It would seem as if the brothers of the Red Door tong were especially addicted to drugging.
Ed got his dose in the boat, as has been told.
When the boy awoke it was not to full consciousness. He felt like one in a dream.
He was lying in the bottom of a boat naked.
An old tarpaulin had been thrown over him, but just then Ed did not realize what it was.
He could feel the motion of the boat as it bobbed about. He could hear the lapping of the waves, but there were no other sounds until at last a steamboat whistle gave a dismal croak.
But each moment served to brighten the boy's brain, until at last he threw off the tarpaulin and sat up.
At first he fancied that he was still in the boat under that pier up in the Bronx.
Dim and misty were his recollections.
It seemed to Ed that the attack by the Chinamen, the shooting of Pow Chow, and all that followed, must have been a dream.
It was certainly the same boat, and there was nobody in it but himself.
A rope made it fast to a pile, it was floating about under the pier.
"I must have hit my head in some way," reasoned Ed. "That's what's the matter. Bless me, don't I feel queer! What strange dreams I have had! I suppose Pow Chow thinks I have been drowned."
He felt now that it was time to act, and he tried to stand up in the boat.
Very quickly Ed found that this would not work.
He was glad to sit down on the seat. If he had not done so he surely would have fallen.
Just then the boat began to move rapidly forward.
Looking, Ed saw that a hand was clutching the rope.
The boat was pulled out from under the pier and Ed saw a tough looking young man clinging to a standing ladder.
"Aw, say," he cried, "youse is come back to business, has you? Come up out of dat now. You must climb de ladder. De Chinks are waitin' for yer—see?"
"I—I can't!" gasped Ed. "I'm too dizzy."
"Yer must!" was the reply.
"But I shall fall into the water."
"No yer won't, and if yer do I'll be behind to ketch yer. Can't stop here without any clothes on—see?"
He jumped into the boat, continuing to urge Ed to make the move, which he presently did.
The man kept close behind him, and it was well that he did, for twice Ed lost his hold.
The fellow supported him, however, and he finally got upon the pier, where he sank down at the feet of two Chinamen.
"I guess youse has doped him half to de't, dat's what's de matter," said the man.
"He comee alle light. He comee lound allee light," chattered one of the Chinamen.
And sure enough, in a few minutes Ed found himself much better.
The other Chink had a suit of Chinese clothes, and he now ordered Ed to dress himself in them, which he was able to do with some help.
By this time the illusion had been dispelled.
Not only were these the same Chinamen, but Ed could see by the lights of the bridges that they were now away downtown, for he had studied the map of New York and he knew about where the bridges were located.
The two Chinamen now led him down the uncovered pier to South street, where an old ramshackle hack was waiting.
Ed got in unresistingly. He was too weak to help himself.
The tough proved to be the driver.
He got on the box, started up his horses and rounded them up in Chinatown.
During the ride Ed dropped off asleep and had to be aroused.
He was so weak and heavy that they had to almost carry him.
They passed through a narrow hallway and went down into a cellar.
Here a trap door was raised and they went still further down.
They were, in fact, descending into the secret dens of Pell street.
Ed was rounded up in a little room where there were several Chinese sleeping on mattresses which had been thrown on the floor.
All were boys. The place was abominably hot and smelled horribly.
There was no mattress for Ed.
He was told to lie down beside a boy who did not even arouse as he dropped upon it.
A moment later Ed was sound asleep.
And he must have slept very soundly—perhaps he was drugged again—for when he awoke he was in a smaller room, lying alone upon a cot-bed.
The room was dimly lighted by a lantern.
Ed found that he had been undressed also. He had nothing on but an old undershirt now.
After lying awake a long time he got up to see how he could stand it on his feet.
He found he was all right; a little shaky, perhaps, but so much better than he had been the night before that he felt that the effects of the drug had practically passed.
He tried the door and found it locked.
Window there was none. Escape thus seemed impossible, but the enterprising Ed did not give up.
He was resolved to know all about his prison before he did that.
In course of his search he took in the ceiling, and there he beheld a trap door.
It fascinated the boy, for it seemed to offer an avenue of escape.
No one coming, Ed resolved to make the attempt to reach it.
He looked around for clothes first, but there were none to be found.
Stripping the cot, he leaned it up against the wall under the trap door and climbed upon it.
He could now reach the trap and had some room to spare. Pushing on it, the door arose and fell back with noise enough to startle any one within hearing.
But evidently there was no one, for nothing happened.
Ed waited several minutes, and at last feeling himself safe, he caught hold and pulled himself up through the opening.
He found himself now in a dark narrow passage so low that he could not stand upright.
The lantern was needed. Why had he forgotten that?
It was necessary to get down on top of the cot again.
Ed made the descent, reached for the lantern, got it and returned.
"I suppose if I do succeed in reaching the street I shall be arrested," he said to himself, "but I don't care. Anything is better than being held a prisoner by these horrible Chinese."
He crept along the passage, which appeared to be of considerable length, at last coming upon three steps leading down to a door.
And now the boy caught the sound of strange music.
Some one was strumming on a banjo.
The tune was most monotonous, just the same thing over and over again.
"Chinese music," thought Ed. "That's one of their big moon banjos. I suppose I may as well go back. I'll only get myself into trouble if I try to butt in here."
But the music seemed to fascinate him, and he found it hard to pull away.
Creeping down the steps, he stood for some moments listening at the keyhole.
Feeling at last as if it really would be better for him to go, he was just about to pull away when, as he turned, the lantern hit hard against the door.
Instantly the music ceased.
Scared, Ed bounded up the steps and retreated along the passage.
But it was no use.
The door flew open and he could hear somebody coming after him.
Feeling that he might as well be caught in the passage as in the act of getting down through the trap door, Ed turned to face his pursuer.
He was a young Chinaman, very much Americanized in appearance.
He, like Ed, was forced to crouch low, and he looked very fierce as he thrust his ugly face forward close under Ed's nose.
"Who are you?" he demanded. "Say, who are you?"
"Don't kill me!" gasped Ed, feeling rather foolish when he had said it.
"Kill you nothing! Why should I kill you? Say, are you Dock Hing's prisoner?"
"I am a prisoner all right. I don't know Dock Hing."
"Listen! Are you the boy what did the diving?"
"Yes."
"Gee! Say, dis is great."
This Chink spoke English with a Bowery accent.
He seemed to be perfectly enraptured to have discovered Ed.
"Who's down dere?" he demanded, pushing past and peering down through the open trap.
"Nobody."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
"You were trying to escape."
"I had to do the best I could for myself."
"You come with me, boy. What's your name?"
"Ed Butler."
"Oh, yair! I know! Go ahead dere now. Go now. I'll give you a kick—see?"
Ed traveled on down the steps and through the door.
The Chinaman following shot a bolt and turned to face the boy.
It was just a dingy little bedroom without a window and lighted by an ordinary lamp.
"Sit down," ordered the Chinaman, pointing to a chair.
He picked up a moon banjo out of another, and putting it on the floor sat down himself.
Then a fire of questions was thrown at Ed.
Nobody can ask questions like a Chinaman once he goes at it.
"You dived for that money?" was the first.
"Yes," replied Ed.
"You didn't get it?"
"I got a tin box. There was no money in it—only papers."
"What did they do to you?"
"They drugged me."
"Say, you are lucky to be alive. Dock Hing is a bad one. It's lucky for you that you met me. Say, I'll help you out of dis providin' you tell me de trute, dat is."
"What do you mean?"
"Dock Hing tinks you must have found two tin boxes down dere. Did yer?"
"What if I did?"
"Tell me de trute. We'll go for dat other box and divide. What do yer say?"
"Well, then, if you will have it, Dock Hing is right," Ed said. "I did see another box down there."
"I knowed it!" cried the fellow. "Gee! dis is great. Will you stand in wit me den and get dat box?"
"Yes, I will providing you will get me some clothes and help me to get out of this dreadful place," declared Ed.
"It's a bargain. Now where's de place?"
"That's the trouble," sighed Ed. "I was drugged when they took me there and I was drugged when they brought me away."
"Go ahead and tell me all you know. Mebbe I can dope it out."
Ed went over the few details he possessed.
The Chinaman continued to question him closely.
At last he declared that he felt pretty sure he could find the place.
"We can make a stab at it anyway," he said. "I'm wise. It's in the Bronx above Morris' Docks. We'll get up there to-night."
"And now that we are partners, what's your name?" Ed asked.
"You can call me Tom Quee," replied the Chinaman. "That's what I'm generally called."
It was no encouragement on top of this statement that at the same instant there came a loud knocking at the door.
Old King Brady concluded that the best disposition he could make of what remained of Fen Wix, the informer, was to lower the corpse down again, and this he proceeded to do.
He and Alice then put in a good half hour searching for another secret panel.
They failed to find it.
This left the old detective in no pleasant frame of mind.
"I suppose we have got to get the police, make a raid on this lane and overhaul everything," he declared.
"What about Pell street?" asked Alice. "There are those abandoned secret rooms you were in yesterday. They lie nearly in the rear of this house. There might something come of it if we tried our luck there again."
"I am afraid not, Alice. Harry and I went over that ground pretty thoroughly, still we can try."
"Is it so that I can go in there?"
"I don't know why not. We will get back to the room. You can change to your ordinary dress. Then we will look up the wardman."
"You don't intend to try it alone then?"
"No, I think it will be best for us to have help. No use in mincing matters in this case. There is no telling what we may run up against."
To secure the wardman it was necessary to go, to the Elizabeth street station, something Old King Brady greatly disliked to do, for he hates to have to apply to the police in connection with his own affairs.
He got the help readily enough, however.
With the wardman they went to Pell street and did up such secret dens as they knew about thoroughly.
Nothing came of it.
The rooms were all deserted as the Bradys had found them the previous day.
It was after five o'clock before they finished up their work.
Alice was in despair for it was a very serious case and she could see that the old detective was quite as much concerned as herself.
"What can we do?" she asked.
"Our best plan is to ring off for a few hours," replied Old King Brady.
"But poor Harry?"
"Listen, Alice, if the Chinese meant to kill Harry I need not tell you that by this time they have probably carried their intention into effect. It will do no harm to delay a little. Every move we have made has doubtless been watched and reported to those rascals. Mr. Connors, don't you think I am right?"
"Sure," replied the wardman. "Best thing you can do. You want to report that dead Chink, around on Mott street pretty quick, though."
Old King Brady had told the wardman about Fen Wix's fate, although he said nothing about it at the station.
"Just what I don't want to do," he replied. "Hear my theory. Right away after dark the Chinks will probably make some move in connection with that matter, if they haven't done it already. Opening off that room is a smaller one in which we can hide. If you can stick with us I propose that at about eight o'clock we all get on the job there and see if we can't catch some Chink who will serve us to get the secret of that other panel, which I am satisfied exists."
"Well, that's so. It might work out to the good," replied the wardman. "Anyhow it seems to be our only chance."
"It does, and we will try it," replied the old detective. "And now let us pull out."
Old King Brady and Alice went to the office thinking it barely possible that Harry might have escaped and gone there.
Failing here they went home to supper and at eight o'clock turned up at the Pell street room again.
There was nothing to be found here either, so they waited until Wardman Connors came and then went around on Mott street.
The wardman stepped in first.
It had been arranged that if he found anyone in the room he should come back and inform them; otherwise he was to wait there till they came up.
Giving the man ten minutes, Old King Brady and Alice went up stairs.
Mr. Connors heard them coming and opened the door for them.
"No one here?" questioned Old King Brady.
"No one."
"Is the corpse still fastened to the rope?"
"Sure thing. I didn't attempt to pull it up.'"
It was getting dark.
Old King Brady and the wardman pulled on the rope and brought up old Fen Wix again.
The body was again lowered and Old King Brady and Alice, along with the wardman, took up their stations in the smaller room.
A tedious wait followed, but along towards nine o'clock the patience of the detectives was rewarded by hearing someone enter the other room.
They had left the door slightly ajar and Old King Brady peered through the opening.
A Chinaman in native dress stood there in the dark.
Old King Brady drew his revolver ready for business.
He was not called upon to act, however.
The man went to the other side of the chimney, which Old King Brady had examined with the greatest care.
For a moment he stood there and then he vanished.
Unfortunately as he vanished the old detective could not see just what the fellow did.
"Hush!" breathed Alice as he was about to step out into the other room. "Someone else coming, I think."
But it proved to be only some person passing the door on their way to the floor above.
They went outside after the alarm had passed and again Old King Brady examined that particular piece of wall.
And this time he found it.
The arrangement was very peculiar, but Old King Brady mastered the mystery and the opening stood revealed.
Behind the panel there was a very narrow flight of stairs leading down.
Old King Brady immediately started to descend, flashing his light ahead of him.
They followed him down into the place to which Harry had been taken.
There in the niche stood the corpse of the informer, silent and quiet.
Following the passage for a short distance they came upon two inner doors, both set at an angle.
"Which den do you propose to tackle first?" questioned Connors.
"To the right is always my rule, unless I have reason to change it," replied the old detective.
"To the right it is then," said the wardman.
He tried the door, to find it locked.
So was the door on the left.
Old King Brady got his skeleton keys into business and succeeded in opening the right-hand door.
The usual secret passage, Chinese style, lay behind.
Listening and hearing no sound they cautiously advanced.
The passage was not only narrow but it wound around.
At last they saw a light ahead.
"Coming to something at last," whispered Old King Brady.
They stole on, coming up with the light.
A heavy dear stood open. Behind it were portieres of red cloth, partly drawn. The light came streaming in between these curtains and they could hear voices talking in Chinese inside.
"What are they saying?" Old King Brady breathed in Alice's ear.
"They think someone is dead," whispered Alice. "That is as near as I can make it out."
"Stand ready for business, Connors," said the old detective. "Now for our look."
Old King Brady and Alice, pushing in between the curtains, saw enough.
Harry had got himself into a bad fix.
There he lay on the floor with three Chinamen bending over him.
One held a box, another a long glass vial.
What were they about?
Old King Brady did not stop even to try to learn.
Calling to Connors he dashed into the room.
Alice and the wardman equally with himself had their revolvers ready.
Then it was a case of three against three.
Taken entirely by surprise, the Chinks surrendered almost without an attempt at resistance.
The detectives had come prepared with four pairs of handcuffs.
Thus the prisoners were easily secured.
"The man who raises his voice dies," cried Old King Brady. "Mind what I tell you now! I suppose you all understand English, but in case you don't here is one who will tell you in your own language what I have said."
Alice repeated his command in Chinese.
There was no talk made.
Old King Brady then bent over Harry and proceeded to examine into his condition.
It was evident that the young detective had been deeply drugged.
Personally Old King Brady was inclined to consider the case a very serious one, but he restrained himself and kept cool.
"Question them, Alice," he ordered.
Alice obeyed and there was considerable talk.
"Is it opium?" asked the old detective.
"This man says not."
"I wouldn't risk it, Mr. Brady. Better take him to the hospital," said the wardman.
"I think so too," replied the old detective. "You and Alice get the prisoners out, Connors. Telephone for an ambulance. I'll remain on guard here."
It seemed a big risk but there was no other way and this was done.
But in about five minutes a policeman whom they met on Mott street joined Old King Brady.
His presence was hardly needed, however, for no one came.
Alice was back soon after reporting that the three prisoners had been rounded up at the Elizabeth street station and the call for the ambulance given.
Tom Quee seemed as much concerned over the sudden knocking on the door as Ed was himself.
"Who can it be?" he breathed.
As Ed did not know he suggested that it might be a good scheme to answer the knock and find out.
"I shall have to do it," whispered Tom Quee as the knocking continued, "but first to get you out of sight. It won't do to have you seen."
Tom Quee opened the door of a closet and pushed Ed inside.
"Don't make a sound if you value your life," he whispered as he closed the door upon him.
An unpleasant half hour followed.
Two Chinamen came into the room.
Tom Quee seemed to have his hands full with them, whatever it was they wanted.
They gabbled away in Chinese until Ed was sick of listening to them.
Then they seemed to fade away.
He ventured to open the door slightly and peer through the crack.
The room was vacant; the door leading into the secret passage was open; evidently the Chinamen had gone that way.
Ed slipped out and tried the other door, seized with some wild idea of making his escape.
There was nothing doing, however, for the door was securely locked and the key gone.
Glad to get back to his closet, Ed waited there.
At last all three Chinamen returned and Tom Quee let the intruders out, calling Ed when they had gone.
"It's all right now," he said. "You can come out. They were looking for you. Your escape has been discovered. They thought you might have come this way, but I fooled 'em. They will trouble us no more. Now is our time to get out of this."
Just who Tom Quee was or how he came to be there in the secret room Ed never learned.
The Chinaman seemed to know the ropes, however.
He provided Ed with clothes and led him through many winding passages, up stairs and down, until at last they came out up in Pell street.
Tom Quee now led the way to the Bowery.
They went up the Bowery, and stopping in at a restaurant the Chinaman put up for a good meal, which Ed was glad enough to get.
As they ate they talked and it was decided to go at once to the Bronx and start their work, which they did.
Ed now resigned himself entirely to the guidance of the Chinaman.
He had little idea where they went. The ride in the subway seemed interminable, and a long ride by trolley car followed.
At last they came to the water front, where there were docks and factories.
It was now night and Ed was almost tired out.
The Chinaman tried to hire a boat but no one he could find would rent him one.
Tom Quee was a persistent fellow, however.
"If we can't hire a boat we must steal one," he said, as they came to a pier. "Let's go down here and see what we can find."
They explored and found that there were three boats fastened to this pier.
Watching his chance Tom Quee slipped down into one of them and Ed followed.
It was now almost nine o'clock in the evening.
The night was singularly hot and oppressive.
The effects of the drug were still on the boy.
He hardly realized it then, but later he understood why he was so indifferent to all that was passing.
When they got out on the water, he grew so sleepy that he could scarcely hold his head up.
"You want to go to sleep," declared the Chinaman. "You can do nothing at all now. Lie down in the bottom of the boat and take a snooze."
Ed was only too glad to obey.
When he awoke it seemed to him as if he must have been sleeping a long time.
The boat was tied up to a pier and Tom Quee had vanished.
Now, if ever, seemed Ed's chance to escape.
Looking around, the place seemed rather familiar, and he soon came to the conclusion that it was the scene of his adventures the night before.
"Where in thunder is the Chinaman?" he asked himself. "What ought I to do?"
His one idea now was to get away and find the detectives if he could.
And yet he could not seem to give up the thought of the pension agent's money either.
Ed sat in the boat hesitating.
He who hesitates is lost, they say.
At all events the boy determined to make another effort to secure the treasure, for he was satisfied that this was, indeed, the same pier.
But what had become of Tom Quee?
That was the question.
It seemed as if he ought to know that first.
Unhitching the boat, Ed pulled to the standing ladder.
Securing the boat here he climbed upon the pier.
The boy, after some further hesitation, descended to the boat again and undressed.
At last having located his seventh pile, Ed took a dive and swam towards it.
Springing up he dove and swam near to the bottom, where he began his search.
It was soon rewarded.
The other box was where he had left it but it had taken longer to locate it than he expected, and it was necessary now to ascend to the surface again.
The boat was where he had left it and Ed swam to it and climbed in.
That he was far from being master of himself even yet was certain.
But he knew enough to stick to his purpose and presently he made another dive and went down again.
And this time he easily secured the other case.
As his head came above the surface of the water Ed saw something which made his heart stand still.
Two Chinamen were peering down over the stringpiece.
They certainly saw him but they instantly pulled back out of sight.
"The same outfit," thought Ed. "They have captured Tom Quee, that's what. Now I am in the soup."
He dropped under the water, thankful that he had not allowed the hand which held the case to come into view.
Swimming under water to the standing ladder he hastily attached the rope, which still remained fastened to the case, to one of the submerged rungs.
Again Ed came to the surface and all breathless from his exertions, climbed into the boat.
And now again the boy ventured to look up, but he could see nothing of the two Chinamen.
"They are on the job all right though," thought Ed, "and they are watching me now. What on earth shall I do?"
It was indeed a problem.
Sitting quiet for a few minutes, Ed began to dress.
He had no sooner got the undershirt on which Tom Quee had provided for him than the two Chinks appeared at the top of the standing ladder.
"Hello, boy!" called one. "You gettee dlat blox?"
It was Dock Hing all right and he held a big revolver in his hand.
Ed was in despair.
"You again!" he gasped.
"Yair! Me comee 'gain," chuckled Dock Hing, and he came down the ladder, his companion holding Ed covered while Hing descended.
The other came down after him.
Ed was a prisoner once more.
"You gettee blox?" demanded Dock Hing.
"Whatever happens, you shan't get it," thought Ed, and so he denied it.
"You lie," said Dock Hing. "You go dlown into water twice. Me see you. Me tlink you gettee blox."
"No!" persisted Ed. "There is no box."
The Chinaman laughed softly.
"Allee light," he said. "Dlen you dlive again and again and again till you gettee blox, see?"
"It's no use," declared Ed. "There is no box, I tell you. I've looked and I can't find it."
They did not mention Tom Quee. They never asked him how he came to be there.
All they seemed interested in was the box. "You dive again," ordered Dock Hing. "Come now, you be good boy and we give you money so we find money in blox, see?"
He ordered Ed to take off his shirt and make another dive.
There was no help for it.
"This time I'll give them the slip," thought Ed, and as he dove he swam away under the pier, coming up on the other side.
But the wily Chinks were too many for the boy.
As he rose to the surface a voice called, and looking up he saw Dock Hing grinning down over the stringpiece.
"Go back!" cried the Chinaman. "Go back or me shootee you. Go back, you little flaud."
They were everywhere.
Ed was in despair.
Yielding to the inevitable he turned and swam back under the pier.
Old King Brady thought that Harry was dead.
They carried him out of the secret door only with the greatest difficulty.
The worst was when it came to getting Harry up the narrow stairs, but even this was managed and they landed him in the ambulance at last.
The young doctor in charge lent them little encouragement.
"He is certainly gone, Mr. Brady," he said as he looked Harry over. "I wish I could hold out more hope to you, but I can't."
Alice, who was in the ambulance, suddenly turned to the old detective and said:
"Really, Mr. Brady, it is useless to take Harry to the hospital. If he is not dead now he will die before he gets there. The only possible chance to save him is to get a Chinese doctor."
"Nonsense!" mused the ambulance surgeon. "What do Chinese doctors know? They are the worst kind of quacks."
"Why, no."
"Don't be in such a hurry to pronounce on what you don't understand. Alice, your suggestion is a good one. Doctor, we will take my partner to No. —— Chatham Square."
The place to which Old King Brady prepared to take Harry was Quong Lee's opium joint.
This is located in a basement on Chatham Square.
Quong Lee, who is a man advanced in years, reckons himself a particular friend of the old detective.
Alice went in first and saw Quong Lee, coming out with word that they were to bring Harry right in.
"I am going for the doctor," she said. "He has given me the address."
She hurried away, leaving Old King Brady to assist in carrying Harry down the stone steps.
Quong Lee was on hand at the foot. "Bling him to my loom," he said and he led the way.
And once again poor Harry had to be dragged up a flight of narrow stairs.
When they got him on Quong Lee's bed and loosened up his clothes the old divekeeper made a personal examination.
"What do you think, Quong?" demanded Old King Brady when at last he pulled away.
"Him velly bad," was the reply. "Me muchee flaid, Blady."
"You consider him dead?"
Quong Lee nodded.
It was despairing, but as the old detective had already come to the same conclusion he said nothing and at last the Chinese doctor came.
Instead of being the old man they had expected to see, he was quite a youthful looking proposition.
Moreover, he wore American clothes and spoke perfect English.
His name was High Lung, he informed Old King Brady.
"There's your patient, Doctor," said the old detective. "He has been drugged by some of your people. To me he seems dead. Save him if you can and I'll write you a check for a thousand dollars."
High Lung made no answer but proceeded to examine Harry.
He took a long time about it, too. Old King Brady began to think he never would let up.
At last Dr. High Lung pulled away.
"He is not dead," he said, quietly. "I can save him."
"Good!" cried Old King Brady. "Go ahead."
High Lung then ordered Alice from the room and Harry was stripped.
The Chinese doctor's treatment certainly was peculiar at the start.
He climbed in the bed and lay down flat on top of Harry, breathing in his mouth and at the same time kneading his back with his hands.
The ambulance surgeon looked on with no attempt to conceal his disgust.
At last the Chinaman got off the bed and began opening a bag which he had brought along.
"Examine him now, Doctor," he said.
The surgeon did so.
"Upon my word it is a fact that he is breathing," he admitted. "I wouldn't have believed it."
The Chinese doctor then produced just such another box and vial as the old detective had seen the Chinamen handling in the secret den.
Calling for a cup he put into it a portion of a grayish powder out of the box and poured a bright blue liquid upon it out of the vial.
The mixture immediately foamed up.
"Doctor, do you know the drug which has been used on my partner?" asked Old King Brady.
"Perfectly well," replied the doctor.
"Does it act on the heart?" demanded the surgeon.
"Both on the heart and lungs," was the reply, and this was all they could get out of High Lung, who now proceeded to administer the mixture to Harry.
It promptly did its work. Within ten minutes Young King Brady opened his eyes.
"Oh! I have had such queer dreams!" he muttered.
"Dream some more," said High Lung; and taking Old King Brady aside he said:
"They gave him an overdose. He was almost gone. He must not be moved out of here under two days. I shall want to see him twice again."
"The case is yours," said Old King Brady. "I shall stay right here with him."
But he did not.
Harry here spoke again.
"Governor," he said, "you want to get right up to that pier. Never mind me. I dreamed that I saw you there and that you got—you know what. Go now."
And Harry was so earnest about it that Old King Brady went, leaving him in charge of Alice and Quong Lee.
It was well towards midnight before Old King Brady again found himself approaching the old fertilizer factory.
He was not alone.
Feeling that he might need help he confided the details of his case to Wardman Connors and took him along.
"I don't see a soul," remarked Connors as they approached the pier. "I am afraid it is all Harry's imagination."
They started down the pier and had gone but a short distance before they made a discovery.
It was a Chinaman lying gagged and bound upon the pier.
"Why, I know this Chink!" exclaimed Connors. "He is a notorious Pell street highbinder. Name is Tom Quee."
The imprisoned Chinaman was regarding him with a disgusted stare.
They set him free at once and Connors started to question him.
"Know Dock Hing?" said Tom Quee. "Well, he did it. He's hanging around here somewhere in a boat along with another fellow."
"Why?" demanded Old King Brady.
"I don't know," retorted Tom Quee. "We had a quarrel—that's all."
They started across the pier thinking that Tom Quee would follow them.
Suddenly they heard the patter of feet and looking back saw the Chinaman on the run.
They went on the stringpiece then, making as little noise as possible.
Looking down they saw a boat at some distance ahead in which sat two Chinamen.
They were looking down into the water.
"Sure enough they are the men now!" muttered Old King Brady. "Connors, these are the ones we want. Upon my soul I believe that boy is diving for them now."
He was right.
At the same moment up came Ed out of the water.
He was empty-handed.
One of the Chinamen seized an oar and would have struck at him but Old King Brady raised a shout.
The Chinamen looking up and seeing the detectives, instantly pulled their boat in under the pier.
"That you, Ed Butler?" cried Old King Brady, hurrying forward. "Oh, Mr. Brady! I'm so thankful you have come!" Ed cried. "I've had such a time of it since I parted with you."
"There go the Chinks!" exclaimed Connors, pointing to the boat which was pulling away from the pier.
"I found two metal cases down there. One last night those Chinamen opened. There was nothing in it but a lot of papers," said Ed.
"And the other?"
"That I got to-night, and oh, Mr. Brady, I have had the time of my life to keep it out of the hands of those Chinamen."
"But where is it now?" demanded the old detective impatiently.
"I tied it to the lowest rung of that ladder under the water," said Ed.
"Go for it!" cried the old detective. "Don't keep us any longer in suspense."
Ed instantly took a header into the water.
Ed's head came popping up in a minute.
He raised a hand out of the water and it held a square tin case, with a rope attached.
"It's the duplicate of the one I fetched up last night," he said. "I don't know what's in it, I'm sure."
"Bring it up here and we'll soon find out," called Old King Brady.
Ed came up with his prize, but it was not so easy settling the all important question after all.
Old King Brady had all kinds of trouble opening the thing, but at last the lid was pried back, and sure enough money was revealed.
It proved to be the Albany pension money and the Government got it.
Old King Brady saw to it that Ed came in for a share of the reward. The boy went back to Albany but his mother and Ethel failed to return. The last Ed heard of them they were in San Francisco, where the misguided girl had married another Chinaman.
Harry was under the weather for a week but he entirely recovered and wants nothing more to do with the secret dens of Pell street.
And thus the case was rushed to a successful finish the night following up the Brady's Chinese Clew.
Read "THE BRADYS IN A FOG; OR, TRACKING A GANG OF FORGERS," which will be the next number (605) of "Secret Service."
Read "THE BRADYS IN A FOG; OR, TRACKING A GANG OF FORGERS," which will be the next number (605) of "Secret Service."
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SECRET SERVICE
NEW YORK, AUGUST 19, 1910.
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