DUDIE DUNNE LAYS LOW FOR THE HOUSEBREAKERS, MAKES
A GREAT CAPTURE, AND ALSO MAKES A VERY PECULIAR
DISCOVERY.
The detective completed his arrangements for spending a night in the
house. He also gave instructions to Mrs. Frewen and her niece just what
they were to do under the possibilities of the approaching night. A
little later and the detective took his departure, and still later met
the chief, to whom he said:
"Strange incidents meet us in our profession, chief."
"Well, I should say so. What have you struck now?"
"I am not sure, chief, but I've an idea that I have run by accident
right on to the Roman burglar. If I have it's the most extraordinary
chance that ever occurred in our profession."
Oscar proceeded and related to the chief what had occurred. The latter
listened and said:
"I don't see where the Roman robbery comes in."
"You don't?"
"No."
"Well, you've been busy, and your mind is not clear."
"I feel pretty clear in my head."
Oscar opened up the key to his theory and the chief exclaimed:
"Dudie, you're a genius. By all that's strange and wonderful I should
not be amazed if you are right, and do you know there is the biggest
sort of a reward offered for the capture of the thief."
"Chief, if my ideas are fully confirmed we may not seek the reward. I
don't know but my suspicions run a great way in this case, and if the
fact proves true--well, we'll talk it over after we locate, identify and
prove the crime on our man."
It was just about eleven o'clock when Dudie Dunne turned the corner to
go to the house where he was to spend the night. He was walking along
lost in a brown study when suddenly a hand was laid lightly upon his
shoulder. He turned and beheld a veiled woman.
Now, reader, don't exclaim, "There comes one of Old Sleuth's veiled
women again," for I tell you veiled women are floating around every day
and night in great cities, and especially those who, like our veiled
women, are out at such a late hour on special business.
"Can I have a few words with you, Mr. Dunne?" came the question.
"Great Scott!" thought our hero, but the exclamation did not escape his
lips.
"Certainly, Miss Alice," he answered.
"I can rely upon your honor that what passes between us shall be
strictly confidential?"
"Yes, miss."
"You will not even reveal the fact that I met you?"
"I will not, but will not your aunt miss you?"
"No, she retired over an hour ago. She is a heavy sleeper; even the
prospect of a visit from burglars would not keep her awake as long as
the prospect was only a suspicion. She is a very brave lady; my aunt is
a very remarkable woman."
"No doubt; but now what can I do for you?"
"A crisis compels me to be singularly frank with you."
"It is better so if I am to serve you in any way."
"I am about to make an extraordinary request."
"All right."
"It is possible those burglars may visit our house to-night."
"Yes, it is possible, not probable. I tell you now I am only exercising
due precaution, I do not really anticipate a visit from the
housebreakers."
"I do."
"You have a reason for your conclusion?"
"I have."
"What is it?"
"Never mind; but I wish to make a request."
"Proceed."
"If the robbers do enter our house, the moment you spring upon them they
will attempt to escape of course."
"That will naturally be what they will attempt, I should say."
"If you surprise them they will be defeated."
"Certainly."
"They will not have taken anything."
"Possibly not."
"Then let them escape."
"That is your request?"
"Yes."
"It is indeed a very singular one."
"I cannot explain why I make such a request, but please let them escape.
I repeat I cannot explain why I make the request."
"You cannot explain why you make such a strange request?"
"No."
"You need not."
"Thank you, and I am to understand that my request is granted?"
"Oh, no."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean you need not make any explanation, that is all."
The girl stared. Our hero could not see her eyes, for she was veiled,
but her attitude indicated that she was staring at him and he knew with
a look of surprise on her face.
"Why do you not seek an explanation of such an extraordinary request?"
"Simply because it is really unnecessary. I know why you make the
request. I fully comprehend your motive."
An exclamation escaped the veiled lady.
"You understand?"
"I do."
"No, no, it is impossible that you understand."
"I will prove to you that I do understand. You fear that Alphonse
Donetti will be one of the burglars. You do not desire him to be
captured. See what a mind-reader I am."
"Why do you assume that Alphonse will be one of the robbers?"
"Merely because you do, that's all."
"How do you know that I do?"
"You would not make the extraordinary request unless that was your
fear."
"You are a strange man."
The detective laughed and answered:
"And you are a very strangely acting lady. It is indeed a strange thing
for a lady who expects robbers to visit her house to ask that they be
permitted to escape. I must do my duty, miss, I cannot grant your
request unless you ask that I let Alphonse go and arrest the others."
"No, that will not do," she exclaimed, "for the others would betray
him."
"Aha!" ejaculated the detective, "human-like you have given yourself
away. Do not again deny your real motive for making the request."
The girl recognized that indeed she had betrayed herself, and in a tone
of distress she muttered:
"Oh, what shall I do?"
"I can tell you."
"Please do."
"Make a full confidant of me."
"Will you believe me?"
"I know of no reason why I should doubt your word."
"I have already deceived you."
"Eh! you have already deceived me?"
"I have."
"In what direction?"
"I told you I had never seen or spoken to Alphonse Donetti?"
"I remember."
"My denial was false."
The detective was silent.
"I did not dare let my aunt know that I had ever seen him."
"And you have met?"
"Yes."
"Often?"
"Yes, very often. He has confided in me."
"One moment! are you his affianced wife?"
"On my honor, I am not; but knowing his real story I sympathize with him
most heartily."
"He has revealed to you more than his mother ever revealed to your
aunt?"
"Yes."
"Tell me what he revealed to you."
"I cannot."
"Oh, but you can."
"No, I am bound by an oath; I cannot break my oath."
The detective meditated and then asked:
"Do you know that Donetti is in New York?"
"I do not."
"Have you reason to suspect that he is?"
"I had no reason to so suspect until you indicated that he was possibly
the author of the warning note, then I did suspect that he was in New
York."
"Have you any grounds for believing that he is a criminal?"
"I have not."
"Then why do you fear he may be with the robbers to-night?"
"I do not know to what desperate deeds his many wrongs and privations
may have driven him. If he is in New York I will find him. If he is
being driven toward the career of a criminal I will save him. If you
arrest him I cannot save him, and yet he deserves to be saved, for he is
the victim of a great wrong."
Again the detective meditated. He was revolving strange theories in his
mind, and mentally he concluded: "This is a very unfortunate girl, but
she is only one of a type of woman who can be thus fascinated." After an
interval he said:
"I do not think Alphonse will be one of the robbers."
"You believe he is in New York?"
"Yes, I believe so."
"How would he know of the intended robbery?"
"That is a question I cannot answer. Indeed I can advance no theory, but
I do not believe he will be one of the robbers."
"It is possible he is not in New York at all."
"Yes, it is possible, but the probabilities are that he is."
Alice appeared very unhappy, and our hero could not console her with a
promise, simply because he had reason to believe that Alphonse Donetti
was possibly already liable to arrest for a previous crime.
"You can give me no comfort?" she said at length.
"No, beyond the fact that I will agree to let Alphonse escape in case he
is among the burglars who may possibly enter your house."
"And the others will betray him."
"No, you need not fear that; but time passes, I must go and take up my
position. You had better return to your home and I will appear later."
The girl slowly walked away and our hero muttered:
"Well, this is a complication. That girl loves a thief, possibly an
assassin."
A little later and Oscar Dunne entered the house. All was as it had been
agreed it should be, and yet the detective commenced a search. There was
a hall pantry off the rear parlor. The detective tried the door; it was
locked, but by a little trick of his own he opened it and flashed the
light of his tiny mask lantern inside, and there sure enough stood Alice
Frewen. The girl colored, but assumed a very defiant look as she said:
"You had no business to force yourself into my room."
"Your room is of very narrow dimensions, but under the circumstances I
was compelled to force my way in as I wish to use this room as my hiding
place, and further I do not propose that you shall give the burglars
warning. I am here to catch them and I will."
"Never; I will warn them. I will light the gas and sit up all night."
"Oh, you will?"
"Yes."
"Do not resolve upon so rash a proceeding."
"I shall do as I threaten."
"I am sorry, but I shall be compelled to arouse your aunt and inform her
of your intention; also as an explanation, reveal to her all that you
have revealed to me."
The girl burst into tears and exclaimed:
"I am at your mercy; what shall I do?"
"I'll tell you what to do."
"Please tell me."
"Trust me. Trust my judgment and consideration for your feelings."
"Let me explain."
"Yes, you are at liberty to explain."
"I wish to save that young man simply because I believe he is the victim
of a great wrong. I do not believe he is bad at heart--not a criminal by
nature."
"I will not question your motive, but you cannot interfere with the
performance of my duty, but I will promise you that no harm shall come
to the young man until I am convinced that he is an irreclaimable
villain. If he is the victim of wrong he shall have my aid and sympathy.
I can promise you no more than that, beyond the assurance that I am
sincere, and I know just what to do."
"I will trust you."
"You are wise."
"You will keep my secret?"
"As long as you obey my instructions."
"I will obey your instructions."
"Then retire to your room and do not come forth until I summon you, or
you are summoned by your aunt."
The girl ascended the stairs and our hero prepared for a night's vigil.
He was acting, as he stated, merely as a matter of precaution. He did
not anticipate the advent of the burglars, but he was just as watchful
and careful as though he knew for a certainty that they would come. He
did not sleep, but lay down on a sofa in the rear parlor, raising the
two windows so as to overhear any noise in case the thieves should put
in an appearance. He knew the habits of the robbers well enough. He knew
how their methods would be adapted to the lay of the house they were to
enter. The house was detached, and there was a storm shed in the rear
protecting the back kitchen door. Here was where he anticipated they
would make their entrance. Once in the storm shed they could take their
time in opening the kitchen door, and could also make all their
arrangements for escape in case of discovery.
The hours passed until about three o'clock in the morning, when the
detective, who despite all his doubts had been on the alert, heard a
sound. He peeped out, and there sure enough he beheld three men in the
yard, and he muttered:
"By ginger! they are here. Well, I didn't expect them, but I will
welcome them."
Dudie Dunne was a very resolute young man. He wore moccasins and with
noiseless tread passed to the kitchen stairway and there took up his
position. He knew the men would advance by the stairs the moment they
succeeded in getting into the house. Holding his position he waited, and
was not surprised at the celerity of their movements, for within ten
minutes after his first recognition of their presence in the yard he had
evidence that they were in the house--and there he stood at the head of
the kitchen stairs prepared to lay them out.
The men were old hands at the business. They wasted no time, but started
to ascend the kitchen stairs just as Oscar had calculated they would. He
lay low until the foremost man was just at the last step, when a club
cut the air; there followed a thud and an outcry and the man went over
backward upon the man who was following him.
The detective leaned down the stairs. He stepped over the man he had
struck and arrived at the foot of the stairs just as robber number two
had risen to his feet, having been knocked down by his pal's fall. Again
the club cut the air and robber number two received a clip that disabled
him and the detective sprang along to the kitchen. Robber number three
had been on the watch. He knew some thing had gone wrong and ran to the
kitchen to hear what had occurred. He arrived just in time to run up
against that effective club, and he too went down, and as he fell the
detective leaped upon him and fixed the darbies on him. He then retired
to the basement hall stairs, and arrived just as number two had a second
time risen to his feet; the man received a second dose from the club and
went down again, and in less time than it takes to record it the darbies
were run on him. Robber number one had not moved; the blow he had
received had sort of settled him for a little rest, but the detective
put the steel bands on him all the same, and then he turned on the gas.
None of the burglars had masks on, although they had their little
face-hiders hanging to their lapels like a pair of eyeglasses.
Oscar went to each man and flashed the light of his lantern in their
faces one after the other, and then he muttered:
"Well, he is not here; so far so good."
The detective went to the front door and swung his light, and in less
than two minutes two men appeared. They were admitted and led down to
the kitchen where they seized the robbers. Our hero had recognized two
of the men. They were the fellows who had played him for a "chappie."
The three burglars were led through the kitchen door to the yard and
marched off, three of the most surprised housebreakers that were ever
captured; and right here we have a word to say. There is nothing
romantic and daring in housebreaking. It is one of the most atrocious
crimes on the criminal calendar. It is simply terrible to think of
people defenseless and helpless in their own homes and beds when masked
men, prepared to do murder, steal in to rob them. There is no palliation
for this offense, for there is no crime, save that of forgery, that is
conducted with so much forethought, decision and calculation--yes,
calculation to do murder if it becomes necessary, for they go prepared
to kill; and it is a grand thing when one of these cruel scoundrels is
caught and punished. They are not entitled to sympathy, despite the fact
that some mawkish Sunday-school books sometimes present the good-hearted
burglar. If there is any crime that deserves death anywhere near the
liability of murder it is the crime of burglary, for a man who will
enter a house to steal is the meanest criminal on the face of the earth,
and it is well when they are shot down right in their tracks and in the
act of their crime.
The three burglars, as stated, were led away, and our hero, who had
effected the capture so neatly, ascended the stairs and at the parlor
door met Alice Frewen.
"They have been here."
"You have disobeyed me."
"I did not until I knew it was all over."
"Did you know it was all over?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"I was watching and listening."
"Well, they did come. I did not expect them, I will admit."
"You have captured them?"
"Yes."
"All of them?"
"Yes."
"Did you see their faces?"
"I did."
"And----"
"_He_ was not among them."
"You are sure?"
"I am sure."
"Remember, he may have been under a disguise."
"He was not with them. I recognized all the three men. I know them. No,
he was not with them, and the chances are all our theories were wrong,
but we will learn later on."