"Paris, France, May 19."My dear La Croix: In reply to yours of the 5th inst., I beg to say that I can easily meet your daughter at Havre, if she comes over on the Champagne. I shall then take her to Amsterdam, Holland, and procure the fifty packages of diamonds. She can then assume a fictitious name and take passage on the steamer Labrador, to Canada. You can meet her in Montreal, and the stones can be taken across the border at Niagara Falls, as you suggest. Should you follow this plan, wire me at once, and I shall so arrange matters that the American spies for the Customs officials who are on the lookout here shall know knothing about the transaction. Everything depends upon keeping this a secret from them, or they will cable back to the U.S. inspectors to keep a watch for Clara when she returns to Canada—"
"Paris, France, May 19.
"My dear La Croix: In reply to yours of the 5th inst., I beg to say that I can easily meet your daughter at Havre, if she comes over on the Champagne. I shall then take her to Amsterdam, Holland, and procure the fifty packages of diamonds. She can then assume a fictitious name and take passage on the steamer Labrador, to Canada. You can meet her in Montreal, and the stones can be taken across the border at Niagara Falls, as you suggest. Should you follow this plan, wire me at once, and I shall so arrange matters that the American spies for the Customs officials who are on the lookout here shall know knothing about the transaction. Everything depends upon keeping this a secret from them, or they will cable back to the U.S. inspectors to keep a watch for Clara when she returns to Canada—"
The letter ended abruptly here, for the rest was missing.
But there was enough to expose the whole plan of smuggling a huge amount of diamonds into the United States.
The Bradys were astonished and Harry said at once:
"This letter proves that La Croix must be the gigantic smuggler whom the Customs department want run down."
"No question about it," replied Old King Brady. "And as we have the details of a scheme he intends to operate, we had better make preparations to nip the plan in the bud,or else to capture the girl smuggler when she makes her attempt to beat the Custom House."
"Are you aware that the steamer Champagne sails for Havre to-day?"
"Does she?" muttered Old King Brady, glancing at his watch. "Well, we'll barely have time to reach her if we go at once. Get a cab and we'll see if we can catch her before she departs."
"Even if we miss her," said Harry, consolingly, "we will be pretty sure to see La Croix on the pier, seeing his daughter off."
"I don't want to arrest him in that case," said Old King Brady, "for if the girl gets away, we'll have to keep the man watched in order to let him lead us to his daughter when she returns. As she's pretty sure to have all those diamonds with her, we can nab them with evidence on their persons, of their smuggling enterprise."
Harry nodded and they hurried out together.
A hack was engaged and they rode over to the French Trans-Atlantic Company's pier on the North river.
By the time the cab reached the dock, however, the steamship's mooring lines had been cast off, the gangplank was down and the vessel was being pulled out into the stream.
The detectives were disappointed.
Eagerly scanning the throng of passengers on the upper deck, they suddenly caught view of Clara La Croix.
The girl was standing in the stern waving her handkerchief and shouting to a stylishly-dressed middle-aged woman on the stringpiece:
"Good-by, mamma!"
"Farewell, Clara—be very careful of yourself, my child!" replied the woman, as she waved her handkerchief back at the girl.
Harry nudged Old King Brady.
"There's her mother," he muttered, "but La Croix has not shown up. He fears arrest now, as he knows we are after him."
"So much the better," replied the old detective, drily. "This woman won't know us. It will therefore be all the easier to follow her undetected."
The steamship soon went down the river and the friends and relatives of the departing passengers began to leave the pier.
Mrs. La Croix was one of the last to go. She did not know that the Bradys were close behind her.
The smuggler's wife leisurely left the pier, crossed the street and went in the direction of Sixth avenue, on foot.
It did not seem to occur to her that she might be followed, for she never once glanced back in the direction she came from.
Old King Brady and his partner did not know much about the woman.
Whether she was actually concerned in La Croix's smuggling games or not, they had not the faintest idea.
She was a fine-looking woman, tall and stately, with brown hair, blue eyes and handsome features. But she seldom laughed.
Hers was one of those set, inscrutable faces, hard to read, for she seldom showed the emotions preying upon her mind.
"She don't seem to fear detection," commented Harry, as they walked along. "She hasn't made the slightest effort to conceal her actions."
"Well," replied the old detective, as he thoughtfully took a fresh quid of tobacco, "you must not forget that the woman isn't aware of the fact that we are on her trail."
"She certainly must be interested in her husband's crooked work or she would not see her daughter off to Europe in this manner. In fact, if she were not so greatly interested, I doubt if she would allow her child to make such a long, dangerous trip alone."
"Your reasoning is very sensible," commented Old King Brady, "but you must recollect that the girl smuggler is very smart. She is used to danger. This may not be her first voyage abroad alone. In fact, she has probably been making many trips to the other side, bringing back jewels to be smuggled ashore."
"Judging by what that letter said," remarked Harry, "the man and his wife are likely to go to Canada now and wait there for the girl's return with that large consignment of precious stones. We shall be obliged to follow them there. We can't arrest them now on suspicion, nor can we pull La Croix in for trying to murder us in the Fifth Avenue Hotel elevator. If we do, it will interfere with our capturing the girl when she returns with those jewels."
"I'm sorry to say your view of the matter is correct, Harry."
"There goes the woman up Sixth avenue. She's a good walker. It looks to me as if she were heading for the French district in the neighborhood of Third street. Queer she didn't ride."
They tracked her to West Broadway.
Here she suddenly turned into the hall of a very old house across the front of which hung the sign of an artificial flower maker.
Old King Brady passed into the hall after her and Harry remained on guard at the door.
Going up a flight of stairs, the woman knocked at a door and when it was opened, she passed into a room, closing the door after her.
The detective glided over to the door and listened.
Voices were heard inside, a man crying out eagerly:
"Well, Lena, ees ze child gone?"
"Yes, Paul," Mrs. La Croix replied, in sad tones. "The Champagne just departed with our daughter. We shall not see her for a month."
"Ah, but when she return we make ze largest stake of our lives."
"I wish this risky business was ended, Paul. I'm gettingsick of it. We do not lead the peaceful lives of other people. It is a constant excitement and fear of police interference."
"Do not complain, Lena. Zees ees ze last treep ze child make. Eef eet ees wong success, we make so much dollaires zat we can retiaire an' leeve ze life of ease for ze rest of our days, by gar!"
He laughed and the woman replied, resignedly:
"Well, I hope your dream will come true, Paul."
"Take zees seat an' 'ave your suppair, my dear. You need ze rest, for to-night we leave New York by rail for Canada, for I have sold all ze stones I had, an' mail my draft to Paris."
Old King Brady smiled and muttered:
"I'm glad you've told me your business, old fellow."
The shadows of twilight had fallen by this time and the hall was getting dark.
Hearing some one coming downstairs from an upper floor, the old detective retreated along the hall and crouched back in a doorway.
He pressed himself back flat against the door hoping the person who was coming would pass him in the gloom without observing his presence.
Unfortunately the door behind him was not shut tight.
As he pressed his back against it, it flew inward all of a sudden and pitching over backward, the detective fell sprawling upon the floor of a small room adjoining the one occupied by La Croix and his wife.
He heard the Frenchman utter a startled cry.
Like a tiger he sprang into the room and saw the detective.
"Parbleu!" he hissed, a look of rage and hate upon his dark face. "Ze secret police. Watching me, eh? I show you, Monsieur."
He seized an iron bar standing in the corner and as the old detective was upon the point of scrambling to his feet, he dealt the officer a fearful blow that knocked him senseless.
He just had time to bang the door shut to prevent the person who was coming from upstairs from seeing what was going on.
Just then his wife rushed in.
"What is the matter, Paul?" she demanded.
"Old King Brady!" he replied, pointing at the old detective excitedly.
"Ah;" was her cool reply. "He has found our refuge, eh?"
"Yes. An' probable he has been listen to our talk."
"That is very dangerous for us, Paul."
"Not since I 'ave him at my mercy.Sacriste!When I geet through wiz heem now, he not weel trouble us again een wong hurry."
Fearing the detective might recover he got a piece of rope and bound and gagged Old King Brady.
When this was done an idea suddenly flashed across his mind, and he bounded to his feet and exclaimed, hoarsely:
"Where ees ze othair?"
"I don't understand you," his wife replied.
"Young King Brady."
"Do they always travel together?"
"Sairtainly."
"Then the boy must be lurking near here."
"Wait. I find heem eef I can."
He hastened from the room and made a search of the hall. Then he quietly passed downstairs and there caught view of the young detective keeping guard outside the street door.
The Frenchman was greatly excited.
He retreated into the hall and went upstairs again, muttering:
"I must geet zat boy een my powair just as queek as possible. So long as ze Bradys ees on my track, I may go to ze preeson at any moment. It makes me nairvous, by gar!"
He took up a position at the head of the stairs, wondering how he could get the best of the detectives.
Convinced that they knew all about his smuggling business and would arrest him at the first opportunity, it made him so desperate that he would not have hesitated to kill both of them.
He had not been standing at the head of the stairs long before he saw Harry glide into the hall as quietly as a shadow.
The boy was becoming impatient over his partner's long absence and made up his mind to find him.
Searching the lower hall, he failed to see anything of Old King Brady and then cautiously made his way upstairs.
The Frenchman saw him coming.
He slipped into the room where the old detective lay.
Raising his finger to his wife, he hissed:
"Hush! He coming up ze stair! Put out ze light—hurry!"
Keeping the door open on a crack when darkness fell upon the room, he peered out and listened intently.
It was too dark to see anything.
But he heard the young detective's soft footfalls passing the door and he stepped out into the hall behind Harry.
Slight as the noise was which he made, the boy heard him and turned around, striving to pierce the gloom with his sight.
La Croix had the boy located.
He suddenly sprang forward with both hands extended, struck against the boy, clutched him by the throat and knocked him over backward.
A stifled cry escaped Harry.
He was knocked down and struck the floor with a crash.
As his head went back, with the Frenchman's grip on his windpipe, his skull banged against the door-casing.
He was stunned.
"Lena! Lena!" roared La Croix.
"What is it, Paul?" asked the woman, appearing in the doorway.
"Breeng a light—queek!" he panted.
She struck a match and he saw that Harry was senseless.
With a look of evil triumph on his dark face, the man seized the boy, dragged him into the room and his wife locked the door.
La Croix bound and gagged Harry.
"Got zem both!" he chuckled.
"What are you going to do with them, Paul?" demanded his wife.
"Do wiz zem? Put zem out of ze way, my dear. Dispose of zem so effectually zat we not weel be trouble wiz zem again."
The woman met his evil glance and shuddered.
She saw what murderous thoughts were filling his mind.
On the following morning Paul La Croix went upstairs to the man who made artificial flowers and said to him:
"Monsieur Reynard, to-day ve go avay to Europe. I 'ave some sings een ze rooms ve occupy zat I weesh to send to a friend een Sacramento. To do so, I must 'ave wong beeg packing case. I see an empty wong standing over zere near ze hatchway. Can I buy him from you?"
"I'll make you a present of the big case, and be glad to get rid of it, as it takes up valuable space," replied Mr. Reynard, pleasantly. "Come, I'll help you to get it downstairs to your floor by means of the fall."
He opened the hatchway while La Croix was profusely thanking him, put a sling around the box and lowered it.
La Croix pulled the box into his front room through a door in the partition which surrounded the hatchway.
This done and Reynard out of the way, the smuggler turned to his wife, pointed at the box and asked her, with a grim smile:
"You know what zat ees for, my dear?"
"No. I have no idea. What?"
"To pack ze detectives in."
"What for?"
"So I can ship zem away."
"Won't it kill them?"
"I don't know," he replied, indifferently, shrugging his shoulders.
"Well," she remarked, after a moment's reflection, "it will give us time to get away to Canada without them knowing our destination."
"Ma foi!Zat ees my object."
He was provided with a hammer and some nails, and taking the lid off the box, he saw that it was amply big to hold the detectives' bodies.
Some of the joints were shrunk open, he noticed, which would admit air for the officers to breathe. This would keep them alive some time if they were not killed some other way in transit.
He did not care much about that, however.
Calling his wife to aid him, he went into the next room where the two bound and gagged detectives laid upon the floor side by side.
Neither could move or speak.
They were wondering what their fate was to be.
It filled them with chagrin to reflect that this Frenchman had alone overpowered them without the slightest trouble.
La Croix seized Old King Brady first and dragged him into the next room.
"Now, Lena," he remarked, "help me to leeft him in ze box."
He took the detective by the head and she grasped his ankles and they quickly dropped their prisoner in the case.
Harry was served the same way.
There was just room enough to hold them.
When La Croix nailed on the lid, they realized what he intended to do with them and it made them feel very downhearted.
"Going to ship us away," thought Old King Brady.
La Croix then borrowed Reynard's brush and marking pot and they heard him chuckle and say to his wife:
"I weel direct ze box to wong fictitious address in Sacramento, California. By ze time ze secret police arrive zere,par Dieu, zey weel be zez dead mans!"
He then addressed the case and went after a truckman.
This done, between them they lowered the case through the hatchway into the street, and it was banged with a hook, turned over and over and pushed up a pair of rungs on the truck.
The Bradys were badly bumped and bruised.
But being gagged they had to suffer in silence.
Finally the truck was driven away with them, and reaching the Erie freight depot, the driver got a receipt for the box and dumped it off his truck.
The shock upon the imprisoned detectives was awful.
They heard the driver say:
"Collect de charges. Dat box goes via Buffalo, don't it?"
"Yes," replied the freight agent.
"Well, yer'd better handle it wid care, as I tink it's got artificial flowers in it, an' yer might smash de stuffins out o' dem."
"Mighty heavy artificial flowers," growled the agent.
Then the truck drove away.
The detectives laid in the freight building for some time, and the interior of the box became hot and stifling.
Fortunately the box stood as they were lying on their sides.
About noontime their troubles began again, for the freight handlers got hold of the box to send it over the river to Jersey with other freight. The detectives were tumbled and slammed about roughly, at one moment resting on their heads, at another on their faces, then they were picked up by a hand-truck and banged upon their backs on the boat. For a while they had a rest.
No one heard the groans of pain they uttered as they were bumped, bruised and cut, and they were carried over the river.
Here the rough handling began again until they were laden on a freight car due to go out that night.
The box now rested so that they were standing up.
It was such a painful attitude in those cramped quarters that they were in misery, for they were face to face, withtheir bodies bent over on account of the box being too short for the length of their bodies.
Both had made the most desperate efforts to get rid of their bonds and gags, but found it impossible to do so.
Some hours later they felt the train get in motion and knew they were on their way to Buffalo.
The time dragged very slowly.
Hour after hour passed by and the night passed and another day came.
Hunger and thirst were now added to the miseries they already endured and the strain they were under brought them to the verge of fainting.
Toward noontime the train paused at a way station to take on some freight and the box in which the detectives were packed was thrown over to make room for it.
As it struck the floor, Old King Brady struck his face forcibly against the side of the box and made his nose bleed.
He gave a deep groan and one of the freight handlers heard it.
"Good Lor'!" he exclaimed in startled tones, as he glared around. "What's that? Sounded like a man's voice."
Another groan from the old detective attracted his attention to the packing case, and he saw a tiny stream of blood trickling out of it through one of the cracks, upon the floor.
A thrill of horror darted through the man.
He began to suspect a corpse was in the box, and visions of a dreadful murder mystery floated through his mind.
"Hey, Tom! Hey, Bill! Come here, quick!" he yelled at his companions.
"What's the matter?"
"What do you want?"
"Bring a hammer here!"
"Did you bust open a box?"
"No. But I'm going to."
"What for?"
"I heard a man groaning in that—ha! Hear it?"
A third groan from Old King Brady reached their ears and seeing the blood, they quickly realized that there was some one in the case.
Procuring a hammer, they pulled off the lid.
The two detectives were revealed.
Harry was senseless.
Cries of astonishment escaped the men, and observing that the pair were still alive, they pulled them out of the box and laid them on the floor.
Removing the gags and bonds, the trainmen brought water and bathed the bruised and swollen faces of the detectives.
This treatment revived Harry.
Both were very weak, and they ached all over.
"Give us a drink," Old King Brady implored.
When this was done they asked for something to eat.
The trainmen got some food at the station and a big crowd gathered round when the news spread.
After eating and drinking and rubbing their legs and arms, the Bradys recovered rapidly and told who they were and what befell them.
In a short time they were able to walk.
"Are you going back to New York to arrest the rascal who did this?" asked the man who discovered them.
"No, indeed!" replied Harry, quickly. "We wouldn't find them there if we did. They are probably on their way to Canada now."
"Going after them?"
"Yes."
"Then you'd better stay with us until we arrive in Buffalo and you won't have so far to go to reach Montreal."
"We'll do that," said Old King Brady. "But don't let on about our escape. If the newspapers get hold of the story and publish it, our enemy may learn how we baffled his design and he will be on his guard against an attack from us."
"I'll keep mum, Mr. Brady. We'll reach Buffalo to-night and you can then attend properly to your injuries."
The train then moved on, and the detectives finally reached their destination and put up in a hotel, where a physician attended to their injuries.
"Old King Brady, your life is in danger."
"From what?"
"The man you are persecuting."
"You mean Paul La Croix, I presume?"
"I do. Go back to New York at once."
"Madam, I shall do nothing of the kind."
"Then you must suffer for your obstinacy."
"I am prepared for anything, madam."
"Remember, I have given you fair warning. You cannot arrest La Croix on Canadian soil for smuggling."
And the veiled woman in deep mourning, who accosted the old detective in a dark street in Toronto, turned as if to walk away.
This happened several weeks after the Bradys reached Buffalo.
They had been vainly searching for La Croix and his wife.
On the night in question, Old King Brady had gone out from his hotel alone, when the woman in mourning met him in the street.
The light of a street lamp fell upon them.
She gave a slight start and began to follow him.
When he discovered this and turned around, asking why she was dogging his footsteps, she gave the above recorded answer.
By her mentioning his name, he realized that she knew him, and he at once suspected she was La Croix's wife.
He resolved to fathom the mystery of her identity.
Seizing her arm, he exclaimed:
"Hold on a moment."
"Well?" she asked, pausing obediently.
"I want to know who you are that takes such a deep interest in my welfare. I want to know who it is that knows me—who knows all about the private business which has brought me to this city. Speak out. Who are you?"
"Your friend," replied the mysterious unknown.
"What is your name?" he persisted.
"I must decline to tell you."
"But I won't take a refusal. You must speak."
"No. Allow me to retain my incognito. It were best for us both."
Old King Brady was determined to know her, however, and he seized her long crepe veil and attempted to remove it from her face.
A subdued cry of anger escaped her.
"Let that be!" she exclaimed, imperiously.
"Madam, I must see who you are!" he persisted.
"Is this the gratitude you show for the favor I have done you?"
"You have aroused my curiosity."
"Stand back, sir. Don't you dare lay a hand on me again."
"Why," he laughed, "is it dangerous?"
"Very!"
"How?"
She drew a slender dagger from the folds of her dark dress, and as the lamplight glanced upon the blade, it flashed as she drew it back.
Old King Brady was startled.
He did not expect to see anything like this.
Raising the dagger, the mysterious woman hissed:
"If you attempt to penetrate my identity, I shall stab you!"
There was a ring of intense earnestness to her voice, and it froze the smile that rose to the old detective's face.
He regarded her with a puzzled look.
It now began to dawn upon his mind that she was not Mrs. La Croix after all. The voice was different. She was shorter and stouter than the smuggler's wife. Her actions were different.
To gain time to form a different tactic he exclaimed:
"How can you be a friend of mine if you are going to stab me?"
"I am bound to keep my identity a secret," she replied, firmly.
"What object have you in befriending me?"
"You are a brave man and a dutiful officer. I know you are only following up this case because you were ordered to do so. I therefore don't wish to see you perish."
"How do you know I'm doomed to get killed?"
"Because I heard your enemies plot your destruction."
"In that case they know we are here on their trail?"
"Yes. Every move you make is being keenly watched by spies."
"Our enemies must be well-disguised and keep well under cover."
"You haven't thus far detected them, have you?"
"No," admitted Old King Brady.
"Then that shows how secure they are. A number of times they have been as close to you as I am. Yet you did not know it. By this you can realize how easy it would be for them to attack you unexpectedly, kill you, and escape."
"Even that thought won't scare me off the case."
"You are very obstinate and persevering."
"Those two elements will yet make me win this fight."
"Foolish man. Don't delude yourself. Your enemies are very powerful people. They will beat you in the end."
"I don't agree with your idea."
"Is my warning in vain?"
"Entirely so."
The veiled woman sighed and bowed her head in thought. Finally she strode away, saying in impatient tones:
"Very well. Since I can't dissuade you from your set purpose, I shall not bother myself any further about the matter."
She seemed to be very angry at the old detective.
He strode after her.
"Wait a moment longer!" he exclaimed.
"No. I have no more to say," she replied, sharply. "Don't attempt to follow me. If you do, it will be as much as your life is worth."
"Humbug!" he replied.
"So you doubt me, eh? Well, look behind you."
He glanced over his shoulder and caught view of the shadowy figures of several men lurking about the trees lining the street.
Old King Brady was astonished.
She evidently had a body-guard of watchful men.
"Who are those people?" he demanded.
"My friends," she replied, quietly. "If they saw you attack or follow me, they would put a sudden end to your career at long range."
"By firing?"
"Yes."
"Let me walk as far as the corner with you."
"Very well, Mr. Brady. I have no objection to that."
The journey was made in utter silence, and the old detective noticed that the shadowy men were following them.
When they reached the corner, Old King Brady glanced around, looking for Harry, who agreed to meet him there.
The boy was nowhere in sight.
Old King Brady then coughed and dropped his handkerchief as a signal.
For a moment there was no notice paid to it, but presently he heard a distant hissing sound of singular penetration.
It was an answer to his signal and meant that he was seen and understood.
With a satisfied feeling the old detective now said to the veiled woman:
"I shall leave you here. Don't think I am ungrateful for your kindness. On the contrary, I appreciate it very much. But my duty compels me to pay no heed to your valuable warning. I must run down my quarry. Good-night, madam."
"Good-night, sir."
He tipped his hat and strode away to the Walker House, where he was staying.
She stood watching him until he was several blocks distant and then gave vent to a low, peculiar whistle.
Instantly four men came gliding from the shadows, and grouped around her, as she started to walk away.
She was heading for the railroad depot.
When she was gone, Harry Brady slid down from the dense foliage of a nearby tree where he had been a hidden watcher.
The boy had seen the woman and her body-guard, and knew that his partner wanted him to shadow her from that point.
Accordingly he glided along after them.
Dodging from tree to tree, slinking along in the densest shadows and never exposing himself for an instant in a ray of light which would betray him, Harry dogged them to the railroad station.
He saw them purchase tickets and board a train.
Gliding over to the ticket office he asked the agent:
"Where did those five people buy tickets for?"
"Montreal," replied the man, "on the Grand Trunk road."
"Thank you," said Harry, politely.
And the boy ran behind a freight car to shelter him from the gaze of the passengers in the waiting train.
Finding an opening between two of the cars he peered through.
Directly opposite him sat the woman in black, with two of her male companions in the seat ahead and two behind her.
She was close to the window.
Just then she drew her veil aside and Harry saw her face.
A startled cry escaped the boy.
"By jove!" he gasped. "She's Clara La Croix, the girl smuggler!"
And so she was!
Young King Brady, of course, knew nothing about the dialogue which passed between his partner and the girl. But he felt pretty confident that Old King Brady did not know who the girl was.
Without the slightest hesitation Harry made his way unseen to the rear car, and boarded the train just as it pulled out of the station.
The boy wore a bicycle suit and a false beard.
He felt pretty sure he would not be known in this outfit, and passing inside the car, he took a seat.
The distance between Toronto and Montreal was about 350 miles along the Lake Ontario and the St. Lawrence river.
"I don't believe La Croix or his wife are in Toronto," the boy muttered, "for we've gone over the city with a fine-toothed comb, and failed to find the slightest sign of them. They must be either in Montreal or Quebec, for the girl is going to the former place. Miss Clara made a quick trip. She could not have been here long from Holland. And I presume she is laden with those diamonds she went after. La Croix is now doubtless scheming to smuggle them over the border into the United States. We've got to watch these people closely now. That Frenchman is a desperate man. We have seen that he would not stop at murder to attain his purposes. When I reach Montreal, I must telegraph Old King Brady to come on and meet me. He will be wondering what has become of me now."
When the conductor came through, Harry paid his fare in cash.
A short time afterward one of the girl's male companions made a trip from one end of the train to the other.
He sharply eyed every passenger on the cars and favored Harry with a particularly keen and searching stare.
It made the boy imagine for an instant that his identity was known, but he never flinched.
The man passed on, however, without making any remark.
It took fifteen hours to make the run, and it was three o'clock on the following afternoon before the train pulled into Montreal.
Shadowing the girl smuggler and her companions, Harry saw them go to a hotel, where the men left her.
While they went down to the Dominion Line dock, the girl passed into the hotel and Harry saw her go upstairs.
The hotel clerk, a dudish young fellow, was staring after her when Harry approached him and said:
"Deuced pretty girl that."
"Very," assented the clerk. "A widow, too!"
"Rather young to be a widow, don't you think?"
"Yes, indeed."
"What's her name?"
"Mrs. Marie P. Savoy."
"Been here long?"
"A week."
"Alone?"
"She came in on the steamer Dominion from Havre alone, but her mother and father soon joined her here. She went down to Toronto a few days ago leaving the old folks here. She's just returned."
"I see. I'd like to get acquainted with her."
"You may if you stop here."
"That's what I'm going to do. Give me a good room."
"Very well, sir. Got any baggage?"
"None, whatever. I came from Niagara in a hurry."
"You can have No. 37. That's right next to the one occupied by the beautiful young widow. Perhaps it may lead to your becoming acquainted with her as you wish."
"I hope so," laughed Harry, who was delighted at his good luck. "Got a telegraph station here?"
"No. But there's one across the street."
Harry went out and telegraphed to Old King Brady tocome and meet him in Montreal and then went to his room.
While washing, he heard the hum of voices in Clara La Croix's room, and gliding over to the wall, pressed his ear against the partition.
It was a hollow wall and nearly every word was quite audible.
The first thing he heard was a man's voice which he did not recognize, but presumed was La Croix, asking:
"Well, how did you make out in Toronto, Clara?"
"All right," the girl replied. "I found your four spies there. They report that the Custom House inspectors at Niagara Falls are on the alert. There has been a shaking up of the department. The Collector of the Port of New York is dissatisfied with the amount of smuggling that is being carried on, and made it very hot for everybody."
"That ees bad for us."
"Very. We'll either have to keep shady a while or play a trick on them to pass the diamonds I brought over from Holland. As there are $250,000 worth of the gems, you can't afford to have them seized for duty and run chances on going to prison for the job, papa."
"That ees a fact. It would ruin me. I'll have to think of some—vat you call—plan to beat ze Custom House."
"I've got some bad news for you, too."
"Vat ees zat?" asked La Croix, nervously.
"The Bradys are in Toronto looking for you."
The smuggler started as if he were stung and turned deathly pale.
A look of blank dismay settled upon his sallow face, his dark eyes sparkled angrily and he exclaimed:
"Parbleu!I thought zey was done for!"
"You told me how you had shipped them in a box."
"Zen zey have escape, eh?"
"So it seems. One of your men discovered them. Before I came here, I met Old King Brady in the street and warned him of the danger of following you up. He refused to quit."
"Zat man ees a demon! I weel keel heem yet!" raved La Croix.
"Look out he don't kill you," replied his daughter.
"What wiz him deed you do?"
"Left him in Toronto."
"An' he not know we ees here?"
"No. I'm sure he don't."
"But eet puzzle me to know how he learn we ees in Canada."
"He may have had some method of finding out those things."
"I wondair how from ze box zey escape?"
"I'm sure I don't know."
"Where ees ze four men?"
"Gone down to the steamship dock for my trunk."
"Zen zey come back here soon, eh?"
"Yes. I presumed you wished to consult with them and therefore ordered them to report here to you."
"So I do. Ve must vatch for ze detectives ver' sharp now."
"Where is mother?"
"Een my room."
"I'll go in and see her. I'm going to get rid of these uncomfortable widow's weeds. They were all very well as a disguise in which to travel in Europe and come back here, but I am heartily sick of wearing them. They make me feel so old."
"Suit yourself, my dear."
The girl then left her room and as there was no more to hear, Harry resumed his ablutions and put on his false beard again.
He kept a strict watch upon the smuggler all that day and saw La Croix hold a meeting with his spies in his own room.
The boy failed to overhear what they had to say, but that did not worry him, as long as he had his quarry under observation.
On the following afternoon an old farmer with a homespun suit, an old felt hat, and gray whiskers, arrived at the hotel.
Harry was standing in the lobby when he came in and recognized him at once as Old King Brady, but made no sign.
The old detective recognized the boy at the same moment, and calling for a room, he seized his carpet bag and umbrella, and followed the bell-boy upstairs.
Harry considered it safest to keep apart from his partner in public, and for that reason failed to speak to him.
When he afterward learned which room Old King Brady occupied, he quietly went up there and was admitted.
In whispers they explained to each other all that transpired and the old detective was delighted over the boy's success.
"So the mysterious woman in black was the girl smuggler, eh?" asked the old detective. "Well, I'm surprised."
"Her warning you, shows that she has some regard for us and don't wish to see us come to grief," replied Harry, sentimentally.
"On the other hand, it may have been a diplomatic move on her part to bluff us off until they smuggle that big consignment of diamonds over the border," replied Old King Brady, practically.
"Well, she didn't succeed."
"By no means."
"Have you formed any plan of action?"
"Only one."
"And that is?"
"To catch them smuggling those diamonds and arrest them with the evidence in their possession, which will send them to prison for many years," replied Old King Brady.
As La Croix's party did not seem to be in any hurry to leave Montreal, the Bradys had plenty of time to arrange their plans.
On the following day they went to the telegraph office and sent two messages, the first being couched in the following terms: