"If the detective who recovered an old lady's pocketbook will send his address to Mrs. I. F., Station B, he will hear of something to his advantage."
"If the detective who recovered an old lady's pocketbook will send his address to Mrs. I. F., Station B, he will hear of something to his advantage."
"Well," ejaculated the officer, "that means me. Now let us see—what shall we do?"
It did not take the detective very long to decide upon his course. He wrote the letter, and proceeding to Station B, mailed it, then he lay around for several hours until he saw a very nice-looking young lady call and ask for a letter addressed to "I. F." The letter was delivered and the girl started off with the detective on her track. He trailed her to an old-fashioned house in a very excellent neighborhood.
The girl meantime entered the house and delivered the letter to an old lady—the same old lady who had been robbed. The latter said, as the girl entered the room to the left of the hall:
"What! you have an answer already?"
"Yes, aunty."
The old woman took the letter, opened it and read:
"Madam: I saw your advertisement. I will call upon you. When a card is presented with the name of the undersigned you will know it is the detective."Yours,"Oscar Dunne."
"Madam: I saw your advertisement. I will call upon you. When a card is presented with the name of the undersigned you will know it is the detective.
"Yours,
"Oscar Dunne."
"Well, I declare," exclaimed the old lady; "he will call on us."
"But how will he know where to call, aunty; you did not give your address in the advertisement."
"That is so. I had forgotten that. Why, how will he know where to call. I fear I have made a mistake. A man who is as big a dunce as that can be of no service to us."
"But wait, aunty, these men sometimes have dark and mysterious ways of their own for finding out facts. Let's wait and see if he does call."
Even as the girl spoke there came a ring at the door bell, and a few minutes later a servant presented a card on which was the name, "Oscar Dunne."
"Why, Alice, he is here; it's wonderful."
"Will you see him?"
"Yes."
"Alone?"
"Yes, retire, my child."
The niece retired and a few moments later Oscar was ushered into the old lady's presence.
DUDIE DUNNE LISTENS TO A STRANGE STORY AND ENTERS UPON A TRAIL THAT LEADS TO MANY VERY STARTLING ADVENTURES.
DUDIE DUNNE LISTENS TO A STRANGE STORY AND ENTERS UPON A TRAIL THAT LEADS TO MANY VERY STARTLING ADVENTURES.
"I am surprised to see you here."
"Is that so, madam?"
"Yes."
"Why should you be when you expressed a desire to see me?"
"When did I express such a desire?"
"The desire was implied in your advertisement."
"But I did not put my address in the advertisement. How did you establish my identity?"
The detective smiled and said:
"It was a very simple matter, madam."
"I do not understand it."
"I will explain."
"Please do."
"We detectives are compelled to be very careful in all our movements. We have enemies who are constantly seeking to trap us."
"What has all that to do with the fact that you knew my address?"
"I read your advertisement."
"Yes."
"I did not know whether it was genuine or a decoy sent out by the thieves who robbed you."
"But even that does not explain how you obtained my address."
"By a very simple plan, madam."
"Tell me your plan."
"I mailed the letter to you."
"Yes."
"I knew you would send a messenger for it."
"Certainly."
"I lay around the post office for your messenger. When she came I followed her here."
"Oh, I see; well, how stupid I am. It is evident I am not a female detective. I never should have thought of that expedient."
"It is a very simple one. If it had been a trap the parties sending the letter would have taken precautions not to be trapped that way."
"I see, yes, I see; well, you are not a dunce after all."
"Thank you. You wished to see me?"
"Yes."
"Madam, what is your name, please?"
"My name is Mrs. Frewen."
"Who is the young lady who called for the answer to the advertisement?"
"My niece."
"And her name?"
"Alice Frewen. She is my brother's daughter. She is an orphan."
"You wished to see me on business?"
"Yes."
"Why did you send for me?"
"I will tell you. I read in the papers that you were a detective. I saw your bold act in catching the thief who had robbed me, and a little incident occurred that suggested to me that I had better consult with a detective. I had beheld your gallant action and my niece suggested the plan of the advertisement for your employment."
"Very well, madam; on what business do you desire to consult me about?"
The old lady produced a letter which read:
"Dear Madam: You are in danger. Remove all the portable valuables from your house; leave nothing around that thieves can carry away.A Friend."
"Dear Madam: You are in danger. Remove all the portable valuables from your house; leave nothing around that thieves can carry away.
A Friend."
The detective read and re-read the missive and finally asked in a simple sort of way:
"Who sent this, madam?"
"You see the signature."
"A friend."
"That is all I know."
"Can you form the least idea as to who this friend, or rather this so-called friend is? Have you the least suspicion as to his identity?"
"I have not."
"Has your niece?"
"No."
"This letter would suggest that there is a scheme on foot to rob you."
"That is the suggestion that came to me when I first read the note."
"Have you any articles of special value in the house?"
"You are a detective."
"I am."
"I believe your identity and respectability are sufficiently well established for me to answer you frankly."
"Madam, you can reserve your answer if you choose until you thoroughly establish my identity and respectability."
"It is not necessary. I am satisfied. Yes, I have articles of special value in this house."
"Who would be likely to know the fact?"
"No one beyond my niece."
"You cannot think of any one who would be apt to know that you had articles of special value in the house?"
"No."
"Is there any one whom you suspect of wishing to scare you?"
"No, the fact is we have no acquaintances in New York. We have lived abroad many years and only returned to New York about six months ago. This house came to me by inheritance. It was leased for ten years to a family whom I never knew. My agent leased it. It stood idle for six months, until I came and reopened it upon my return home about six months ago."
"When you were abroad where did you reside principally?"
"In Paris; my niece attended school in France."
"I suppose you had a great many friends in Paris?"
"No, very few; I am not of a social turn at all. I do not seek friends. I live a very secluded life for reasons which it is not necessary to explain."
"Then there are none of your Paris friends whom you would suspect as the author of that warning note?"
"No."
The detective re-read the note, examined it very carefully, and finally said:
"We can form no suspicion from the note itself."
"No."
"Madam, have you an album?"
"Yes."
"Will you let me look at it?"
"For what purpose?"
"I wish to look at the pictures of some of the people you knew in Paris."
The old lady smiled and said:
"The album belongs to my niece. It is merely a collection of prominent French characters—public men, statesmen, army officers, musicians, painters and actors—the photographs do not represent friends of ours."
"Still you have no objection to my seeing it?"
"No, sir."
"Please let me see it, and if you have no objection let your niece be present. She may recall facts that have possibly slipped from your memory."
"You are a very strange young man."
"Yes, I am a very strange young man and I go about my business in a strange manner. Madam, you did the right thing when you sent for me. You and your niece are two lone ladies living in this house. It is evident some one has discovered that you have valuables in your house. A scheme of robbery, it would appear from the warning note, is contemplated. Some one friendly to you has learned of the intended robbery and has warned you.This warning may not only save your property but your life, and it is necessary that we should make every effort to learn who sent the warning note. I desire to see the photographs."
Mrs. Frewen summoned her niece and requested her to bring her photograph album. The niece entered the room and was introduced to our hero, and she failed to conceal her surprise upon being informed that the handsome young man, so exquisitely attired, was a celebrated and successful detective. If Oscar noted her surprise he did not indicate it, but took the album and deliberately commenced turning over its pages, and the niece standing over him said:
"You will only find pictures of well-known characters in the album. I do not think there is a photograph of a single friend of ours in the book."
"Then you have another book?"
"No."
"You do not keep pictures of your friends?"
"No."
"It is unfortunate under the present circumstances; but, miss, what public character is the original of that photograph?"
The girl blushed and answered:
"I had forgotten that the picture was in the album."
"Ah, I see; but who is the original?"
"Oh, he is a young man whose mother I knew in Paris. Aunty was very kind to the mother and also to the young man at the time he was sick."
"Did you ever see this young man?"
"Never."
"Did your aunt ever see him?"
"Yes, she remained with the mother one or two nights, aiding in nursing him, and she supported them during his illness."
"What created your aunt's interest in the young man?"
"His mother had been her maid many years previously."
"What is the character of the young man?"
The girl did not answer.
"You do not answer me."
"It is a very singular question."
"It is?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"I never saw the young man, how should I know anything concerning his character?"
Mrs. Frewen had been an interested listener to the conversation, and turning to the aunt our hero said:
"You know this young man?"
"Yes."
"He is a very handsome young fellow, I should think, from his picture."
"Yes, and a very unfortunate young man."
"Unfortunate?"
"Yes."
"In what way—simply because his mother was poor?"
"No, there is a mystery connected with his life."
"A mystery?"
"Yes."
"What is the mystery?"
"I believe his father is a nobleman, although his mother was my governess."
"Ah, your governess?"
"Yes."
"Not your maid?"
"She acted as governess and maid both. She was a very handsome woman. We were in Italy when she eloped and ran away."
"Did she run away and get married?"
"She claimed she was married."
"Whom did she marry?"
"She would never reveal the man's identity."
"Do you know that it was a nobleman?"
"No."
"You only suspect?"
"Yes."
"What led you to the suspicion."
"Hints that Madam Donetti dropped from time to time."
"This young man's name is Donetti?"
"He is known as Alphonse Donetti."
"An Italian name."
"Yes."
"Then you conclude his mother married an Italian?"
"Yes."
"Was he a sober, industrious young man?"
"No, he appeared to feel very much embittered at the idea of being poor. He claimed to be of high birth. Indeed I have suspected that his mother was a woman descended from a good old French family; at any rate the young man is very high-blooded, fond of gay life, and unable to gratify his desires."
"Did he ever to your knowledge commit a crime?"
"Never to my knowledge."
"Did you ever hear it whispered that he was a criminal?"
The old lady did not answer.
"You do not answer me."
"I fear he caused his mother a great deal of anxiety at times."
"His mother still resides in France?"
"She is dead."
"Where is the young man?"
"I don't know."
"Where did you see him last?"
"In Paris."
"How long ago?"
"About a year ago."
"When and where?"
"I saw him upon the street."
"Did you address him?"
"No."
"Why not?"
The woman did not answer.
"Please answer me."
"He was in the hands of a sergeant de ville."
"He was under arrest?"
"Yes."
"For what offense?"
"I never inquired, and the day following my niece and I started for London."
"You have no reason to suspect that Alphonse Donetti is in the United States, in fact in New York?"
"The suggestion did not arise in my mind until you began to question me about him, then I did ask myself the question: Could it have been Alphonse Donetti who sent me that warning note?"
The detective meditated a long time and then said:
"The chances are that Alphonse Donetti sent you that warning note."
"I cannot think who else could have sent it, and yet I have no knowledge that he is in the United States."
"The note is written in good English."
"Yes, Alphonse was educated in England; his mother devoted her life to him, and as long as she had a cent she denied him nothing. All her money was spent when she came to me, and I aided her."
"And Alphonse knew of your generosity to his mother?"
"Yes."
"And she married an Italian?"
"I believe it was an Italian with whom she eloped. We were living in Florence at the time. She deserted me and ran away."
"And you did not see her until many years afterward?"
"No."
"And then you met her in Paris?"
"Yes."
"Was Donetti her married name?"
"I have every reason to believe it was an assumed name. I firmly believe she eloped with some man of high family, even though he may not have been a nobleman, but I believe he was a nobleman."
"You say Madam Donetti was a handsome young lady?"
"Very handsome—a beautiful woman and refined, also highly educated. There was a mystery about her while she was acting as my governess."
"Governess to whom—yourself?"
"No, an older sister of Alice."
"She was a Frenchwoman?"
"I always believed so, but as she assumed the name of Donetti it is possible she may have been Italian, or her parents may have been Italian people."
"She spoke Italian?"
"She did indeed. She spoke all the continental languages, also English, and her son is a splendid linguist."
"Madam, that note came from Alphonse Donetti."
"And what does it portend?"
The detective meditated a few moments and then said:
"I can only theorize."
"And what is your theory?"
"I fear Alphonse has gotten into bad company. I fear he is associating with thieves. He may have learned that there was a scheme on foot to rob you. He did not dare warn you fully, but sent you this missive, and the fact that he sent you this note would indicate that no matter how bad a man he has become he still possesses the quality of gratitude. A very rare quality, madam; few possess it. Forgetfulness and selfishness prevail as a rule."
"What are we to do?"
"Will you leave the decision with me?"
"Certainly."
"We will guard against a robbery, and in the meantime I will hunt up this young man Donetti; if he is in New York I will find him."
Mrs. Frewen meditated a few moments in turn and then said:
"I do not know as I wish to renew his acquaintance, especially as he has probably become a criminal."
Oscar smiled, but the smile on his face vanished as he caught an expression on the face of the niece Alice as she said:
"Aunty, we have no reason to assume that Al—I mean the young man has become a criminal."
The girl started to say Alphonse but checked herself and said, "the young man."
Oscar was a regular mind-reader, and he remarked in a tone indicating a forgetfulness that the question had once been answered:
"So you never had the pleasure of seeing this young man, Miss Alice?"
The girl blushed and appeared restless and uneasy as she answered:
"No."
The detective turned to Mrs. Frewen and said:
"It may be necessary to hunt up this young man in order to run down the criminals who, we are to assume, are about to make an attempt to rob you."
"I fear the young man is a criminal."
"But, aunty, he is very considerate when he warns us."
"Yes, he owes it to me, and I am glad he evidently possesses at least one good quality; but I fear his deeds were the death of his mother. She did not reveal to me all she knew about her son, that is evident, and now underthe new light I can see clearly and interpret many little incidents that before I could not understand."
"I will ask to borrow this picture, madam."
"You can take it," said the elder lady, but the younger one said:
"No, no, aunty, do not let the gentleman have the picture."
"Why not, my child?"
"Well, it is better that he does not discover the young man. In case his theories are correct it might lead to mortifying incidents. We do not know the young man, and probably it is better that we let him drop from our memories forever."
"I will see that no complications arise from the discovery of the young man. If he is a criminal who has come over here from France it may be as well to cut him short in his career of crime on this side of the ocean as quickly as possible."
"And what would you do?"
"It is my duty to note every criminal as far as I can, and run him down if he makes himself answerable to our laws."
"You have no proof that this young man is a criminal."
"No, I have no proof, but I am satisfied that he is a criminal, and it is possible I can already associate him with a very grave crime."
The face of Alice became ghastly as her aunt asked:
"Alice, why do you show such interest in this criminal?"
"Aunty, I only show the interest that is natural, considering the esteem in which you held his mother."
The keen eyes of the detective were on the girl and he reached a very startling conclusion, and other very strange and startling suggestions and suspicions were running through his mind.
"I will take the photograph," he said, "and will guarantee no unpleasant incidents will follow my possession of it; and now, madam, one more point—I will come to your house to-night between eleven o'clock and midnight and remain here as a private watchman in order to anticipate the visit of the burglars in case a raid on your house is meditated."
"I am glad to have you do so, and I will have a room prepared for you, and I will pay you according to what you may think your services demand."
DUDIE DUNNE LAYS LOW FOR THE HOUSEBREAKERS, MAKES A GREAT CAPTURE, AND ALSO MAKES A VERY PECULIAR DISCOVERY.
DUDIE DUNNE LAYS LOW FOR THE HOUSEBREAKERS, MAKES A GREAT CAPTURE, AND ALSO MAKES A VERY PECULIAR DISCOVERY.
The detective completed his arrangements for spending a night in the house. He also gave instructions to Mrs. Frewen and her niece just what they were to do under the possibilities of the approaching night. A little later and the detective took his departure, and still later met the chief, to whom he said:
"Strange incidents meet us in our profession, chief."
"Well, I should say so. What have you struck now?"
"I am not sure, chief, but I've an idea that I have run by accident right on to the Roman burglar. If I have it's the most extraordinary chance that ever occurred in our profession."
Oscar proceeded and related to the chief what had occurred. The latter listened and said:
"I don't see where the Roman robbery comes in."
"You don't?"
"No."
"Well, you've been busy, and your mind is not clear."
"I feel pretty clear in my head."
Oscar opened up the key to his theory and the chief exclaimed:
"Dudie, you're a genius. By all that's strange and wonderful I should not be amazed if you are right, and do you know there is the biggest sort of a reward offered for the capture of the thief."
"Chief, if my ideas are fully confirmed we may not seek the reward. I don't know but my suspicions run a great way in this case, and if the fact proves true—well, we'll talk it over after we locate, identify and prove the crime on our man."
It was just about eleven o'clock when Dudie Dunne turned the corner to go to the house where he was to spend the night. He was walking along lost in a brown study when suddenly a hand was laid lightly upon his shoulder. He turned and beheld a veiled woman.
Now, reader, don't exclaim, "There comes one of Old Sleuth's veiled women again," for I tell you veiled women are floating around every day and night in great cities, and especially those who, like our veiled women, are out at such a late hour on special business.
"Can I have a few words with you, Mr. Dunne?" came the question.
"Great Scott!" thought our hero, but the exclamation did not escape his lips.
"Certainly, Miss Alice," he answered.
"I can rely upon your honor that what passes between us shall be strictly confidential?"
"Yes, miss."
"You will not even reveal the fact that I met you?"
"I will not, but will not your aunt miss you?"
"No, she retired over an hour ago. She is a heavy sleeper; even the prospect of a visit from burglars wouldnot keep her awake as long as the prospect was only a suspicion. She is a very brave lady; my aunt is a very remarkable woman."
"No doubt; but now what can I do for you?"
"A crisis compels me to be singularly frank with you."
"It is better so if I am to serve you in any way."
"I am about to make an extraordinary request."
"All right."
"It is possible those burglars may visit our house to-night."
"Yes, it is possible, not probable. I tell you now I am only exercising due precaution, I do not really anticipate a visit from the housebreakers."
"I do."
"You have a reason for your conclusion?"
"I have."
"What is it?"
"Never mind; but I wish to make a request."
"Proceed."
"If the robbers do enter our house, the moment you spring upon them they will attempt to escape of course."
"That will naturally be what they will attempt, I should say."
"If you surprise them they will be defeated."
"Certainly."
"They will not have taken anything."
"Possibly not."
"Then let them escape."
"That is your request?"
"Yes."
"It is indeed a very singular one."
"I cannot explain why I make such a request, but please let them escape. I repeat I cannot explain why I make the request."
"You cannot explain why you make such a strange request?"
"No."
"You need not."
"Thank you, and I am to understand that my request is granted?"
"Oh, no."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean you need not make any explanation, that is all."
The girl stared. Our hero could not see her eyes, for she was veiled, but her attitude indicated that she was staring at him and he knew with a look of surprise on her face.
"Why do you not seek an explanation of such an extraordinary request?"
"Simply because it is really unnecessary. I know why you make the request. I fully comprehend your motive."
An exclamation escaped the veiled lady.
"You understand?"
"I do."
"No, no, it is impossible that you understand."
"I will prove to you that I do understand. You fear that Alphonse Donetti will be one of the burglars. You do not desire him to be captured. See what a mind-reader I am."
"Why do you assume that Alphonse will be one of the robbers?"
"Merely because you do, that's all."
"How do you know that I do?"
"You would not make the extraordinary request unless that was your fear."
"You are a strange man."
The detective laughed and answered:
"And you are a very strangely acting lady. It is indeed a strange thing for a lady who expects robbers to visit her house to ask that they be permitted to escape. I must domy duty, miss, I cannot grant your request unless you ask that I let Alphonse go and arrest the others."
"No, that will not do," she exclaimed, "for the others would betray him."
"Aha!" ejaculated the detective, "human-like you have given yourself away. Do not again deny your real motive for making the request."
The girl recognized that indeed she had betrayed herself, and in a tone of distress she muttered:
"Oh, what shall I do?"
"I can tell you."
"Please do."
"Make a full confidant of me."
"Will you believe me?"
"I know of no reason why I should doubt your word."
"I have already deceived you."
"Eh! you have already deceived me?"
"I have."
"In what direction?"
"I told you I had never seen or spoken to Alphonse Donetti?"
"I remember."
"My denial was false."
The detective was silent.
"I did not dare let my aunt know that I had ever seen him."
"And you have met?"
"Yes."
"Often?"
"Yes, very often. He has confided in me."
"One moment! are you his affianced wife?"
"On my honor, I am not; but knowing his real story I sympathize with him most heartily."
"He has revealed to you more than his mother ever revealed to your aunt?"
"Yes."
"Tell me what he revealed to you."
"I cannot."
"Oh, but you can."
"No, I am bound by an oath; I cannot break my oath."
The detective meditated and then asked:
"Do you know that Donetti is in New York?"
"I do not."
"Have you reason to suspect that he is?"
"I had no reason to so suspect until you indicated that he was possibly the author of the warning note, then I did suspect that he was in New York."
"Have you any grounds for believing that he is a criminal?"
"I have not."
"Then why do you fear he may be with the robbers to-night?"
"I do not know to what desperate deeds his many wrongs and privations may have driven him. If he is in New York I will find him. If he is being driven toward the career of a criminal I will save him. If you arrest him I cannot save him, and yet he deserves to be saved, for he is the victim of a great wrong."
Again the detective meditated. He was revolving strange theories in his mind, and mentally he concluded: "This is a very unfortunate girl, but she is only one of a type of woman who can be thus fascinated." After an interval he said:
"I do not think Alphonse will be one of the robbers."
"You believe he is in New York?"
"Yes, I believe so."
"How would he know of the intended robbery?"
"That is a question I cannot answer. Indeed I can advance no theory, but I do not believe he will be one of the robbers."
"It is possible he is not in New York at all."
"Yes, it is possible, but the probabilities are that he is."
Alice appeared very unhappy, and our hero could not console her with a promise, simply because he had reason to believe that Alphonse Donetti was possibly already liable to arrest for a previous crime.
"You can give me no comfort?" she said at length.
"No, beyond the fact that I will agree to let Alphonse escape in case he is among the burglars who may possibly enter your house."
"And the others will betray him."
"No, you need not fear that; but time passes, I must go and take up my position. You had better return to your home and I will appear later."
The girl slowly walked away and our hero muttered:
"Well, this is a complication. That girl loves a thief, possibly an assassin."
A little later and Oscar Dunne entered the house. All was as it had been agreed it should be, and yet the detective commenced a search. There was a hall pantry off the rear parlor. The detective tried the door; it was locked, but by a little trick of his own he opened it and flashed the light of his tiny mask lantern inside, and there sure enough stood Alice Frewen. The girl colored, but assumed a very defiant look as she said:
"You had no business to force yourself into my room."
"Your room is of very narrow dimensions, but under the circumstances I was compelled to force my way in as I wish to use this room as my hiding place, and further I do not propose that you shall give the burglars warning. I am here to catch them and I will."
"Never; I will warn them. I will light the gas and sit up all night."
"Oh, you will?"
"Yes."
"Do not resolve upon so rash a proceeding."
"I shall do as I threaten."
"I am sorry, but I shall be compelled to arouse your aunt and inform her of your intention; also as an explanation, reveal to her all that you have revealed to me."
The girl burst into tears and exclaimed:
"I am at your mercy; what shall I do?"
"I'll tell you what to do."
"Please tell me."
"Trust me. Trust my judgment and consideration for your feelings."
"Let me explain."
"Yes, you are at liberty to explain."
"I wish to save that young man simply because I believe he is the victim of a great wrong. I do not believe he is bad at heart—not a criminal by nature."
"I will not question your motive, but you cannot interfere with the performance of my duty, but I will promise you that no harm shall come to the young man until I am convinced that he is an irreclaimable villain. If he is the victim of wrong he shall have my aid and sympathy. I can promise you no more than that, beyond the assurance that I am sincere, and I know just what to do."
"I will trust you."
"You are wise."
"You will keep my secret?"
"As long as you obey my instructions."
"I will obey your instructions."
"Then retire to your room and do not come forth until I summon you, or you are summoned by your aunt."
The girl ascended the stairs and our hero prepared for a night's vigil. He was acting, as he stated, merely as a matter of precaution. He did not anticipate the advent of the burglars, but he was just as watchful and careful as though he knew for a certainty that they would come.He did not sleep, but lay down on a sofa in the rear parlor, raising the two windows so as to overhear any noise in case the thieves should put in an appearance. He knew the habits of the robbers well enough. He knew how their methods would be adapted to the lay of the house they were to enter. The house was detached, and there was a storm shed in the rear protecting the back kitchen door. Here was where he anticipated they would make their entrance. Once in the storm shed they could take their time in opening the kitchen door, and could also make all their arrangements for escape in case of discovery.
The hours passed until about three o'clock in the morning, when the detective, who despite all his doubts had been on the alert, heard a sound. He peeped out, and there sure enough he beheld three men in the yard, and he muttered:
"By ginger! they are here. Well, I didn't expect them, but I will welcome them."
Dudie Dunne was a very resolute young man. He wore moccasins and with noiseless tread passed to the kitchen stairway and there took up his position. He knew the men would advance by the stairs the moment they succeeded in getting into the house. Holding his position he waited, and was not surprised at the celerity of their movements, for within ten minutes after his first recognition of their presence in the yard he had evidence that they were in the house—and there he stood at the head of the kitchen stairs prepared to lay them out.
The men were old hands at the business. They wasted no time, but started to ascend the kitchen stairs just as Oscar had calculated they would. He lay low until the foremost man was just at the last step, when a club cut the air; there followed a thud and an outcry and the man went over backward upon the man who was following him.
The detective leaned down the stairs. He stepped overthe man he had struck and arrived at the foot of the stairs just as robber number two had risen to his feet, having been knocked down by his pal's fall. Again the club cut the air and robber number two received a clip that disabled him and the detective sprang along to the kitchen. Robber number three had been on the watch. He knew some thing had gone wrong and ran to the kitchen to hear what had occurred. He arrived just in time to run up against that effective club, and he too went down, and as he fell the detective leaped upon him and fixed the darbies on him. He then retired to the basement hall stairs, and arrived just as number two had a second time risen to his feet; the man received a second dose from the club and went down again, and in less time than it takes to record it the darbies were run on him. Robber number one had not moved; the blow he had received had sort of settled him for a little rest, but the detective put the steel bands on him all the same, and then he turned on the gas. None of the burglars had masks on, although they had their little face-hiders hanging to their lapels like a pair of eyeglasses.
Oscar went to each man and flashed the light of his lantern in their faces one after the other, and then he muttered:
"Well, he is not here; so far so good."
The detective went to the front door and swung his light, and in less than two minutes two men appeared. They were admitted and led down to the kitchen where they seized the robbers. Our hero had recognized two of the men. They were the fellows who had played him for a "chappie."
The three burglars were led through the kitchen door to the yard and marched off, three of the most surprised housebreakers that were ever captured; and right here we have a word to say. There is nothing romantic and daringin housebreaking. It is one of the most atrocious crimes on the criminal calendar. It is simply terrible to think of people defenseless and helpless in their own homes and beds when masked men, prepared to do murder, steal in to rob them. There is no palliation for this offense, for there is no crime, save that of forgery, that is conducted with so much forethought, decision and calculation—yes, calculation to do murder if it becomes necessary, for they go prepared to kill; and it is a grand thing when one of these cruel scoundrels is caught and punished. They are not entitled to sympathy, despite the fact that some mawkish Sunday-school books sometimes present the good-hearted burglar. If there is any crime that deserves death anywhere near the liability of murder it is the crime of burglary, for a man who will enter a house to steal is the meanest criminal on the face of the earth, and it is well when they are shot down right in their tracks and in the act of their crime.
The three burglars, as stated, were led away, and our hero, who had effected the capture so neatly, ascended the stairs and at the parlor door met Alice Frewen.
"They have been here."
"You have disobeyed me."
"I did not until I knew it was all over."
"Did you know it was all over?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"I was watching and listening."
"Well, they did come. I did not expect them, I will admit."
"You have captured them?"
"Yes."
"All of them?"
"Yes."
"Did you see their faces?"
"I did."
"And——"
"Hewas not among them."
"You are sure?"
"I am sure."
"Remember, he may have been under a disguise."
"He was not with them. I recognized all the three men. I know them. No, he was not with them, and the chances are all our theories were wrong, but we will learn later on."