JESSE BESTS THE DETECTIVES AT THEIR OWN GAME.
Reading failure in the dejected expression on his son's countenance as
he entered the study, Mr. Rozier waved his hand toward a chair.
"There's no use telling us you haven't succeeded, your face shows it
all too plainly," he said as the boy sat down. "All we want to know is
_how_ it happened. Begin at the beginning and don't omit anything."
"Not even the slightest detail," added one of the detectives. "What
might seem trivial to you may be of the utmost importance to us."
Desirous of getting through the ordeal as soon as possible, young
Rozier related all that had occurred from the moment he had reached the
crowd about the tent till he had been given his dismissal, even to the
words he hurled at the canvas when he heard the gloating laugh.
With many wise nods of their heads and frequent ejaculations, the
man-hunters listened to the narrative.
"You're quite right, my boy, only wait," exclaimed their leader as the
story was concluded. "They were too smart for you, but they may not
get off so easily when _we_ tackle them." Then turning to the bank
president he went on:
"You did well, Mr. Rozier, in sending for us. The way this Howard
evaded all your son's questions proves that he is a slick article, one
that isn't easily to be trapped. However, I think we will succeed in
landing him and his two confederates."
Disgusted at the conceit of the man, the bank president waited a few
moments to see if the sleuth would suggest any line of action and
finding that he did not, snapped:
"That remains to be seen. I've found, in my experience in the world,
that it's best to act first and talk afterward.
"What do you propose to do?"
Disconcerted by the putting into words of the very question that was
puzzling him, the detective replied:
"Why, go 'round to see them."
"And talk about the mines again, eh?" interrupted Mr. Rozier. "Stuff
and nonsense! You might just as well say we're detectives and we're
trying to find some grounds for arresting you."
"Well, what do _you_ suggest?" asked the man, nettled at the speech and
manner of the banker.
With the burden of the responsibility for the success or failure of
their purpose thus shifted to his shoulders, Mr. Rozier thrummed on his
desk, scowling.
"_I_ should say the thing for you to do was to mingle with the crowd
that's watching them, if there is any now, so that if they come out you
can shadow them, that's the word you detectives use, isn't it? If they
try to get away, stop them."
"How? We've no right to interfere with a man's movements unless we can
make some specific charge against him. If we did, he'd have an action
at law against us. They're not vagrants because they have money and if
we should arrest them as suspicious characters what could we prove?"
"Could you get at them, or Howard at any rate, for wearing false
whiskers?" inquired young Rozier.
"There's no law against that, of which I'm aware," qualified the
man-hunter, "but you've given me an idea.
"We might hire some tough to pick a row with them and snatch off the
beard."
"After the experience with young Consollas I fancy no one could get
near enough to them," observed the banker.
"True," admitted the detective, reluctantly. Then his face brightened:
"You don't suppose your daughter could cozzen Howard into talking about
his mines, do you?"
His face livid with rage, the president of the savings institution
brought his fist down on his desk with a bang, thundering:
"No sir, I don't! And what's more, Miss Rozier is not to be brought
into our conversation again, just understand that. The quicker you do
the better. If you can't devise any plan of getting around these men by
yourselves or with my son's or my assistance just say so and I'll pay
your bill and you can go back to Kansas City."
Alarmed at the fervor of the outburst, the man-hunter set himself about
making reparation for his unlucky suggestion and finally succeeded in
pacifying the enraged banker.
But when this had been accomplished, they were no nearer the solution
of their problem than before.
One by one, various plans were proposed, discussed and rejected.
"There's one thing we can do," remarked a sleuth who had taken no
previous part in the debate.
Expectantly the others looked at him.
"Out with it, man!" commanded the banker. "If you've got an idea, for
goodness' sake let's hear it."
"What I was going to say was that we could wait till night and when
they are asleep go through their clothes and luggage."
"But they may leave the Springs before dark or just after," objected
Forman, Jr.
The new line of thought roused by the proposition, however, bore fruit.
"I have it!" exclaimed the banker, all of a tremble. "We'll drug 'em!
I'll send 'round a couple of bottles of doctored wine. If they're
miners, they drink--it's a safe bet they do, anyway. They'll take the
stuff and then when they're under, you men can go into the tent and
ransack it to your hearts' content."
"But they won't accept anything coming from us," protested his
namesake. "If they wouldn't take a cigar from me, they won't a bottle
of wine from you."
The objection was easily overridden, however, by the suggestion that
the gift could be sent anonymously, with a note simply saying that it
was from a friend.
This point decided, there only remained the procuring of the drug with
which to doctor the wine.
In utter ignorance of what to use, the banker inquired of the
detectives.
The question caused an argument among them as to the most efficacious
kind of dope, the decision finally falling upon chloral as the one
that would act upon the victim the quickest and the most powerfully.
Realizing that it would be no easy matter to obtain the drug, Mr.
Rozier announced his willingness to get it and went to the apothecary
shop. Yet before he secured it, he was obliged to use all the influence
of his wealth and position. But at last, upon his solemn assurance that
it was to be used for no improper purpose, the pharmacist gave some of
the poison to him and he hurried back to his home.
Ordering two bottles of some rare old Madeira to be brought from his
wine cellar, the banker and the man-hunters set about putting in the
drug as soon as they were placed upon the desk by the servant.
Yet the task was no easy one. Should the recipients of the gift
discover that the corks had been tampered with, they would, of course,
become suspicious of them instantly.
With much care and many expletives, the elder Rozier finally succeeded
in pushing to one side, unbroken, the age-rusted wires that held the
corks intact and gradually worked the stoppers out.
This done, the requisite number of drops were put in each bottle, the
corks were driven back in and the wires readjusted in their proper
places.
The dust and cobwebs, so dear to the eye of the connoisseur of old
vintages, had been sadly brushed off and torn in the operation, however.
After vainly trying to attach substitutes, the difficulty was finally
solved by wiping them all off entirely.
When the bottles had been wrapped in heavy paper, one of the
man-hunters addressed the package to "Mr. Thomas Howard, with the best
wishes of an admirer."
Satisfied with their work, it was decided that the banker's son
should accompany one of the detectives to the tent of their intended
victims, while the others followed at a distance that would not attract
attention, and that when they reached their destination, young Rozier
should conceal himself, allowing the sleuth to deliver the package
alone. In the event of the absence of the miners, the package was to be
put inside the tent and the detective was to find some place from which
he could watch their return.
Confident of their ultimate success, the conspirators set out.
Had they had any inkling that the men they planned to trap were the
terrible outlaws who had played so fast and loose with them in Kansas
City, when they escaped from their clutches with the daughter of Banker
Ormsby, their assurance would doubtless have been less great.
But in blissful ignorance of the fact, they descended upon the tent.
In the time consumed by these preparations the outlaws, themselves, had
not been idle.
As soon as their caller had taken his departure, they put their heads
together to decide upon their best move.
All doubt as to who had seen the incident of the beard-snatching
removed by young Rozier's own words, and his purpose in calling evident
in his questions regarding the mines, even Jesse was compelled to admit
that nothing was to be gained, while everything might be lost, by a
longer sojourn at the Springs.
When the method of their going was broached, the great outlaw declared
that it must be on horseback, for to depart by train and leave the
roan would be tacit admission that they had been driven to flight.
And accordingly they went out to purchase two horses and the necessary
saddles and bridles.
As they emerged from their tent, they were agreeably surprised to find
that the crowd had dispersed.
Picking their way among the outlying avenues of canvas, the bandits
were able to reach the square almost unnoticed but immediately upon
their arrival in the business part of the town they became the center
of all eyes.
Smiling at the freely expressed comments upon their appearance, Jesse
led the way into a harness shop and made his wants known.
Visions of exorbitant prices for his best saddles in his mind, the
proprietor declared he could take them to the best animals in the
Springs and, glancing proudly upon his friends and neighbours as he
emerged from his store at the side of "Mr. Howard," he conducted the
outlaws to where the horses were.
Apprised of the strangers' purpose, the owner brought out two splendid
creatures from his stable and quickly the bargain was struck, though to
the detriment of the bandits' bank rolls.
With instructions that the animals be fitted with saddles and bridles
and delivered at their tent, they thanked the harness maker, paid him
liberally and set out upon their return, arriving in their corner of
the grove just in time to see young Rozier point out their camp to the
detective and disappear.
"What do you suppose that means?" asked Cole.
But the actions of the man-hunter were his answer.
Approaching the tent, he shook the flap and, receiving no response,
raised one corner, thrusting the package of doped wine underneath.
Their suspicions excited, especially as the intruder taking advantage
of their absence to peer at everything he could see of their
belongings, Jesse yelled:
"Hi there! Get out of that tent! What are you up to, anyhow?"
Springing back at the unexpected challenge the man-hunter turned to see
who had hailed him.
"Dillaby, the Pinkerton superintendent in Kansas City, as I live,"
breathed the bandit-chieftain to his pals. "This _is_ getting hot.
Come on till we see what he's up to. If he tries to get away draw your
guns." Then, raising his voice he cried:
"What are you doing, down on your hands and knees, spying into my camp?"
The shouts of the world-famous desperado quickly drew a crowd to the
spot.
Turning to them, he complained bitterly:
"It seems strange that three gentlemen can't come to Monegaw Springs
and live in quiet, without you all haunting them day and night and
gawping at them. Why, we can't even leave our tent without some one
trying to enter it.
"This man, here," and he pointed to the detective, "was just crawling
in when we happened to come along and saw him."
"That's not so," protested Dillaby, realizing that his position was
becoming uncomfortable.
"Then what were you doing? Are you in the habit of going 'round
sticking your head into every camp you see?"
"I was merely delivering a package."
"That's a likely story."
"You can see for yourself by looking in. As I found no one at home, I
stooped to place it under the canvas and--"
"Staid to see what you could see," interrupted Jesse. "Ted," looking at
Cole, "find out if there is any bundle inside."
Eagerly the crowd awaited his reply.
"Yes, there is one," he called.
"_Now_ will you believe me?" demanded the man-hunter, anxious to escape
from his inquisitors.
"Not yet. That may be just a blind to be used in case we were at home
or you were caught sneaking in, as you were.
"_It's my opinion you are a thief!_"
Crimsoning at the charge, Dillaby looked about him helplessly. No
suspicion was there in his mind as to the true identity of the man
before him. That he was the Mr. Howard he had no doubt from the clever
manner in which the outlaw had twisted appearances against him and so
serious was his predicament that he feared it would be necessary to
call upon Mr. Rozier to extricate him--an event that would lay bare the
whole plot.
Enjoying the man's misery, the world famous desperado determined to
make him disclose his purpose.
"Do you know what's in the package?" he asked.
"I do."
"What?"
"Wine."
"There's some writing on the wrapper," interrupted Cole. "It says 'for
Mr. Thomas Howard, with best wishes from an admirer.'"
"Ah! how romantic," grinned Jesse. "Can it be, sir, that you are the
one who sent me the wine?"
The detective had gone too far to falter now and he replied:
"Yes."
"I don't seem to remember your face," purred the bandit-chieftain,
"when did I ever see you before?"
"We have never met, but I saw your magnificent work yesterday afternoon
and wished to show you my appreciation."
"Rubbish!" snapped Jesse. "I don't believe you were ever in Monegaw
Springs in your life before this morning." Then turning again to the
astounded onlookers, he asked: "Do any of you know this man? Have you
ever seen him before?"
But nobody had and they said so in no uncertain terms.
"You hear what these gentlemen and ladies say," observed the
bandit-chieftain. "None of them have ever laid eyes on you till just
now.
"You're a slick talker, but you can't fool _me_. I owe it to the other
sojourners at the Springs to see that you're taken care of so you can't
try to work the gag on them.
"Will some of you gentlemen kindly send for the constable? I wish to
have this man locked up as a thief. If he can establish his innocence,
the judge will give him the opportunity."
The look of malignant hatred that Dillaby bestowed upon his tormentor
as he heard the request made Jesse grin and he watched him with keen
enjoyment as several of the men rushed off to summon a guardian of the
law.
Standing On the edge of the crowd, young Rozier had been an indignant
witness of all that had transpired.
Realizing that the tracing of the wine to his father would spell defeat
for their second plan, he had held his tongue. But when he heard his
foe's call for a constable and saw people start to get one, he could
contain himself no longer.
Pushing his way to the side of the man-hunter, he exclaimed:
"I can vouch for this man, Mr. Howard. This is an outrage to treat him
so."
"Is this one of your father's guests, the capitalists?" asked the great
outlaw, innocently.
"Yes."
"Then why didn't you interfere before the matter had gone so far?"
"Because I only just got here."
"Where have you been since you pointed my tent out to your friend?"
This question was uttered in a voice inaudible to any save the banker's
son and the man-hunter. But it told them that their connection had been
known from the first and that the by-play had been indulged in merely
for the purpose of compelling them to acknowledge it publicly.
Ere either could recover from the shock of the discovery, Jessie was
saying to the crowd:
"Mr. Rosier says that a cruel mistake has been made and that the man I
thought was a thief is in reality a special friend of his father--a
capitalist, who is his house guest."
And then to their amazement, instead of apologizing to the stranger, he
continued:
"I beg your pardon for having sent any of you after the constable. But
there is so little difference between some men of wealth and thieves
that my mistake is not unnatural."
With this parting shot, whose meaning there was no mistaking, the
world-famous desperado turned his back on the banker's son and the
detective who posed as a capitalist, motioned to Clell and Cole to
enter the tent and followed, taking the wine from the latter, while the
crowd gasped at the public affront and the startling innuendo.
For the second time Jesse had outwitted the banker. But he was playing
a desperate game. And danger, of which he never dreamed, looming dark
and terrible, was closing in on him even in the moment of his triumph!