CHAPTER XXIV.AN APPEAL TO BIAL KEENE.
“There is the house, Frank,” declared Wiley. “I am dead sure of it. I saw them shanghai Abe. I saw them chuck him into the cab. I was too late to render assistance, but like a bloodhound on the trail I followed that cab.”
Frank Merriwell and Wiley were standing in the dark shadow of a building almost directly across the street from the house into which the hunchback lad had been taken. Having completed his business in St. Joseph sooner than he thought he could, Merry returned to his hotel in Kansas City and found Wiley almost tearing his hair in despair. Overjoyed by Frank’s appearance, the sailor lost no time in telling how he had dined with Abe in the restaurant, had left the boy outside to return for his pipe, and, on again leaving the restaurant, had seen the unfortunate lad bundled into the cab and carried off. Fleet of foot as a deer, Wiley had followed the cab, but had found no opportunity to rescue the captured boy. Nevertheless, he had spotted the house into which Abe was taken, had obtained its number, and the name of the street, and was contemplating the advisability of appealing to the police when Frank showed up.
Merry commanded the sailor to take him to the house.
“Unless he was taken out as soon as they brought him here,” asserted Wiley, “he is still there.”
“An obvious fact, if you have made no error. Cap’n, I am afraid I will never be able to trust you again. Whenever I do you fail me. I warned you to look out for Abe.”
“Crush not my sensitive spirits with incrimination,” entreated the marine marvel. “Why should I have anticipated trouble for Abe at such a time? Your enemies seemed beaten to a white froth, and before you I fancied there was nothing but peace and salubrity.”
“Whenever I crush one enemy,” muttered Frank, “it seems that another rises to take his place.”
“You are certain this is a plot of your enemies?”
“What else can it be? Why should any one kidnap that boy unless they did it to injure me in some manner?”
“Ask me a question upon which I can expatiate astutely. This one is too much for me, Frank. What are you going to do?”
“I am going to find Abe.”
“How? How are you going to get into that house? If you demand admission it will be refused.”
“I can appeal to the police.”
“Yes, but——”
“But first I shall see Bial Keene.”
“Who is Bial Keene?”
“One of the cleverest private detectives in the country. I have employed him before, and I know his ability.”
“Then it’s up to you, Frank, to put your mud hooks onto him at once, and get him into the game. Time is valuable. Some gazaboo once observed that timeis money, but I notice that I have a great deal more time than money.”
“Wiley,” said Merry, “I want you to stay right here and shadow this house. Don’t take your eyes off it for a moment. I am going to find Bial Keene, if possible.”
“Yours to command. I will stick to that house like glue. Depend on me for that, Frank.”
“If you see anything that leads you to believe Abe is being removed from the house, follow him.”
“Ay, ay, sir. When it comes to that little trick, Wind-jammer Wiley is the boy!”
Having left Wiley there, Merry hastened to the nearest point where a cab could be found, and was soon being carried toward the office of Scott & Keene, Kansas City’s two famous private detectives.
His one fear was that Bial Keene would not be at his office and could not be found. He knew Keene’s house address, yet it was possible the man would be engaged in some piece of work, so that he would be neither at the office nor the house. Having reached the office building, Merry instructed the cab driver to wait. As it was after hours, the place seemed almost deserted. The watchman was on hand, however, and promptly stopped Frank.
“I must see Mr. Keene,” explained Frank.
“Mr. Keene is probably at home.”
“Are you certain?”
“It makes no difference. You can’t see him here at this hour.”
“Not if I have an appointment with him?”
“He has said nothing to me about an appointment with any one.”
“See here, watchman, don’t you remember me? I am Frank Merriwell. It was not many months ago that I was here, and upon that occasion a man fell down the elevator shaft and was killed. I think you should recall the affair.”
“I do,” confessed the watchman.
“Then you know that Mr. Keene was in my employ at that time. I must see him again on a most important affair. Here, watchman, is something for you. I shall consider it a favor if you permit me to proceed to Mr. Keene’s office.”
As Merry spoke he pressed some money into the Watchman’s hand. The man seemed to hesitate, but finally said:
“It’s against orders, but I will chance it. I may get into trouble.”
“You will not,” assured Frank.
The watchman escorted Merry up several flights of Stairs and finally paused before the door of the detective’s rooms. There he gave a peculiar knock, with the result that the outer door was finally opened.
The man who opened it was neither Scott nor Keene, but the watchman knew him, and said:
“Jones, here is a gentleman to see Mr. Keene on important business. It’s all right, I am sure.”
“I don’t know about that,” returned Jones. “If he wishes to see Mr. Keene he can do so in the morning.”
“My business cannot wait until morning,” declared Merry. “I must find him to-night.”
“What’s your name?”
“Merriwell.”
“Frank Merriwell?”
“That’s right.”
“If you will wait a moment right where you are I will see about the matter. I am not certain Mr. Keene is in his private office, but I can telephone him if he is not. Excuse me.”
The door was closed, leaving Merry outside with the watchman, who whispered:
“Keene is in there. He will see you, all right.”
This proved to be true, for, a few moments later, the door was again thrown open and Jones invited Merry to enter.
“Mr. Keene was studying over a very perplexing matter, sir,” he said, in explanation, “and I was doubtful if he would care to be interrupted; but immediately on hearing your name he told me to bring you in. He is in his private office.”
The door of this private office was opened and Frank entered. A tall, dark-eyed, clean-shaven, keen-faced man arose from before a desk and held out his hand.
“Mr. Merriwell,” he said, “I am glad to see you again. It is something of a surprise, as that little Alaskan business you wished looked after has fallen through.”
“Yes,” said Frank, “there is no necessity for following it up. Milton Sukes is dead and will trouble me no further; but I have other enemies who are giving me trouble.”
“Not this man, Macklyn Morgan? Why, I understand that he lost a leg recently, and it hardly seems that he will be very energetic and troublesome to you in the future.”
“How did you know that he lost a leg?”
Keene smiled the least bit.
“I have been keeping track of you, Merriwell, and know all about your desperate fight to hold your mines. I thought you might need my services again, and for that reason I decided to keep fully informed of all that transpired.”
“Well, Keene, I do need you and need you bad. I hope the matter on which you are engaged this evening may be put aside for a short time, at least, as it is of the greatest importance that you give me assistance without delay.”
“I will do anything I can, Merriwell. I think this affair may rest until to-morrow. It was by a bare chance that you found me here at this hour. I wished to be alone to study over a case which I had on hand, which is decidedly bothersome, and so I chose to come here when everything was quiet. Sit down, sir, and tell me what you desire.”
In a short time Merriwell had related the facts of the affair, explaining in a few words how on a former occasion his enemies had tried to strike at him through the hunchback boy, and how he had followed the trail of Abe’s kidnappers to Camp Nowhar, at last succeeding in rescuing the little cripple.
Keene frowned and tapped his desk with his knuckles as he sat in silence after hearing of this. When a few moments had passed he observed:
“It seems rather singular that your enemies should try the same trick over. Besides that, it is a weak method of striking at you. I can see how Sukes did it in order to divert your attention at the time when you were exerting yourself to ruin his illegal business. But is there any reason now why any one should wish to bother you to prevent you from accomplishing any purpose you have in mind?”
“I know of no reason, Keene.”
“Merriwell, there is a mystery behind this that you have not penetrated. I don’t know why I think so, but in some cases I depend on intuition. In this case intuition tells me that this second kidnapping of the hunchback means something entirely different than the first affair. What it means I am not now prepared to say. You say the house to which the boy was taken is on Euclid Avenue?”
“Yes, sir.”
“This fellow, Wiley, in whose charge the boy was left, has told you so?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Is Wiley reliable? Can you trust him in everything?”
“He is a strange character, Mr. Keene; but I believe he would not deceive me. In fact, I am positive he would not. I even became convinced by his own actions that he was false to me, yet in the end he proved himself true as steel, and he saved my life. I am satisfied he spoke the truth when he told me how Abe was captured, and how he followed the kidnappers to that house. I have left him there to watchthe house. On you I must depend for aid in rescuing the boy.”
“You shall have it,” declared Bial Keene, as he rose to his feet. “We will lose no time.”
He flung open the door to the outer room and called:
“Jones!”
“Yes, sir,” was the answer, as the man outside appeared.
“Jones, go to police headquarters and tell them that I need six of their best men in plain clothes. Tell them the department shall have the entire credit of an important piece of work, if those six men are sent without delay to the corner of Euclid Avenue and Tenth Street. Not a moment must be lost. Accompany the officers to the same corner. That’s all.”
“Yes, sir.”
Instantly Jones wheeled and hastened from the office.
“Are you armed, Mr. Merriwell?” asked Keene quietly.
“I am not. I do not habitually carry a weapon.”
The detective opened a drawer and picked out a business-like revolver.
“Slip this into your pocket,” he directed. “You may need it.”
Frank took the pistol, and Keene then armed himself with two revolvers, after which he slipped on his topcoat and clapped on his head a hat with a wide, slouching brim.
“Come, Mr. Merriwell,” he said. “We’re off to see what we can do.”