OLD KING BRADY GETS DOWN TO BUSINESS.
Harper's Hotel, on Mission street, both before and since the fire was
always a great resort for Secret Service men.
In fact, the proprietor himself was formerly one.
As it happened, this was one of the few buildings in that part of the
city which escaped the fire, so the public house at which Old King Brady
turned up late that afternoon was the same old Harper's Hotel.
Detective Leggett, disguised as a dock laborer, sat in the cafe playing
dominoes with another Secret Service man.
The minute he saw Old King Brady, without waiting to finish the game, he
pushed the dominoes aside and made a sign for the old detective to
follow, then leading him upstairs.
"I'm living here just now," he said. "I don't know as you know it."
"No; I didn't know," was the reply. "Have you caught on to anything?"
"I think so. Volckman's a sly one, but I have had a good chance to watch
him. He quit an hour earlier than usual to-night. So did I, and I
trailed him to China alley and saw him go into a crib there."
"Good for you! What kind of a crib?"
"Oh, there is supposed to be about everything that is crooked going on
there. Mock Ting's restaurant is on the ground floor of the Dupont
street side. There's a fan-tan joint on the third floor. I understand
there are underground rooms. I don't actually know any of them to be
opium joints, but I have no doubt that some of them are."
"It's enough that you have tracked Volckman there. What do you propose?"
"It's up to you, Mr. Brady. I have no pull in Chinatown. That is what we
want."
"It surely is. I used to have a lot, but times have changed. I hardly
know who to apply to now. I hate to ring in a wardman."
"I wouldn't," said Leggett, with a shrug of his shoulders. "I don't
believe it would pay. I'm ready to bust ahead with you and take our
chances."
"I have little faith in that, either. Volckman doesn't look like a man
who used opium. He must have had special business to call him there. But
let us get down there, anyway."
This conversation took place in Leggett's room upstairs.
"Better drop this rig, hadn't I?" he asked.
"I think so."
"If we only had some one who could speak Chinese."
"Get ready," said the old detective, impatiently. "We'll go ahead and do
the best we can."
It was about six o'clock when they reached the House of the Seven
Delights.
"We'll take supper in the restaurant as a starter," said Old King Brady.
"It is not impossible that I may strike somebody I know."
They entered to find the place reasonably full.
The old detective picked out a central table, from which they could see
in all directions.
Supper was ordered, and they had almost finished when Old King Brady
suddenly said:
"There's a man I know. Just sitting at the third table on the left as
you come in from the door."
Leggett looked.
"A Jap, isn't he?"
"Half Japanese and half Chinese. Don't you know him?"
"No."
"You will be surprised, then, when I tell you that he was once a Secret
Service man."
"Is that so? He never operated in San Francisco in my time, then. What's
his name?"
"Dr. Garshaski."
"Is he really a doctor?"
"Yes. I certainly ought to know him. He made me trouble enough. I don't
like this. I thought the man was in China."
An inkling of the truth dawned upon Old King Brady.
The sight of Dr. Garshaski had stirred him more than he would have cared
to own.
"If Alice fell into the clutches of that fellow, then heaven help her!"
he thought.
He hardly knew whether he ought to show himself to the doctor or attempt
to trail him.
But the matter promptly settled itself.
Dr. Garshaski saw him.
Old King Brady, who was watching him closely, did not fail to note the
start he gave.
He immediately got up, and the old detective thought it was with the
intention of leaving the restaurant, but instead of that he came forward
to their table and, putting out both hands, exclaimed:
"Mr. Brady! I am rejoiced! My best friend! My savior, I may say! Well,
well!"
Old King Brady shook hands and invited the doctor to sit down,
introducing Leggett as a Secret Service man.
"Do you mind if I take my supper at this table?" asked the doctor.
"Not at all," was the reply.
Having come up with the man, it seemed to the old detective that he
might as well listen to anything he had to say.
"I thought you were going to China, doctor?" he began.
"Did go," replied the doctor. "I have been across twice since I saw you.
How is Young King Brady?"
"Well."
"In San Francisco?"
"I don't know where he is just now. He is working for a man on a private
matter. It is some little time since I heard from him."
"And--I almost hesitate to ask for reasons such as you--you know, Mr.
Brady. How is that loveliest of her sex, Miss Montgomery?"
Old King Brady's eyes were right upon him as he quietly answered:
"I cannot tell you, doctor."
"Cannot tell! Has the partnership been dissolved, then?"
"Temporarily, yes."
"You speak strangely, Mr. Brady. I hope and trust that nothing has gone
wrong in that direction. You need not fear to trust me. I have quite
recovered from my mad folly, I assure you."
"Something has gone very wrong, doctor. It is now several days since
Miss Montgomery disappeared right here in San Francisco."
The doctor threw up his hands dramatically.
"Don't tell me that!" he cried. "Under what circumstances?"
"The circumstances belong to Secret Service business. I cannot state
them. It may be, however, that she has fallen into the hands of your
people."
"Now, don't call the Chinese my people. I am the son of a Japanese
gentleman, as you well know. You touch me deeply. If there is anything I
can do to help, command me."
"You are very kind. And your address?"
The doctor produced a card.
The address it bore was a number on Stockton street.
"I have a room in that house just at present," he said.
Leggett sat quiet through all this.
Still engaging the doctor in conversation, the old detective trod on his
toe.
The signal was returned.
Old King Brady felt that he had been understood, when the Secret Service
man suddenly arose and said:
"Will you excuse me, Mr. Brady? I have to keep that appointment with
Holes."
"Go on," said Old King Brady. "You are a bit late for it now."
He left himself as soon as the doctor's supper was served.
Going around on to China alley, he found Leggett somewhat disguised
watching the rear entrance to the house of the Seven Delights.
"That man must be shadowed," he said. "It is useless for me to undertake
it other than in a general way. He has worked for me and knows my
methods of disguising. He is as keen as a razor. Some time ago he fell
madly in love with Miss Montgomery, and we had all kinds of trouble with
him. I am afraid he is at the bottom of her disappearance."
"I'm on the job. Where shall I lay for him? Here or in front?"
"In front."
"Will I do as I am?"
"It's the best you can do at short notice. Listen. You saw him give me
his card. I am going to his room on Stockton street. If I can get in I
shall not hesitate to give it a good overhauling. I must be quick. Do
the best you can for me, Leggett."
The Secret Service man gave his promise and Old King Brady hurried away.
The Stockton street house proved to be a four-story brick tenement
filled with Japanese.
There was a bell-board with names on it, but that of Dr. Garshaski did
not appear.
Old King Brady had just finished studying the names when a Jap came out
through the open door.
The old detective showed the doctor's card.
"Know him?" he asked.
But the man appeared to be short on English.
"No know," he said. Then pointing inside he made the old detective
understand that he was to inquire at the last door on the right, which
he did.
This proved to be the janitor, whose English was quite understandable.
"Top floor," he said. "He only hire room of 'nother man. Las' door
left."
Old King Brady traveled up the stairs.
He felt that he was running every risk of discovery by the doctor.
Encountering no one in the upper hall, he knocked lightly on the door.
There was no answer.
Producing his skeleton keys, he easily mastered the lock.
It was only a bedroom. There was but little furniture.
On the top of a chiffonier was Alice's picture in an elaborate gilt
frame, which did not bear out the doctor's assurance that he had got
over being love-sick.
Without losing an instant the old detective opened the drawers of this
chiffonier and began disturbing things as little as possible.
It was not until the lower drawer was reached that he found anything to
interest him.
The first was a bunch of three letters fastened by a rubber band.
There were other letters, some in Japanese and some in Chinese.
These, however, were in English, and when Old King Brady caught the
signature, "R. Volckman," he knew that he had made a discovery.
This letter was brief enough. It read:
"DEAR SIR: Yours receipted. I shall be ready for you at 2 thirty.
All serene. R. VOLCKMAN."
"This settles it," muttered the old detective. "Volckman has been
standing in with these opium smugglers all right, and the doctor is in
the deal. I shall arrest the man on sight."
He ran over the other letters.
All related to the landing of the smuggled opium.
In one Volckman agreed to furnish boats to the Chinese smugglers, with
men to take charge of them.
The other was a demand to know when and where he could meet Dr.
Garshaski.
There was no mention of the Chinese princess nor of Alice.
Old King Brady pocketed the letters and proceeded to examine a trunk,
which he opened with a skeleton key.
Here he found other letters and photographs of several Chinese and
Japanese women.
All the letters appeared to be in these languages, as the old detective
hastily ran over them.
There was one photograph of a very peculiar looking young woman who was
not altogether unhandsome.
She was dressed in a fancy Mexican costume.
To the old detective she looked as if she might be of mixed stock,
Mexican and Chinese, or Mexican and Japanese.
But as none of these things interested the old detective, he returned
them to the trunk and closed it.
Scarce had he done so when there came a knock on the door, which had not
been locked.
Of course, this could not be the doctor.
Thinking that it might lead to some further discovery, Old King Brady
slipped into a closet and remained on the watch through the crack of the
door.
Again came the knocking, a little more insistent, and then the door
opened and a young woman very stylishly dressed walked into the room.
A glance was sufficient to identify her as the original of the
photograph the old detective had just been looking at.
She stood peering about as if expecting Dr. Garshaski to jump out at her
from the closet or under the bed.
Then suddenly she made a rush for the chiffonier, seized the gilt frame,
pulled Alice's picture out of it, spit on it, tore it to pieces, and
stamped it under her feet, her eyes blazing with jealous rage and hate.
It was easy now to see that the girl--she was little more--was a
Mexican-Chinese half-breed.
"Ah ha, my lady!" thought Old King Brady, "I see how the case stands!
It's to be hoped that you speak English. You may prove a very valuable
ally. I'm glad now that I came here."
He stepped out into full view.
The young woman gave a scream and made a bolt for the door.
"Stay, daughter! A word with you," the old detective said.