"Gentlemen, you are our prisoners!" cried Harry.
The bursting of a bomb could not have startled the smugglers more.
With cries of affright, they glanced around and seeing who was attacking them, they were more startled than ever.
The detectives had grasped the wounded men.
Seeing their peril, the two uninjured Canadians rushed to the rescue.
With one accord, the detectives hurled their prisoners to the planks of the bridge and sprang forward eagerly to meet their foes.
The next moment the smugglers drew their pistols.
Before they could fire a shot, the detectives let their fists fly, and in a moment more a terrific fight was going on.
During the fracas Clara escaped.
Bang! went Old King Brady's powerful fist against the jaw of one of the villains, and it knocked the man flat on his back.
He was stunned.
As he fell close to the wounded man whom Harry had flung down, the old officer whipped out his handcuffs and linked the pair together.
Harry had kicked the pistol out of his opponent's hand.
The man now had to depend upon his fists.
Both he and Young King Brady met with a crash and were punching each other furiously when the old detective arose.
It was Jean, the one who had smuggled the diamonds over the border, and Harry was delighted over the discovery.
The young detective was a scientific boxer.
He warded off several heavy swings and gave Jean an upper cut on the mouth that split his lips open.
The man recoiled, but Harry followed him up like a bull dog.
He received a painful blow in the stomach, and caught Jean's foot as he aimed a swinging kick at the boy.
Harry clung to the man's ankle.
Giving it a jerk, he upset the Canadian's balance and Jean fell with a crash, and rolled over.
He was just going to rise when the boy pounced on him, and a fierce struggle began for the mastery.
Old King Brady would have gone to his pupil's aid had not the other wounded man drawn a pistol and opened fire on him.
A bullet whistled past the old detective's head.
He sprang at the man just as he was about to fire a second shot and grasping him by the wrist, turned the pistol aside.
The ball was spent harmlessly in the air.
Jabbering in French, the man made an effort to wrench the weapon free, but Old King Brady was too quick for him.
He brought down his fist on the rascal's arm.
The force of that blow was awful.
It numbed the arm and the pistol fell from his nerveless fingers.
The next moment Old King Brady's fist caught him on the nose, almost smashing that organ flat, and as the Canadian bit the dust, the detective landed on top of him like a tiger seizing its prey.
"I've got you now!" exclaimed the old detective, fiercely.
"Mercy!" groaned the man.
"Roll over."
"Yes—yes."
"Place your hands behind your back."
"Yes."
"Now keep still, or I'll strangle you."
Old King Brady tied the man with his handkerchief and rose.
By the time he got upon his feet, Harry had overpowered Jean and had the bracelets on his wrists.
"Victory!" chuckled the boy.
"Four," said the old detective. "That ain't a bad haul!"
"But the girl has escaped."
"Never mind, Harry. We are well paid for our work."
The shots, noise, fight and general excitement, had brought a crowd rushing to the spot. There was a policeman among them.
But they arrived too late to be of any assistance.
Rushing up to the Bradys officiously, the panting policeman asked:
"What's the matter here?"
"Nothing," replied Harry.
"Do you call that nothing?" asked the policeman, grabbing the boy.
"Here—you!" exclaimed Old King Brady, showing his badge. "Let go that detective and ring up the wagon so we can run in these prisoners. Step lively now, and don't try to be too smart."
"Detective?" asked the policeman.
Harry showed his badge.
The policeman wilted, and the crowd laughed at him.
Without a word he hurried away to order the patrol wagon.
It soon arrived.
The prisoners were lifted aboard and accompanied by the Bradys, were driven to the nearest police station.
Formal complaints were entered against the four Canadians and when they were locked up, the detectives departed.
In the street Harry said to his partner:
"After all, we haven't accomplished such a lot."
"Why not?" demanded Old King Brady, in surprise.
"Because we've only got Mrs. La Croix and the four spies."
"Well, ain't they valuable?"
"Of course. But they are of the least consequence in this case. We don't know where the diamonds are, and both La Croix and his daughter are yet at large."
"Oh, we'll find them before long. As for the diamonds, why, La Croix can't offer them to any big dealer in this city, Boston, Philadelphia, or Chicago, but what we will be informed of the fact."
"He hasn't made any effort to dispose of them yet, then."
"No. We would have heard of it, if he had."
"There are plenty of unscrupulous people who would buy them in small lots, and thus he'd gradually get rid of the whole lot."
"That ain't La Croix's game. He expects to save $35,000 duty on those gems, besides about $15,000 profit which he expects to make. He's got to do his work quick to gain his money. With a stake of $50,000 to work for, he's going to give us a hard fight."
"Of course. Can't you put the screws on the prisoners?"
"Make them confess?"
"One of the bunch might squeal."
"Perhaps, if we give them the Third Degree."
"Try it. They must know where the Frenchman and his daughter are."
"I shall. It's our only chance to locate the diamonds."
They went home and laid out a plan.
Before the prisoners were brought to court next morning, the Bradys appeared at the police station and had a talk with the captain.
He fell in with their views and said:
"You are at liberty to pump the prisoners here, if you can."
Accompanied by the doorkeeper, the detectives went back to the cell occupied by Jean.
The man was nervously pacing to and fro and glanced at the detectives with an ugly scowl, when they entered.
Pausing before them he demanded:
"Have you come to gloat over my misery?"
"No. We are not so cruel. All we want is some information."
"What about, Old King Brady?"
"The smuggled diamonds."
"And if I refuse?"
"We'll arrest your bride!"
The man turned pale, for the detective had touched his weakest point.
Grasping Old King Brady's arm, he said in appealing tones:
"Don't do that. She is innocent. Why drag her into my trouble?"
"She was with you when the diamonds were smuggled."
"True. But she didn't know anything about it. She didn't have anything to do with the work. I alone am the guilty party."
"That don't make any difference to us. If you don't make a clean breast of the matter, I'll pull her in. That settles it!"
The Canadian pondered a few moments.
Then he said with a sigh:
"Well, I may as well tell you La Croix has got them. You'd find it out anyway, the way you are following up this case."
"Of course I will. And what's more, we know he's got them. But what I want to know most of all, is, where is La Croix?"
"At the Astor House."
"Under what name?"
"His wife's maiden name: Savoy."
"Does Clara know it?"
"Certainly."
"Are any of the diamonds sold yet?"
"Not that I know. But they will be."
"When?"
"To-day."
"He has found a purchaser for the lot?"
"Exactly. They are to meet in the Astor House to-day at twelve and end the sale."
Old King Brady glanced hastily at his watch.
It was then half-past eleven and to reach the Astor House would take three-quarters of an hour!
Leaving the prisoner's cell, the Bradys hastened from the police station and hastily getting aboard a City Hall train on the elevated road, they went downtown.
"As it takes about three-quarters of an hour to get down to the bridge," said Harry, in anxious tones, "I'm afraid we will reach the Astor House too late to prevent the consummation of that diamond sale."
"Well, that depends upon how long it is going to take La Croix and his customer to arrive at a bargain," said Old King Brady, quietly.
He was not very nervous over the matter.
Taking a chew of plug tobacco, he settled back comfortably in his seat, drew a newspaper from his pocket and began to read the news.
Harry watched him restlessly.
The boy was very impatient.
"I can't understand how you can take it so cool," he muttered.
"What's the good of fuming and fretting? It isn't going to hurry us, is it?"
"No. But La Croix may beat us."
"Keep cool. The more you worry, the warmer you'll get."
That ride downtown was torture to Young King Brady, and there wasn't a minute he did not have his watch in his hand and kept counting the minutes as they slipped by.
It was with a deep sense of relief that he saw the train stop at the bridge and he was the first one off the cars.
"Quarter past twelve," he growled, feverishly, "and it will take us five or ten minutes longer to reach the hotel."
"Have patience—" began Old King Brady.
"Can't do it. Let's run, or I'll get wild!"
They made rapid time down Park Row and crossing past the post-office, they hastened into the hotel.
Going to the desk, they asked the clerk:
"Is Mr. Savoy here?"
"Yes. Room 76. Name, please."
"He's a friend. We wish to surprise him. Is he in?"
"Oh, yes. I'll send a boy up with you."
"Anyone call on him to-day?"
"Not a soul."
"Not a soul?" blankly asked Harry.
"Except yourselves," laughed the clerk.
Old King Brady burst into a hearty peal of laughter, but not at what the clerk said, for he was laughing at Harry for being so impatient.
The boy drew a deep breath and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
"Thank fortune, we're in time!" he muttered.
"You've had all your stewing for nothing."
"I'm mighty glad of it. His customer must be late."
"All the better for us. This experience will teach you a good lesson in our profession—namely, never to get excited."
"I'll try to profit by it," said Harry, quietly.
Just then a boy came running up and the clerk said:
"Show these gentlemen up to 76—Mr. Savoy's room."
Just as they were about to follow the boy, a tall, thin man, without whiskers, came along and seeing the Bradys, gave a slight start.
The Bradys got a good look at him before he turned his back to them and Harry clutched his companion's arm and whispered:
"By jove, that's Andrew Gibson, the Custom House inspector, in disguise."
"Yes," assented Old King Brady, nodding, "I recognized him. He knew us, too, I could tell at a glance. That man hates us. I wonder what he is doing here. Can he be after La Croix, too?"
Harry was startled at the very suggestion.
"He knows La Croix is a professional smuggler," he remarked, "and I wouldn't be surprised if he got on to the man living here. He may be trying to nab him as we are doing."
"He won't cheat us out of our prey this way, Harry."
Just then they heard the inspector say to the clerk:
"Send up my card to Mr. Savoy. He expects me. I was to meet him at twelve o'clock on some business, but was detained."
The Bradys darted startled glances at each other.
Gibson's remark exposed his hand.
He was the supposed jeweler with whom La Croix had been negotiating to sell the contraband diamonds.
The Bradys had arrived just in time to prevent this man from cheating them out of their legitimate prey.
Had they been delayed a few minutes longer Gibson would have had La Croix under arrest and the smuggled diamonds in his possession.
After all their arduous work, he would have stepped in at the last moment and gained the credit for the arrest.
It made the Bradys shiver to think of it.
Harry said to the hall-boy:
"Go ahead, as fast as you can!"
They hastened upstairs while the hotel clerk was writing Gibson's name on a card, and the boy knocked at the door of No. 76.
"Who ees zat?" demanded La Croix's voice from within.
"Boy, sir."
"Ah! An' vat you vant?"
"Gentlemen to see you, sir."
"Yes. I expect him. Wait, I open ze door."
"Go!" whispered Harry to the boy.
The little fellow ran downstairs.
La Croix unlocked the door and stuck out his head.
"Come in, Meestair Geebson—" he began.
And the Bradys interrupted him by rushing against the door; it hit La Croix on the shoulder, sending him reeling back into the room, and he gave a yell as the detectives dashed in.
"Par Dieu!Ze detectives!" he screamed.
Then he began to yell, swear, and rave in French, as he scrambled to his feet, and the officers made a rush for him.
"Ze Bradys! Ze Bradys!" he shrieked.
At first they imagined these cries were due to his excitement. But when he backed up against a door opening into an adjoining room with his arms stretched out, they saw through his purpose.
"Harry!"
"Well?"
"He's warning some one in the next room."
"I'll see!"
The boy dashed out into the hall.
Old King Brady had his pistol in his hand.
Taking aim at the man's head, he roared in stern tones:
"Drop on your knees!"
"Oh, don't fiair!" yelled La Croix, obeying.
"Raise your hands!"
"Sairtainly, Monsieur."
"Now don't budge, or—"
He made a threatening gesture with the pistol at the wild-eyed Frenchman, from whose face all vestige of color had fled.
"No! No!" gasped La Croix, imploringly.
Reaching his side, the detective handcuffed him.
Just then a boy knocked at the hall door.
"Who's there?" cried the old detective.
"Boy, sir."
"What do you want?"
"Mr. Gibson wants to see you, sir."
"Send him up."
"Yes, sir."
Just then the door between the two rooms was flung open and Harry strode through with a puzzled look upon his face.
"No one in here," he announced.
A pleased smile crossed La Croix's face.
Observing it, Old King Brady exclaimed:
"Your daughter was in that room, wasn't she?"
"She was," admitted La Croix, "but she hear ze attack and escape."
"You warned her by yelling our names?"
"I deed, Monsieur."
"Confound you! Where are those diamonds?"
"Clara has got zem."
"Don't lie."
"Sairch ze place an' you see."
The Bradys complied, but failed to find the missing diamonds.
"I'll go after her!" cried Harry, hastily, and he rushed out.
A few moments after he had gone, Gibson came in, and a look of mingled surprise, rage and jealousy crossed his face when he saw the situation of affairs.
"How are you, Gibson?" laughed Old King Brady. "I've got La Croix!"
"You've cheated me!" snarled the inspector, furiously.
"Bless your heart, you've got the matter twisted. It was you interfering with our game. We've been after this man two months. And you ain't going to skim the cream off our hard work, I can tell you."
"You lie, Brady—"
An angry light sparkled in the old detective's eyes at this insult and he doubled up his fist, strode over to the inspector and struck him in the face.
"Don't you dare insult me, you cur!" he exclaimed.
Gibson reeled back swearing, and seeing the old detective coming at him again, he rushed from the room shouting wildly:
"I'll pay you off for that blow!"
When Harry ran from La Croix's room, he passed Andrew Gibson in the hall, and smiled when he thought of the man's coming surprise.
Racing downstairs, the boy made inquiries at the different entrances to the hotel, for information about the girl smuggler.
A man had seen her go out the Vesey street door.
As he was interested in her pretty face, he watched her a few moments and had seen her go hurrying over to Broadway.
She had kept on the west side of the street and was evidently going downtown on foot in the dense crowd thronging the street.
With this meagre clew to follow, Harry hurried away.
"She had the gems," he muttered. "Perhaps she had an idea of selling them quick to raise money to aid her parents, both of whom she now knows are in trouble. She's a wise girl, and must certainly know that she would be helpless to aid them without money. Money will give her power. It's possible, therefore, that she's heading for the jewelry district, which is near by. As the street is crowded with vehicles and she'd have to cross to reach Maiden Lane or John street, she must have gone over under the protection of a policeman. He would remember her and might post me. I'll try all the big cops from here down to Wall street, if necessary."
Harry knew that the largest part of the time of these officers was spent at escorting people across the crowded street.
He therefore began with the policeman at Fulton street, giving him an accurate description of Clara, but the officer had not seen her.
On the corner of Dey street he met with the same result.
At Cortlandt street he gained a clew.
The officer there had piloted a girl over who answered her description and said she had gone down the Lane on the north side.
Harry hastened down the great jewelry center.
He scrutinized every one he met.
As a general rule, excepting girls who are employed in the business houses of the downtown section of the city, but few females frequent the side streets.
In fact, so few pass through these streets, that when they do, they are noticed by the numerous boys and business men thereabouts.
Harry was relying upon this curious, but true fact, to gain some news of the girl he was pursuing.
He therefore did not hesitate to ask everyone with whom he came in contact if they had seen such a girl as Clara was.
In some cases he received a negative answer, while in others, not a few people admitted they had noticed her.
According to the latter information, he traced her to Nassau street, and an Italian apple vender with a push-cart near the corner, said he had seen her turn the corner and proceed toward John street.
Following up this clew, Harry met a man standing near the window of a haberdasher's store who asserted that he had seen such a person go through John street toward Broadway.
He averred that she had gone into a building near the corner and pointed out the place to the young detective.
When Harry reached the building in question, he paused and studied the business men's signs in the doorway.
One in particular attracted his attention, worded this way:
"Cliquot & Co., Diamonds, Second Floor Front."
"Cliquot & Co., Diamonds, Second Floor Front."
A curious smile flitted over the young detective's face and he passed into the narrow hall and ascended the stairs muttering:
"I wonder if she's in there?"
In the upper hall he saw the name of the dealer in precious stones, painted on the ground-glass window.
Harry opened the door and strode in.
He found himself in a small office containing two huge Herring safes, guarded with burglar alarm cabinets. A long table covered with blue cloth served as a counter. Near the front windows was a bookkeeper working at his desk. At the rear a small compartment was partitioned off to serve as a private office.
A fat little Frenchman was behind the counter, but Harry did not see any signs of Clara La Croix.
A feeling of disappointment overcame him.
The salesman bowed, looked at him inquiringly, and asked politely:
"Well, sir, what can I do for you to-day?"
"Is Mr. Cliquot in?" asked Harry, in low tones.
The salesman smiled and shook his head.
"No," he replied. "He is dead."
"Dead? But the name on your sign—"
"Is only kept as a firm name. His partner is in."
"Are you the gentleman?"
"No. His name is Decker. But he is engaged at present."
"I wish to see him personally."
"Won't you sit down?"
"Thank you. I am in a great hurry."
"In that case, perhaps I can arrange an interview."
"I won't detain him a minute."
The clerk passed into the little private office, and Harry heard the low hum of voices. Then the proprietor said:
"Send him in."
The salesman reappeared, nodded, smiled and said:
"Go right in, sir, through that door in the partition."
Harry pushed the door open.
It was a small room containing a desk at which sat a bald-headed, little, old man with a mass of diamonds spread before him on the desk.
He had a magnifying glass in his eye, a pair of tweezers in his hand, and a small delicate scale in front of him.
Evidently he had been weighing and sizing up the stones.
In a chair beside him sat Clara La Croix!
As Harry stepped forward with a smile on his face, their glances met.
She half started from her chair, uttering a smothered cry of intense dismay, and her face turned as pale as death.
"Young King Brady!" she gasped, faintly.
"Clara, I've run you down at last!"
She fairly groaned.
Her defeat was hard to bear.
"This is terrible!" she muttered.
Harry pointed at the diamonds in front of the astonished dealer.
"Ain't those the smuggled diamonds?" he asked.
Before she could reply, Mr. Decker sprang to his feet, crying in alarm:
"Good heavens! Are these smuggled diamonds?"
"Yes," replied Harry, with a nod.
"No wonder she wanted to sell them so cheap!"
"Mr. Decker, I am a Custom House officer."
"Ah!"
"This girl is a smuggler."
"I see!"
"We've been on her trail since she brought those gems from Holland to Canada, and thence over the border without paying duty on them."
"The little wretch!"
"Are you a party to this deal?"
"No, indeed!" emphatically replied the dealer. "I'm a victim. She came in a while ago and said her father died, leaving a stock of diamonds to her as he had been an importer. As she offered to sell them very cheap, I was selecting a lot to buy, when you came in."
"I believe you, sir."
"I am a respectable business man."
"Oh, there can't be any doubt of that. This girl is developing into one of the most expert crooks in the country. For her own good it's a blessing that I've caught her before she gets any worse."
"That's a fact."
"Kindly gather up those gems in a package for me."
"Certainly. I'm glad you arrived in time to save me from buying goods of this kind. I have no desire to do any crooked business."
He made a package of the diamonds.
Harry then turned his attention to Clara who was weeping bitterly and said to her in low tones:
"There's no use playing the baby act. We've got your father, mother and the four spies. You and the diamonds are the last of the bunch."
"But I don't want to go to prison," she sobbed.
"I can't help that. You've broken the law and now you have got to take the consequence of your evildoing."
"Can't you let me go?"
"No."
"I'll give you all those diamonds if you do."
"My dear girl, I'm going to take them anyway."
"But I mean for keeps. They're worth $250,000."
"I wouldn't let you go for ten times that amount."
"Very well," she replied, despairingly, "take me."
"If you'll go along peacefully I won't handcuff you and I'll take you in a cab so people won't be staring."
"You are very kind. I'll do anything you ask."
Harry took the diamonds from Mr. Decker and ranging himself alongside of the girl he led her down to the street.
A cab was procured and they drove away.
After Andrew Gibson rushed from the room in the Astor House, Old King Brady walked over to Paul La Croix and asked him:
"Were you going to sell him your diamonds?"
"Yes, sair," admitted the terrified prisoner, "but, by gar, I deed not know zat he was wong Custom House inspectair."
"Well, that's exactly what he was."
"Hark! What eez zat?"
"Gibson in the hall, yelling bloody murder."
"Ze man ees crazy!"
Old King Brady was puzzled by the defeated inspector's actions. But he soon was destined to learn what the man meant by it.
His yells brought up a policeman at the head of a crowd.
"What's the fuss about?" demanded the patrolman.
"See this badge?" demanded Gibson.
"Yes. You're a Custom House officer."
"That's what I am. I'm after a smuggler."
"Well, what of it?"
"He's in that room. Just as I was going to arrest him a friend of his rushed in, armed with a gun and gave me a punch in the eye."
"I see he did."
"Well, I want you to arrest that fellow, so I can take in the smuggler."
"Very well. Come and point him out to me."
Gibson rushed to the door and flung it open.
Striking a dramatic attitude and pointing at Old King Brady, he shouted in ferocious tones:
"There stands the man. Arrest him!"
Old King Brady was astonished to hear this, and bristling up with just indignation, he demanded:
"Of what does this man accuse me?"
"Interfering with an officer in the discharge of his duty."
Instantly comprehending Gibson's game, the old detective burst out laughing, and finally asked:
"How did I interfere with him?"
"He was arresting yonder man, he says."
"Lock him up, officer!" shouted the inspector. "Lock him up!"
The policeman took a firmer grip on his club and made a rush at Old King Brady, whom he grasped by the collar.
"You're my prisoner!" he exclaimed. "If you resist, I'll club you!"
While this was going on, Gibson grabbed La Croix and dragged him over to the door, exclaiming:
"You come with me!"
He designed to arrest the man and get the credit for it, while Old King Brady was fighting with the policeman.
But his plot was doomed to dismal failure.
Old King Brady flung back the lapel of his vest, and exclaimed:
"Do you know I'm Old King Brady, the Secret Service detective?"
"What!" gasped the policeman, glaring at his badge.
"If you don't believe it, you can come to the station when I pull in my prisoner. That fellow is a Custom House inspector all right, but he's sailing under false colors. We were both after the same man, as I am working for the Custom House. I caught the man, and now he wants to take the glory of the capture. See through his game?"
The policeman did.
He released the detective.
Then he made a rush at the spiteful inspector, and poking and jabbing him with his club, he put Gibson out of the hotel.
The inspector finding himself baffled, departed in a fury for the whole crowd was laughing and jeering at him, and one of the spectators threatened to report his meanness to the Collector.
Old King Brady now seized La Croix.
Accompanied by the policeman he went to the Church street station and there met Harry, who had just brought in Clara.
The prisoners were put in cells and the Bradys departed.
Going straight to the Custom House, they were ushered into the Collector's room and gave him the details of their work from start to finish.
When Harry handed over the seized diamonds he was delighted, and praised the pair in the most glowing terms for their efficient work.
He declared that they had broken up the most dangerous gang of smugglers who ever infested the United States, and expressed his regret that he was unable to keep them permanently on his staff.
Gibson, he declared, would be dismissed in disgrace.
The detectives then went to Secret Service headquarters and reported to their own chief, saying their work for the Custom House was finished.
Soon after that the trial and conviction of the La Croixs and their accomplices took place.
It is safe to assume that they got the extreme penalty of the law upon the evidence furnished by the Bradys.
When they were disposed of, the Secret Service detectives returned to their regular duties on the force.
It was not long after that, when one of the most startling events in their lives occurred. This happened when they were detailed upon a Secret Service case. The adventures they met with were of the most thrilling description. Their lives were threatened by dangers, and they did some of the most marvellous work ever known in the department. But want of space here prohibits our giving the details in this story. We have reserved it for a new tale which will be issued in our next number.
Read "THE BRADYS AND THE RUNAWAY BOYS; OR, SHADOWING THE CIRCUS SHARPERS," which will be the next number (80) of "Secret Service."