SETH STRICKET MAKES HIS REPORT.
At length, rousing himself, Old Spicer turned to Stricket, and said:
"Well, Seth, I suppose you have something interesting to tell us?"
"I have managed to pick up a little information," was the modest reply.
"Very good; let's have it."
"George has been talking about the seven handkerchiefs. He has told you that some, if not all of them, belong to women. I can tell you what woman one of them, at least, belongs to."
"The deuce you can! Who is she?"
"Mrs. Otto Webber."
"What! the wife of the cigar-maker who lives directly over the barroom?"
"The same."
"You are sure you are right?"
"I have positively identified one of the handkerchiefs as belonging to her. And more than that, I have discovered parties who are ready to swear that they have seen the cloth found about Mrs. Ernst's head in the possession of the Webbers within the past forty-eight hours."
"You are getting on fast, Seth."
"I am not through yet."
"Well, what next?"
"Stairs, you know, lead directly from the apartments occupied by Mrs. Ernst to those occupied by the Webbers."
"Yes, I remember."
"Well, Monday night Mr. Webber called on the murdered woman and informed her that he was going to leave her house, but had found another tenant for her."
"I know he did."
"He admits now that he stayed in the saloon for some time, and drank liquor with the old lady; but he claims that she was in the best of spirits when he left her, which, he says, was before ten o'clock."
"Does Bollmann, or any of the regular force suspect Webber?"
"Yes."
"Have they let him find it out?"
"Yes."
"Thunder! how far have they gone in the matter?"
"Both Webber and his wife were brought to the police office by Detective Brewer early this evening."
"Do you know what followed?"
"Chief Bollmann, Coroner Mix, and the detectives questioned Webber for over an hour, and then subjected Mrs. Weber to a similar examination."
"Hum! What did it all amount to?"
"Not much. One of the officials informed me that when Webber was brought to the police office the expectation was that he would not be allowed to depart again until a jury had pronounced him guilty or not guilty of the crime of murder; but after the rigid examination was over, the coroner decided that it would not be best to place him under arrest at present."
"Webber was allowed to go home, then?"
"Yes; but policemen were detailed to watch his house all night."
"Do the authorities know all that you know?"
"No. I thought it wasn't best to give anything away just yet."
"Right; but I hope you also established a watch on his movements?"
"You may be sure I have the right man looking after him. And he isn't the only one I am having shadowed either."
"Is that so? Who is the other party?"
"August Strouse, a German Anarchist, who, until last week lived in the house occupied by the murdered woman."
"And you have good reasons for suspecting this fellow, you think?"
"Yes. I think so. You see, Strouse did not pay the rent of the rooms he occupied, and was told to move by Mrs. Ernst. He moved, but swore he would make trouble for the old woman before he was many weeks older."
"Is he a single man?"
"No, he has a wife and two children, but is considered a pretty tough character."
"Has he a police record?"
"Yes; a few months ago he was arrested for theft and was found guilty. I have no doubt that a more careful search would show that he has been up for other crimes."
"What put you on his track?"
"I came across a reliable party who, after giving me other valuable information, told me that he saw Strouse enter Mrs. Ernst's apartments shortly before nine o'clock last night. He further said that Strouse entered the basement by way of one of the rear doors—sneaked in, as it were—and probably hid himself in the old woman's bedroom."
"Have you seen this fellow yourself?"
"Yes, I started out after him, and after a long search, found him in Fred Siebold's saloon on State Street."
"How did he act?"
"He seemed to have plenty of money and was slightly under the influence of liquor."
"Did you speak with him?"
"Yes, I questioned him a little, in a careless sort of way."
"What did he have to say for himself?"
"He denied that he was in Mrs. Ernst's place last night, and said he had not been there since last week when he moved."
"He said that, did he?"
"He did."
"And the man who claims to have seen him enter one of her back doors is perfectly reliable, is he?"
"He is; I'll vouch for him myself."
"It looks bad for Mr. Strouse then, it seems to me."
"That's the way I look at it. Indeed, I am confident that he knows something about the murder."
"You are having him shadowed, you say?"
"Yes, Ned Nugent, properly disguised, is on his track."
"Don't let him lose sight of him. This worthy anarchist may lead us to something."
"I've no doubt he will; and he may lead us to a point that will surprise you."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Simply this: Not long ago Mrs. Ernst was visited by her brother, August Tepley, of Oxburg, Bavaria. Of course he was hard up and looking out for number one, otherwise he wouldn't have come. By keeping at her, he at last succeeded in inducing his sister to loan him three hundred dollars, and he obtained a good knowledge of her financial affairs.
"It was commonly reported that Mrs. Ernst was worth at least $50,000, and that most of her money was kept hidden about her apartments. Her brother believed this. He knew exactly how she had left her property, and he tried to induce her to change her will in his favor. She did not do so, though I think in time she might.
"But the man was greedy and anxious. As I have just said, he believed the greater part of that $50,000 was in the house. August Strouse was also in the house. Naturally these two met."
"It issaidthat August Tepley went back to Bavaria, but I have had it hinted to me that he was seen only a few days ago in New York, and, indeed, even nearer than that.
"The other August, the anarchist, went down the road a few evenings since. You can put this and that together as well as I can."
Stricket ceased to speak, and there was profound silence in the little back parlor for some minutes.
At length George Morgan exclaimed:
"Thunder! gentlemen, this case begins to wear a mighty ugly look."
"There does appear to be something pretty black about it," mused Old Spicer, "yes, there does, for a fact." Then abruptly:
"What are you going to do for the next hour or so, Seth?"
"Get a little rest, if the thing is possible."
"By all means, my dear fellow. And you, George?"
"Can I be of any service to you, sir?" asked George, quickly.
"It is quite possible you can."
"Then I am going with you."
"All right. Seth, you lie down on this lounge. George and I will be gone about two hours. After that we will see what it is best to do."
"Very well, sir," and throwing himself upon the lounge, in less than a minute Seth Stricket was fast asleep.
A moment later Old Spicer and George Morgan left the house, and hurried out of Home Place.
HORRIFIED WATCHERS—IN THE TUNNELS AND VAULT.
"Where are we going, sir, if it's a fair question?" asked George, as they hastened up Court Street.
"To the Ernst House," was the brief reply.
"You expect to find out something there?"
"Yes, I expect to find out something about August Strouse, and I expect to learn something about that tunnel and vault from personal observation."
"Ah! you are going into it to-night, then?"
"Yes."
"But Bollmann's men are in the house."
"We must manage to hoodwink them."
"I don't see how it can be done."
"Nor do I; but we shall find a way."
At length they arrived in York Street.
"Now, then," said Old Spicer, "you have been over this ground."
"Yes," was the answer, "I think I know it pretty well."
"Then conduct me through the passage into the backyard of the Ernst House."
"This way, sir," and George led him through a narrow passage at the end of the brick block.
Presently they found themselves in the yard back of the basement saloon.
Old Spicer tried one of the basement doors.
It was locked.
He tried the next.
It yielded, and he entered, closely followed by George.
He led the way toward the room in which the trap door was situated. But in passing the bar-room, he saw, through the open door, three men grouped together in chairs, while a coffin, containing all that was mortal of Margaret Ernst, occupied the center of the apartment.
The darkness of the place was only dissipated in a small degree by an oil lamp, which burned dimly on the bar.
"Who are they?" asked Old Spicer, with his lips close to Morgan's ear.
"One's Cohen," was the answer; "another is——"
"Webber, isn't it?"
"By Jove! I believe it is."
"And who is the third?"
"I don't know; I can't see his face."
"Well, hark, then; let's hear what they have to say."
"Yes," the unknown was saying at this point, "it was the worst experience I ever had. I never want to be frightened so badly as that again."
"Tell us all about it, old fellow," urged Cohen.
"Well, you see, we had got the body in the way I hinted a moment ago; and in order not to attract too much attention, we laid it over on the back seat of the carriage, and my friend Jim and I took the front seat and drove off.
"By and by we came to a lonely road, leading through a piece of woods. As we entered the woods I thought I heard a slight sound just back of me, as of some one moving.
"Jim heard it too, and we looked back simultaneously.
"One glance was enough; then we gave a yell of horror and sprung from the carriage, Jim on his side and I on mine; and the way we legged it for the open country was a caution."
"Why," exclaimed Webber, "what the deuce was it that frightened you so?"
"Yes," added Cohen, "what did you see when you looked back?"
"See? We saw that confounded corpse sitting bolt upright on the rear seat, like any live man. And at the very moment our eyes rested upon him, he started forward, placing one hand on the front seat by my side, and the other on Jim's back, while his great wide-open eyes stared fixedly into mine."
"Good Lord! I should have thought you would have been frightened," exclaimed Webber.
"How did it all turn out?" asked Cohen.
"Why, this way," was the reply. "After running some distance, we stopped to consult. While we stood there, a man with a heavily-loaded wagon drove up and asked us what we were doing on such a lonely road at that time of night.
"I told him we were taking a dead body to the city for Dr. White, and that it had suddenly started up and driven us from our carriage.
"He said he couldn't swallow that story. We swore it was true. Then he asked where we had left the carriage. We told him about half a mile ahead. 'Come on and show me, then,' he said. 'I have a rifle and two revolvers here; I guess with those we are enough for one dead man, at least;' so we went forward with him.
"At length we came to our carriage; the horse had merely gone to one side of the road, and was quietly cropping the grass.
"The man took a lantern from his wagon, lighted it, and approached the carriage. Then we heard him laugh.
"'Come here,' he cried, 'and see what started your corpse to life.'
"We hastened forward, and saw at once that the dead man had not altered his position since we had so abruptly left him.
"Our new friend then pointed out to us how the wind had carried the ends of the loose robe in which the corpse was dressed on to the wheels. The motion of the wheels had then pulled the robe so that the corpse which it enveloped was raised to a sitting position, and at last drawn forward in the way I have described."
"And so—and so," murmured Webber, in a voice trembling with emotion, "and so you don't believe the fellow had come to life at all?"
"Of course not."
"I—I don't know. I've often thought—— Good Lord! what's that?"
The three men were seated near the foot of the casket, Webber having his back turned to it.
At the head of the casket was a window, and this was raised to permit the circulation of fresh air in the interior of the basement.
A lemon-colored curtain was dropped over the window to regulate the force of the wind that came through the aperture.
A sudden and powerful gust came through, and the curtain rustled against the window, making a noise as if somebody's dress was rubbing against the side of a wall. The sound had landed on the sensitive ears of Mr. Webber as if it had come from the coffin.
There was not a soul in the room at the time but the three individuals, and they had been whispering in low tones. It is no wonder, then, that Mr. Webber promptly concluded, from the direction of the noise, that it came from the interior of the coffin, or that the pale glamour which one sees on the faces of painted women under an electric light quickly drove the flush of health from his face.
Then he suddenly turned, half in despair at the thought of seeing some movement in the casket.
He noticed nothing unusual, but for a minute he kept his eyes fastened on the face of the murdered woman, and his imagination, wrought upon by the story he had just heard, led him to believe that her eyes were fixed upon him with a steady and stern expression.
He grasped the arms of the chair, and half-way started up.
At that moment a deep, hollow groan, which was distinctly heard by all, came apparently from the lips of the corpse.
Webber gave a yell of horror, and dashing out of the bar-room, flew up the area steps into the street.
The other two, after one startled glance at the corpse, darted after their fleeing companion, and never even so much as stopped to breathe until they were far down George Street.
"Now, George," said Old Spicer, quietly, "I think we shall be able to get into the tunnel and vault without being seen."
"No doubt," responded young Morgan; "but how about getting out again? In ten minutes those fools will have a crowd here to see the murdered woman's ghost."
"I shouldn't at all wonder, my boy. But never mind the getting out. If necessary, you know, we can wait in there till the crowd is gone."
"Yes, and all that time Stricket will be waiting for us."
"I fancy he'll sleep till we get back, even if it isn't till morning."
"All right, then, I'm ready to dive into the bowels of the earth."
"I'm glad to hear it. Come on. But, by Jove! I've forgotten my dark-lantern. What shall we do?"
"There's that light on the bar there."
"That'll do, bring it along."
"But what'll they say when they come back and find it gone?"
"No matter what they say. Most likely they'll think Mrs. Ernst's ghost has hidden it."
"By Jove! I shouldn't at all wonder," and, with a laugh, George entered the barroom, and securing the oil lamp, returned to the so-called reception-room.
Old Spicer now raised the trap-door.
With some little difficulty he climbed over the ash-heap, and taking the lamp from George, waited until he had closed the trap and joined him.
Then together they moved forward through the tunnel, which they found much wider and higher than the opening had given them any reason to expect.
At length, after walking some distance, they came to a door that closed up the end of the tunnel.
"Great Jove!" exclaimed Morgan, "suppose it should be locked!"
"I don't think it is," replied Old Spicer quietly, and taking hold of the knob he pulled it open.
The door was of iron and quite heavy, but it moved on its hinges with the utmost ease.
"Oh, ho!" said Old Spicer, "those hinges have been oiled, and that quite recently."
He then examined them, and found he was right.
The key—a large one—was found in the lock.
The two detectives now entered the vault, which they found, as Morgan had already been informed, was a very large one.
It was plainly to be seen that the place had once been fitted up for a barroom; but it was also quite evident that it had more recently been used as a secret rendezvous, and to some extent as a sleeping-room; indeed, there were sleeping accommodations for at least half a dozen men.
Old Spicer looked about him with a thoughtful expression of countenance.
"What are you thinking of?" suddenly asked Morgan.
"This place is deep down under ground," answered Old Spicer, "and yet men have assembled here and slept here. That they could not do without plenty of fresh air. Now the question is, how is the place ventilated?"
Morgan hesitated a moment, then he exclaimed:
"Why, by means of the tunnel, of course."
"What tunnel?"
"The one through which we reached this vault."
"Wrong, George; the trap-door closes tightly, and the tunnel has no aperture in all its length."
"Then I give it up."
"That won't do, my boy, we must find the opening."
"All right, sir," and George immediately began the search in earnest.
But Old Spicer had already started with the same end in view, and rightly judging that the most likely place would be about opposite the door through which they had entered, he began his examination there, and almost immediately found what he was in search of.
It proved to be an opening about a foot square, close to the ground, and was concealed by a fixed table.
On searching further, Old Spicer found, just in front of this aperture, a trap-door, which opened under the table, and could be fastened to it.
On lifting the trap a flight of five steps was revealed. These the two detectives descended, and immediately found themselves in another tunnel, leading toward York Street.
This they followed, and presently came to another door, which, with some difficulty, they opened, and found themselves in the sub-cellar of a spacious house.
"Ah, ha!" exclaimed Old Spicer, in a tone of great satisfaction, "I thought it would turn out something like this. Now let us make certain of the way out, and then return and examine the big vault more at our leisure."
"What's this?" asked Morgan, pointing to a small sheet-iron door.
"That must open into a coal vault, I should think," returned Spicer; "but let's see," and he opened the door.
A glance showed that the place had in fact been built for a coal vault, but it was quite evident it had not been used as such for a long time. It contained only a very high step-ladder, which was standing directly under the coal-hole, which was closed with an iron cover and fastened on the under side.
"That's our way out," said Old Spicer, pointing to the hole.
"But where will we find ourselves when we get out?" asked George.
"In the narrow passageway you led me through less than an hour ago, if I am not greatly mistaken," was the answer.
"I believe you're right, by Jove!"
"Yes, I think I am."
"Then that matter is settled."
"Yes. But hold up a moment, George."
TWO IMPORTANT AND INTERESTING CHARACTERS.
"What's the matter?" asked George Morgan, wonderingly.
"It strikes me," replied Old Spicer, "that there must be some other means of entrance and exit to this sub-cellar known to and controlled by the frequenters of the great vault."
"What makes you think so?"
"Look up there. What do you see?"
"Why, the coal-hole and its iron cover."
"Is the cover fastened over the hole?"
"Certainly."
"If any one has gone out by that way lately could they have fastened down the cover after them as we see it now?"
"Of course not."
"If any one expects to visit the great vault to-night, for instance, could they do so by way of this coal-hole?"
"Certainly not."
"Then isn't it evident that there must be some other way to reach the sub-cellar known to the frequenters of the vault?"
"It would seem so. And yet, if no one has visited the place since the murder the thing is easily explained."
"How do you explain it?"
"Why, the murderers possibly entered through this coal-hole, and fastened the cover after them. If so, they went on to Margaret Ernst's basement, through the vault and the other tunnel. They killed the old woman, and, as a blind, filled up the entrance to the tunnel with ashes, which they found close by, and then escaped, probably through her back-yard."
"That's all very well so far as it goes, George; but, unfortunately for your theory, some one has visited that vault since the murder, and they have neither entered nor departed through Mrs. Ernst's basement."
"Thunder! how do you know that?"
"By means of a piece of to-day's newspaper, which I picked up in the vault."
"Well, sir, you've got me this time, sure."
"You admit, then, that there must be another entrance from this side?"
"Of course."
"Let us find it, then."
"I'm with you, sir," and the search began.
It lasted close on to half an hour, when Old Spicer suddenly uttered a low exclamation of satisfaction, and Morgan at once knew he had found what he was looking for.
He at once joined the old detective, who silently pointed to a dark opening in the front foundation wall, below the level of the cellar bottom, and partially concealed by some empty barrels.
"What is it?" asked George, eagerly.
"Don't you understand?"
"By Jove, I do not."
"Well," said Old Spicer, "I can see it all as plain as day. That opening leads into an abandoned sewer, which is connected with a catch-basin at the next corner, where, undoubtedly, there is a ladder, or iron spikes are driven into the walls, by means of which those making use of this peculiar passage, enter the cellar, or reach the street."
"By thunder! this is a shrewder thing than the other."
"That's a fact; but unless we are driven to it, I prefer to use the other exit."
"So do I."
"Well, now that we know exactly how the land lies, let us return to the vault."
"All right, sir," and they hastened back.
On crawling out from under the table that concealed the trap, they began a regular and systematic search of the place. Not a bunk, not a drawer, not a box, not a corner was neglected, and before the search was well over, Old Spicer was abundantly satisfied with his success.
He had found several bits of evidence that were likely to prove important in more than one great criminal case; and behind a tier of bunks he found a door leading into a smaller vault, originally intended, no doubt, for the storage of liquors, but which for some time had been abandoned, and possibly forgotten.
"Ah!" exclaimed Old Spicer, as he surveyed the smaller vault, "this may prove useful, George, before very long."
"I don't see how," replied the younger detective, in a tone of surprise.
"If I am not very much mistaken, you will see, and that very soon. Hark!"
Morgan listened and distinctly heard the sound of footsteps in the tunnel leading from York Street.
"Go in there," whispered Old Spicer, pointing toward the smaller vault.
Then, hastily closing the trap-door under the table, he squeezed his way behind the tier of bunks, moved them back to their place, and joined George in the inner vault, leaving the door slightly ajar, and so was prepared to both see and listen.
Hardly were his preparations completed, when the trap-door under the table was raised up and a man, of no very prepossessing appearance, showed his head.
No sooner had he crawled out from under the table than another and younger man appeared.
"Shust help me out, Parney," said this last. "I've got my goat caught mit this hook here."
Barney unhooked his companion's coat and helped him to his feet.
"You thundering fool," he growled, "why will you persist in wearing that great, heavy, conspicuous-looking coat at all times and seasons of the year? It will get you into some cursed trouble yet."
"Ah, my tear Parney, dot vos a goot goats—it vos a perfect goats; shust think uf all der bockets, und vot er lot uf shwag I vos able ter garry avay mit 'em."
"Well, well, I see you're stuck on the blamed coat, and so I'll say no more about the outlandish-looking thing just now. But come, sit down there, and let's get to business."
"Vate a minute, Parney. Let's make sure der bolice hain't struck der blace since ve vos here," and the young Hebrew picked up the dark-lantern Barney had placed on the table, and disappeared in the tunnel, in the direction of the Ernst basement.
He was gone some minutes. When he returned he exclaimed, somewhat excitedly:
"So 'elp me gracious, Parney, dere vos somepody peen in der tunnels since ve vos 'ere pefore!"
"How do you know that, Jake?"
"Dot ashes; you remember?"
"Yes."
"Vell, it vos kicked apout like anything."
"Hum! then they've found the trap-door for certain; but they may not have come very far into the tunnel."
"Dey vos comed a leetle vays anyhow; I see der tracks."
"The deuce you say! Then they may come further next time."
"Dot's vot I vos dinking, Parney."
"Well, it isn't at all likely they'll come to-night, so let's get ahead with our business and then dig out."
"All right. You got somedings to trink, Parney? I don't feel shust right."
"Confound you, Jake Klinghammer, you are always sponging on somebody—if you can. Where's that flask of whisky I saw you take from behind McCarthy's bar to-night?"
"I didn't dake no vhisky at McCarthy's, Parney. I didn't, so 'elp me gracious."
"Well, you took something. What was it?"
"Oh! I remember now, Parney. It vos shust a leetle drop uv prandy—nodding more. I bledge you my word."
"By heavens, Jake, you're a pretty fellow."
"Dot vos vot my girl dinks."
"She's an excellent judge, no doubt."
"You shust pet she vos, Parney."
"Well, pass the brandy, and let me see if it is fit for a gentleman to drink. If it is, I may be induced to take some."
"All right, I give you a daste," said Jake, handing him the flask. "I vosn't so mean as you, Parney."
"Oh! you ain't, eh? Well, that's all right. Here's good luck to yourliberalsoul," and placing the flask to his lips, he poured about half its contents down his throat.
"Ah!" he exclaimed, as he set down the flask, "that's pretty good; must be some of McCarthy's best. Better get some more of it when you're there again. Don't forget, Jake."
"So 'elp me gracious, Parney, dot vos an awful cheek you've got."
"Think so?"
"Think so!" echoed Jake, as he put up the half-emptied flask. "Holy Moses! if I have dot cheek, I vos rich. I vould always have blenty ov 'prass' apout me, you see—ha! ha!"
"Well, I admit it has been of some service to me, and I fancy it will assist me through the remainder of my life—to a considerable extent."
"Dere vos no doubt of dot, you pet."
"Not much, I guess. But then, you know, Jake, I need a little cheek to travel with you!"
"By Father Abraham!" muttered Jake, meaningly, "I pet you need somedings after this, my poy, so it vas pest you look out."
"What are you growling about now?" demanded Barney, sharply.
"Noddings, Parney—shust noddings at all. Now vot you got to told me apout dot leetle schob down pelow?"
"A good deal, so prepare yourself to listen."
"Vill it dake a goot vhile, Parney?"
"Some little time. Why?"
"Pecause, I vosn't anxious to stay in this hole any longer than vos necessary."
"Well, the fact is, in order to act intelligently in the future, you have got to know exactly how matters stand at present."
"Dot fellow vos dead fast enough, eh?"
"Great Cæsar! yes."
"Und I subbose dot rich young duffer vos ready to bay vot he agreed like an honest man, eh?"
"Of course."
"Vell, vhat more do I vont to know apout it, then?"
"A good deal—if you have any desire to keep your neck from a hempen collar."
"Holy Moses! vhat do you mean, Parney, my tear poy?"
"Listen quietly, and I will tell you."
"Go on, Parney, I will pe dumb."
BARNEY HAWKS REVEALS A TERRIBLE SECRET—TRAPPED.
Old Spicer put out his hand and drew his young companion close to his side, in order that he might not lose a single word of what was about to be spoken.
He felt, and so did George Morgan, that they were about to hear revelations of the utmost importance.
Barney Hawks' first words, however, seemed a little foreign to the subject.
"Hand me that flask again, Jake," he said, in a tone of authority. "I must wet my whistle before I begin."
Jake took out the flask and passed it across the table without a word.
Barney took a liberal drink, and handing it back, said:
"Take a drop yourself, Jake, you may feel the need of it before I am through."
"So 'elp me gracious," muttered Jake, as he glanced at the flask: "it vos only a drop I could dake any how; dot vos all you hafe left me."
Barney seemed not to hear him, but hastened to say:
"You know the little trick we played down the road didn't work?"
"You mean putting der young station agent's pody on der track?"
"Yes; we hoped it would be supposed he had committed suicide, but as I say, our little game didn't work."
"How vos dot?"
"The engineer and fireman of the freight train both saw the body before they got to it; and while they couldn't slow up in time to escape running over it, they saw plainly enough that the man was dead, or at least drugged, before he was placed on the track."
"Dot vos pad."
"Yes; not only bad for us, but bad all around."
"What! do they suspect us, Parney?"
"No; but they are preparing to follow up certain clews that may, in the end, lead to us."
"Holy Moses! Do they suspect der rich young duffer?"
"Not yet. Just at present their suspicions point to another rich fellow; but they may come round to our man."
"Who's vorkin' up der case, Parney?"
"Nobody but Willett and Gaylord and a few common detectives are at it as yet; but I understand Old Spicer's going to take it up, and that's what makes me feel uncomfortable."
"Old Spicer! Father Abraham help us!"
"We shall need his help, or the help of some powerful saint, before we're through, I take it."
"I never quite understood the matter, any way," said Jake, in a thoughtful tone. "You asked me to help you with the job, and I did it. What did they want the young fellow put out of the way for, eh?"
"That's just what I was going to tell you."
"Well, Parney, drive on, vithout any more breface."
"All right! In the first place, then, you must know that several years ago a certain family, named Goddard, moved to Madison from New York. The father was engaged in mining operations in the Far West, and his family remained in the East.
"He had a beautiful daughter named Genevieve, who used to be rather wild, and furnished delectable gossip to Madison's staid matrons. She was not only beautiful, but vivacious, and when some young Hartford men camped out there, about six years ago, two of them—one a wealthy young fellow named Beach, and the other a rich gentleman whom we will call—Emory—fell in love with her.
"Now the Way family lived in Madison, and Charles Ives Way, who was then a romantic youth of sixteen or seventeen, had seen Miss Goddard, and, naturally, loved her—perhaps quite as much as either of the other gentlemen I have named.
"Genevieve had played her cards well, and had given both Beach and Emory, separately, cause to think that he, and he alone, was all the world to her.
"In carrying on her little game, she did her best to make them both jealous; but, strange to say, she never played them off against each other. For this purpose she always used to encourage Charley Way.
"Finally she carried things with such a high hand that, inside of two days, she had had fearful rows with both Beach and Emory; and in the heat of her anger she eloped with Way, and married him in New York.
"Just what Beach did I don't pretend to know. Emory went to her father and had a long private talk with him. The result was, her parents made her leave her husband, which, as I have an idea she never really cared anything about him, I suppose she did willingly enough.
"They took her out to Hot Springs, and while, no doubt, Way loved her devotedly, he never attempted to enforce his legal rights, and, so far as I know, never saw his wife again.
"Agents from her father, agents from Beach, and agents from our man, all in turn pestered him, and tried to induce him to get a divorce, as the woman had no grounds upon which to apply for one; but nothing they could do or say would induce him to procure a legal separation from her.
"At length our man became desperate. Mind! I'm not saying now that Genevieve ever promised, in case she should become free, to marry him; but I fancy he had encouragement enough to satisfy him, and he determined that she should be free.
"He sent another man to Way to reason with him. He tried other means, and when everything else failed, he sent for me."
"Und right avay, pooty quick, you sent for me."
"Yes; as soon as I had completed my bargain with him I sent for you."
"Und ve did de leetle schob."
"You're getting along too fast, Jake. First, we looked over the ground. Since his wife had left him, Way had gone into the railway business, and was now station-agent at Stony Creek.
"It so happened that I knew a party over at Leete's Island, close by."
"Peter Coffey, you mean?"
"Yes; and through him, without letting him suspect too much, we were able to learn a good deal. But, confound it, Jake, we have got Peter into the hottest kind of hot water."
"Vos dot so?"
"It's just so; and if we can't get at him, and fix matters right, he may let out something—tell of our frequent visits to his place, and all that."
"Py gracious! I hope he von't pe so careless. Put why do they susbect Peter?"
"For several reasons."
"Vell, vot vos one uv them?"
"A fellow named Howd claims to have been drugged, and robbed of forty dollars in money at Coffey's place, near the depot, several months ago. And then, as even you and I must admit, Jake, he is a pretty rough customer, any way."
"Yes, Parney; put all dot vosn't any evidence in this case."
"No; but you see we put the body on the track just at the point where a little path leads to Coffey's house. We ought to have known better."
"Dot vos so. I'm surbrised at you, Parney."
"Then it seems that he left a package of sugar in the depot, when we sent him there that night in order to make sure of Way's movements. And the morning after the murder, he was fool enough to go and claim it."
"Holy Moses! vot an innocent!"
"But that isn't the worst."
"Father Abraham! what else?"
"He came to the city after he had sent home his sugar, and he was heard to remark by two or three persons that he was with Way three minutes before the freight train went through, but that he would not tell anything more about it for a clean thousand dollars."
"Did he say dot, Parney?"
"So I understand."
"So 'elp me gracious! I will kill him before I am a tay older."
"Hum! perhaps that wouldn't be such a bad idea, Jake."
"I dell you, Parney Hawks, I will do it."
"I am perfectly willing, my dear boy."
"Dot settles it, then."
"All right. Do you remember that Clark that we saw with Peter two or three times?"
"Yes."
"Well, they think he had a hand in the affair. One woman, Mrs. Tyron, claims she saw him running down the street just after the freight train passed."
"Perhaps she did."
"Yes, and perhaps she didn't."
"Vell, let 'em think so, anyway. They may hang him if they want to: I sha'n't stop 'em, Parney."
"Nor I, either; but I reckon he'll get out of it easy enough."
"Has anything peen said apout der money ve found?"
"Yes; it is claimed that the murderers got away with one hundred and fifty dollars."
"Dot vos a mean lie; it vos only one hundred und forty-nine tollars und seventy-eight cents. Vere vos dot odder twenty-two cents?"
"You'd better ask 'em, Jake."
"No, thank you."
"By the way, where did you get the bottle of whisky you had with you that night?"
"Hum—I ton't remember, Parney."
"Think."
"I can't think."
"You must."
"Vhy?"
"They have picked up the broken pieces of the bottle, which, like a blasted fool, you left on the track near the dead body, and now they're trying to find the man who sold the whisky."
"They von't find him, then."
"Why not?"
"Pecause nopody never sold dot visky."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean dot I don't vos puy a tollar's worth uv visky in den years."
"Thunder! I might have known that."
"Of course."
"But where did you steal it, then?"
"I can't dell. In Shake Mann's, may pe."
"Can't you be sure?"
"Yes, Parney, it vos there. I remember now."
"All right, then. The place was crowded when we were in there, and among so many he'll never remember you."
"I'm villin' to pe forgotten, Parney."
"I should say so! And now about Way's revolver: you got that, didn't you?"
"Yes, Parney, I got dot."
"Where is it?"
"Right here in this vault."
"Where?"
"In my punk."
"Well, then, when we leave, you'd better take it away and hide it in a safer place."
"Why so, Parney?"
"Because, they're hunting for that weapon sharp, and it wouldn't do to have it found here, or on your person."
"All right, I'll dake it vith me, und hide it as soon as I get home."
"See that you do, Jake."
"I vill, Parney, so 'elp me gracious."
"Now, one thing more," said Barney, after a moment's pause, "and then we must be off. Have you seen Sadie Seaton since we parted last?"
"Yes," admitted Jake, somewhat reluctantly.
"She sent word to Hen about the old woman's money, didn't she?"
"Yes."
"How much does she claim the old gal had by her?"
Jake Klinkhammer hesitated.
Barney regarded him for a moment with stern displeasure, and then, in a threatening voice, said:
"None of that, Jake. It won't do, you know. You remember who first put us on the track of this affair, and it don't make any difference if Hen and his pal did get in ahead of us, they've got to divide; and you and I are going to divide whatever they pay us, mind that, my boy."
"Vell, vell, Parney, dot vos all right; we'll divy."
"Then answer my question. How much of a haul is it likely they made?"
"Sixteen t'ousand, sure, and maype twenty t'ousand."
"Hum, well, say sixteen thousand, that ain't so very bad."
"No, dot vos not so wery pad."
"It'll be four thousand a piece, you know."
"Und if it vos twenty t'ousand, vot then?"
"Why, then, I suppose we ought to give each of them an extra thousand, as they've had all the risk."
"Vell, dot vos all right, for then they vould hav' five t'ousand, undvewould hav' each five t'ousand, too."
"Hum, that's so; and five thousand ought to satisfy them."
"Py gracious, yes!"
"Where can we find 'em, Jake?"
Again the Hebrew hesitated. But a threatening look from Barney speedily brought him to his senses.
"Hen vos sthoppin' somevhere on Sixth Avenue, mit a girl," he said, hastily. "I don't vos remember her name. I vill ask Sadie."
"She wrote to him there, did she?"
"Yes, I dink so."
"Ain't you sure?"
"Not quite."
"How's that?"
"Dere vos von odder blace he had letters sent to somedimes. I vill find out dot blace."
"See that you do. And look you, Jake, may be it will be as well for us to pay New York a visit in company to-morrow. This town is getting a little hot for us, and we want money—want it badly; and we can see Hen and his pal, and make Emory meet us there at the same time—kill two birds with one stone, you understand."
"Yes, Parney, I dink ve petter go to New York."
"Well, then, that's settled. Now get your little gun and come along."
Jake started to his feet, crossed to the tier of bunks behind which the detectives were concealed, and began searching under the pillow of the middle bunk.
Presently he became greatly excited, and pulling up the bed itself, felt eagerly all over the bottom of the bunk.
"What in thunder's the matter?" demanded Barney, at last, impatiently.
"Py Father Abraham! dot pistols vos gone!" gasped Jake. "Dot vos vhat vos der matter."
"Gone? The devil!"
"Yes; und some uv my bapers vos gone, too."
"Papers? What papers?"
"Noddings put some leetle memorandums."
"Memorandums of what?"
"Of some moneys und jewels I hid in der leetle vault beyond."
"Have you got any wealth concealed in the little vault?"
"Schust a leetle, Parney—not much. It vos schust my share in der last boodle und der von pefore dot."
"Well, whatever it is, you'd better go and get it at once. If that revolver is gone, it isn't at all likely we'll want to visit this place again in a hurry."
"Dot vos so, Parney."
"Come on, then. Move the bunks aside. That's right—go ahead. I'll hold the light."
Jake squeezed his way behind the bunks, and throwing open the door, entered the inner vault, closely followed by Barney, bearing the light.
They took a step forward; but only to have the muzzles of two revolvers thrust into their faces, and to hear a voice, in stern and threatening tones, exclaim:
"You were looking for poor Charley Way's revolver a moment ago. Here it is! Will you have the contents now? You have only to move hand or foot, and they are yours, I swear it!"
"Old Spicer, by Jove!" ejaculated Barney, in a tone of chagrin.
"It vos, so 'elp me gracious!" groaned Jake, in a voice of despair.
THE SITUATION CHANGED—OLD SPICER STARTS FOR NEW YORK.
Barney Hawks stood just behind Jake Klinkhammer, and a little to the right of him.
As he uttered the great detective's name, the light he carried dropped from his hand and almost instantly expired, leaving the place in total darkness.
The next moment he grasped Jake by the arm, and whispering the single word "burrow" in his ear, slipped around the bunks and disappeared.
Old Spicer fired two shots and Morgan one.
At the second shot, Jake Klinkhammer fell, with a dismal groan. And hastily calling upon George to light their own lamp, the old detective stooped down to raise up the supposed wounded man.
To his surprise, he could not find him, and the lamp which George by this time succeeded in lighting, revealed the fact that he too had disappeared.
An earnest and vigorous search for the murderers was now begun; but after a quarter of an hour had passed, not the slightest signs of them had been discovered.
"Where can they have escaped to so suddenly?" exclaimed George, impatiently. "Surely they did not get through the Ernst basement."
"No, nor by the other tunnel either," returned Spicer. "There must be a secret passage we have not found yet."
"Well, what shall we do? They're gone clean enough by this time, that's certain."
"I'm not so sure of that," said Spicer; "but whether or no, there's one thing we'd better do while we're here."
"What's that, sir?"
"Find the Hebrew's stolen treasure, and in fact, everything else we may have overlooked in our previous search. Now that they have got away from us, and know we have discovered their secret, they won't leave anything here that we may pass over."
"That's true enough. But do you really think they may yet be in one or the other of these vaults?"
"I think it's quite possible."
"Then suppose only one of us hunts for the treasure, while the other searches for the murderers."
"Very good, which task do you prefer?"
"To hunt for the villains."
"Very good again. Only let me warn you, don't let them get a shot at you from some dark recess."
"I'll look out for that;" and Morgan recommenced his search for the fugitives, while Old Spicer began looking for Jake Klinkhammer's treasure.
He soon found it, and, to his utmost astonishment, found that it consisted of $13,782 in gold and national bank notes, and watches, diamonds and jewelry to the value of at least $5,000 more.
"A big haul!" he exclaimed, "and with the memoranda I found, I shall be enabled to return by far the greater portion of it to its rightful owners."
He then went over the two vaults, inch by inch, but discovered very little more of importance.
Then, as Morgan had found no traces of the murderers, he decided to return to the outer world, and, after a conference with Stricket, and perhaps with the coroner, to put in operation a plan that he had been maturing in his mind for the past half hour.
Morgan followed the old detective with some reluctance. He could not bear to think that such consummate villains as the two who had so cleverly eluded them, should be allowed to make their escape. But he was forced to admit that he could give no good reason why they should remain longer under ground, and so, slowly, he followed Old Spicer through the tunnel into the sub-cellar, and from thence into the coal-vault and through the coal-hole, and so into the upper world.
On emerging from the passageway into York Street, they saw a cab passing. Old Spicer immediately hailed it, and, when they were seated inside, requested the jehu to drive as fast as his horse could go down Chapel Street.
"Where to?" asked Jehu, curiously.
"Go till I tell you to stop," was the reply, and the horse started.
In front of the Western Union Telegraph Company's office, Old Spicer gave the signal to stop; and, springing from the cab, he rushed into the office, scratched thirteen words on a blank, and, handing it to the operator, said:
"Get that off at once. It's on a matter of life and death."
The operator took the dispatch, and this is what he read:
"Adam Killett, 300 Mulberry Street, New York:"Meet me at Grand Central depot on arrival of four-eleven morning train."Spicer."
"Adam Killett, 300 Mulberry Street, New York:
"Meet me at Grand Central depot on arrival of four-eleven morning train.
"Spicer."
"All right, sir," said the operator, "it shall go this minute."
"And mind!" said Old Spicer, "if he isn't at the office, as it's hardly likely he will be at this hour, have it taken to him wherever he may be; understand?"
"All right, sir; but I shall have to charge for sending the instructions."
"Charge what you have a mind to, but see to it that Mr. Killett gets that dispatch, that's all I care about it."
"He shall surely get it, sir."
"Thanks. It will greatly oblige me. Good-night," and hurrying from the office, he leaped into the cab, and calling out "Home Place," sank into his corner, and never spoke again till they arrived before his door.
"Wait," he said to the driver, as they alighted, "I shall want you to take me to the depot in ten minutes—come in, George, I want to talk with you and Seth," and he led the way straight to the back parlor.
Seth Stricket was still fast asleep on the lounge.
"Wake up, Seth!" said Old Spicer, giving him a vigorous shake. "You've had a long nap."
"What! back already?" demanded Seth, slowly raising himself to a sitting posture.
"Already? Why, man, it's all of three hours and a half since we left you."
"Is it possible!"
"It is indeed. And now, Seth, I want to talk to you. I have only time to say a few words, for I take the next train for New York—must start in ten minutes."
"The deuce! What's up?"
"We have learned that Mrs. Ernst's murderers came up from New York. Doubtless they have returned to the city again, and I must find them before they receive warning of my coming from two of their friends, whom George and I disturbed to-night."
"But did not capture?"
"As to that, George will explain when I am gone. But listen: While I am away, you are to bend all your energies toward retaking Barney Hawks and Jake Klinkhammer, and to find out who a certain Beach and a certain Emory may be, who camped out on the Madison sea-shore six summers ago. George will explain the rest."
"All right, sir."
"This treasure, George," continued Old Spicer, producing the Jew's boodle, "I wish you would place in the vaults of the Safe Deposit Company, as soon as they open in the morning."
"I'll attend to it, sir."
"Thanks. And now I must be off," and he started for the door.
"Stay!" exclaimed Stricket. "Supposing we should want to communicate with you, where will a letter or dispatch reach you?"
"Care of Inspector Byrnes, 300 Mulberry Street. If you want to get word to me, use the wires, and use them freely. Time is everything to us, you know. And now good-bye."
"Good-bye, sir, and good luck."
"Thanks, the same to you," and Old Spicer hurried from the house.
"Now, then, driver," he said, as he sprung into the cab, "I can ride as fast as your horse can go."
"All right, sir," and they were off.
Eight minutes later the indefatigable detective had taken his seat in the train, which was moving from the Union depot on its way to New York.
ON THE EVE OF A TERRIBLE CRIME.
Old Spicer and Morgan had hardly passed out of the tunnel into the sub-cellar, when the little flight of five steps, leading from the trap under the table to the entrance of the tunnel, was thrown forward, revealing a hole about two and one-half feet high by nearly three feet wide—a veritable burrow.
Out of this hole first crawled Jake Klinkhammer, and when he had raised himself to the floor of the vault, Barney Hawks followed him, carefully restoring the steps to their place, however, before he crawled out from under the table.
"Where is there another light, Jake?" asked Barney, "I broke the one we had, you know."
"Lemme see," mused Jake. "Oh! dere vos some candles in der lower punk, on dot side. You find 'em?"
"Yes," answered Barney, after feeling in the place indicated, "here they are. Now, have you a match?"
"Yes," and, lighting one, the Jew came forward and communicated the flame to the candle.
"Now," said Barney, "let's see if they have found your little boodle," and the two hurried into the inner vault.
A single glance was sufficient to inform Jake of his heavy loss, and a more unhappy Jew never cut a throat or relieved a poor widow of her hard earnings.
"Oh, Father Abraham!" he groaned, "I vos a ruined man. Vot schall I do? Oh, holy Moses! schust help me to catch dot tamned Old Spicer, und I vill not ask uv you one odder favor so long as I live.
"Great Aaron! all der hard earnings uv a life-time gone. I vos schust ready to lay me town und die. Yes, dere vos no use living any more."
"It is mighty hard, Jake, to lose all yourhonestearnings in this way," said Barney. "But cheer up, my boy; you've escaped with a whole skin, and we may live to get even with Old Spicer yet."
"I vould schust like to r-r-r-ring his tamned neck!" hissed Jake. "I vould schust like to trink his l-l-l-life blood!"
"You would like that, eh?"
"So 'elp me gracious, dot vould make me feel happy."
"Well, we will lay low for him one of these days, but just now we must see Sadie, and after we have seen her we must be off to New York."
"I vos ready for anyting now," sighed Jake; "I vos desperate!"
"That won't do, old fellow; brace up! There are plenty more yellow boys to be had where those came from. Pshaw! in another week we shall both be rotten with wealth."
"Maype so; I don't care."
"But you want to get even with that long, thin church-spire of a detective, don't you?"
"Yes, yes; und with der odder von, too."
"All right. Come on, then."
They descended into the tunnel, carefully closing the trap-door after them.
Just before reaching the sub-cellar, Barney came to an abrupt halt.
"Suppose," said he, "they have placed a watch at both of the outlets?"
"Dot vos schust vhat dey hav' done, ov course," responded Jake, in a matter-of-fact tone.
"Then, in the demon's name, how are we going to get out?"
"Give it op," returned Jake, indifferently.
Barney regarded his companion with a look of surprise.
"Thunder!" he exclaimed, "do you let the loss of a little money affect you in that way? Are you willing to die—to be hanged, just because a little bad luck has overtaken you?"
"Might schust as vell die as to pe vidout gold," answered Jake, doggedly.
"Well," said Barney, resignedly, "I see I've got the thinking to do for both of us, and I take it I can put you in the way of getting at least a part of your wealth back again in short order."
Jake pricked up his ears.
"How vos dot, Parney?" he asked, with some show of interest.
"You've got your shooting-irons about you, I suppose?"
"Yes."
"And that bloody knife of yours?"
"Yes."
"Then follow me and keep your eye open."
"I'm vith you, Parney, vherever you lead, so long as dere vos gold at der end uv der journey."
To this Barney did not reply; but starting on, he opened the door into the sub-cellar, and instead of turning either toward the coal vault or opening into the disused sewer, conducted his companion to the stairs leading to the basement of the house.
These stairs they ascended, but found the door at the top locked.
Barney at once took a pair of key-nippers from his pocket, and fastening them to the key which was in the lock, turned it, and immediately opened the door.
They then, cautiously, ascended to the principal floor, and from thence to the second floor, and so on, to the roof of the house.
Crouching down, they crawled along the roof until they had reached the particular house Barney had in mind, and here they stopped before the scuttle and attempted to raise it.
It was firmly fastened on the under side.
Barney promptly took two jimmies from an inside pocket of his coat, and passing one to Jake, directed him to insert it under one corner of the scuttle door, while he did the same at the opposite corner.
"Ready?" he presently asked.
"All ready," was the answer.
"Up with her then!" and both bearing down on the jimmies at the same time, the staples underneath gave way with the utmost ease, and the scuttle-door flew open.
"Dot vos all right," exclaimed Jake. "Now what next?"
"Listen," said Barney, "I have learned that in the room I am going to take you to there is a strong safe, containing at this present moment $33,500."
"Dhirty-dree t'ousand and 'vive hundred tollars! Vos der really so much as dot, Parney?"
"Possibly there is a little more or a little less; but you'll find I am not very far out of the way."
"Whose money vos it?"
"It belongs to the Eastern stock-holders of the Eagle Gold Mining Company, of Arizona, and has been sent on here to their treasurer and agent, Mr. John Marsden, to be used by him in paying their next quarterly dividend."
"So 'elp me gracious! I dink dey vill hav' to pass dot next dividend, Parney, eh?"
"It strikes me that way."
"Vhere vos dot safe?"
"Ah! there's the rub, and that's what I must fully explain."
"Of course."
"Well, you see Marsden and his wife occupy a sleeping-apartment on the second floor. Beyond this sleeping-room is another and smaller apartment, which is used by Marsden as a sort of study and private office, the only means of access to which is through the sleeping-room."
"Und in this inner room vos der safe, eh, Parney?"
"Exactly."
"Then ve hav' to go right py Mr. Marsden's ped, and run der risk uv wakin' him und his vife?"
"Yes."
"Vell, dot vos all right, if ve vossuredere vos dhirty dousand tollars in dot safes."
"There's not the shadow of a doubt of it. The money was paid to Marsden at noon to-day, or rather yesterday, as it is now past midnight."
"Put vhy didn't he put it in der pank?"
"He's a queer fellow—rich and very eccentric; has had a row with every bank president in the city, and swears that not one of them shall ever handle another dollar that he controls. He expects to take the greater part of the money to Meriden and Hartford to-morrow."
"Py gracious, Parney! ve vill safe him dot trouples, ha, ha!"
"We will try to, at any rate. And now come on."
"One moment, Parney. Suppose they should vake up."
"Hum, I wish we had a little chloroform with us."
"Yes, put ve ha'n't got von trop."
"No, and so——"
"Und so if either uv dem underdake to make trouples, vhy——"
"Why, you must silence them in the easiest way you can."
"Dot vos all right Parney—you shust leave dot to me."