IN THE WAKE OF A MYSTERY.
Old Broadbrim did not let the woman's warning deprive him of the
society of his friend, and some hours later he emerged from the house
with the thousand-and-one lights of London before him.
Drawing his collar up, for the night was cool and a brisk wind was
coming in over the waters of the Thames, he started back, intending to
walk to a cab station in the immediate neighborhood and from there take
a cab.
London was well filled, from what the detective could see, and some of
its inhabitants were in the same condition.
Every now and then he was jostled by a drunken man or woman, and in
some instances almost crowded off the narrow sidewalk.
Presently he was clutched by a hand and forced into the mouth of an
alley.
"Don't talk, for it's all right," said a voice which he thought he
recognized. "I followed you and I hope I've done no wrong, sir. The man
is still watching you, sir. I hung onto the back of the cab, sir, and
got a good jolting over the stones. But I'm here, sir, to tell you that
you're still in peril."
It was the same warning woman, and her face was the very picture of
starvation.
"Where is he?" asked Old Broadbrim.
"You can't see him from here, sir; but he's across the way near the
Star and Garter over there. If you look very sharp you may see a man in
the shadow of the place. That's him."
"What is he like?"
"He's a tall, slim fellow with the keenest eyes you ever saw in a human
head; but those eyes mean mischief and death."
"And you?"
"Oh, sir, I'm Mag of the Dusthole. I'm out for wictims; but I saw him
watching you, and I couldn't help wanting to spoil his game."
"You don't know him, then?"
"I know him, and that's why I want to bring his schemes to naught. It's
Jem--Jem, the Sydneyite."
"I have no such enemy by that name."
"Mebbe not; but he's watching you, all the same. He used to live in
Sydney, Australia, and----"
The detective started.
"In Australia?" broke in Old Broadbrim.
"Yes, yes. He came back from there a year ago, and has been lording it
over some people in London ever since. He's cool-headed, and has the
softest fingers you ever saw. Jem's a bad one."
"I don't doubt it. I'll see to him."
The detective pushed toward the mouth of the alley, and with a cry the
woman fled.
It was a strange proceeding on her part, but the detective did not
think anything of it.
Almost directly across the street stood a small, old-fashioned
tap-house, called the Star and Garter.
It was like many others of its class in London, disreputable from the
ground up, and he looked at it trying to make out the figure of his
enemy.
Half screened himself by the shadows of the building at the opening of
the alley, Old Broadbrim used his eyes to advantage, and presently made
out a form across the street.
It moved.
Standing still, he watched it saunter off, and at last it came toward
the alley on the same side.
The spy was coming to investigate, and the detective made ready for the
meeting.
The figure of the spy was tall and agile.
It came along the sidewalk and seemed about to pounce down upon the
American tracker with the greatest ease.
Old Broadbrim held his breath.
At the very mouth of the alley the spy stopped and looked into the
darkness.
He did not stir for ten seconds.
"Gone, I guess," Old Broadbrim heard him say. "It's too bad. I wonder
if the cat warned him. If she did, I'll throttle her and leave her in
the cellar."
With an oath the man withdrew, and in another moment the detective
heard his receding footsteps.
He was saved!
Old Broadbrim waited a while, and then slipped down the street.
He had eluded the spy, and now, perhaps, could get a better look at him.
But in this he was doomed to disappointment, for the fellow vanished
too quickly for him and he turned at last and went to the lodging he
had selected.
He thought of Rufus Redmond, or Merle Macray, who was on the high seas
bound for Australia.
He recalled every incident in the crime in New York, and thought of his
work so far.
The trail was growing longer.
It stretched across the great deep to a land still unknown, in part, to
the world.
He recalled the letter from Perth, and knew that beyond that faraway
town lay the deserts of West Australia and the wild tribes and wilder
animals.
But he slept at last, and in the morning awoke refreshed.
He was at breakfast in a little chop-house near the inn when some one
came in, and took a seat beside him.
He looked and saw that it was Owens, the Scotland Yarder.
"I have news for you," cried Owens. "There's a steamer going to sail
for Sydney this afternoon."
Old Broadbrim gave utterance to an exclamation of joy.
"I don't think they really want any passengers, for it is a private
expedition conducted by Lord Harway, but you might see him."
"I'll do that, and if money or _finesse_ will get me a berth on the
vessel I am off to-day."
Old Broadbrim finished his breakfast in a jiffy, and before the hour
ended he stood in Lord Harway's private office.
The story he told, one not connected with a chase after a murderer,
enlisted his lordship's sympathies, and at the close of it the
detective was told that he could have a berth on board the yacht
_Maybloom_, one of the fastest vessels of the kind afloat.
Once more he was in luck, and there was some hope of beating Merle
Macray to Melbourne.
Old Broadbrim had few preparations to make, and by the time he was
through the yacht was ready to sail.
As he stepped aboard he glanced toward the dock, and caught sight of a
figure that startled him.
It was the man of the previous night--the spy who had tracked him to
the mouth of the alley.
He had not abandoned the chase, but had tracked him to the yacht, and
knew that he was bound for Australia.
Old Broadbrim, however, did not hesitate.
He went quietly to the little room assigned him and shut himself in.
He had taken passage under the name of Logan Lane, and as such was
known to Lord Harway.
In a little while he heard his name called in the corridor beyond his
door, and upon going out he found his lordship there.
"We are off," said the Englishman, with delight. "The _Maybloom_ is
cutting the water like a knife, and I want you to come up on deck and
look at her."
Old Broadbrim ascended to the main deck and looked at the receding city.
Lord Harway handed him his glass, and the detective put it to his eager
eyes.
He scanned the crowds on the pier, and suddenly found the man he had
seen on two occasions within the past twenty-four hours.
He was looking at the yacht with expressions of chagrin, and the
detective could see that he was bitterly disappointed.
He had escaped him, and when he thought of the threat he had breathed
against Mag of the Dusthole, he feared for her safety.
As long as he held the glass to his eyes he could see the man watching
the _Maybloom_, and at last he turned away confident that he had
outwitted Merle Macray's spy.
Now the ocean lay before him and in a few days he would be in Sydney,
ready for the task before him.
Old Broadbrim found the occupants of the yacht the best of companions,
and at times his conscience rebelled against the deception he was
playing, but he promised himself that some day he would explain all to
Lord Harway and beg his pardon.
The _Maybloom_ proved to be a splendid sailer, and day after day was
passed on deck.
It was a long voyage and one without incident to our old friend the
detective.
When at last the headland of Australia hove in sight, there was some
stir on board and the _Maybloom_ came to anchor in the spacious harbor.
They had passed several vessels bound different ways on the high seas,
but, so far as the detective could make out, none of these was the
_Intrepid_.
Merle Macray was ahead of him and he did not expect to beat him to
Melbourne.
In Sydney Old Broadbrim went at once to the hotel and put up.
He changed his garments and washed, and then came out on the street to
find out when he could get a vessel to Melbourne.
Luck favored him again, and he learned that early the following morning
he could take passage in a coaster for the capital of Victoria.
The day was spent in looking around Sydney and passing the time as best
he could.
Old Broadbrim was soon up the next day and went on board the coaster in
which he had secured passage.
In Melbourne he went direct to the house of the chief of police, but
that official was not in the city.
Old Broadbrim went back to the wharf and stood watching a splendid
vessel just coming in.
Something seemed to thrill him while he watched the craft which
majestically rode the waves, and all at once he uttered a little
exclamation of joy.
It was the _Intrepid_!
After all he had beaten his quarry to Melbourne.
Merle Macray, thanks to an accident to the vessel in mid-ocean, as Old
Broadbrim afterward learned, was delayed, and he now came in a little
behind time, but in time for him to spot his man.
Well concealed, he watched the passengers as they came over the planks
to the pier, and every one was closely scrutinized.
"What's become of him?" cried Old Broadbrim, as the last one stepped
upon the quay. "Did the ocean get him? Have I lost my man and justice
her prey?"
He was nonplused, for no one answering the description of the
_Cunarder's_ passenger had landed from the _Intrepid_ in Melbourne.
"But he's there. I'll bet my head on it!" said Old Broadbrim, as he
turned away.