ejaculated the lady.
“Pray excuse the observation. Do not imagine, madam, that I am inquiring out of mere idle curiosity. Gentlemen in our profession seldom do that.”
“I confess I am at a loss to understand the reason for such a question, but there is no secret in the matter—indeed, there is no reason for secrecy. I have been married to the doctor between five and six years.”
“More than five years of wedded bliss,” ejaculated the American.
“I have not said so.”
“Ahem! No. But I infer it. I hope the inference is a correct one, for your sake.”
“I do not as yet see what you are driving at, sir,” returned Mrs. Bourne, a little nettled, “and for the life of me cannot understand what my wedded bliss, as you term it, has to do with you.”
“Pardon my friend,” cried Wrench, coming to the rescue, “he’s at times too plain-spoken, and, I think I may add, a little too inquisitive, but it is a way he and his countrymen have, and which, I am sure, or at any rate I hope, you will overlook.”
“I am not offended with the gentleman, but he is to me a perfect stranger. That you must admit. And—well, to speak plainly, he is a little peculiar for a stranger.”
“I beg ten thousand pardons, my dear madam,” said Shearman. “I will not offend in a like manner again.”
“I have already told you, sir, that I am not offended. Let that suffice.”
“Let it suffice also for the present,” observed Shearman, “that as time goes on you will be able to discover the reason for my query, which, as I before observed, was not made out of idle curiosity.”
“Good evening, Mrs. Bourne.”
“Good evening, gentlemen,” said the doctor’s wife, as she saw her two visitors to the door.
“Now, Shearman,” ejaculated Wrench, when they had got some little distance from the house, “you have your duty to perform and I have mine. In the first place, I must see and find my man.”
“Certainly, by all means; the sooner the better, say I. Am I in your way?”
“By no means. I shall be glad of your company, if you’ve nothing better to do.”
“I’ve nothing to do at all just at present.”
Mr. Wrench made direct for a public-house called “The Bag o’ Nails.” This place was nearly opposite the common lodging-house to which Rawton was known to repair. The detective’s object was to keep watch and ward over the entrance to the lodging-house from the front-floor window of the public opposite. He argued shrewdly enough that as the night wore on, the gipsy would pass in to the lodging-house in question, and when this had taken place, Mr. Wench proposed paying a visit to the establishment and capturing the runaway horse-stealer.
The front room first floor of the “Bag ’o Nails” was used by the Foresters, who held their weekly meetings there. On the evening in question it was vacant, and this Mr. Wrench knew perfectly well.
The detective was known to the landlord of the house, and a few explanatory words in the bar parlour with that worthy sufficed to make him comprehend that our two detectives wanted the use of the room for a few hours, and this was at once acceded them.
They took up their station close by the window, but like bashful gentlemen as they were, they did not court the public gaze. Far from it—they concealed themselves, as well as they could conveniently do so, behind the thick wire blind which obscured the lower part of the window. There was a flaming gaslight immediately in front of the lodging-house, so that there was but little difficulty in observing those who entered the place after dark.
Some brandy cold was ordered by the two detectives, who, after it had been brought in, closed the door, and took up their stations.
“You know best, I suppose,” said Shearman, “but I should say the fellow would never be fool enough to betake himself to his old quarters since he must know he’s wanted.”
“Well, he’s hard up, and has no other place to go to, I believe. Anyway, there is a chance, and I don’t care to miss it.”
It is weary work watching and waiting in cases of this sort, and the outside world has probably no idea of the patience and unremitting attention which detectives have at times to exercise.
In this case, however, Wrench had a companion, and that in a measure beguiled the tediousness of the hours.
“The doctor’s wife must have been a beautiful woman in her early days,” said Shearman. “Indeed, she is so now, to my thinking.”
“Oh, yes, very beautiful at one time, and was thought a good deal of in the fashionable world.”
“Has been kept by one or more, I suppose?”
Mr. Wrench nodded.
“Bourne married her for money, I should imagine.”
“For nothing else, money and patronage.”
“Ah, just so. That I should imagine. Don’t hit it very well together, eh?”
“Do people ever hit it who contract marriages of that description?”
“Perhaps not. Still there are exceptions.”
“Very few.”
“He’s a bad lot.”
“Dear me, yes, a very bad lot.”
The conversation began to flag, and the first hour passed slowly away. Two more glasses were ordered, and two cigars, and the watchers shifted their seats and prepared themselves for a long sitting.
“You’ve seen a goodish bit in your time, Wrench?”
“Yes; and so have you, I expect?”
“Certainly; but the life of chaps like us is very different, I should imagine, in the States to what it is in this country. You see, there is such an extent of territory, and it would puzzle a Philadelphia lawyer to tell which way your man has taken. But, mind you, your London thief is a match for all the world in cunning—he hasn’t any equal, I should say.”
“None whatever,” returned Wrench, puffing blue wreaths of smoke from his cigar.
“Your man don’t make his appearance as yet.”
“No; and it’s precious tedious, this waiting. But don’t you stop unless you like.”
“Ah, but I do like. I don’t find it tedious. We are all right here, in a snug room quite to ourselves. Did I ever tell you of a midnight adventure I had in the new country?”
“No, I don’t know that you ever did. Let’s have it. Anyway, it will break the monotony of the evening.”
“No one knows better than yourself, Wrench, that a detective’s life is full of incident and adventure. One hears this remark often enough, but few out of the force reflect upon what a multitude of remarkable circumstances and events such an experience does cover. You must know that at one time I was night policeman in the New York force.”
“Oh, were you? I didn’t know that,” said Wrench.
“Yes, was only a night policeman at the commencement, and I must say, that notwithstanding the many disagreeable things connected with the calling, on the whole I liked it.”
“Ah, you would not like it in this country.”
“Possibly not; but I did there, and took an interest in my business. Perhaps this is why I was in several instances more successful in certain matters of importance connected with our profession than were others of my companions, and eventually attracted the head of our department. At all events, I received a note from our chief, and was agreeably surprised upon calling, to find that I was to be removed from the position I then occupied, and was to be put upon special duty as a detective officer.”
“Oh, that’s how it came about, eh?” said Wrench.
“Yes, and you—?”
“I commenced as a detective, but proceed.”
“We have had an eye upon you, Shearman,” said our leader, “and in addition to you being a brave and efficient officer, certain matters show you to be ingenious and incorruptible—the characteristics which should be vital tests in the selection of our detective force; so you know the reason of your promotion.”
“He was quite right,” observed Wrench. “I am sorry to say that corruption creeps in to no small extent here—I don’t know how it is in America.”
“Oh, bad enough. I thanked him for my good fortune, and so much that was flattering confused me not a little.”
“Now, Shearman,” said he, after I had concluded, “we are about to put you on a trail that will test your powers to the utmost, and one which, if successfully followed up to a favourable termination, will establish your reputation as a detective.”
I eagerly listened to the details which were placed before me, and made careful and copious notes of the same; and when I left the office it was with the determination never to return unless as a successful man—that is, as far as this case was concerned.
With an excess of caution I said nothing to my old companions about the change in my circumstances, for I had determined to be as faithful as I possibly could. The facts of the case were as follows:—
A bank robbery, so bold and startling as to create a good deal of excitement, even in those days of sensation, had been perpetrated a few weeks previously on one of our State institutions, and the whole matter had been accomplished in such an exquisitely adroit and skilful manner as to baffle hitherto the most persistent attempts to discover the clever operators.
A large reward had been offered for the offenders, but all seemed useless, and the losers had about made up their minds that the affair must go to their profit and loss account.
I had little hope that I, so inexperienced, could succeed, where men thoroughly educated and disciplined by years of practice had signally failed, and almost grumbled that the department had put me upon such a case for my maiden attempt; still I determined to do my best.
Of course, my first move was to carefully examine the premises where the robbery had taken place, and discover, if possible, some clue to the villains.
From the style of the work they were undoubtedly experienced hands, but I was too new to the brotherhood to determine with any degree of probability as to the identity of the men from the character of the job, like others who had preceded me.
I found nothing which would apparently throw the faintest gleam of light upon the matter, and in fact said as much to the president, as I was about to leave the place.
The stone bank building joined the wooden building of the cashier, and was accessible from his rooms by a glass half door. It was plain enough that the thieves had effected an easy entrance into his house, and passing softly through his sleeping chamber, had gained the interior of the bank and the vaults by removing a pane of glass from the upper part of the door, and had escaped by opening a window from the back of the bank from the inside.
The vault locks, themselves, had been destroyed in a common way, by the agency of gunpowder. While I was talking with the president, I stood idly drumming on the sash where the glass had been removed, and as I turned away, felt a sharp pain like the prick of a needle upon my right forefinger, and upon looking at my hand found that it was bleeding slightly.
Naturally my first thought was that I had been cut with a piece of glass broken off in the sash when the pane was first removed, but not liking to overlook anything, however trivial apparently, I privately turned back, and upon examination, to my joy extracted from the wood-work the ragged end of a penknife blade, which had perhaps been used to remove the glass.
I examined it intently, and found that the fracture was peculiar—rather a longitudinal one than the ordinary breakage straight across the blade. I said nothing of my discovery, but put the piece carefully away, perhaps for further use.
Now all this seems a very small matter, but I well knew that a very slight clue would sometimes lead up to an important disclosure; still there was nothing at present to do, but to take the cars and return to New York.
I had been riding for over an hour, quite amused by an animated political discussion between two gentlemen who sat directly in front of me, and, indeed, had come to the conclusion that they were both more than usually intelligent and interesting talkers, when a little incident put me once more on the extremest official alert.
It chanced that a boy passed through the car with a basket of fruit and confectionery for sale, and my companions each bought an orange, a thing common enough, and which almost escaped my notice.
I happened to be looking at the one who sat on the inside, as he took out a knife and began to peel his orange. An exclamation or annoyance which escaped him caused me to glance at the knife, when, to my astonishment, I noticed that part of the blade was gone, and, singularly enough, the fracture startlingly suggested the fragment that I had rescued from the bank window.
I fancied I saw a look exchanged by the two men, but kept quiet and cool. My next move was to call back the boy, although I had refused to buy as he passed, and purchased an apple.
This done, it was a delicate venture to request the loan of the aforesaid knife, pleading the loss of my own. As we had had some little conversation previously, he could hardly refuse, and, indeed, passed it with no apparent hesitation. I had, of course, taken care to have the fragment handy, and, when unobserved, tried the two. They were two parts of one whole.
I was satisfied that I held the knife that cut out the bank window, but whether the man in possession of the same was the robber or not, was uncertain, but of course now I had nothing to do but follow up the trail opening before me.
I returned the knife with thanks, and gave myself up to a severe study and scrutiny of the two, so that I could never forget or mistake them at any other time; but to my surprise, I discovered that to a great extent I was baffled in this by what seemed a design on their part.
Instead of proceeding direct to New York, as I had supposed they would, at the next station they got out and took seats in a car running on a branch road towards the interior of the State.
Of course I had nothing to do but to follow. I saw that they glanced suspiciously at me as I entered, and fancied that I detected a look of anxiety on their faces, but said nothing.
“It’s best to say nothing in cases of that sort,” observed Wrench. “Many of our chaps spoil all by opening their mouths when they ought to be closed.”
“Oh, and so do ours, but we can none of us be wise at all times.”
“Well; how did you get on after that?”
“You shall hear.”
It was near nightfall when we all three dismounted at a lonely station, where a large old-fashioned house seemed to be the only indication of life about the place.
I must needs make some explanation of my course, so I casually told them that I had come down into that part of the country to look up a desirable farm, with the idea of purchasing if suited.
They accepted my explanation without comment, and as they informed me that the adjacent house was used as a sort of tavern, I accompanied them there, and engaged lodgings and supper, taking occasion to ask our host, a withered old fellow, in an audible voice, if he knew of any good farms for sale in that region.
Of course I had to listen to a string of tedious enumerations in reply, but it answered my purpose very well, and I saw that my companions seemed easier than before.
There were four other fellows in the great kitchen, and rough-looking chaps they were, too, and had I met them in the purlieus of Five Points, or Cow Bay, I should have instantaneously set them down as a quartette of arrant cut-throats and burglars; however, out here in the country that was hardly likely, and they were doubtless honest enough drovers or horse jockeys.
I was, however, considerably worried when I saw a silent but unmistakeable look of intelligence pass between my gentleman friends and these fellows, and I speedily made up my mind that I was in the midst of a gang of desperate characters, and that my only safe way would be to leave the place, if possible, by the very first morning train, as I had ascertained that this being a branch road no night trains passed. I was well armed, but what could one man do against six such fellows as these?
About nine o’clock I was shown to a large unfurnished room overhead, and, to my consternation, found that I must share my bed with one of these worthies; but fearful of exciting suspicion, I made no objection, but only partially undressed, and lay down not to sleep, but still pretended to do so, and was soon breathing deep and heavily.
Everything was quiet until about midnight, when my companion stirred, got up in bed, and I was sure bent over me to see if I slept.
I lay very still, and he, evidently believing that my feigned breathing was real, crawled softly over me, and stepped out upon the floor, where, hastily dressing, and taking a parting glance at the bed, he silently left the room. I heard him descend the stairs, and the next minute I was at the window.
It was quite light without, and shortly I saw my friends steal out of the house, and move in the direction of the station. An impulse seized me, and I was quickly upon their track. I had no idea of their purpose, but I was sure that it was no good one.
I soon reached the station, and almost stumbled upon them, but had presence of mind enough to conceal myself in a dark shadow, in time to escape detection, but where I could overhear their conversation distinctly, from which I soon learned that not only had I discovered the missing bank thieves, but come into possession of a number of other facts of great importance.
It seems that they had become suspicious of me, and had determined to leave the place in the night, with which idea they had determined to break open the door of one of the railroad buildings, and stealing a hand-car, make their way with that to a junction some seven miles down the road, and there take an early train for the West.
I heard the door burst open, and the muttered oaths as the party discovered that the car usually there was that night, unluckily for them, gone. It was then that I was seized with an irresistible desire to cough; in vain I struggled against it; it would come, and it did.
I had hardly time to dart away when they were in full pursuit, and despite my utmost efforts, I was caught, knocked down, and borne back to the station; and now my heart failed me entirely, for I was completely disarmed, and I knew by the scowling glances, that I was in the deadliest peril. Still, I had only done my duty, and I determined if I must die, to do so like a man.
There was little said to me, but I saw that they were deliberating as to the best way of disposing of me, and when two of them approached me, I thought that my time was come, indeed; but it was not to be so yet, for they pushed me into the empty car-house, and shut the door, leaving me to my reflections.
I soon found out the motives of this; the house was to be fired, and I was to be burned alive! to destroy every evidence of guilt! I attempted to cry out, but the roll of thick cloth in my mouth stopped that effectually.
The thought of my poor wife and child drove me to despair; could I have had a chance to die in conflict, selling my life as dearly as possible, it would be easy to such a death as this; but to be confined in a dark room, unable to move or speak, or to make a single effort for my own relief, to helplessly lie and listen to the crackling of the fire, and feel the gentle warmth at first, grow to a savage, terrible, horrid torture fiend eventually lapping the moisture from my bones and blood, and swelling my black and blistering tongue till, consumed by its own rage, it fell a foul and withered cinder in the common ruin.
What a decree of deadly, deadly fate it seemed that only a week before, the night train that would at least have saved me from this kind of death, had been taken off, and no relief could come until eight o’clock the next morning, before which time nothing distinguishable would be left of me.
I already choked with the smoke that came rushing in through the loose sides of the building, when something tore past the station with what seemed to me a scream of frantic exulting joy and hope. My heart leaped at the sound, and with a tremendous effort I snapped the cords that bound my arms.
It was the whistle of an approaching engine, and I knew that, as this was one of the few watering places on the road, they would certainly stop there.
My captors heard it, too, and in a minute I heard them at the door. I prepared myself for a rush, and, as it hastily swung open, I darted out, and struck wildly right and left at the desperate fellows who surrounded me.
They fell upon me with knives, and I felt myself, although a very powerful man, and fighting as only a strong man can fight in the last extremity, half-blinded, badly cut, and gradually sinking under the terrible assaults of one huge fellow in particular. I slipped over an old dry-goods box that stood near. The fiend had me by the throat in an instant, and, poising his monstrous bowie-knife over my head, cried out—
“D—n you! what can save you now? You miserable spy! This and this!”
I heard a terrible voice cry, and then came the crash of a revolver, and the hand at my throat relaxed, and with a loud cry, my assailant fell heavily backward. I gained my feet, and to my utter amazement, saw the two gentlemen that I had first met on the train, struggling desperately with the other three.
I was weak and wounded, but I did what I could to help. I heard a roar and a rumble, and a great blazing eye came out of the night, and an engine and car loaded with labourers stopped at our feet.
I fell to the ground, and only knew that we were helped upon the train. When I came to in earnest, three days afterwards, I found two smiling and somewhat familiar faces at my bedside, who unravelled the tangled skein of my night adventure.
I found my two companions to be detectives from Chicago, who, in the guise of swell mobsmen, had made the acquaintance of the real criminal in our party of that terrible night, and had gone down there with thesupposedintention of participating in a burglary already planned, but with the real purpose of preventing the robbery and arresting the party, with the assistance of others lying in wait at the selected house.
But I had interfered with all their plans, and they had not dared to reveal themselves to a stranger, when with such a large party. Still at the same time I came so near being burned, they had made up their minds, despite the risk, to attempt a rescue, but the fortunate arrival of the train solved the difficulty partially. While with the robbers, a few days previously, they had come into possession of the peculiarly broken knife that had attracted my attention, and had retained it, thinking something might come of it, as there did, for the crime was traced beyond a doubt, to two of the prisoners, and they received a sentence that will probably furnish them with lodgings for a life time.
You can imagine what this lucky exposure did for me. Had I not have been a new man in the force, the Chicago men would probably have known me.
“Ah, yes; there is a great advantage in not being known; we all find that out,” said Wrench. “It’s a great drawback, and causes us no end of trouble.”
“Does your man know you?”
“What Rawton, Lord bless you, yes—know me? Why I gave evidence against him in a former case.”
“Oh,” cried Shearman, “I shall have to tell you one or two more of my adventures, then.”
While this conversation had been taking place, and the two detectives had been keeping watch over the entrance to the common lodging-house, a man with a shambling gait had made his way to the “Bag o’ Nails”. This personage was Cooney, and, as the reader will doubtless readily imagine, he had not paid a visit to the place without a purpose.
His object was to have a word or two with the potman of the establishment, to whom he was very well known.
Cooney’s circle of acquaintances, if not very select, might be considered extensive. Potmen he looked upon us his natural associates; any way, he generally managed to ingratiate himself in their good graces.
Cooney entered the taproom of the house, and drew the potman on one side in a mysterious manner.
“I say, Dick, old man—a word with you,” whispered Cooney. The two went into the passage.
“Well, what’s the row?” cried the potman.
“Just give us the straight tip. You’ve got two blokes—upstairs in the front room, first floor, aint you?”
“There are two gentlemen there, I believe.”
“Guessed as much. Gentlemen with eyes like gimlets, as can pierce through a four-inch deal board. Eh?”
“I don’t know about that.”
“They hail from Scotland Yard.”
“That’s about the size of it, I fancy.”
“Thank you, Dick. That’s all I wanted to know. Been here long?”
“An hour and more.”
“I see rocks ahead. Good night.”
Cooney did not want to make any further inquiries. He saw which way the land lay, and acted accordingly. There wasn’t much chance of the gipsy making his appearance at the lodging-house for that night, or a good many more after. Cooney “blew the gaff,” gave the alarm, and of course Bill Rawton was very shortly far away from the scene of action.
The night wore on.
Mr. Wrench and his are anecdotal lively companion began to consider the case as hopeless. The latter had done so on the outset, and Wrench was fast inclining to his friend’s opinion.
But Wrench was a most persevering officer, and was not one to give up easily when he had made up his mind to any course of action.
“I guess we shall have to go away as wise as we came”, said Shearman, with a short, dry laugh. “The fellow’s fly, and it’s no use watching the dark shadows cast on yonder door.”
“I fancy not. I shall give it up for to-night; but I shall have him before many hours are over our heads.”
“I hope you may; but what are you going to do now?”
“Cut it. Are you ready?”
“I have been a long time ago.”
The two friends passed out of the club-room, and descended the stairs. The obsequious landlord came out of his bar-parlour.
“Are you off, sir?” said he.
“Yes,” returned Wrench. “It’s been a bit of a sell, but it don’t matter. The bird has flown.”
The landlord gave a mysterious nod, and the detectives took their departure.