A HAPPY MOMENT.
When Shadow left us outside and entered through the door which he opened by aid of the pass-key taken from the captured "lookout," he turned aside from the hall, into the store.
As before stated, one marked peculiarity of his was his light tread, so light that none but a suspicious and very acute ear could detect it.
From his pocket he took a wax match and lighted it. Before it had burned so low as to necessitate his blowing it out, he had gained such additional knowledge as he required, which was principally that the movable articles in the room were in the same positions as when he had come here to eat oysters on several occasions.
The trap-door that had been cut through the floor behind the counter was open; to its head Shadow softly went.
Noiselessly as a cat he descended the stairs to the cellar, and there was guided forward by the light that shone through the breach in the foundation wall.
He soon reached the breach, without having aroused any suspicion of his proximity, and obtained a hasty although comprehensive glance into the vault beneath the bank.
The burglars had had easy work, and had already secured the "swag."
In fact, at that very moment two of their number were engaged in bringing loads of specie to the breach.
So close were they that Shadow could not retreat without discovering himself to them.
He shrank back against the wall, and edging away, paused only when a dozen or fifteen feet from the breach.
Through this the two burglars passed, entering the cellar beneath the store.
Shadow supposed that after depositing their loads both would return to the bank building. In this he was mistaken, for while one returned the other remained for the purpose of receiving the loads which now began to arrive.
The detective was in a box.
To attempt to retreat now was equivalent to detection: to remain, he would be spotted the very minute a light was brought into the cellar. While it was dark, and he even suppressed his breath, he was safe, but for no greater length of time.
Shadow at last determined on making an attempt to reach the stairs and mount them, so as to give us the word.
Holding his breath, he took a step, and then paused.
In a minute he took one more step and paused again.
He had not been heard.
Still another step.
And yet he was undetected.
Taking advantage of the bustle at the time of the delivery of each armful, he would glide along several feet. In this manner he had nearly reached the foot of the stairs, and so far as he could judge was unsuspected.
But as yet he had only had play when compared with the tact required to mount the stairs.
When half way up he overheard whispers. The words he could not comprehend, but, as he heard no movement toward the stairs, he thought they did not refer to him.
But they did.
The stairs had cracked and squeaked, notwithstanding his carefulness in stepping.
And the earth which had softened his footfalls so that they had not been heard, now performed the same kindly office for the burglars.
They were edging toward the stairs.
They reached the foot, as Shadow reached the head of them.
Any doubt which the burglars may have had was put to flight by hearing the sigh of relief which unconsciously fell from Shadow's lips as he took the last upward step.
At once there was a rush up-stairs by the villainous crew.
So promptly did they accomplish the ascent of the stairs that Shadow had no time to cross the store floor to the hall.
As already described, the bull's-eye flashed its light on him, after which there was a grand rush at him, followed by a low groan and the thud of a falling body.
"Poor fellow!" I inwardly exclaimed. "Poor Mrs. Morris—how her son's death will grieve her."
Meanwhile I was not idle.
My hand had dipped into my pocket, and now held a parlor match.
"Ready!"
So I lowly said to my men.
Then I suddenly struck the match, glanced around, sprang to the gas fixture my eye lighted on, turned on the gas, and in less than five seconds from the time of striking the match, the scene was lighted by a blazing gas jet.
"Surrender!" I sternly ordered, leveling a brace of revolvers, before the rascals had ceased to gasp in surprise at the sudden turn affairs had taken.
Then they turned and made a rush toward the trap-door behind the bar.
But with equal swiftness I sprang upon the counter, kneeling in a position to command the entrance to the cellar.
"The first man who tries to escape in that direction gets a bullet in his noddle!" I grimly told them, and they halted short in their stampede, and dumbly looked at each other.
"Close in, boys!"
This to my men.
"Now then, my hearties, you're fairly cornered, and the wisest thing for you to do is to cave."
"Don't give in, lads!" yelled a gruff voice. "We're almost as many as they are, and a good bold stroke will carry us out."
Thus encouraged, the desperate men made a wild, although irresolute and wavering charge.
"Stand firm!" I yelled to my men, and then aimed at the leader of the gang.
He had cocked his revolver, was aiming at my head with deadly intent.
It was my life or his, and I pulled the trigger.
Crack!
With a single groan, he sank to the floor, with a bullet in his brain.
"Close in now! And shoot every man who offers resistance!"
The men did as directed.
The charge had been only half-hearted anyhow, and the fall of their leader completely demoralized the remainder, and dropping their weapons, they flung up their hands in token of surrender.
In less than two minutes we had them all handcuffed.
When I had heard the last pair of bracelets click, I put up my revolver, but not before; and then I wiped the perspiration from my forehead.
It is singular how quickly a man begins to perspire in moments of excitement like this through which I had passed, but perspire he always does, and freely at that.
I had caught a glimpse of a body stretched on the floor at the farther side of the room from where I was perched on the counter.
"Poor Mat! Poor Shadow!"
So I muttered as I made my way toward the body. It laid just where I had last seen Shadow standing, in the full glare of the light from the bull's-eye lantern.
I reached the body, and—it was not that of Shadow!
I rubbed my eyes. No, it was not Shadow. I arose to my feet and glanced about the room. But naught was to be seen of the lithe figure of the mysterious detective.
Nobody had seen him go out by way of the hall. Then, I thought, he must have descended to the cellar.
But when we went down-stairs, we could find no trace of him there.
He had disappeared.
But how, or where to, not the wisest one of us could say.
Neither could I imagine how he had escaped with his life, when they made that wild rush at him.
A NARROW ESCAPE.
Afraid to incur the anger of McGinnis, Helen made no further outcry after receiving his harsh command to be silent, but stood there, trembling with horror, as the treacherous waters continued to rise.
Tiny waves were rippling the surface of the water, and one of these at last sprang against her lips.
Panting, worn out, Helen felt like permitting herself to sink, and thus quickly end the horrors of her situation.
But the ripple receded, and she was again able to breathe.
She did not wish to die.
Above all, she did not wish to meet such an awful death as this.
She pictured her dead body floating in the water or stretched in the mud of the floor, and her frame was convulsed by swift-flying thrills of horror.
This mental picture nearly crazed Helen.
"No, no," she moaned. "No, no, I cannot, I will not, die in this terrible manner."
She beat the water with her hands, and clutched at it, and tried to push it back.
Slowly but softly the water continued to rise, and she could lift her head no higher, for it was even then against the under side of the floor above her.
The water was at her lips now—not a ripple, but the whole body was on a level with them.
She closed her lips, but a minute later it filled her nostrils when she breathed.
Out of her very desperation was now born a singular calmness and self-possession.
She was now able to think and reason as she could not have done before.
It is singular but true that in the face of death many people, in times of lesser danger absolute cowards, become brave and calm as any one can be.
So it was with Helen.
Whether or not she was to be drowned like a rat she did not know.
But she did know that her situation was a precarious one.
Calm now as she was, she was not long in striking on the only means whereby she could preserve her life a little longer, perhaps for a long time longer.
Throwing her head backward, she let it rest against one of the floor-beams, and thrust her face upward close to the floor.
She could now breathe again.
But she had played her last card, so to speak, and did the water rise another three inches her fate was unalterably sealed.
The position she had assumed was an uncomfortable one, but she did not allow her resolution to waver even though the tide continued to creep higher and higher, although not so rapidly as before.
At last—what a fervent prayer of thanks Helen uttered—at last she knew that the water had ceased to rise.
And then presently it began slowly falling.
At the expiration of a quarter of an hour she was able to move her head from the unnatural position in which she had placed it.
Lower and lower the water now went, in just the same regular, even pace with which it had arisen in the cellar.
Lower and lower—lower and lower—until Helen sank on her knees, her head remaining above the surface, and then she prayed as perhaps she had never prayed before.
As she was thus engaged she heard a heavy tread on the floor over her head.
McGinnis had just come in.
And he came with haste, for he had just heard of the remarkably high tide, and feared that his prisoner had fallen a victim to its cold embrace.
He now understood the meaning of Helen's cries, and their not having been repeated under such circumstances, he considered as indicating her death.
"I say—I say, down there!" he yelled. "Are you alive and kicking?"
Helen had nothing to gain by keeping silence, and as she arose from her knees, she replied in the affirmative.
"Good enough!" grunted her jailer, banging shut the trap-door.
When he afterwards brought Helen down something to eat, and saw the height to which the water had risen, he gazed at her in blank astonishment.
He could not understand how it was that she had preserved her life.
"Thunder!" he exclaimed. "How did you do it, gal? Why, there wasn't more'n an inch of space left between the water and the floor."
"I did it, though, with His assistance," said Helen, reverently.
"Whose assistance?" and McGinnis glared about him, as he asked the question, in an alarmed tone.
"His!" and Helen pointed upward as she uttered the one word in a solemn tone.
"Oh!" in a relieved tone, and the villain then laughed harshly.
He stayed by Helen while she was eating, and his evil eyes were lighted with admiration as they rested on her.
"I say," he remarked, when she had finished eating—"I say, you're a trump, even though you be such a young gal."
Helen's puzzled look was evidence that she did not comprehend at what he was driving.
"You're a smart one, too," said McGinnis. "And I think it's blamed tough on you to pen you in here."
"Then why did you do so?" demanded Helen.
"Orders, my sweet, orders—and orders must be obeyed. But, I say, how'd you like to take the place of the old woman up-stairs? You're a piece of good stuff, you are, and with a little edication, could take the shine out of any crooked woman I ever seen. As for the old crow up-stairs, jist say the word, and I'll put her out of the way, after which, orders or no orders, I'll take you outer this place."
The young girl was completely taken aback by this offer of McGinnis to make her his wife, after murdering the one he now possessed.
She was unable to say a word.
McGinnis construed her silence in another way, and advancing, would have kissed Helen, had not she retreated, holding up her hands to ward him off, her face expressive of horror and deep disgust.
He pursued her.
Helen faced him, her back to the wall.
"Keep away—leave me alone," she cried. "Keep away, or I will shriek until somebody hears me."
Her tone was a determined one, and McGinnis was shrewd enough to see that it would be foolish to bother her any farther, or her cries might be heard, and be the means of getting him into serious trouble.
He backed away, and, with an oath on his lips, went up-stairs, banging shut the trap-door behind him.
A number of times he brought her meals down to her, but never again attempted to renew his suit.
Then one night Joseph Brown paid him another visit, and they held a long conference together.
It was about Helen.
In the dead of night, not long after that, Helen was brought up from the damp and noisome place.
Some clothing was flung to her, which she was compelled to attire herself in while guarded by Mrs. McGinnis.
After being led several blocks away she was forced to enter a carriage, which was then rapidly driven away.
"Where am I being taken to?" asked Helen, in a tone that trembled as much as her body.
She felt that there were greater dangers to dread in this midnight ride than if she had remained in the cellar.
McGinnis only laughed delightedly for reply.
"I demand of you to tell me where I am being taken," and the girl spoke now more firmly.
"I'll tell you—ha-ha-ha! let me whisper," and bending forward the villain whispered a few words into her ear—words that caused the color to desert her face, that caused her to clasp her hands together, and to sink moaning into her corner of the conveyance.
IN THE BLACK HOLE.
Where had Shadow gone to?
At the instant that the murderous crew rushed at him, he quietly sank to the floor.
The first one to reach the spot where he had been standing struck his body.
The cry of surprise on his lips was changed into a death-groan, as the man nearest him grabbed at and stabbed him, under the impression that it was the strange, and to them, unknown person whom they had detected spying on them.
Shadow had seen us and knew that we would now take care of the gang, and he had edged toward the door communicating with the hall, and had disappeared unseen by my men, deeply interested just then in another quarter.
The villains were marched away and locked up, and to make a long story short were properly punished in due course of time.
The bank officials, grateful at having been saved a heavy loss, voted me a handsome sum in reward for my services.
This, I felt, belonged entirely to Shadow, and I kept it about me in the shape of a check, to be given him at the first opportunity.
From the fact that he had not been found anywhere around, I was assured that he had escaped, although the manner of it was then a mystery to me.
And I fully expected to hear something from or see him within a very few days.
But I did not.
He seemed to have disappeared from the face of earth.
I went around among the dens of the east side, but could neither see nor learn anything of him.
Again and again I made the tour of the dives, but always with the same result.
Then, put to work on a case, I plunged into it, became interested, and Shadow slowly faded from my mind.
It was a murder case.
The murder had been committed under peculiar circumstances, and I had not been long at work before I became convinced that it had been done by the hands of a regularly organized gang of evil-doers.
At last I struck a clew.
I became convinced that I knew the very individual who had committed the bloody deed, but I delayed arresting him, as by this time I had gained an inkling of greater work to be done at the same time.
I was ambitious of entrapping the whole gang, instead of this solitary member of it.
I laid my plans accordingly.
Disguise was always a forte of mine, and I proceeded now to conceal my identity as thoroughly as possible.
My next step was to ingratiate myself with a member of the gang.
I picked my man, and proved an apt student of human nature when I did so, for perhaps of all the gang he was the only one who could have been so easily gulled.
His confidence gained, I knew the rest would be easy enough.
By him I was made acquainted with several others belonging to the same gang, and on his guarantee of my trustworthiness, they talked freely before me.
One day Shadow was brought forcibly to my mind by a chance remark dropped by one of my new friends.
"Have you seen the young chap we've got in the Black Hole?"
This was the remark.
Could they mean Shadow?
At once I pricked up my ears.
"No," was the reply. "I want to see him, though. What does he look like?"
"A young fellow with a smooth face, not more than eighteen, and slender as a girl."
It tallied with Shadow's appearance.
"None know him?"
"So it seems; leastways, none as has seen him yet ever saw him before. We had Dick Stanton come in and take a peep at him, and Dick says he ain't a detective—that is, a regular detective, at any rate."
"He was caught nosing around, though?"
"Yes."
"Had he tumbled to anything much?"
"That we don't know, for he won't say a word—aye, yes or no."
"And what does the cap'n mean to do with him?"
"I give it up. One of the boys told me that in the end he meant to have him knifed."
"The best thing to do. 'Dead men tell no tales,'" remarked the other.
Here they let the thing drop.
I wanted to find out where this Black Hole was, but dared ask no questions, nor press the subject of the young fellow's captivity.
For the present I was compelled to adopt a waiting policy, or run the risk of killing the confidence I had already gained, by the asking of too many questions.
Still, it was a horrible thought to me that, while I was doing nothing, Shadow (otherwise Mat Morris) was in captivity in the Black Hole, a place whose name implied nothing but the horrible, and in hourly danger of being butchered like an animal.
In this dilemma I changed my disguise and took to tracking these men to find out where their head-quarters were, presuming that it would be there where the Black Hole would be found.
I tracked them finally to an old and ruined brick building near the East River.
It had once been a sugar-house, but had burned out, leaving only its walls standing.
The remains of the building had been turned to advantage—its walls squared on top and roofed over, leaving a structure in some places one story high, in other places two stories.
It was for the most part occupied by old junk and chain men, and among them were several well-known to the police, and suspected of being receiving shops for the "swag" of the river pirates.
Was the Black Hole only one of the vaults of the old sugar-house?
Was it located here?
I would have given a thousand dollars to have been sure of this.
In the dead of night I again drew near this old sugar-house, and stretched myself out alongside of a big piece of dock timber that chanced to lie in a good position.
About two o'clock I heard footsteps approaching from the direction of the river, and when the persons drew nearer I recognized one voice as that of the individual whom I had thus far bamboozled.
The scent was getting "hot."
They were carrying several heavy coils of rope, the result of their depredations on the river during a few preceding hours.
They passed me and approached the building, and I heard one of them whistle twice, very softly.
Then a peculiar knock was given on a particular door, which at once promptly opened to give them ingress.
At once a desperate scheme flashed across my brain.
I wanted to save Shadow, but still I did not wish to make a descent on the place with a body of officers, as it would make it impossible for me to carry out my original plan of bagging the whole gang.
I had heard mentioned the name of Dick Stanton. He was a detective, and, as I now knew, a false one, through whom had leaked out the intentions of the police on several occasions, rendering well-laid plans fruitless; so that the police had found empty nests when they expected a bag full of game.
I arose and went forward.
I whistled thrice, and knocked at the door as I had heard the others knock.
As the door opened I glided in.
The guard spotted me as a stranger at once, and laid his hand on his revolver.
"I am sent by Stanton," I promptly said. "He gave me the points, and told me to carry a message of warning to 'cap.'"
Closing the door, the guard conducted me into a large room, where was gathered an immense quantity of old junk and rigging of all descriptions.
"Cap!" he called.
"Yes," came from the distant side of the room, where a lot of men were gathered about a lantern.
"Somebody to see you," with which the guard went back to the door, leaving his lantern beside me.
A slight noise caused me to look around, and I was startled at seeing a human hand protruding up through a crevice in a junk pile. The hand held a bit of paper, at which I blankly stared, thinking it held by a dead hand.
But no—the fingers stirred, the note was shaken. It was clear that it was intended for me.
I took it.
Cap had not yet started toward me. I read the few words on the note by the aid of the guard's lantern.
"Fly! Although the guard does not know—Stanton is here! Your first word will betray you.Shadow."
"Fly! Although the guard does not know—Stanton is here! Your first word will betray you.
Shadow."
Here was a fix.
How could I pass the guard on the portal? Yet I must go.
FAVORING FORTUNE.
In the course of my professional career I have been in many tight places, and among the tightest I count that night, when in the old sugar-house, converted into a "fence" for receiving the "swag" brought in by the river pirates.
Immediately on reading the note written by Shadow I commenced retreating, even while Cap was coming forward to see who wanted him, and what for.
I had pretended to have been sent with a message by Dick Stanton, who, as Shadow had informed me, was already there, a fact unknown to the guard, else I must have been roughly used before this.
To have told this to Cap would have at once betrayed me, and my heart swelled with gratitude to Shadow—for I considered that he had saved my life.
Did misfortune attend my efforts to pass the guard, it would not be Shadow's fault, but my own in venturing into this place.
And yet I had done so on his account, had done so because I had learned that a young fellow answering his description was kept close prisoner in a place significantly called the "Black Hole."
Toward the guarded portal I went as rapidly as I could without an appearance of noisy haste.
I reached it at last.
Cap had not yet reached the spot where he expected to see me.
I had now just as long to fool the guard as it would take Cap to grow impatient at not seeing me, and bellow out some question as to where I was.
"Here's your lantern, my friend, and I'm much obliged for it," I said, as I drew near the guarded portal.
"See him?"
"Yes."
"All right?"
"Yes."
"Cap's in one of his black humors to-night."
"Phew! I should say so."
"Nothing wrong, was there?"
"Nothing particular," I answered. "What's the matter with that bolt? Does it stick?"
"Like thunderation. There it goes. I've got it now. Now for another one—you see we keep this place well guarded—now another, and all that now remains is to turn the knob."
"Suppose you do it, then, as I've got one or two messages more to deliver yet."
"Kerect."
The guard's hand was on the knob.
He was in the act of turning it when he suddenly paused.
"Got the pass?" he inquired.
"The what?"
"The pass."
"What pass?"
"Why, every night the cap'n gives out a new pass, and none go through this door without giving it."
"He must have forgotten to give it to me," I returned, clenching my fists unseen by the guard. "It's all right, though, so let me out, as I'm in a hurry."
"Can't help it. Hurry or no hurry, you can't get through here until the cap'n gives me orders to let you, or you give me the password."
I set my teeth.
With liberty before me I was not going to be balked in this way.
"Let me out!" I ordered.
"I can't do it."
"Let me out, I say."
"I dare not, and I won't 'thout the cap'n's orders. So you might's well be easy."
From the interior of the densely dark place I now heard an angry oath.
"I say, where are you?" cap was impatiently asking.
There was no time to lose.
"Growler!"
"Aye, aye!" returned the guard.
"Didn't you say somebody was here to see me?"
Growler turned on me a glance filled with mistrust, and making a dive, tried to shoot several bolts.
Now was my last and only chance.
I raised my clenched fist.
Spat!
It took him squarely between the eyes, and felled him to the ground like a log.
"A spy—a spy!" he yelled, as he was falling.
Cap heard the cry.
Toward the door he came flying, drawing his revolver on the way.
But I was not slow in taking advantage of my opportunity, and seizing and turning the knob, I flung open the door and bounded out into the darkness.
Fearing pursuit, and knowing myself to be in a mighty hard neighborhood, where every man I might chance to meet would be more likely friends of the pirates than friends of mine, I dashed around the old building and flung myself down in a place of hiding.
I heard a door open on that side of the building, only a few seconds later.
The person who emerged was Dick Stanton, the false detective.
I recognized him by a peculiar snuffle that had long been a settled habit of his.
Quick to think and act, I sprang to my feet, and dropping all fears of pursuit, followed him.
When he had got into a section of the city where there was no chance of his being rescued by the pirates, I hastened my pace and finally reached his side.
"How are you, Dick?"
He gave a start as I called him by name, and turning swiftly, glanced keenly at me, pausing beneath a street lamp that he might see me better.
"Is my disguise so good, then?" I asked, with a laugh, speaking in my natural tone.
"Howard!"
"Correct."
"Your disguise is perfect."
"Would my own mother know me?"
"Not a bit of it. How in the world do you manage to get yourself up so thoroughly?"
"It's a knack of mine. I say, Dick, got anything on hand?"
"No."
"Lend me your revolvers, then, will you? Mine I forgot when I left the house."
"Did you? That's funny, for I forgot mine also. I haven't got so good a weapon about me as a jack-knife."
"Then," and I spoke very sternly, and quickly drawing a revolver, placed it to his temple, "then consider yourself my prisoner."
"Wh-what do you mean?" he gasped.
"I'll show you."
"This must be a joke of yours," said the trembling wretch.
"It will be a sorry joke for you," said I. "Hold out your hands."
"What for?"
"Hold 'em out."
I pressed the cold muzzle of the revolver against his temple a little harder.
He understood the significance of the movement, and loathfully put out his hands.
"Howard, I don't like this," he said, in an assumed angry tone, to carry out the idea that he considered it in the light of a practical joke.
"You'll like it less before I get through with you," as I snapped the handcuffs on his wrists. "To be a thief is bad enough, but to call yourself a detective and then be in league with a gang of cut-throats, river-pirates and burglars, is far worse, and I give you my word that I intend to shove you as hard as I can."
Stanton's jaw fell.
He was cornered and confounded.
"Lost!" he groaned.
And then, with bent head, he walked dumbly along at my side.
"Howard, will you not let up on me?" he pleaded, humbly, his tone trembling with fear.
"What will I gain by it?" I artfully said.
"Why, they always let the one go who turns State's evidence," he said, eagerly. "Give me a chance, won't you?"
How disgusted I was with Stanton!
A traitor to the force, he was no sooner found out than he was ready to turn traitor to his pals.
"I'll promise you nothing," I coldly returned. "You can tell me what you please, and if I then think your information worthy of mercy to you, you shall have it."
"You always were a good fellow," he said, fawningly, "and I'll trust you."
"You must do exactly as I say."
"I will," he promptly answered.
An idea had occurred to me.
It was, instead of taking Stanton to the police station—where I would have been obliged to enter a specific charge against him—to take him to a secret place of confinement, and there keep him until I had bagged the river-pirates, penetrated to the Black Hole, and bursted up the villainous den.
To reach the place I had in my mind's eye, it was necessary to retrace some of our steps, and we once again entered the rough precincts right along the East River.
As Stanton had been treacherous to the force of which he was a member, was willing to be treacherous toward his pals, so, now, in keeping with his character, he acted treacherously toward me.
While passing a low drinking place—"boozing ken" was its popular name in that locality—he suddenly pursed up his lips and whistled sharply in a peculiar way, repeated a given number of times.
I knew he intended it for a signal.
I was not mistaken.
Within half a minute a little squad of men dashed out of the "boozing ken" to rescue him who had given this signal.
IN THE MAD-HOUSE.
What were those whispered words of McGinnis' which so affected Helen Dilt?
Let them be what they might, there could be no doubt that they struck terror to her soul.
She sank back in the corner of the conveyance, and audibly moaned.
Poor girl!
She was a heroine in her way, and could have borne a great deal were it to advance some good cause, or because she merited it.
But to be compelled to endure untold horrors, why and wherefore she knew not, was terrible.
"Why am I persecuted?"
So she asked McGinnis a little later, appealingly, in a wavering voice.
"Can't tell you—don't know."
"You are employed by that monster whom I saw in that cellar?"
"I am. There's no good denying that."
"Has he no heart? Have you no heart, that you conspire with him to persecute a friendless girl?"
"I gets paid for it."
So McGinnis dryly replied.
"Paid for it? Then you lack conscience as well as heart. I beg of you, do not do this horrible thing. Release me, restore me to my friends, and I will pray for you as long as I live."
"Pray for me? Ha-ha!" laughed McGinnis. "That's a good one!"
Helen moaned bitterly.
Nothing could move the villain except money, and that Helen did not have.
McGinnis watched her for some time in silence, a gloating expression in his eyes.
He had something in his mind, and presently it came out.
"There is one way," he said to Helen, "to escape this thing which you appear not to hanker after very much.
"And that?" she exclaimed eagerly.
"Can't you guess?"
As he asked the question he leered at her in a meaning way.
The girl's heart sank.
She knew at once what he meant.
"What do you say?"
Helen made no reply, only shuddered and shrank away from the villain besides her.
"It's your last chance," urged McGinnis. "And you'll not get another, I kin tell ye. Once them doors close behind your back you're done for. Got any answer for me?"
"Mercy!" gasped Helen. "Anything but that. Pity me—spare me—do not stain your soul with a crime so dreadful as this."
"Yes or no, plain," growled McGinnis. "Come now, speak up right sharp and don't waste any time in palavering. Yes or no? And remember, it's your last chance. Say 'yes,' and yer gits McGinnis for a husband, McGinnis as is known to be one of the sharpest and best men on a 'lay' in the country. Say 'no,' and you're done for. Into the mad-house you'll go, never to come out until you're carried out, feet first."
She could never marry him, after he had imbrued his hands in the blood of the woman he now called his wife. She could never have married him anyhow. Better the mad-house, better death itself, than that.
There was nothing gained by attempting to fool him. Suppose she did say 'yes,' and by means of it staved off incarceration in the mad-house for several days, what would it amount to in the end? Nothing. Had there been any reason for her to expect a rescue, she might have tried on the game. But she knew of no efforts being made to find her.
Then a shudder convulsed her frame.
"Yes," she could not say, now that a new thought came to her, even though she knew it would lead to her rescue before such time as McGinnis claimed the fulfillment of her pledge.
The little word "yes" would be the death-warrant of a living human being—no matter how fallen and wicked, a human being all the same.
To say "yes" would seal the fate of the woman McGinnis now called his wife.
Poor Helen!
She bent her head and hid her face in her hands, and wept bitterly as the closed carriage rolled swiftly onward.
A strange fancy, a love for Helen had taken root in the evil heart of McGinnis.
That it possessed depth was evidenced by his being willing to brave the wrath of the man in whose hands his life rested, provided Helen would become his wife.
"It will be 'yes,' won't it, deary?"
His tone was softer, more affectionate, more tender than we could have expected from such a man.
He had leaned over toward Helen, and as he asked the question, he placed one arm about her.
With a shiver she sprang to her feet, wrenching herself from his grasp, and then she cried:
"No, no! I would sooner die than marry you! Help—help—HELP! Oh, Heaven! is there no one to help me?"
Like lightning came a change in McGinnis' tone and demeanor.
"Silence!" he hoarsely and angrily hissed. "Silence, I say! Do you hear me?"
"Help!" shrieked Helen.
"Silence!" and now the villain threw both arms about her to pull her down.
"Help!"
McGinnis wasted no more breath in senseless orders.
Down beside him he dragged the girl.
Bravely Helen battled, but her strength was insufficient to maintain the struggle long.
He seized her by the throat, and tightened his grasp on it.
She gasped for breath.
Her brain reeled.
Consciousness finally fled.
McGinnis now glanced from the carriage window. The driver perfectly understood his business, and at the instant of Helen's first cry had commenced winding a tortuous course through the crooked streets.
His prompt action prevented Helen's cries procuring for her the help for which she had shrieked.
"Get there as quick as you can," McGinnis told the driver, and then sat there and watched Helen until the carriage rolled up and paused before the gate of a private insane asylum.
Into this she was carried in her unconscious condition, the carriage departing as soon as she was removed from it.
To the sour-visaged dame who was encountered in the hall McGinnis handed a note.
"Brown, eh?" as she read it. "Well, the poor dear's room is ready. Right this way with her."
When she had been deposited on a bed McGinnis took his departure.
At the door he paused for a last glance at the pale face of Helen.
"Blast it!" he muttered. "It's too bad. Such a plucky critter ought to a been married to a good feller like me, who could make somethin' outen her."
An hour later Helen recovered her senses with a wild start.
Opening her eyes she saw an evil-faced hag above her, who laughed, held up a big bloody pin, and remarked:
"Pins is better'n water to bring a pusson outen a fainting fit."
Helen tried to move.
She found on doing so that her feet and hands were secured by stout cords to the four corners of the bedstead.
"Now, my gal," said her tormentor, "how is it agoin' to be? Are you goin' for to be good an' docile, or are agoin' to give me a heap of trouble? There," jabbing the pin into Helen, "how do you like that? That's what I allers does when my patients is bad."
Poor Helen!
A terrible fate opened before her.
SHADOW.
A keen pair of eyes scanned the faces of a party of men, all of them criminals of the worst class.
Those eyes belonged to Shadow.
On one man in the group his eyes rested long and earnestly, although covertly.
"He's just about the build," Shadow mentally said. "And he tallies with the description."
With what description?
We shall see in due course of time.
"Shall I dog him?" thought Shadow, and then his eyes sought the floor and remained fastened there in a reflective way for some minutes.
The result of his reflections was apparent when, the man having left the saloon, Shadow followed him.
"I have been disappointed a dozen times," Shadow told himself, and then sighed. "If I am disappointed again it can make but little difference, for in the end I shall take a fitting revenge for that great wrong."
And Woglom, river-pirate, murderer, burglar, anything so long as it paid him well enough, was from that minute under the surveillance of as keen a pair of eyes as were ever set in human head.
The villain was one of the gang connected with the old sugar-house, and thither Shadow had tracked him.
The mysterious detective determined to secretly gain access to the place, though that would have been a task to appall the heart of the stoutest detective on the force.
But he accomplished it.
Having gained access to one of the shops in another part of the building, he at once turned his attention to the vaults.
Once these had connected from one end of the building to the other.
Some of the arched communicating doorways had been closed up by wooden barriers.
These Shadow found means to get the better of, and passing through, would replace the boards he loosened, so that they bore no signs of having been tampered with.
At last he gained access to the vault beneath the portion of the building used as a "fence."
It was not a hard job now for him to get up-stairs.
He had only to wait his chance, and then quietly slide up the stairs communicating with the store-room above.
Once this was performed without being observed, he found no difficulty in concealing himself in the piles of old junk and goods of all descriptions with which the place was filled.
There were times when the place was left without a single occupant.
These occasions were few, but Shadow did not fail to take advantage of them, and by moving various articles a little to this side or that, he constructed a little avenue or passage under the miscellaneous truck and plunder.
On his hands and knees he used this passage, and he was in it when he heard the writer of these lines speaking to the guard, and saying that he was sent by Dick Stanton.
Hastily tearing a leaf from a blank-book, he had written the note, as well as he was able in the darkness, and had thrust up the hand containing it through one of the interstices in the big pile.
Anxiously he laid there, awaiting the result of that almost foolish venturing of my head into the lion's jaws.
A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he heard the thud caused by Growler's fall, followed by the deep-chested oaths of Cap, who, in his rage, turned his revolver on the guard, and was within an ace of pulling the trigger.
Cap took it for granted that the spy was a detective, and supposed that the game was up; that the place would surely be in the hands of the police in an hour or two.
"Lock that door, and keep it locked!" he savagely ordered Growler, and then started on a run for the other side of the building, hoping to catch Stanton.
Meantime, however, the latter had taken his departure, to be nabbed a few minutes later.
Hastily Cap got his portable valuables together, and prepared for flight at a moment's notice from the scouts sent out in all directions.
No alarm came in.
Hours passed, daylight broke, and still they had not been molested.
A message was privately sent to Stanton, asking him to ferret out the true meaning of the strange visit, as well as who the visitor was.
Cap moved his money and valuables to a place of safety, and then sat down, assuming an air of injured innocence to fool the police with in case they came.
Meanwhile Shadow was busy.
Off in one corner was a sort of room made by piling up boxes and rubbish. This Cap used as an office, and here he took those with whom he wished to confer privately.
Having learned this, Shadow had determined to extend the passage right up to the office, so that he could overhear what passed within.
Sometimes a natural crevice was made large enough for him to crawl through by a little exertion of strength, and the thing could be done without producing any noise whatever.
Like a mole beneath the surface he worked his way on toward the goal, knowing full well that I would not put my knowledge into use, now that I knew he was on the ground with some object in view.
Singular, was it not, that we should have so much confidence in each other?
Still we had.
Little by little Cap's confidence began to return, and he was quite himself again when a note came from Dick Stanton.
At least it was signed with Stanton's name.
"Cap, everything's O. K. I gave atrue bluea message for you a couple of nights ago, about the same matter of which I spoke to you."He didn't try to deliver it until the following night, the same when I was there. After getting inside he got scared and forced his way out by knocking down Growler. Don't worry at all over the affair, for I know what I am talking about. He's a good fellow, no coward, and once he is given a show will do some good work.""Dick Stanton."
"Cap, everything's O. K. I gave atrue bluea message for you a couple of nights ago, about the same matter of which I spoke to you.
"He didn't try to deliver it until the following night, the same when I was there. After getting inside he got scared and forced his way out by knocking down Growler. Don't worry at all over the affair, for I know what I am talking about. He's a good fellow, no coward, and once he is given a show will do some good work."
"Dick Stanton."
The explanation was satisfactory to Cap, although he thought it a little singular that the note should be shoved under the door, instead of delivered personally.
The scouts were called in.
Work was resumed; in other words, Cap's gang again began pillaging on the river and around the harbor.
And Cap had confidential talks with his men in the office.
As silently as the mole, which we have just likened Shadow to, he made his way toward the office, until, at last, he drew so near as to be able to distinguish any ordinary toned conversation.
Still closer he wished to go.
"I must get near enough to overhear a whisper," he told himself. "Out of his own mouth must the monster I am after convict himself."
And closer he got.
And then his steady successes were offset by a disaster that caused even his face to blanch.
The stuff he moved settled and closed up the passage behind him, hemmed him into a little space of two feet by six and high enough for him to kneel in, and here he must stay until released, for the stuff just there was too heavy for him to even budge.
He must reveal himself or starve to death!
IN A BAD BOX.
Shadow was in a fix.
And it was a fix as bad as it was strange.
The pile of old junk through which the passage ran had settled down, closing it up.
Retreat was now an impossibility. He must either find a way out of the narrow prison he now found himself in by forging ahead, or else must either reveal himself or starve to death like a rat in a trap.
He was in a bad box and no mistake.
For the present he was compelled to lie perfectly quiet where he was, for the noise of the pile in settling had drawn to the spot several of the den's inmates.
Cap was seized with a fit of ill-humor over the occurrence, which he accepted as evidence that the miscellaneous stuff had been carelessly stowed.
"Come—come, Cap?" Shadow heard one of the men rather impatiently say. "You've said enough now, so haul in your horns, for I, for one, won't stand any more."
They were all in one boat, to adopt a much-used simile. And a certain number of them belonged to a co-operative sort of an association, and consequently were on an even footing.
Over these men Cap had no authority, save that which he had acquired from the fact of his being a very important man in the association.
So now, when spoken to in this plain manner, Cap swallowed his wrath, and discontinued his cursing the men with him.
He said that he was afraid that the noise would attract attention that might prove unwelcome.
But that was not the only reason for his anger at the settling down of the big pile.
Another and stronger reason was that he had not a few articles of considerable value stowed away in crannies at the base of the big pile of junk.
These things were breakable, and for all he knew then, had been completely destroyed.
Hiding his mingled anxiety and wrath, he now directed his efforts toward drawing the men away from the spot, and succeeded soon in doing so.
The moment Shadow heard them take their departure he commenced moving about, examining into the facts of his singular imprisonment.
He found himself in a place high enough to permit his crawling about on his hands and knees, and about two feet in width and ten in length.
Had it not been that he received a certain quantity of air through the interstices of the pile, he must have suffocated.
As it was, it took only a very few minutes after the settling down occurred before the air contained in the narrow place became foul, and really unfit to breathe.
But it contained enough oxygen to support life, and once satisfied of this, Shadow calmly pursued the task he was at.
Before long, however, Cap returned to inquire into the condition of his hidden articles of value, and Shadow was compelled to again become as quiet as a mouse.
He was more than satisfied with the result, since Cap's examination involved the moving of a number of articles, and the disposition of others in a manner which promised to make it much easier for the mysterious detective to extricate himself from his predicament.
Cap grunted.
And it was a grunt that indicated relief and satisfaction.
Although endangered, the articles concerning which he was solicitous had not been injured.
Once more he took his departure, and again Shadow made good use of his time.
The change which Cap had made permitted the better ingress of air into Shadow's prison-pen, and he could now breathe more easily.
Not a few times was he compelled to pause by the coming of some of the gang, and it required hours of careful labor before he had assured himself of having found a safe means of exit from his narrow cell.
But he did not take immediate advantage of this means of escape.
It would not have been in accordance with his plans.
Once having emerged he would have been compelled to walk some distance in open sight, by a much used path, to reach the stairs descending to the vaults beneath.
It was all he could hope for, could he once traverse the distance without being observed.
He was hungry and thirsty, to be sure, and stood sadly in need of rest.
But to have reached the vaults and gone through them to procure food, then return and make the passage again to his hiding-place, and then hope to reach the stairs by a third passage of the open space, would have been to hug a foolish hope to his breast.
No, he could not hope to more than once successfully make the passage of the open space without being observed.
So it was practically a question to go hungry and thirsty, or give up all idea of carrying his quest to completion.
The latter he would not do, until absolutely driven to it.
He decided on going hungry.
Only a light packing-case now stood between him and liberty—that is, liberty as far as emerging from his prison was concerned.
Having moved the box in and out to be sure that it did not bind anywhere, and that he would not be delayed when the time had come, in his judgment, to beat a retreat, he then turned his attention toward extending the passage in the direction of the office, in pursuance of his original intention.
It was already so close to the office that he could overhear what was said, although not as clearly at all times as he wished.
Conquering his rebellious stomach, which clamored for food, Shadow stuck to the task he had set for himself.
His pluck was properly rewarded, for he at last gained a position in which the lowest-toned and most confidential conversation, if above a low whisper, could be overheard.
And in the office there was a gathering not long after he had gained this point of vantage.
Than that company of men in the so-called office, it would have been a next to impossible task to have found an equal number of deep-dyed scoundrels or red-handed villains.
There was a full moon, and the night was a clear one, and the river-pirates do not choose such nights in which to ply their vocation.
As men in honest callings in life will boast sometimes of what they have done or can do, so villains when in secret quarters, and believing themselves beyond prying ears, will boast of their rascally feats.
An exceptional good humor and communicativeness seemed to have descended on this occasion on the party in the office, for they revealed many secret chapters of their lives to each other in illustrating their various exploits.
One fellow told, with a hearty laugh, how, when engaged in making away with a coil of rope, he had shot down the captain of the sloop, the mate and the cook.
"It was just—pop—pop—pop—in reg'lar one, two, three style, and down they went. They all 'kicked,' every one of 'em. Mebbe there wasn't a howl? Well, I just guess! But the police never yet have found out who was responsible for them there 'stiffs.'"
Another had even a more horrible story to tell of robbery and bloodshed.
Another owned up to have "laid out" six men since the day he first "gripped the graft."
And every word was drank eagerly in by a pair of acute and hungering ears.
Shadow was highly excited, and his face was filled with an expectant light.
He fully believed that one among the men gathered there was the will-o'-the-wisp which he had so long been following, and he was waiting until this one should utter a word that would commit him, one word by which he would fasten on himself a crime by which Shadow had sworn solemnly to avenge in as terrible a manner as was within his power.