“Not a bit of it. But confound ’em! I never had any luck with women.”
“Ye’ve got to keep her! She’ll die before long.”
“Humph!” ejaculated Collins, sourly. “Why don’t ye make it a sure thing right off?”
“What do ye mean?”
“You want the gal out of the way?”
“Yes.”
“Well, the safest way is the best.”
“What?”
“Kill her!”
Blood shivered. He drew his cloak closer about him.
“That’s work for a man younger than I am,” he said. “I’m too old to cover up the job.”
“Pshaw! We’ll do it for you!”
“All right. What is your price?”
“The girl and money!”
Blood gave a violent start.
He glanced at Collins.
“The girl?” he repeated.
“Yes, the gal!”
“What do you want of her? You will only have her dead body?”
“That is just it,” said Collins, with a leer, “we could get a good price fer the body.”
“Who will pay it?”
“Her lover—or perhaps her friends.”
Blood sneered scornfully.
“You are cracked!” he declared. “But if you want her you can have her. That settles it.”
“Very well, then,” said Burke. “It is understood.”
“Yes.”
“We are to put the gal out of the way. You don’t care so long as she never puts in an appearance ag’in’?”
“No! Curse her!” gritted Blood. “She has been nothing but a source of trouble to me. See that you make the job sure.”
“Trust the trio fer that,” said Burke with a horrible leer. “Come on, boys! The dainty female is ours.”
Collins and Van both arose eagerly at this.
The detective’s blood surged hotly through his veins.
“The unconscionable scoundrels!” he muttered under his breath. “They are human fiends.”
And in that moment the old detective rejoiced that their would-be victim was beyond their reach.
But he was conscious of his own perilous position.
If the trio of villains went to Evelyn’s prison cell to commit the contemplated horrible crime of murder, her escape would be discovered.
But the old detective was only temporarily alarmed.
He reckoned that it would be very soon time for Harry to return from Paine’s with assistance.
Certainly escape would be a difficult matter for the villains.
The snow was too deep to admit of their making very rapid progress if they attempted to leave the asylum.
The trio of villains had arisen for the purpose of paying a murderous visit to the prison cell of the young girl.
But at that moment Scraggs interposed.
“Hold on!” he growled. “What are ye going to do?”
Burke turned and stared at him.
“You heard the agreement.”
“Well, you can’t kill the girl in this house. I object to that!”
“Thunder!” ejaculated Burke. “What has come over you?”
“That’s what has come over me,” said Dr. Scraggs, coolly.
“You are blocking our plans.”
“I don’t care if I am. This is my house and I am boss here!”
There was an ominous silence.
The trio looked ugly and Collins glared at the asylum keeper.
“You’re a cursed traitor!”
“No, I am not!”
“Then what’s the matter with ye?”
“I’m not going to have any murder in my house, that’s all! I don’t care a picayune what you do with the girl, but you can’t kill her here. Do you see?”
“Humph!” exclaimed Burke. “You’re mighty particular. It’s an easy job. There’ll be no blood stains. We’ll just shut her windpipe and she can be carried out for a dead patient. See?”
But Scraggs was obdurate.
“I don’t care!” he said. “It’s not going to be done here. That ends it.”
All this while Blood had been silent. Now he said:
“Well, I don’t blame Scraggs for that, boys. This asylum is his way of making a living. If any scandal arose out of this place it would put him out of business.”
“That’s it,” agreed Scraggs. “Them’s my reasons an’ nothin’ more nor less.”
“Well,” said Burke, in a mollified way, “if that’s the way of it perhaps you’re right.”
“We can fix that!” said Collins.
“How?”
“To-morrow we’ll take her away in a sleigh. A few miles from here is the Assabet river. We can dump her in under the ice and if she’s ever found it won’t be until Spring, anyway.”
“Good!” cried Blood. “That is the best way to work it. No need of having any hard feelings.”
“I haven’t any feelings about it,” said Burke. “So we’ll put it off until morning. One more drink, gents.”
Brandy was decanted and the party drank freely.
All this while Old King Brady had listened with deep interest.
Now that the fate of Evelyn Grimm had been settled, other matters came in for discussion.
Burke laughed uproariously.
“Haw! Haw!” he guffawed. “Every detective in this country thinks the girl was burned up in Fifteenth street.”
“Everybody else does, for that matter,” said Blood.
“We led ’em astray easy enough. The poor woman who was burned up there though——”
“Sh!” exclaimed Van, with a frightful contortion of the face. “Let thet rest.”
“Oh, it’s a tender subject with you, Old Bluebeard. How many more wives have you burned up ther same way?”
“Curse you, shut up!” growled Van, savagely. “I had to shut her mouth. She was false and would have betrayed the whole gang of us sooner or later.”
“Never mind that,” said Scraggs, “I am interested in those accursed detectives. You say a couple of them chased you as far as Lexington?”
“Yes,” agreed Burke.
“Do you know who they were?”
“I do!” said Van. “For I’m the man they chased. Curse ’em! They are the Bradys of New York!”
“They are on our list,” said Collins. “We’ll trap them.”
“They must die!”
“Well,” growled Scraggs, “I don’t want them to get their eyes on my place here. I’ve too much at stake. See?”
“Ain’t you with us?”
“Of course!”
“Then you’ve got to take chances.”
“But there’s no need of being so reckless.”
“Oh, don’t fret, we can handle the Bradys all right! Hello! What the deuce is that?”
A wild, animal-like cry came down the stairs.
Old King Brady crouched back in the shadows just in time.
A dark form rushed past him. The next moment Isaac, the keeper, sprang into the reception room.
He was wildly excited.
“Quick!” he shouted. “They have got her! She is gone! She is gone, I tell you!”
Wildly threshing his arms about him he made the circuit of the room.
Van caught him by the shoulder.
“What are ye talkin’ about, ye cursed hyena?” he yelled. “Speak plain! What’s wrong?”
“Oh, the girl! She’s gone!”
“Gone?” echoed all.
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know. The two countrymen slipped a bar out of the cell door and they’re gone, too!”
Fierce exclamations filled the room. Van hurled the unfortunate keeper to the floor.
“You cursed traitorous dog!” he yelled, drawing a knife. “I’ll kill you for this!”
He flung himself forward and that moment might indeed have been the keeper’s last.
But Scraggs forced the ruffian back.
“Hold on!” he growled. “Hear the man’s story first. I’ve always found him true.”
“Oh, I swear it!” cried Isaac. “I left the door securely barred. Come and see for yourself. They were asleep before I left them.”
“Come on then, you dog!” hissed Van. “If I find you’ve lied, you shall die!”
Up the stairs all now rushed.
They found the prison cell of the girl captive empty.
A brief examination told the whole story.
The tracks on the fire-escape and the snow beneath told all.
Fury and fear alike overwhelmed the villains.
Their consternation was great.
“We’ve been fooled!” cried Burke, savagely. “I tell ye it was a game!”
“Them two Rubes weren’t what we thought they were.”
Martin brought his hands forcibly together.
“Curse it!” he cried. “We had the game right in our hands and didn’t know it. Them two jays were our men!”
“The Bradys?”
“Yes.”
“They fooled us!”
As this conviction dawned upon the villains their fury was beyond expression. Words cannot depict it.
But Scraggs was sour.
“Confound you for coming here at all!” he growled. “Why didn’t you lead those detectives somewhere else?”
“We thought this the best place,” said Van. “If things had worked the way I thought they would——”
“But they didn’t!” snapped Scraggs. “What are you going to do about it?”
“That’s the idea!” cried Van. “We are gaining nothin’ hyar. We ought to chase ’em.”
“Chase ’em!” said Burke. “In this snow?”
“We ought to git along just as well as they kin!”
“You fergit.”
“What?”
“They have snowshoes.”
“Wall, git snowshoes, then, for us. I say, Scraggs, have ye such a thing?”
“No!” replied the asylum keeper. “What do you take me for? I’m no keeper of a logging camp.”
“No, nor anything else!” snapped Burke, viciously. “But if we can’t do any better we must wade.”
“That would be a fool’s game,” said the asylum keeper. “They can go four steps to your one on snowshoes.”
“Curse the luck! They can’t go far on such a night.”
“Ten miles would put ’em beyond your reach.”
“Wall, suggest a plan then,” growled Burke. “I’m sick of it.”
“So am I!” snapped Scraggs. “I wish I’d never seen you or your girl. This will be my ruin.”
“You’re awful afraid of being ruined,” said Blood, angrily. “I’ve paid you good money, Anthony Scraggs!”
“And you’re making a fugitive from justice of me, the same as yourself.”
“Well, you ought to be. You’re the worst shark of us all.”
Old King Brady listened to all this wrangling with much edification.
The old detective was exultant.
Certainly he had reason to be.
In a short while the asylum would be surrounded by armed men and the birds would be in limbo.
The great case would be won.
Old King Brady could hardly contain himself.
He listened intently for some distant sound of the return of Harry. But time passed.
The crooks did not attempt a pursuit.
They abandoned it as impracticable. But they were alive fully to the exigencies of the moment.
It had been decided to let the girl go without any effort to recapture her.
The trio would trudge the best way they could through the snow to a distant railway station.
Blood was to remain in the asylum with Scraggs.
“I can hide you where nobody will ever find you,” said the proprietor of the asylum. “So have no fears.”
Old King Brady listened to all this with some misgiving. Would his men slip him after all?
The trio went on with their preparations to leave the asylum.
Old King Brady was powerless to prevent it.
Moreover, he had all he could do now to keep out of sight and assure his own safety.
It was long past midnight.
What had become of Harry?
It seemed full time for him to return. Yet he did not come.
Old King Brady knew that it would require some time to arouse the neighbors and organize a relief band.
But yet, it would seem that this had already ought to have been accomplished.
Old King Brady grew nervous.
He was half tempted to essay the conflict single handed. But he knew that it could only result in failure.
So he tried to remain patient and hopeful. The trio were now all ready to leave the asylum.
Yet Harry did not return.
A fear came to the old detective that some mishap might have overtaken the young detective.
The three crooks now took their leave. Old King Brady felt the hands of his watch.
It was two o’clock.
He heard the crooks leave by way of the big front door. He did not dare to follow them.
But he was consoled with one reflection.
It might not be difficult to overtake them when Harry should arrive, for the trio had no snowshoes and must leave a plain trail.
So the old detective was patient.
It was half-past three before the long-looked-for summons came. The dogs were confined, so they gave no warning.
But there came a loud knock on the door.
Scraggs, who had retired to sleep, scrambled out of bed and thrust his head out of a window.
“Who is it?” he asked. “And what do you want?”
“It’s yer neighbor,” said the voice of Paine, the farmer. “Come down, Scraggs, we want to see ye!”
“What do you want?” demanded the asylum keeper.
“You’ll find out when you git down hyar.”
“Well, I’m not to be aroused from my bed at this hour of the night,” replied Scraggs, angrily. “If you want to see me, come around in the daytime.”
“We want to see ye now,” insisted Paine.
“Well, you won’t see me!” replied Scraggs, hotly. “Get off my premises or I’ll fire on you!”
“No, ye won’t!” gritted the angry farmer. “Ye’ve run your rig hyar, Scraggs. We air goin’ to run you out of this kentry. If ye don’t come down we’ll come up after ye!”
“Curse you! What does this mean?”
“Come down!”
Scraggs closed the window and then went down to the door. He met John Paine backed by a score of armed men.
These pushed by Scraggs and entered the asylum.
They instantly took possession of the place.
Harry Brady was foremost and gave directions what to do.
Scraggs was stunned.
“Look here!” he cried. “This is an outrage. I’m a peaceable, law-abiding citizen, and——”
“Oh, come off!” cried one of the invaders. “You’re a swindling old hypocrite, you are!”
“Where are those crooks who came up here yesterday?” asked Harry. “I mean Burke, Collins and Van?”
Scraggs looked desperate.
“I don’t know ’em!” he said.
“Come now, that lie won’t save you. Search the place, men! We’ll find them and——”
Harry ceased talking. Old King Brady had appeared.
In a moment the two detectives were comparing notes.
“I reached Paine’s all right,” said Harry, “and the girl is safe. It took a long while to get these men together.”
“Too bad!” said Old King Brady. “For our birds are gone!”
“Gone?” gasped the young detective.
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“For the nearest railway station. But I think we can overtake them.”
“We must do so!” cried the young detective. “We have staked too much to lose now.”
“You are right we have. But one of our men is still here!”
“Who?”
“Napoleon Blood!”
“The old scoundrel! I have the town constable with me. We will arrest him and Scraggs, too.”
“Very good!”
“Paine will look out for Miss Grimm until we want to take her back to New York. Everything is working all right.”
“Splendid! Let us then give chase to the trio at once!”
Scraggs was arrested at once and easily frightened into revealing the hiding place of Blood.
The latter was handcuffed and left in the care of the constable.
Then the Bradys organized the party to pursue the trio.
The best men in the party were selected. Only those with snowshoes were taken.
Then the pursuit began.
It was now almost daylight.
There was little difficulty in following the trail of the fugitives.
But as they went on the Bradys were impressed with one startling fact.
The villains had made wonderfully rapid progress through the snow.
It was not so easy to overtake them.
At six o’clock it was daylight.
This brought the party to a railroad track. It was cleared of snow and far down the line a semaphore was seen.
The station was just around the curve and the Bradys pushed on.
“Perhaps they are in the station waiting for a train,” said Harry.
“In that case,” declared Old King Brady, “we had better deploy and surround the place.”
This was done.
Gradually the party of searchers drew in about the railway station.
They finally reached the platform.
The station agent had just come out.
He stared at them.
“What’s this?” he asked. “Do you want a train?”
“We want three men who are here waiting for a train,” said Old King Brady. “Where are they?”
“I am sorry,” replied the station agent, “but they are gone!”
“Gone?”
“Yes. They left on the five-forty train for Boston.”
The Bradys were beaten.
There was nothing left but to return to the asylum.
There was no use in wiring ahead to make the arrest in Boston, for the train had reached that city long ere this.
So back to the asylum they went.
The case against Scraggs was left in the hands of the local constable.
But the Bradys took Napoleon Blood with them back to Boston.
Here he was delivered to State officers to await requisition papers.
Then the Bradys scoured Boston for a clew to the trio.
Meanwhile, Evelyn Grimm had gone back to New York in the care of friends who were bound to see her wrongs righted.
It is needless to say that a tremendous sensation was created when the facts concerning Evelyn Grimm’s experience were made known.
It was known now, as overheard by Old King Brady, that the bones found in the tenement ruins were those of the last of Martin Van’s innumerable wives.
He had killed her in a fit of anger and by the suggestion of Napoleon Blood, had arranged clews to suggest that Evelyn was the victim instead.
Certainly the plot had for a time worked well.
Even such keen detectives as the Bradys had certainly been deceived.
The case had now simmered down to one thread and this the Bradys were taking up.
It consisted namely in the chase and capture of the Tough Trio.
A murder had certainly been committed.
It was just as necessary as ever, therefore, for the detectives to capture the trio of villains.
Evelyn Grimm and her rascally uncle were now entirely out of the case.
The young girl’s friends took hold of her affairs, with the assurance that much of the inheritance would be saved for her.
As for Napoleon Blood, he was held for trial on a number of criminal charges.
Scraggs, the Asylum keeper, was also jailed and his asylum closed.
The case simmered rapidly down to the problem of running down the Tough Trio.
Or rather to the running down of the Bradys by this clique of rogues.
For that they had not abandoned their purpose of assassinating the detectives was proved by the following startling message received by Old King Brady one day.
Thus it read:
“To the Bradys:“Mebbe you think you hev scared the trio. Butt you will find thet death is on your track an’ you can’t escape it. An’ don’t you fergit it, either! Wakin’ or sleepin’ it don’t make no diffrunce which, we are rite after you. So look out!“Thet’s all fer just now from,The Trio.”
“To the Bradys:
“Mebbe you think you hev scared the trio. Butt you will find thet death is on your track an’ you can’t escape it. An’ don’t you fergit it, either! Wakin’ or sleepin’ it don’t make no diffrunce which, we are rite after you. So look out!
“Thet’s all fer just now from,The Trio.”
Old King Brady carefully studied the post-mark on the envelope. It was mailed at Station C, New York.
The Bradys were assured that their birds were in the big city, so they had returned to New York.
For a week they groped blindly in vain for a clew.
Then one day almost a grim accomplishment of the threat uttered by the villains occurred.
The two detectives stood on the platform of an elevated station.
They were waiting for an uptown train. Suddenly as the train came thundering up a man with muffled features sprang out of the crowd.
With all his force he rushed against Old King Brady and hurled him from the station platform down in front of the train which was rushing in at the moment.
Only one thing saved Old King Brady from an awful death.
The impetus given by the push was exceedingly fierce.
An ordinary shove would have dropped anyone right under the onrushing wheels.
But the force of the push sent the old detective far out into the air. He struck the further rail and the locomotive just brushed his body as it rolled over upon the next track.
It was a fearful fall, however, and for a moment stunned the old detective.
He lay half senseless upon the middle track.
Luckily no train was approaching for it was not the time of day for the expresses which used this track.
A great shriek of horror went up from the spectators.
Women fainted, men turned sick and all was fearful excitement.
Harry was so horror-struck and dazed that he allowed the assailant to vanish.
When he found that his partner had escaped death, he turned to look for the perpetrator of the deed.
But it was too late.
He was gone.
Meanwhile, the train guards and policemen had climbed down to give assistance to the detective.
But though badly shaken, Old King Brady recovered and got upon his feet.
He was assisted back to the platform and the train went on.
The police, learning who he was, asked no questions. The Bradys, it is needless to say, were on the qui vive.
“Did you see the fellow?” asked Old King Brady.
“No,” replied Harry. “He got away too quick.”
“I have no doubt it was one of the trio.”
“Oh, certainly!”
“That was a close call, Harry.”
“I should say so.”
“To think he was so near us and we did not know it. I fear we have lost ground, my boy.”
“We are the shadowed!”
“Just so.”
“Well,” said the young detective, resolutely, “we’ve got to rig a trap for those fellows. If we don’t they’ll finish us.”
“You are right!”
“What can we do?”
“I have an idea!”
“What is it?”
Old King Brady was thoughtful. They had decided not to take the train and had left the elevated station.
They were walking down a part of Columbus avenue. The elevated trains thundered along overhead.
But before Old King Brady could elucidate his plan, exciting incidents came along in quick order.
Harry suddenly ejaculated:
“There is our man!”
He clutched Old King Brady’s arm and drew him back into a doorway.
Standing before the door of a liquor saloon on the opposite side of the street, sure enough, was Dan Collins.
He wore the same slouch hat and it was beyond doubt that he was the villain who had pushed Old King Brady off the platform.
The two detectives gazed at him for a moment intently.
Then Harry whispered:
“It’s no use!”
“What?”
“He is onto us! He knows we are watching him.”
“Do you think so?”
“Sure!”
Old King Brady changed his position slightly.
Then he gave a start.
“By the great horn spoon!” he exclaimed. “They are all around us!”
Harry followed his gaze and saw his meaning.
On the opposite corner stood Martin Van. The crook seemed utterly oblivious of the presence of the detectives.
But the Bradys knew better.
They were sure that the villain knew of their presence.
“We will test it,” said Old King Brady, after some discussion.
The old detective left the doorway and leisurely sauntered toward the corner.
Instantly Van, who appeared to be studying something in his hand, began also to change his position.
“Ah! That is it!” thought the old detective. “He can see me plainly enough from the little mirror he carries in his hand.”
Very swiftly the old detective revolved a plan of action in his head.
He acted with great suddenness.
As he slowly approached, Van moved as slowly away.
This was irritating to the old detective.
Suddenly he made a panther-like leap forward.
So swift was his action that the villain was taken off his guard.
Old King Brady actually succeeded in getting hold of his arm.
A hissing curse broke from Van’s lips.
He aimed a murderous blow at Old King Brady.
But the old detective dodged it.
He would have had his man then and there but for an unlooked-for incident.
When Harry saw the old detective grapple with Van, he also saw Collins perform a strange act.
He raised the palm of his hand.
In it was a tiny revolver.
The next moment the spiteful little report rang out on the air and Old King Brady released his hold on Van and sank to the sidewalk.
Harry had crossed the street in flying leaps and was upon Collins like a panther.
People on the sidewalk paused in terror, not understanding the situation at all.
In another moment Harry would have collared his man.
But a sharp warning cry from Van caused Collins to turn his head.
With a side leap he went through a saloon entrance.
Harry burst into the place hot after his man.
Half a dozen or more men were drinking at the bar.
These turned in surprise as Harry burst into the place.
The proprietor, a huge, red-faced man, confronted the young detective.
“What do you want here?” he demanded. “Get out before you’re bounced!”
“Easy, my friend,” said the young detective. “I am in pursuit of a criminal. He came into this place.”
“You’re mistaken. No such man is here!”
“I saw him enter.”
“That’s not so. Come, get out!”
Harry ran his gaze quickly over the place.
He saw a door at the far end of the saloon.
He was convinced that his man had gone through that door.
He made a move toward it, but the big man barred his way.
“No, I guess not!” he said. “You’re not going in!”
“You stop me at your peril!” said Harry, sternly. “I am an officer of the law!”
“Is that so?” cried one of habitues of the place, jeeringly. “Well, we haven’t any use for you here!”
“He’s a peeler!”
“Throw him out!”
These were the cries which filled the place.
Harry saw that the situation was by no means a pleasant one. He was only one against ten.
All this while Collins was making good his escape. Probably by some rear way.
This angered the young detective exceedingly, and he cried:
“You pack of hounds! You are trying to aid in the escape of that man. You are thwarting justice.”
A jeering roar of laughter followed.
But at this moment the door of the place burst open again.
This time Old King Brady and a couple of policemen appeared.
The old detective had not been seriously wounded.
The bullet had struck him a glancing blow in the leg and had brought him down with the shock.
But he had quickly recovered.
Van, however, was beyond pursuit.
But Old King Brady had seen Harry pursue his man into the liquor saloon.
Realizing that the young detective might need assistance, he hailed a couple of policemen and started after him.
He had arrived just in the nick of time.
Harry was facing the gang of crooks, but the odds were too great for him and the result might have been serious had he been left to play his hand alone.
The appearance of the officers, however, had a salutary effect.
The gang fell back toward the bar.
“What’s this?” cried Old King Brady. “Where is your man, Harry?”
“I might have caught him but for these fellows who have tried to block me,” said Harry.
The old detective gazed keenly at the proprietor of the place.
“If I am not mistaken, I know you, Jack Billings!” he said. “Up to your old tricks, eh? Where is Dan Collins?”
Billings shifted his gaze.
“I don’t know who you mean,” he said.
“Yes, you do, too,” said Old King Brady, sharply. “Come, out with it. I want the truth.”
“I don’t know the man!”
“You speak falsely!”
“I swear it.”
“Your oath is worthless. Come, tell us the truth. Where is he?”
“Really,” protested Billings, “I don’t know the man you are speaking of. But perhaps you are after a fellow who rushed through here a little while ago and went out through that rear door.”
“And you detained me here on purpose to aid his escape,” declared Harry. “Don’t you deny it. You shall pay for this.”
“That is not so!”
“Don’t lie about it. I shall see you later!” cried the young detective as with his companions he rushed through the door at the far end of the saloon.
They emerged into a small paved court.
But the birds had flown.
Again they had escaped the Bradys. It was a disheartening reflection.
Ordinary men might have abandoned the case in despair.
But the Bradys were not of that sort.
With their usual tenacity they hung out, still looking for a clew which they felt was bound to come.
In fact they had little choice in the matter.
They knew there was nothing to be done but to trap the Tough Trio.
If they did not do so the trio would trap them. It was a case of the survival of the fittest.
The Bradys failed to track their birds even the slightest distance. The trio had seemed to cover their tracks effectually.
Days passed and still the Bradys were befogged.
One day they ran across a detective of the regular city force in a lower part of New York.
“There’s no use in you fellows trying to find the trio,” said this fellow, whose name was Whitman.
“Indeed!” said Old King Brady, caustically. “You are very sure of that, are you?”
“As sure as can be!”
“How do you get your surety?”
“Well, I know that all three of the rascals have skipped the country.”
For a moment the Bradys stared at each other.
Then Old King Brady said:
“Do you mean to Europe?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know that?”
“Well, you bet I do!”
“Can you prove it?”
Whitman was silent a moment. Then he said:
“Well, I’ve been working up a case on the White Star Line dock. I know three men sailed from there last Saturday whom I am sure are the trio.”
“Did you see them?”
“Well, that is, a friend of mine did.”
Finally the fellow was bound to admit that he was not by any means sure of his statement.
He depended largely upon the imagination of another, and finally, much discomfited, admitted that he could not prove it.
The Bradys thus met with all sorts of rumors.
But they said nothing.
All the while they were quietly at work.
One day, however, a messenger boy stopped them at the door of their lodgings.
He handed them a message.
Thus it read:
“My dear Brady:“Come down to the office at once. I think I have a clew for you.“Chief of the Secret Service.”
“My dear Brady:
“Come down to the office at once. I think I have a clew for you.“Chief of the Secret Service.”
“Ah!” said Old King Brady, with a smile. “Perhaps at last we have hit upon the right thing. Let us try it.”
So the Bradys at once went down to the Secret Service headquarters.
The chief welcomed them warmly.
“I am glad to see you!” he said. “And I believe I have valuable news for you!”
“That is what we are looking for,” said Harry.
“You are still after the trio?”
“Yes.”
“You can’t seem to find a clew as to their whereabouts?”
“Not the slightest.”
“Well,” said the chief, slowly, “yesterday we brought a man in here from Chinatown. He killed a man in an opium den.
“While questioning him closely I learned that he knew Dan Collins.”
“Dan Collins!” exclaimed Harry.
“Yes. Do you know him?”
“He is one of the trio!”
“Ah! Then it is all right. Collins and two companions have been frequenting Ah Ling’s place in Mott street for a few days past.”
“Hitting the pipe?”
“Yes.”
“Are they there now?”
“They may be!”
Old King Brady sprang up.
“Come, Harry!” he cried. “Here is work for us.”
“I feel it in my bones,” said the young detective, “that the game is ours.”
“I agree with you,” said the chief. “If those fellows are taking dope you will surely get them.”
Old King Brady knew that many a criminal had been taken in this way.
Under the influence of opium they are careless and easily entrapped. So Old King Brady’s spirits arose.
“Very good!” he said, with his grim smile. “I think we shall get them.”
“The tip may be of no value,” said the chief, “but such as it is I give it to you.”
“I feel sure that it is of great value!” said Harry. “We will get our men this time.”
Frequenters of the opium dens sometimes drop from sight for days.
This would easily explain why the Bradys had not heard from the villains before.
The detectives lost no time.
They at once set out for Mott street.
Ah Ling was a character very familiar to them.
There was no shrewder character, no deeper scoundrel in Chinatown than Ah Ling.
The Bradys knew that it would be folly to attempt to gain admittance to his place in their own character.
So they went thither in a clever disguise.
And Harry, for the first time in a long while dressed up as a very handsome young lady.
As men and women both frequented the opium joints, this was not deemed strange.
Old King Brady made himself up as a country jay, and Harry took him in tow.
He steered him into Mott street and Harry led the way into Ah Ling’s shop.
That urbane Celestial came up smiling and bowing.
“Ah, Melican lady buy fine handkerchief,” he simpered “Sellee cheap! Comee allee way China.”
Harry punched his rustic partner in the ribs and in true Bowery-girl style said: