A GOOD NIGHT’S WORK
In record time the little machine drew up before a substantial building
located in one of the residential sections of town.
Alighting, the three men proceeded at once to awaken the government
agent. But it was ten minutes before they succeeded in gaining entrance
into the building and were ushered into the beautiful library by Mr.
Southwick himself.
As chief of the local division of the Department of Justice--that
great department at Washington which fought the agents and spies that
Germany had placed in America--Mr. Southwick had distinguished himself
during the war in his own state, and indeed his name was a familiar one
throughout the whole Southwest.
A large man physically, he towered well over six feet as he stood
before his three nocturnal visitors, clad in a dressing-gown of
variegated pattern. A glance at the man revealed the secret of his
success. Strength and determination were written in every feature of
his massive leonine countenance. His piercing gray eyes were set deeply
in his head, which was crowned with a shaggy mane of iron-gray hair.
It was plain to the beholder that this man was to be respected as a
friend, to be feared as a foe. Obviously, he was one of those mortals
who seemed destined to be a power in any field in which he chose to
turn his abilities.
When America was finally drawn into the Great War, it was he who was
appointed by the government to fight the enemy’s propaganda in the
border states. The appointment was in itself a high tribute to the man,
for on every side his post was recognized as one of the most difficult
that the country afforded. His name had become a terror to the few
enemy sympathizers who were left in the state, and his reputation
sufficed to keep these few from any overt acts of destruction.
Motioning Danny and O’Hara to a seat, he turned to the policeman and
went at once to the heart of the matter:
“I suppose something extremely important must have induced this
midnight call. I am ready to hear you.”
The policeman pointed a finger toward O’Hara and said:
“This gentleman is the one to tell you about it.”
Mr. Southwick turned toward O’Hara with a look of inquiry.
O’Hara met it squarely. Then, searching a moment for words to put the
matter succinctly, he said:
“Mr. Southwick, I have evidence in hand which shows that you are
harboring a traitor in your midst. You may know the man. His name is
Brown--owner of a big ranch near the city. Without telling the story of
how I happened to get there, I’ll simply say that I finally managed to
escape with these papers. I arrived in Albuquerque about an hour ago
with my nephew here, and we decided to come to you immediately. Here
are the papers. I think they will establish the truth of what I have
just been saying.”
The chief reached for the bundle of papers, but said nothing, nor
indeed were the onlookers able to discern any expression of surprise on
his face as he listened to O’Hara’s disclosure.
He untied the papers, and spreading them out on the desk at which he
sat, he glanced through them hurriedly. When he again looked up, Danny
and O’Hara could see that he had already arrived at a decision.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “this bundle of papers contains enough evidence
to put a dozen men in the penitentiary if we can lay our hands on them.
We must immediately gather in as many of these traitors as we can.
Burns,” he addressed the policeman, “go out and locate every detective
and officer that you can. Have them meet at my residence in half an
hour. There’s not a minute to be lost. I will get in touch with several
men from my own office. In thirty-five minutes exactly we will start
for Brown’s ranch with as much of a force as we can organize.”
“Sooner if possible, Chief,” suggested Danny. “We left the ranch almost
two hours ago, and something was in the wind then. It looked like they
were planning to leave. They may be gone now.”
Burns had left to do Mr. Southwick’s bidding, and the next half hour
sped by in hurried preparation.
From time to time a new arrival swelled the little group of men who
were waiting patiently for the minute of departure. Burns was evidently
successful in rounding up his men.
Finally, five minutes before the time of departure, two big motor cars
rolled around the corner and stopped in front of the house. A moment
later, Burns came up the steps, puffing from his exertions.
Mr. Southwick appeared, and after assuring himself that every man in
the party was fully armed, he led the way to the waiting automobiles.
The two men at the wheel, who were members of Mr. Southwick’s office,
appeared to have received their instructions already. Doubtless, their
chief had informed them of the nature of the job to be done.
Danny and O’Hara were loath to leave Mr. Southwick and his aids, now
that the expedition was about to set out. So, after a hurried word
with the government official, they again boarded Mary Louise’s little
machine and started with the others for the distant ranch.
For a considerable distance, the three machines sped over the road
that Danny and O’Hara had already traveled earlier in the night. To
prevent the quarry from escaping, in case the pursuit were discovered
prematurely, Mr. Southwick decided to steer a course far to the
southward. About five miles from the ranch a wide detour was made, and
after an hour of rapid driving over bumpy, dusty roads, the party drew
up and halted at a signal from the leading machine.
Gathering the force around him, Mr. Southwick said:
“Now, men, I hardly need to tell you that this venture is a dangerous
one. We are dealing with desperadoes, and they will fight for their
lives. I have been thinking over a plan of action, and I think the
best thing to do is to divide ourselves into three groups. Burns,
you will command the first group, and when we get within a half
mile of the ranch, you will turn to the left and approach from that
direction. Maitland, I’ll put you in with Mr. Dexter and Mr. O’Hara.
You three will take your position on the right. I’ll take the center
and go straight north. If escape is attempted, you must shoot. Under
no circumstances must we allow these traitors to escape. Shoot, if
necessary. Take no chances, but be sure that bullets are necessary
before you start in. Each man will have to take care of himself. And
remember, no matter what happens, you are doing no more than any loyal
American citizen is expected to do.”
Approval was written on the faces of the assembled men, and when Mr.
Southwick put the question, “Is everybody ready?” their response was
unanimous.
A moment later and the three machines were again in motion.
The ranch was now very near. The moon shone down with crystalline
clearness as the various buildings, separating themselves from the
background, appeared to the spectator only as towering black objects.
“Spread apart, men!” commanded the leader of the party.
Instantly the machines in command of Burns and Maitland swerved in
opposite directions.
Danny was at the wheel of Maitland’s machine. Knowing the lay of the
land, he put on full speed, and was soon leading the others by a
comfortable margin.
As their machine bore down on the ranch, Danny and O’Hara realized that
their course would bring them just to the rear of the Brown bungalow.
Closer and closer drew the raiding party.
Suddenly, as their eyes were fixed on the prospect ahead, the sleeping
camp seemed roused to activity. Silhouetted figures dashed here and
there. It was evident that the noise of the oncoming cars had been
heard and the alarm sounded.
The first clear indication of this came in Danny’s quarter.
Before the three men had time to form a definite plan, a loud chugging
announced the presence of Brown’s huge car in the immediate vicinity.
Evidently the occupants of the camp had determined on flight, and, even
now, were prepared to dash for the open.
Suddenly the big car rounded the corner of the bungalow, and instantly
picking up speed, darted away to the southward.
“Stop that car!” shouted Maitland. “Shoot low! Don’t let him get away!
Aim for the tires.”
A fusillade of shots rang out as O’Hara and Maitland poised their
rifles an instant and started to pump bullets at the dark retreating
mass.
Another volley, and another.
There was a sudden snap as a bullet found its way into one of the rear
tires of Brown’s car. Then a baffled cry of rage rose on the air.
Swinging the little machine around at an abrupt angle, Danny started
toward the other car, now arrested in its flight. As he pulled up a
short distance away, a shot rang out and he heard the whistle of lead
as it winged its way past his left ear.
“Down, men!” he shouted. “Crouch down!” And suiting the action to the
word, the three men sought protection in the depths of the machine.
As they were preparing to return the fire, they heard the noise of
Mr. Southwick’s machine as it approached from the opposite side. That
redoubtable official had heard the sound of the shots, and as he came
up, he took in the situation at a glance.
“Surrender!” he called out. “Surrender in the name of the Government of
the United States!”
What feelings that voice inspired in the hearts of Brown and his
confederates may never be known. But it must have sounded to them like
the voice of doom, for now their consciences must have told them that
retribution was at hand. They had dared to be traitors, and had sought
to betray a great free country. For gold, they had sacrificed honor and
respect, and now, gold had failed them, as gold always does.
Again Mr. Southwick’s voice boomed out:
“Do you surrender?”
There was no answer, but three dark figures stepped from the car, and
with hands raised high in the air, moved into the open.
Instantly, Mr. Southwick, attended by the men in his car, moved forward
to meet them. O’Hara and Maitland, followed by Danny, also joined the
group.
His features distorted with hate and chagrin, Brown stood before the
stern government official. At his side stood Tom Whalen, sullenly
defiant, and Jo, the little Jap chauffeur, who, with oriental calmness
and imperturbability, surveyed his captors without moving an eyelash.
In the meantime, the third machine had already reached the ranch.
Jumping from their machine, Burns and his companions quickly searched
the outbuildings of the ranch, and finding nothing of consequence, sat
down to await the arrivals of the others. While they were thus engaged,
the sound of purring automobiles in the distance suddenly ceased, and
the sound of shots, carried on the still night air, fell on their ears.
Instantly alert, and without waiting to start their car again, the four
members of the party rushed across the ranch in the direction of the
firing. As they swung around the corner of the bungalow, they were
astonished at the spectacle that confronted them.
Three menacing revolvers were pointed at Brown and his companions,
who had been marched to the side of the bungalow at Mr. Southwick’s
direction. There, arms in air, they stood, uneasily moving from side to
side as they awaited the further commands of the government official.
With a hurried “At your service, sir,” Burns and the three detectives
joined their superior.
“Search these fellows!” commanded Mr. Southwick.
The men jumped forward, and while leveled revolvers continued to insure
the good behavior of the three captives, Burns and his agile-fingered
helpers went to work, turning their pockets inside out, and removing
everything that they came across.
In a few minutes they had exposed a veritable arsenal--revolvers, a
half dozen boxes of bullets, wicked-looking knives, and a considerable
amount of American and Mexican money. Brown’s inside pocket yielded
a bulky packet of papers, and this was immediately placed in Mr.
Southwick’s keeping.
While this scene was being enacted, Danny and O’Hara, accompanied by
Maitland, had conducted a search of Brown’s automobile. Nothing was
found in the front part of the machine, but under the tonneau seat a
heavy wooden chest was revealed, locked and bolted on three sides.
After they had transferred this to Mr. Southwick’s car, they returned
to the group by the bungalow.
The eastern sky was now shot with faint streaks of light, which
proclaimed the coming of dawn. Now, for the first time, it would be
possible to make a thorough search of the premises.
As O’Hara came up, Brown glared at him as though seeing him for the
first time since the arrival of the raiding party.
“So you’re the informer, are you?” he said, wrathfully. “A fine
patriot you are! Your friends must be pretty bad off to get help from
criminals.”
O’Hara was about to reply, when Mr. Southwick turned to the German, and
said, acidly:
“You’ll have plenty of opportunity to talk later, Brown. Just now, what
we want from you is information. I have evidence that your wife was
here last night. Where is she now? Speak the truth. Where is she?”
A sneer passed over the cold face of the man.
“If it will do you any good to know,” he said, “she is in Mexico by
this time. Perhaps you’d like to catch her, too, eh? Yes, and maybe the
Mexicans will help you. Suppose you try?”
Doubtless the man spoke the truth.
The stately woman whose beauty had so impressed O’Hara on his arrival
at the ranch, was nowhere to be found. By this time the bungalow and
its adjacent buildings had already been searched by the busy men.
O’Hara turned to Danny, who was standing at his side, and said in low
voice:
“I can’t say that I am sorry for that, Danny. This is a terrible
situation for a woman to be mixed up in, and somehow, I hate to see a
woman in trouble even when she deserves it.”
Danny gave a nod of approval.
“That’s right, Uncle Jim,” agreed the young man. “I know exactly how
you feel. I think every real man feels the same way. Somehow, we hate
to think that a beautiful woman could be mixed up in anything so
disagreeable as this. Well, we’ve got this man Brown, anyway, and he’s
the real power behind the throne. At least, I think so.”
Meantime, Mr. Southwick was receiving reports from the detectives who
were searching every nook and corner of the ranch.
“The ranch is deserted, sir,” said one of the detectives who had come
down in Burns’s car. “We’ve gone over every shack on the place with a
fine-tooth comb, and everything is just about cleaned out.”
Mr. Southwick turned to O’Hara.
“By the way, you mentioned something in my library about being locked
up in a subterranean cavern. You said something about a safe being
there, filled with documents of all kinds. Do you know how to reach it?”
“Yes,” replied O’Hara. “It is right under that big gasoline tank over
there. There’s a secret trap-door, but Brown and his tools here are the
only ones who know how to work the combination.”
Glancing at the three captives, Mr. Southwick’s eyes fell on the little
Jap chauffeur.
“Come here, Togo,” he commanded.
The Jap obeyed with alacrity.
“I want you to show these men how to open that door. Understand?”
The little yellow man instantly donned a servile manner, as though he
realized that the overlordship of Brown was over, and new masters must
now be served.
Leading the way to the tank, he descended into the huge hollow, closely
followed by O’Hara and two of the other men.
After they had made their way to the farther end of the tank, the Jap
suddenly stooped and touched something that seemed to be one of the
rivets that held the giant steel tank together. Instantly the steel
walls moved as O’Hara had seen them do earlier, and the aperture
leading to the cave opened up directly in front of them. The men
marvelled at the ingenuity which had devised this hidden retreat.
O’Hara was the first to file through the opening and descend into the
depths of the cave.
“You next!” said one of the detectives to the Jap, as the latter was
edging to one side.
The oriental obeyed without a word, followed by the two detectives.
It was several minutes before the men were able to make out their
surroundings in the dim light of the gloomy interior.
After O’Hara had ushered the men over the cave, and had shown them the
huge concrete emplacement rising to a height of fully twenty feet,
he led the way to the bulky safe which stood in the same position as
before.
“Get to work, Jo, and open this up!” commanded O’Hara.
The Jap was at the side of the safe and turning the dial almost before
the command was given. Finally, with a vigorous pull, the huge steel
doors were forced out, and the interior of the safe was revealed.
Empty! Not a sheet of paper remained.
“They’ve stolen a march on us!” exclaimed one of the detectives in a
disappointed tone.
“I’m not so sure of that,” said O’Hara.
He cast a look in the direction of the Jap, who stood by, as silent and
inscrutable as the race from which he sprang.
“Where are all the papers that were here, Jo? You might as well tell
us.”
“Papers?” he questioned, blankly.
“Yes, papers,” countered O’Hara. “The same papers that were here when
you came down into the cave with that Irish detective from the city.
Don’t you remember?”
Did the Jap’s eyes suddenly turn downward under O’Hara’s steady
scrutiny? It was hard to tell in the gloom of the cave, but he uttered
a quick “Yes, yes!” of dismay, and said in liquid tones:
“Papers! Yes, I know. Papers in Mr. Brown’s automobile. You find them
in box. Mr. Brown take away.”
O’Hara turned to the detectives.
“This doesn’t surprise me, boys,” he said. “We’ve already got our hands
on those papers. Before you arrived on the scene, we took a whole
chestful of them from Brown’s machine, and put them in Mr. Southwick’s
car. I felt pretty sure then that there wouldn’t be anything here for
us when we came. What do you say about going back?”
“I’m ready!”
“Me, too!”
They filed from the cave in the order in which they entered, O’Hara
opening and closing the entrance several times by pressing the neatly
camouflaged button.
On reaching open air, the party rejoined Mr. Southwick’s forces which
were still beside the bungalow.
The big man’s only comment, as O’Hara reported the result of the trip,
was, “Just as I thought.”
Preparations were busily under way for the return to the city. The
search of the ranch had been completed, and at Mr. Southwick’s order,
the huge touring car of Brown had been mended and placed in readiness.
In the tonneau of the car sat the crestfallen owner, and beside him was
Tom Whalen. To prevent any attempt at escape, the two were handcuffed
together, and an armed guard was placed over them.
The Jap was ordered into the front seat of the machine, and beside him
was seated a second detective.
It was a tired group of men who raced over the long desert road to
Albuquerque on the return journey. The early morning sun was beating
down from the east, and the intense heat of the desert was making
itself felt over the refreshing coolness of the night.
Mr. Southwick’s car led off, and was followed by Brown’s machine, which
was carefully watched by the occupants of “Queenie,” the next one in
line. One of Mr. Southwick’s lieutenants brought up the rear of the
procession.
Early morning pedestrians on the streets of the thriving little town
glanced curiously at the row of machines, and wondered at their
presence at that hour. They would have been still more surprised had
they seen the four machines draw up a few minutes later in front of the
county jail. Luckily, the street on which this stood was still deserted.
After the captives were safely lodged behind bars, the raiding party
separated in all directions. Mr. Southwick walked over to Danny and
O’Hara, and slapping them on the back, said:
“We are greatly indebted to you two men. As one loyal American to
another, I want to thank the both of you from the bottom of my heart.
You have done your country a great service--greater, perhaps, than you
know. Good luck to you, and I hope I may call on you later when we
bring Brown and his assistants to trial.”
“You surely can, Mr. Southwick!” answered Danny.
As O’Hara shook hands with the famous official, the letter said, kindly:
“There may come a time when I can be of some help to you, Mr. O’Hara.
If so, do not hesitate to call on me. You have my promise.”
“Many thanks!” answered the other.
And as the towering figure entered his machine, O’Hara turned to his
nephew and said:
“Danny, do you think he knows who I am?”
“I think so, Uncle Jim. I have felt that right along,” replied the
young man.
O’Hara sighed, and continued:
“I wonder what Mr. Southwick meant about helping me?”
“I don’t know,” responded Danny, “but I do know that Mr. Southwick
appreciates what you have done. He is the kind of man who doesn’t
say much, but I know he attaches the greatest importance to the raid
we have just been through. You’ll have to admit, Uncle Jim, you were
responsible for that!”
“It was little that I did,” answered O’Hara.
“Nonsense!” exclaimed the young man. “You were behind the whole thing.
We couldn’t have proven anything without that bundle of papers. Mr.
Southwick knows that. The capture of Brown will be a big feather in his
cap when the news reaches Washington, and he’s bound to give you full
credit. No, Uncle Jim,” continued Danny, “I don’t think you need fear
anything more. It looks like smooth sailing to me from now on.”
“Do you really think so?” In O’Hara’s voice there was a note of
yearning that did not escape the younger man.
“Yes, Uncle Jim. Now, don’t worry!” he encouraged. “We’ve made a good
friend. Mr. Southwick means what he says. I am sure our troubles are
just about over.”
As the two men motored slowly through the streets in the direction of
the hotel, a share of Danny’s optimism entered the heart of the older
man, and a smile of childlike happiness stole over his saddened face.