Old King Brady hardly knew how to handle the old Chinaman.
The man's face was as expressionless as a wooden block when he said:
"Me no talkee, boss. Two hlundled dlollars, den me tellee you sometling big. No givee me, go away."
"Something big?" queried Old King Brady. "You mean something more than just about the boy?"
"Yair, whole lot more. Me no dlead one. Some fellers tlink me dlead one—no."
What was he driving at?
Old King Brady's curiosity was fully aroused.
At last he ended it by counting out another hundred and placing the whole in the Chinaman's hand.
The old fellow chuckled.
"Now then, John, out with the whole business," said Old King Brady, "and let your name come along with the rest."
And the old detective found no reason to regret his bargain.
"Me talkee Chinee to lady now," said the old fellow.
"Right. Go ahead," assented Old King Brady.
The conversation was quite extended.
"Is it important, Alice?" Old King Brady ventured to ask while it was in progress, for it seemed as if they would never come to an end.
"Most important," replied Alice. "You better let me hear all he has to say."
At last she turned and began to translate.
"It seems," she said, "that this old fellow, whose name is Fen Wix, as near as I can make out, although I never heard the last name before, is supposed to be deaf. He is so at times, but there are times when his hearing is perfect. He says that they have taken the boy away up into the Bronx to a cottage on Lorimer's lane, near the ruins of an old fertilizer factory; that is all the description I can get of the place."
"And it happens that I know it," replied Old King Brady. "There was once a fertilizer factory at the foot of Lorimer's lane. It burned some years ago."
"Pow Chow and his white wife are there in that cottage. They have a scheme to recover a lot of stolen money sunk in the water near by. Pow knows where. He was looking for a Chinaman who could swim and dive. He drank too much last night and talked about his plans to two men, both Chinese. This old fellow overheard, although they supposed he could not hear. He says that these two men are out for this treasure. The boy, it appears, is an extraordinary swimmer, and the plan is to use him. Fen Wix thinks that Pow Chow will have no recollection of the talk he made. He considers these two men his enemies, and yet he will not give away their names. He says that because he hates them and because he is too old to go after the treasure himself, he is giving the secret away to you, as he needs money. That is the gist of his story."
"Sounds rather fishy, don't you think so, governor?"
"Oh, I don't know," was the reply. "It seems to explain Mrs. Butler's anxiety and some other things. It may be that these mysterious papers give an account of the hiding of the treasure. I think there may be something in the thing."
"Dere sure is! Dere sure is, Boss Blady!" cried Fen Wix, who had been listening to all this. "You goee head. You win out. Me no can do nluffin, see? You gimmee two hlundled dlorrar, dat better as nluffin—see? Goee head. You win—see?"
And such was the Bradys' Chinese clew.
Chinamen rarely go out of their way to inform on each other, but sometimes they do.
A desire for revenge is the usual motive.
Fen Wix told Alice that he was seventy-six years old, and that one of the men to whom Pow Chow blabbed the secret in his cups ought to support him, but instead had treated him shabbily.
He would not say whether the man was any relative to him, but Alice assumed that such was the case.
"Do you think Pow Chow means to set the boy diving for this treasure to-night?" Old King Brady asked.
"Me tlink yair," was the reply. "Me no can tellee, but me tlink yair. You go?"
"Yes, I'll go. How much money is there?"
"Me no know. Pow Chow no tellee dlat."
"Who was it stolen from?"
"Me no know dlat neder. Me no can tellee dlat. You go?"
"Yes, yes, I'll go," replied the old detective.
"Dlen you better go quick. So you win, lemember, old man, gimme more money—see?"
"Perhaps I will," assented the old detective. "We'll see what it all amounts to first."
And with that Fen Wix departed.
"A most peculiar piece of business," observed Harry. "I must say I am very much afraid you have blown in your money for nothing, governor."
"Don't croak," replied the old detective. "What's a couple of hundred, anyway? I shan't cry if it all proves romance, but how would that old Chink have the location down so pat unless there was something in what he says?"
This, of course, was the strongest argument which could be urged, and Harry raised no further objections.
One significant fact was that nobody else appeared to have been attracted by the reward, for no one came.
"We will start for the Bronx now," said Old King Brady. "Alice, my dear, it seems hardy worth while for you to join us. Will you stop here to-night or will you go home?"
"Neither," replied Alice. "With your kind permission I will go along."
"I supposed you would say so. Be quick then and do away with your disguise."
Alice retired and made her change.
It was shortly after nine o'clock when they started, and they were certainly due at their destination long before midnight, and would have reached it if Old King Brady had not blundered.
Nor is it any wonder.
Conditions in the Bronx have changed so of late, old landmarks disappearing so rapidly, that anyone relying on memory alone gets mixed up.
And this is precisely what Old King Brady did.
He found himself at fault almost at the start.
He could not locate Lorimer's lane.
Then they started to inquire their way.
This only made matters worse.
Nobody ever knows anything when one comes to inquire their way up in the Bronx about old-time roads and lanes.
At last an ancient individual was found who claimed to be able to direct them, and the Bradys came out on the water front where there was a lane, a ruined factory and an old pier.
It was now about eleven o'clock.
Old King Brady was sure that he had hit the right spot.
Harry and Alice knew nothing about it.
They began to look about for the cottage.
There were two on this lane, both still lighted up.
Harry ventured to peer in at the windows of each.
The report was unfavorable.
He saw no Chinaman inside.
Old King Brady then made some inquiries at a lonely saloon which stood on a corner, with lots on all sides.
The place was deserted save for a sleepy bartender.
He assured the old detective that such a thing as a Chinaman was unknown in the neighborhood.
They got inside the ruined factory and watched the pier until midnight, but not a soul came near the place.
Harry was triumphant.
"It's all a fake," he declared, "and you are out your two hundred. We may as well ring off and go home."
He had scarcely spoken when an old man with a fishing basket, a pole and a lantern came hobbling onto the pier.
"At last!" muttered Old King Brady. "Here is a party who, if he belongs in the neighborhood, may know something."
He stepped out into view.
"Good-evening, uncle!" he called.
"Evening yourself," growled the old man. "If you mean to hold me up you won't get nothin', I tell yer that straight. I hain't even begun to fish."
"I'm no hold-up man. On the contrary, I'm a detective."
"What say? I'm a bit deef. I can't hear."
"What building is this?"
"That? Why, that is Niebuhr's old moulding mill. It burned down five years ago."
"It isn't Fisher's fertilizer factory, then?"
"No, no! You're all off. That's a mile and over up the shore."
"But wasn't this lane behind us once known as Lorimer's lane?"
"So it was."
"I thought Fisher's fertilizer factory stood at the foot of Lorimer's lane?"
"So it did."
"Explain yourself."
"Well, the explanation is easy enough, boss; there's two Lorimer's lanes."
This settled it.
Bestowing a dollar on the lone fisherman in exchange for his information, Old King Brady started in to rectify his blunder.
They made the best time they could up the shore, but it was with little hope of accomplishing anything it had now grown so late.
Indeed, it was nearly one o'clock before they came in sight of another pier with the foundation of a burned building at the end.
"This is it," declared Old King Brady. "I see my blunder now."
"Hist!" whispered Harry. "There's a man on the pier."
So there was, and he was looking over the side, calling down to someone in the water.
The Bradys and Alice, who were still a good distance away, hurried on.
Suddenly the man straightened up and gave a wild start.
They saw him reach to his hip pocket for a revolver.
Before he was able to draw it a shot rang out.
"Heavens! That fellow has picked up one!" Harry cried.
The man flung up his hands, staggered back and fell upon the pier.
"Just in time to be witnesses to a murder!" cried Alice. "Can he be a Chinaman?"
"I couldn't make out," replied Old King Brady. "He must have been shot from a boat, whoever he is."
Their curiosity was now fully aroused, and they lost no time getting on the pier.
No one else seemed to have been attracted by the shot.
In fact, there was only one house to be seen, a small cottage up a lane behind the pier, in the window of which a light burned.
And now the detectives made a discovery which brought them to the conclusion that after all they had made no mistake in starting out to follow up their Chinese clew.
For the man on the pier was a Chinese in American dress.
He was dying when the Bradys came up.
Old King Brady knelt beside him.
"Your name! Who shot you?" he demanded.
The rapidly glazing eyes fixed themselves upon the old detective.
"You—are—Old—King—Brady?" was slowly said.
"Yes, yes! Speak! Are you Pow Chow?"
"Yes. Tell—my—wife."
"It shall be done. Who shot you?"
"Dock Hing—get him."
"If I can."
"Money. I——"
That was all.
Pow Chow breathed his last then.
The Bradys had come up with the crooked mission worker all too late.
Meanwhile Harry and Alice were making discoveries.
On the pier were clothes, evidently belonging to a young man.
When he came to look them over later, Harry recognized the suit which Ed Butler had worn.
But just then their attention was attracted to a stout boat, which was being rapidly pulled out on the Sound.
There were three persons in it, and it could be seen, dark as it was, that one of them wore no clothes.
Harry turned his glass upon the outfit.
It was all he could do, for the boat was already beyond revolver range.
"Chinks," he said. "The naked one is a boy."
"Can it be your Ed?" demanded Alice.
"I can't make out. They are pushing him down into the bottom of the boat. I think they mean to throw him overboard."
"If we had only turned up a few minutes sooner!"
"Yes; it is to be regretted that we didn't.... We can't do a thing as it is."
But the boy was not thrown over.
The last they saw of him he was still lying in the bottom of the boat.
Harry wondered if he was dead.
Pow Chow was by this time.
Old King Brady called to them and informed them of the fact.
Then the identifying of Ed's clothes followed.
"We are on deck too late," declared Old King Brady. "If a dying man's word can be believed, those rascals have made off with the money, so, Master Harry, my Chinese clew seems to have amounted to something after all."
They now searched the clothes.
There was nothing in Ed's pockets to identify him, but Harry was certain that these were his clothes.
With Pow Chow it was different.
A memorandum book was discovered in his trousers pocket with his name written on the fly leaf in English.
Better still, twenty-eight hundred dollars in cash turned up.
"Mr. Butler's stolen money, what there is left of it!" Old King Brady exclaimed.
"The wife can't be far away," remarked Alice.
"I judge not from his dying words," replied the old detective. "It is up to us to find her. That must be our job now. It looks as if we were going to be able to close up our case, in part, at least. Let us go on to that lane where we see the light."
Did Ed find the crooked pension agent's buried treasure?
That we must now proceed to show.
The Albany boy made a long dive and came up at some distance away from the pier.
Treading water, he peered in beneath it, and seeing no one, swam in closer, for it was very dark.
Pow Chow watched him admiringly.
"See any one under there, Eddie?" he called, assuming that the boy had seen no one or he would have spoken before.
"No, I can't make out that there is any one there," replied Ed, "but I am going to make sure."
"No, no! Don't go in under there. You will play yourself all out. You can see pretty well, can't you?"
Ed got hold of a cross-bar nailed to the piles, and looked long and closely.
His eyes having become accustomed to the gloom, it seemed to him that he could see all there was to be seen.
"No one there," he announced. "I'm going down now, Pow."
"Can you see down there in the dark? You can't. I ought to have thought of that. We can do nothing. I'm a fool."
"I can feel around," replied Ed. "That's all I expected to do. If it is anywhere near the pile I'll find it."
"But you can't stay down long enough."
"Yes, I can."
"How are you going to dive down without coming up on the pier?"
"Great Scott! I know my business. I'm going to swim down."
"Gee, Eddie, you're a wonder!" the Chinaman exclaimed.
Ed leaped up almost clear of the water, he was so nimble, turned a half somersault and made his dive after having located the right pile.
It seemed to Pow Chow as if he was gone an age, and he had almost given the boy up when he at last appeared.
Little did the yellow rascal imagine that he himself would be gone for good before many minutes had passed.
"Well, did you find it?" he cried.
"No," panted Ed. "I worked on the bottom all around the base of the pile, but I couldn't find a thing."
"Too bad! Some one must have got it."
"More than likely after all these years. I'm coming out to get my wind."
There was a standing ladder near by. Ed swam for it and climbed upon the pier, where he sat down on the stringpiece to rest.
"Are you sure you have got the right side of the pier, Pow?" he asked.
"Yes, it is the north side. The paper distinctly says so."
"Well, that was the seventh pile, all right. I can't believe the case is there."
"We ought to try it by daylight," said the Chinaman. "Suppose we ring off and come back in the early morning, Eddie?"
"That's what we shall have to do, I guess. Still, one couldn't see much down there anyhow without a light. That's what we ought to have."
"Are there electric lights made for the use of divers?"
"Sure."
"Well, if we don't succeed I'll buy one, no matter what it costs. I don't propose to give this thing up for two or three days anyhow. But you will try it again, Eddie?" he added persuasively.
"Oh, yes," replied Ed. "I don't mind trying it again, but say, Pow, does the paper tell which end of the pier to count the piles from?"
"Why, no, it don't."
"Which end did you count from?"
"The outside end."
"Suppose I try it at the seventh pile, counting from the inside end?"
"Well, that's an idea. Suppose you do."
Pow Chow now counted the piles from the other end.
No. 7 figured this way came in an entirely different spot.
Rested now, Ed dove again.
At last he came up out of the water, swam to the standing ladder, and holding on, called:
"Well, there is something there!"
"Good! Good!" cried the Chinaman, greatly excited. "Is it a tin case?"
"I think so. It's metal of some kind."
"Why didn't you bring it up?"
"I couldn't unhitch the stone. It is tied fast to a rope."
"You don't say! Eddie, we are going to get it all right."
"It looks so. I'll try it again in a minute. This time I guess I shall be able to unhitch the stone all right."
"Better take down a knife and cut the rope."
"I will if I have to, but it will hamper me. I'd sooner try it the other way first."
Now Ed was not giving out the facts of his discovery straight.
He had not only found one tin case down there, but two.
They were exactly alike, and both had a rope attached to a small ring, the other end being fastened around a stone.
One of these stones the boy had already unhitched.
He knew that he could not successfully handle both cases, although they were by no means bulky.
He did not bring the one he had detached up, because he wanted time to think.
There seemed but one way out of it.
He must abandon his clothes if he wanted to escape from Pow Chow with the money.
Disagreeable as this prospect seemed, Ed determined to risk it and to swim off as soon as he came to the surface.
But a few minutes' reflection changed that.
"I'll come up under the pier and lie low," he said to himself. "He'll think I'm drowned. Mebbe he'll leave my clothes there and I can get them later. If I swim off he'll carry them away sure."
This seemed better than the first plan.
Ed climbed upon the pier for another dive.
Pow Chow questioned him closely.
"We are going to get it, Eddie!" he exclaimed. "We are going to get it, surest thing. If the money is there all right we will all take the first train for San Francisco. Cut out Albany. Your father is half dead, and you don't care for your mother anyway. Come along with us and I'll make a man of you. What do you say?"
"Well, mebbe I will," replied Ed, willing to fool the fellow now that he felt he had got the game in his own hands.
Again he dove.
Descending to the base of the pile, he made his capture.
"Had the money been divided into two parcels?" he asked himself.
He could account for the presence of the two cases in no other way, and yet according to Pow Chow the paper mentioned only one.
Clutching his prize, Ed swam in and rose to the surface under the pier as he had expected.
He looked around for something to hold on to, but it was too dark to see much.
Swimming forward among the piles a few feet, he was suddenly startled by seeing a large boat right ahead of him.
At first he thought he could see a man pull down out of sight into the bottom of the boat.
Treading water and looking again, he could see nobody.
Doubtful what to do, Ed called in a low voice:
"Hello, there! Hello, the boat!"
There was no answer. No one raised up in the boat.
"Strange I didn't see that boat before," muttered Ed. "It must just be tied up under here. There can't be anyone in it or they would have shown themselves by this time. I'll go for it."
He had succeeded in convincing himself that the boat was empty.
Such is the reasoning of a boy; such the chances a boy takes.
For Ed it was a great big miss.
He reached the boat, clutched the gunwale, which was unusually high, and throwing in the case, pulled himself up.
Instantly strong hands clutched him, and he was pulled down on top of two men. Ed was terribly frightened.
So certain was he that he was making no mistake that he had taken almost no precaution towards the last.
The men got him by the throat, punched his head, kicked him and choked him till he was subdued.
Meanwhile Ed made noise enough for Pow Chow to hear.
The Chinaman probably heard something else, too—the boat pulling out from under the pier.
Doubtless that was the time the Bradys saw him bending over the stringpiece.
Ed heard him.
"Eddie! Eddie!" he called. "What's the matter, Eddie? Speak!"
Then a shot rang out.
Ed, who was just picking himself up, saw now that the men were both Chinese.
One worked the oars, the other held a smoking revolver.
They gabbled to each other in Chinese.
Ed was half frightened to death as he got up on the seat.
He could see people running towards the pier, but he could see nothing of Pow Chow.
"They've shot him!" he thought. "Well, I don't care so much, but what will they do with me?"
Just now they were paying little heed to him.
Ed determined to tumble overboard.
But at this he was caught.
That was the time the Bradys saw the two Chinamen attack the boy and tumble him into the bottom of the boat.
Ed fought and struggled, but the Chinaman with the revolver pressed the weapon against his naked left breast and gruffly ordered him to keep still unless he wanted to be killed.
Completely cowed now, Ed made no further resistance.
He felt that he had made but a poor exchange.
He wished now that he had played fair with Pow Chow, as well he might.
By this time they were well out on the Sound.
The two Chinks talked incessantly, but of course Ed could make nothing of what they were saying.
In spite of their distance from shore, Ed would have taken to the water but for the revolver which the Chinaman never moved.
At last the other shipped his oars, and producing a rope, proceeded to tie Ed's hands behind him, tumbling the boy about as roughly as if he had been a wooden block.
This done, he picked up the case, and with a small hammer and a little cold chisel proceeded to attack it.
Ed watched him curiously.
At last the lid was pried off and the critical moment came.
As the Chinaman looked into the case he threw it down in disgust.
More hinging and hanging—the same old Chinese gabble so tiresome to a white man's ears.
The other picked up the case and proceeded to examine its contents.
A number of sheets of paper covered with writing came out, and that was all.
Ed did not need to understand Chinese to know how disgusted these two yellow scamps were.
They gabbled on.
One was about to throw the case overboard, but the other prevented him.
This was the man with the revolver—he had put up his weapon now.
"Get up," he said to Ed.
"Can't," was the reply.
The Chinaman soon settled that.
Clutching the naked boy by the hair, he lifted him upon the seat and then thrust the papers upon him.
"What dlese?" he demanded.
"I can't see to read," growled Ed.
The Chinaman settled that, too.
Producing an electric flash lantern, he turned it on the papers.
Ed now saw that these were pension rolls for the Albany district, dating back ten years.
He was familiar with them, for his father, as we have said, was employed in the pension office and handled just such rolls.
Ed tried to explain, and the Chinaman seemed to understand.
"When you fishee dlis up you see noder box dlown dlere in water?" he demanded.
"No," replied Ed.
"Boy, you tellee big lie. Lookee out! Me shootee you! Me tlow you overboard—see?"
Out came the revolver again.
It looked as if the Chink meant what he said.
We must confess that Ed might have held out a little longer.
He gave right up, however, and admitted that there was another box.
"Me knew it!" cried the Chinaman triumphantly. "Yair, dlat it. Him puttee plaper one box, money in noder box. Yair! Bad job you no blingee two blox up out of water. Yair."
Ed was not so sure.
He felt, however, that by holding out the possibility of recovering the other case he had saved his life.
Perhaps it was so.
The other Chink now picked up his oars and pulled steadily on.
The two talked and talked.
At length he of the revolver turned to Ed again.
"Boy, you bully good swim," he said. "Me see you go down one, two, tlee time. Yair."
"I can swim all right," growled Ed.
"Yair. Dlat so. You swimee for me moller night?"
"I suppose I shall have to if you wish me."
"Yair. Me makee. Pow Chow him dlead. Me good flend you now allee light. You gettee box moller. Me givee you whole lot money—see?"
Ed made no answer, not knowing what to say.
Whether this angered the Chinaman or whether he intended to do it anyway, he suddenly pounced upon Ed and caught him by the throat.
Holding him so with one hand, with the other he produced a little vial, drew the cork with his teeth and forced Ed to swallow a portion of the contents of the bottle.
Probably it was knockout drops.
At all events, in a few minutes Ed keeled over and knew no more.
And after all these efforts the Bradys seemed to have accomplished nothing more than to find themselves with a dead Chinaman on their hands, besides the recovery of the cash.
"What are we to do?" demanded Harry when at last they had finished their examination and talk.
"I suppose we may as well go for the girl," said Old King Brady. "That's our job, I believe."
"And to recover the money and the papers."
"The money we have already got; the papers, I think, will come; perhaps they may prove useless now. The boy has evidently been diving for the treasure. Very likely he has recovered it. Hard to say."
"And this dead Chink?"
"All we can do is to report his presence here to the police, but I shall not be in a hurry. I don't propose to let this lump of dead flesh interfere with the progress of our case."
Thus saying, Old King Brady started up the pier.
He was disgusted to think that he had been just too late.
Still it was something to have recovered the money.
As for Ed, the old detective was not so anxious now.
It looked to him somewhat as if the boy might have gone in with Pow Chow on the deal.
Still he was determined to find Ed, for he felt sure that he had been carried off by the two Chinamen against his will.
They all advanced to the cottage now.
The house was dark save for a light in the kitchen window burning behind a drawn shade.
Old King Brady rapped smartly on the door.
There was a stir inside immediately.
Ethel had been told by her husband how to say in Chinese, "Is that you, Pow?" and the answer was to be in Chinese before she opened the door.
She said it.
Alice caught on to the situation.
"Yes, it is Pow," she answered, imitating a man's voice, which she is perfectly able to do.
Ethel was fooled and she opened the door.
Evidently she had received a description of the old detective, for she drew back, breathing his name.
Then she tried to shut the door, but Harry prevented that with his foot.
"Hold on, Mrs. Pow Wow! We have something to tell you, ma'am!" Old King Brady exclaimed.
"My name is not Pow Wow! It is Pow Chow, and it is as good as any other name!" flashed Ethel. "You go on about your business, you horrid old man. I just won't go back to Albany! I'll marry as many Chinamen as I choose."
"You better not marry more than one at a time unless you want to get arrested for bigamy," replied the old detective dryly as he pushed his way inside.
Ethel ordered them back and began to scream.
"Wait!" said Old King Brady. "You want to stop that noise. We aren't going to murder you. What's more, you have something real to cry for if you really love that Chinese husband of yours."
Evidently she did.
Ethel went into wild hysterics when Old King Brady broke the news to her.
It was easy to see that her grief was real even if afterward it should not prove to have been so very deep.
It took time to quiet her down and get her to the talking point.
At first Ethel refused to talk.
"Look here," said Old King Brady, "it's one of two things. Either we turn you over to your mother, who is in town, or we turn you over to the police. It is up to you."
This settled it.
"I'll talk if I can see my husband—if I know that he is really dead," Ethel then said.
But she talked before that, told all she knew, and gave up the papers.
The briefest kind of an examination was all that was needed to confirm the Bradys' Chinese clew.
Old Fen Wix had told the truth.
Ethel also told about the two Chinamen whom she had seen lurking outside the cottage.
The case seemed plain.
Ed had got the tin case, presumably containing the defaulting pension agent's treasure, and these two Chinks had got Ed.
"This throws our case back into Chinatown," observed Old King Brady. "But we must clean up here first."
They took Mrs. Pow to the pier.
Here there was another scene.
She wanted the Bradys to carry the remains to the cottage.
Old King Brady made her understand that this was impossible until the coroner had viewed them.
They went to the nearest station then and put it up to a police sergeant, explaining nothing further than that a dead Chinaman had been found on the pier; that they had seen two other Chinamen pulling away in a boat, and that Mrs. Pow had identified the dead man.
Then for lack of a better plan the Bradys took Mrs. Pow to their own home, where Alice remained with her until morning, when her mother was telegraphed to come and get her.
Harry and Alice remained behind to wait for the woman, while Old King Brady went to the office.
He was glad he did so, for upon arriving who should he find waiting for him but Mr. Clemmens, the New York Secret Service Commissioner.
"Look here, Brady, you are working up a case for an employee in the Albany pension office, are you not?" Mr. Clemmens asked.
"I am," was the reply.
"A man named Butler?"
"Yes."
"He died last night."
"Indeed?"
"Yes."
"Of what?"
"He has been an invalid for a long time, it seems; heart trouble. When the doctors told him he couldn't live, he sent for the Secret Service Commissioner at Albany and told him a weird story about finding hidden papers relating to the Bradford defalcation in the Albany pension office ten years ago. Said that he meant to give up the money if he succeeded in getting it, but this is doubtful they think up there. At all events, he gave the whole thing away when he found he was dying."
"Did he then!" cried Old King Brady. "Did he say anything about his wife?"
"Yes, that she had run away from him and was after the treasure on her own account. His stepdaughter ran away with a Chinaman and stole the papers."
"That's my case all right," said Old King Brady. "We may as well compare notes."
They did so and the result was some excitement on Mr. Clemmens' part.
He had not altogether believed the story, it seemed.
He immediately called up the Secret Service Bureau at Washington and made a full report of the matter.
They had already heard of it from Albany it appeared.
The result was Old King Brady received orders to go ahead and wind up the case as speedily as possible.
The old detective now did some talking on his own account, wanting to know what he should do with Mrs. Butler and Ethel.
His advice was asked, and it was to drop them as he could not see that it would pay to do otherwise, and this he was told to do.
Thus it became a necessity to finish up the case.
Mr. Clemmens left, and shortly afterward Harry and Alice came in.
Mrs. Butler had called, it appeared.
There had been a pretty hot scene between the pair, after which they went away together.
"Let them bury their dead and go about their business," said Old King Brady. "Meanwhile we will go after the boy and the cash."
"If the boy still lives," observed Harry.
"Even so," was the reply; "the chances are those Chinks knocked him over the head and threw him into the Sound. I am free to confess that I have very little hope of finding him alive."
And such was the latest turn in this singular case.
The question now was what should be the first move.
"What we want is another Chinese clew," said Old King Brady. "You two look up Fen Wix and see what he can do to help us out. You may promise him an extra hundred if necessary. I shall be busy with other matters this morning. I'll look in at the room at three o'clock precisely."
They left.
At three o'clock, when Old King Brady turned up at the room, he found Alice there alone looking very grave.
"Well, what's the matter now?" he demanded.
"I am sorry to tell you that the Chinamen have got Harry," was the reply.
"Got him!"
"Yes."
"How?"
"We went to that address Fen Wix gave and found another old Chink there. He said that Fen Wix had gone to Newark and wouldn't be back till two o'clock."
"And you went again to fall into trouble?"
"That's it."
"Same old Chinatown. How in the world did it happen?"
"Why, when we got there——"
"Where is there, Alice?"
"On Mott street."
"I had forgotten. Well?"
"We knocked several times. Receiving no answer, Harry tried the door and found it unfastened. To our surprise the room had been entirely cleaned out between our visits. There wasn't a stick of furniture in the place."
"Fen Wix must have got himself into trouble through his informing."
"It looks so. Of course, Harry began rubbering around."
"And you, too?"
"Naturally. While we were at it I heard a knock on the door. I had made up half Chinese, as I was before, and thinking that my services as an interpreter would be required, I went to the door. No one was outside. I stepped along the hall and looked over the banisters, but could not see any one."
"And when you went back into the room Harry had vanished, I suppose?"
"You anticipate the ending of my story, Mr. Brady; that was precisely it."
"Same old Chinatown," repeated Old King Brady. "If I had my way I should never touch another case down here. But let us go around there, Alice, and see what we can find. Not that I hope to make much out of it, but something has to be done."
Alice was greatly disturbed and not a little chagrined.
The fact is Harry is her devoted lover, and some day they expect to be married.
More than that, she knows the danger of Chinatown only too well.
The house was one of the old tenements on Mott street which had been provided with extensions and raised up several stories.
The rooms were numbered, and the number of the room given by old Fen Wix was on the third floor.
The door proved to be still unfastened as Alice had left it, and with Old King Brady she entered the vacant room.
Here there was considerable rubbish strewn about, which bore evidence of the hasty move.
"And now for the secret panel," said Old King Brady. "It does beat the cars how the Chinks make those things. Probably there is an entrance here into the secret dens of Pell street."
The search began.
The work was such as Old King Brady is most expert at, and it was not long before he had unearthed a secret panel, but it certainly did not look as if it could be the right one.
For it opened upon what seemed to be just a dumbwaiter shaft.
A rope running over a pulley hung down into it; there was no ladder or stairs.
Old King Brady pulled on the rope.
"There seems to be nothing attached to this," he declared.
And so it proved.
When he got the end of the rope up he found that it had been severed with a sharp knife, and the cut looked to be quite fresh.
"Another Chinese mystery," observed Alice.
"No mystery about this business," was the reply. "Our coming has been anticipated, that's all. This means has been taken to head us off. It is plain enough."
"Perhaps there is another panel, Mr. Brady."
"It would be no surprise to me if we found a dozen of them, but, incidentally, Alice, I have been rather stupid."
"How do you mean?"
"Why, this rope works two ways, and I have only pulled one way. Now I propose to proceed to pull the other. Ha! the rope is weighted at the other end!"
Not only that, but the weight was good and heavy.
It was more than Old King Brady wanted to do to pull it up alone.
Alice took hold to help.
Whatever the weight was they could hear it striking the sides of the narrow shaft with a peculiar dull thud.
It both felt and sounded like a human body, and it made Alice fairly sick, for, of course, she could not help thinking of Harry.
"Here! You let go! You'll faint next," muttered Old King Brady.
He was able to read her thoughts.
Indeed, Alice was as white as a sheet.
"Oh, Mr. Brady, do you think it can be poor Harry?" she gasped, continuing to pull.
"Nonsense! Nonsense!" retorted the old detective.
But although he would not admit it, he did think it was Harry just the same.
They kept on pulling, and in a moment the strain was over.
The thing which came up at the end of the rope was, indeed, a human body.
But it was not Young King Brady.
The old detective and Alice found themselves gazing upon the ugly face of Fen Wix.
The rope was tight around his neck—the old man was dead.
"Thank heaven! Not Harry!" gasped Alice.
"I told you so," replied Old King Brady. "Well, well! These Chinese make quick work. And such is the fate of our informer!"
If Harry was not hung there in that shaft, where then was he?
This must now be explained.
There were two secret panels in that room, as Alice had suggested.
Harry got into the other one.
They caught him suddenly from behind.
The Chinamen, we mean.
He did not see them; he did not hear them. The first he knew a hand was clapped over his mouth and some fearful thing clutched his throat.
It was nothing less than a big pair of nippers which seemed to have been constructed for that very purpose, so well did they suit it.
Harry thought he was a goner.
He could not cry out at first on account of the hand.
The next instant the nippers had him—he could not even turn.
He was dragged backward and knew that he was going through a secret panel near the chimney breast.
Two Chinamen had him captured.
Behind the panel was a shallow space, but it was wide enough for them to stand three abreast.
This trap had been most cleverly constructed.
One of the Chinks pulled a handle and the floor began to descend.
Half strangled, Harry almost lost consciousness, and his head fell forward.
Evidently his tormentors did not intend to go but just so far for immediately the pressure was relaxed.
For a moment things seemed dim and misty.
When Young King Brady recovered himself he was standing in an underground passage leaning against the wall.
Three Chinamen were with him now.
In the third, who held a revolver, Harry recognized a man whom he knew.
It was one Joe Ding, a notorious highbinder.
Only a few months before the Bradys had captured him in connection with a tong shooting affray.
As there did not seem to be much evidence to connect the man with the affair, he had been set free, and that at Harry's suggestion.
Joe Ding knew this, and he had expressed the greatest gratitude at the time.
It was something of a relief to recognize him now, nevertheless it is never safe to trust a highbinder, for murder and robbery is their trade.
"So it's you, Brady," said Joe Ding, who, although now in Chinese dress, did not usually appear so, and what is more he spoke as good English as one could wish.
"Joe Ding!" gasped Harry.
"Yes, as you see. What are you doing here?"
"Why do you ask me that question—you who captured me?"
"I didn't capture you, Brady. It was my friends here."
"But why?"
"Oh, they want to ask you a few questions, and as they don't speak English, I must do the asking."
"Hurry up, then. Can't those infernal nippers be taken off my neck?"
Joe Ding seemed to think so, for he now removed them.
"You are trying to find money sunk in the sand, you and Old King Brady, aren't you?" he demanded.
"Who told you that?" asked Harry.
"Do you deny it?"
"I have said what I have to say."
"You answer my question by asking another. It won't help you any, Brady. Believe me, you better do what I tell you if you expect to get out of this scrap alive."
"Would you kill me after what I have done for you, Joe Ding?"
"I might; it is hard to say," replied the Chinaman with a grin. "However, if it is going to help matters along, I'll answer your question. Follow me."
He clutched Harry's arm and led him forward a few feet.
They had now come underneath an open shaft.
Here there was a rope attached to a ring.
Joe Ding tried to untie it, but did not seem to succeed.
Losing his patience, he pulled out his knife and cut the rope in spite of the protest of one of the other Chinks.
Immediately the rope ran up over a pulley above, apparently, and that with great rapidity.
Evidently something heavy was attached to the other end.
Needless to say it was the corpse of Fen Wix, the informer.
It came down into a sort of niche and stood there leaning against the wall.
Harry shuddered as he looked at it.
"So you have hung the old man?" he gasped.
"As you see," replied Joe Ding. "Is he the man who blabbed to Old King Brady about Pow Chow and this treasure business?"
"Now that he is dead I suppose I may as well admit it. Yes, he is the man."
"I thought so! Then we have made no mistake. Hold on a minute, Brady, till I tell my brothers here."
It looked to Harry as if he should probably have to hold on a good many minutes before he got clear of this outfit if he ever did.
He shuddered as he stood there listening to the gabble of the Chinamen, and wondering what his own fate might be.
"I don't know that I have any further questions to ask you now, Brady," said the Chinaman at length. "You may have a few to ask on your own account, however. If so, now is your chance, for I am in the mood to answer any reasonable question as it happens."
"Why have you captured me?" demanded Harry. "That is the main question."
"And it shall be answered. I have captured you on general principles. I know what you Bradys are. Once you put your hand to a case you never let up. I want to give Old King Brady something else to think of, so as to turn his attention away from this treasure business. Naturally he will now turn his attention to finding you, but take my word for it he won't succeed."
"Joe," said Harry, "you take my word for it, you will do well to let me go."
"Wait, Brady, I'll tell you something you don't know by and by," whispered the Chinaman. "I'm doing you a big favor if you only knew it."
He winked and looked wise.
Harry stopped talking then.
He came to the conclusion that one at least of the other Chinks understood English.
It seemed best to fall in with the situation for the present at least.
The usual programme in such cases was now carried out.
Young King Brady was blindfolded and led through passages, up steps and down, in and out until he finally landed in an underground room decently furnished in Chinese style.
There was nothing notable about the room except a handsome gilt scroll hanging against the wall which represented the Chinese dragon. It was really a handsome piece of work.
Here the eye bandage was removed and Harry was left to his own reflections.
They were anything but pleasant, for once again he found himself a prisoner in the secret dens of Pell street.
"But why didn't they take Alice?" he asked himself. "Why was it only me?"
He was soon to learn, if Joe Ding was to be believed, for within an hour the Chinaman came to him alone, unlocking the heavy door behind a pair of portieres which had resisted all Harry's efforts.
He might, indeed, have managed to open it if he had been left his skeleton keys.
But as we should have mentioned, he was searched at the start, and these with his revolver, watch and what money he had about him, were taken away.
The Chinaman locked the door behind him and came forward with a look of mystery on his face.
"I suppose you are feeling very sore toward me, Brady," he said.
"Well, I must admit, Joe, that I am not especially happy," replied Harry. "But what is it you have to say? Let's have it, quick!"
"It's just this," replied the Chinaman, "I've saved your life."
"How do you figure that out?"
"Easy. You have bunked up against one of the most dangerous tongs in Chinatown, and all the more dangerous on account of its being so little known. I refer to the Brotherhood of the Red Door."
"I have known this long time that such a society existed in San Francisco, but I didn't know they had a lodge here in New York."
"Well, they have."
"Are you a member?"
"Now don't go to asking questions. It is enough for you to know that your death has been decreed by this tong. It is the same with Old King Brady. You want to tell him that."
"How can I tell him when I am a prisoner here in this secret den?"
"Wait! You may get out of this. Now let me tell you that I helped capture you for a purpose. I haven't forgotten what you did for me. I persuaded them to lock you up in this room till night. Then they mean to kill you, run your corpse out in a wagon, and dump it into the river, but I am here now to set you free."
Joe Ding seemed sincere.
Harry responded heartily.
Thanking the Chinaman, he promised that he should be well paid if he carried out his plan.
"I hope you will let up on that money business," Joe said. "I warn you, it is at the risk of your lives if you follow it up."
"Look here, Joe," replied Harry, "that's all right. I can only promise to tell Old King Brady what you say. He will do as he pleases, but there was a boy mixed up in that business. What about him? Is he alive or dead?"
"Ask me nothing," replied Joe Ding. "I can tell nothing, nor will I. I am here to help you, and that is just as far as I'm going—see?"
Harry gave up then, as there seemed to be no other way.
Joe Ding now unlocked the door, and telling Harry to wait, went out through the passage and was gone for some moments.
At last he returned and announced that the coast was clear.
"Come along," he added. "If I can only get you safe out on Pell street it is all I ask, but understand one thing, if we are spotted, I beat it. You will have to look out for yourself in that case. I have my own life to save."
"All right," said Harry. "Lead on."
They hurried along the passage and came to a flight of rickety wooden steps.
Joe Ding stopped to listen.
"It is all right," he said. "You don't hear anything, do you?"
"Not a sound."
"Good! Come!"
They started up the steps then.
Joe Ding, we should have mentioned, carried an ordinary lantern.
The Chinaman was ahead, and no sooner had he reached the top of the steps than he ran against trouble.
Instantly three Chinamen rose up from the floor and flung themselves upon him.
Such another snarling scrap for a moment there never was. It was like a cat fight.
Harry jumped in to help.
There was no chance.
The lantern went down and was extinguished.
At the same instant someone came tumbling down the steps.
Whoever it was bowled Harry off his feet and he went down, too.
The man sprang up and chased off along the passage, but poor Harry hit his head as he fell, and half stunned, was slow to rise.
Before he could get on his feet the enemy was upon him.
A flashlight was displayed.
Harry was seized and thrown down again.
There were five Chinks in it now.
Joe Ding was not among them.
Two bent over Young King Brady, one choking him until he was helpless.
Another producing a bottle, forced him to swallow some vile tasting stuff.
This settled it.
Young King Brady's brain quickly began to whirl.
In a very few moments he was unconscious.
Joe Ding's plan had failed.
True to his threat, he promptly "beat it" when trouble came, leaving poor Harry still in the power of the Chinese of the secret dens of Pell street.