CHAPTER V. RINGING IN._How to be a detective

Another very important duty that a detective often has to perform is to

“ring in with the gang.”

To arrest a criminal without having first obtained sufficient evidence

to convict him of his crimes, seldom leads to any good result.

Often gangs of thieves organize for business, and if you get one you

get all of them, as a rule, for thieves seldom have any honor among

themselves, the old saying to the contrary, nevertheless.

Now to catch a gang like this it is often necessary to select a man to

join them, a very ticklish business, by the way.

If the thieves are young men, you’ve got to get a young man to do the

job. I’d be no use at all in such a case.

I remember shortly after the green goods case that an order came to me

from the inspector to look into the matter of a gang of young toughs

who were believed to make their headquarters in an unused sewer away up

on First avenue.

For a long time these scoundrels had maintained a perfect reign of

terror in the neighborhood of East 66th street, knocking men down

and robbing them in broad daylight, breaking into stores, coming the

flim-flam game on women, and all that sort of business.

There’s just such a gang operating on the West side of New York now,

and the police seem quite powerless to do anything to put them down.

When the matter was placed in my hands I sent for Dave and told him

that he must join that gang, find out their secret hiding-place and

then betray them into my hands.

Dave heaved a sigh.

“Couldn’t you get somebody else to do that beside me, Mr. Brady?” he

asked.

“Why, Dave,” said I, “you have been selected because I think you just

the man for the job. What’s the matter with you going? Why do you

object?”

“Well, to tell the trute, Mr. Brady (Dave always dropped into his old

New York accent the moment he was the least excited), that gang is a

tough one.”

“You are afraid?”

“Oh, no!”

“I could hardly believe it after all the evidence I have had of your

courage. What, then?”

“Bad luck to it all, me first cousin, Patsey Malloy, is running that

gang,” he blurted out. “You wouldn’t have me go against my own flesh

and blood!”

“Now you look here, young man,” said I, going up to him and shaking my

finger in his face. “You just want to understand one thing, and that

is, if you are ever going to make a successful detective, you’ve got to

lay all personal considerations aside. This Patsey Malloy--is he a bad

one?”

“You’re right, he is!” replied Dave gloomily.

“Has he broken the law?”

“A t’ousand times!”

“And you are under your solemn oath to arrest all lawbreakers?”

Dave looked confused.

“Can’t we fix it no way so’s to save Patsy?” he asked.

“If that could be done I suppose you would just as soon see the rest

bagged as not?” said I.

“Why, of course!” he answered, hastily. “And I think it can be fixed.

I’ll see Patsy and let him know it’s either a question of his turning

State’s evidence and giving me the gang or having some one else put on

what’ll scoop ’em all in.”

“Would he do that?” I asked.

“Why, of course, rather than be took himself,” replied Dave, looking

surprised that I should ask such a question.

That settled it so far as Dave was concerned. I told him that I’d think

about it and let him know. I saw at once that he was not the man for

the work. Then I sent for Sam Kean.

As soon as he came I told him the whole story.

“Do you think you could ring in with that gang?” I asked.

“I’d like to try ever so much,” he said. “I’ve wanted this long time to

see what I could do with the roughest classes.”

“Ain’t you afraid?”

“Not a bit of it.”

“If they get an idea of the truth they’ll certainly kill you. Your life

wouldn’t be worth two cents.”

“I’ll take the risk, Mr. Brady,” he said, boldly.

“All right,” said I; “you shall do it; but you must work quick. I want

you to begin to-night.”

“I’ll do it, sir,” he said, and he did do it most effectually. Let him

tell the rest of the story himself.

JOINING THE GANG.

It was a cold night when I joined the sewer gang.

Old King Brady says I must make a short story of it, so I’ll just begin

in the middle and not tell how I located the gang--how I found that one

of their hanging out places was a certain gin mill on the corner of

First avenue and Seventy-third street; how I learned that they numbered

more than seventy, ranging in age from twelve years to thirty. Briefly

I found out all that and more.

It was a howling wilderness up in that neigborhood in those days,

though it’s all altered now; literally howling that night, for the

wind blew a perfect gale, as it is very apt to do in the month of March.

I knew all about the neighborhood, for during the week I had been

scouring it in every direction collecting evidence.

I heard of men being waylaid and knocked down in broad daylight, or

unwary drunkards being lured into those solitudes, robbed and thrown

over the rocks into the East River; of burglaries and all sorts of

outrages being committed. Yes, I want you to understand that gang was

tough.

So was I--in appearance.

I wore a pair of ragged trousers, old shoes with my frozen toes

almost on the ground. Overcoat I had none, and the coat I did have

was thin, dirty and ragged, buttoned up to the throat to conceal a

fearful-looking shirt, under which were three others, or I should

certainly have frozen to death. As for my hat, I need only say that I

picked it out of the ash scow at the Seventeenth street dump.

When I reached the lumber shed on the corner of Sixty-ninth street I

stopped and whistled, leaning up against the fence.

Presently I heard a voice speak through a knot-hole in the fence and

say:

“Is it you?”

“Yes,” said I.

“All O.K.?”

“Yes,” said I. “I’m to meet him in ten minutes. I had a long talk with

him last night and all is fixed.”

“Where is it?” asked the voice.

“Couldn’t find out,” I replied. “You’ll have to follow me and see.”

“All right. Be very careful,” said the voice--then all was quiet.

I had worked hard to get as far as I had got in the business. How I

managed to get acquainted with one of the leading spirits of the gang I

ain’t going to tell.

It is enough to say that I had got acquainted with him and that he had

promised to initiate me that night.

“Red McCann”--that was his name. I met him in the gin-mill ten minutes

later.

He and two other toughs were waiting for me by appointment. They

greeted me in the most friendly manner and we had several beers at my

expense.

It was a great night for me, and I was expected to treat. I was going

to “join the gang.”

Soon we started across lots working down toward the river. Just what

street we were near at last I can’t say, for but few were opened then,

and these being cut through the solid rock all looked alike. It was

terrible cold, and I want you to understand that I was glad to get to

the end of the journey at last.

“Ain’t we most there?” I asked of Red McCann. “I’m just about perished.”

“Oh, you’ll be there soon enough, cully,” he answered, winking at his

companion, a fellow called “Schnitz.” Whether it was really his name or

not, I’m sure I don’t know.

I saw the wink, and for the first time I began to wonder whether, after

all, I had not deceived myself in thinking that I had deceived these

fellows as to my true character.

But, no; I couldn’t believe it--I wouldn’t believe it.

I had worked so hard to accomplish my purpose. I had gone to lengths

that made me shudder to think of.

Beside, I knew if they even suspected me my life was scarce worth a

rush. I forced myself--absolutely forced myself--not to be afraid.

“Is it much further, Red?” I asked in my best “tough” dialect.

“Only a little way,” he answered. “Do you see that house right by the

river bank?”

“Yes.”

“Do you see de woods on de left?”

“The woods,” was a little clump of locust trees, once a shady grove in

some gentleman’s grounds in the days when the house would have been

called a mansion.

“I see,” I said.

“Well, we get into the sewer through that house by way of de cellar,”

answered Red. “We’ve got a underground passage cut jist like you read

about in dime novels. Oh, I tell you it’s bully! We’ve got feather beds

and eat off chiny dishes. We only take our beer out of silver mugs----”

“You lie,” broke in Schnitz laughing; “we keep our beer in silver kegs

and drink it outer gold steins.”

“You’re fooling me, boys,” said I, in dismay, an icy coldness striking

around my heart.

“Not much, you son of a gun!” cried Red. “It’s you who are trying to

fool us. Hey fellers! Here we are! Let’s initiate Detective Kean!”

Can you fancy my feelings at that moment?

If you can’t try and fancy them at the next, when I suddenly found

myself surrounded by twenty or thirty of the toughest-looking specimens

I ever laid my eyes on.

We had reached the grove now, and a man seemed to spring from behind

every tree.

I saw that my midnight mission was already accomplished.

Make no mistake--I had joined the gang!

It was no use to attempt to defend myself.

They were around me like a pack of wolves in an instant, a dozen

hands held me, a dozen more were going through my clothes, possessing

themselves of revolvers, knives, money--everything, even to my official

shield, which, like a fool, I had loose in my trousers’ pocket.

If ever I felt sick it was then, but I had hope.

The voice which talked to me through the lumber yard fence was Old King

Brady’s.

He ought to be on hand with a posse of police even now.

“Oh, you needn’t look for your friends,” cried Red McCann sneeringly.

“We seen you talking with them down by the lumber yard. We’ve fixed all

that--we’ve given ’em the proper steer.

“Hey fellers!” he added, “this is the bloke what tought he was goin’

ter ring in wid us. What’ll we do wid him! It’s for you to say.”

“Punch him! Slug him! Shoot him! Drown him?”

These and several other pleasing suggestions were offered by the crowd.

Where was Old King Brady?

Was it as Red claimed that he had been thrown off the scent.

I felt that I was lost then, and I am willing to admit that I gave

myself up to die, for they fell upon me like savages, kicking and

beating me, dragging me at last to the edge of the rocky bluffs which

overhung the East river, and pushing me over.

Before I knew what was coming I went whirling through the air with

frightful velocity, striking the water below with a resounding splash.

That is the way I joined the gang!

Never shall I forget the moment when I rose to the surface and began

struggling with that terrible current which sweeps through the narrow

channel between Blackwell’s Island the New York shore.

It seemed hours since I had fallen, yet it could scarce have been

seconds.

Up on the hill I could hear men shouting, and as I straggled toward the

rocks I saw Old King Brady and his policemen appear on the bluffs and

look down.

“Help! help! help!” I shouted, but the wind swept my voice over to the

island. To my despair I saw Old King Brady turn away and I knew that he

had not heard.

“Help! help! Help, Mr. Brady!” called another voice right before me as

if in echo of my own.

I raised my eyes and looked ahead.

I was near the rocks now, swimming as well at my bruised and frozen

limbs would permit.

There, crouching upon them, I saw the figure of one of the gang whom I

instantly recognized as a fellow who had been particularly active in

the attack upon myself.

Oh, how my heart sank!

I turned on my back and was about to strike out into the deep channel,

when suddenly I saw Old King Brady coming back to the edge of the bluff.

“Hold on, Sam. Hold on! Don’t go back for God’s sake!” called the

fellow on the rocks in a familiar voice.

He leaned forward, caught my foot, and began dragging me in shore.

Did I resist him?

Oh, no! I guess not.

I was so surprised, so overcome, that I think I must have fainted.

When I came to myself a moment later, I was lying on the rocks above

the reach of the tide, and bending over me were Old King Brady and the

young tough.

“Kean! Kean! rouse yourself!” exclaimed the detective. “I was just a

moment or two slow. Thank goodness! he’s coming round all right again!

You’ve been deceived, Kean; they’re on to you----”

“Well, I should think I might know it,” I answered, somewhat testily.

“I’ve been sucked in, fooled, played with--it’s a wonder I wasn’t

killed.”

“Which you might have been if it hadn’t been for our friend here,” he

answered, glancing at the young man who had appeared upon the rocks.

“It’s all right though. You’ve tracked ’em here, and that’s been the

means of bringing about just what we want, or will be. This young man

is going to show us the way into the sewer, he says.”

“To turn informer?” said I. “Why, he’s one of the gang, you know.”

“Yes, yes, and here come _my_ gang down the rocks at last. Now, then,

young man, pilot the way, and I’ll make it worth your while, you can be

very sure.”

He raised his lantern, which he had drawn from his pocket, and threw

its light before the villain’s face, starting back as he did so with an

exclamation of surprise.

“Dave! Dave Doyle! It can’t be,” he burst out.

“But it is, though, Mr. Brady,” was the quiet reply. “You wouldn’t

trust me, so I had to do this job myself. I’ve done it too. Call your

men, get ready your revolvers. I’m going to show you the secret way

into the sewer, and there’s nothing in the world to prevent you from

capturing the whole gang.”

* * * * *

NOTE.--Well, I own I was surprised when my lantern suddenly revealed

Dave standing there upon the rocks.

You see, I hadn’t been thinking anything about the fellow, so why

should I expect to see him? I was taken all aback.

I presume my readers expected an entirely different termination to this

story.

Let me add, so did I.

I thought Sam was succeeding splendidly, I never dreamed that Dave had

moved in the matter till I saw through his carefully arranged disguise

as we three stood there on the rocks.

I have introduced this case simply to show you how detectives sometimes

get left as well as other folks.

It was Dave, not Sam who showed us the secret entrance to the sewer

in which the gang had their headquarters, and whither they had now

retreated in fancied security. I had not been deceived by the false

“steer.”

But I have not space enough left to tell how we captured them.

Let it suffice to say that we did capture them, that we scooped them

in completely, and during the brief fight none fought better than Dave

Doyle who captured his cousin with his own hands.

To this day I doubt if Mr. Patsy Malloy knows that it was Dave.

We broke up the sewer gang forever, and sent a lot of them over to the

island, and now for the point I want to bring out strong.

Every man to his own kind.

That’s the best rule a detective has to follow.

If it is hard to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear, it is equally

hard to make a sow’s ear out of a silk purse.

I tried to make a tough out of Sam Kean, and I failed.

Why, Dave, who had secretly joined the sewer gang a week before Sam got

ready to begin, told me that they saw through Sam from the very start.

“He couldn’t fool ’em, Mr. Brady,” he said. “I was awful sorry I

couldn’t warn him, and I would have done so if I’d knowed he was going

to come that night, but I didn’t until it was too late. I meant all

along to tell him in time.”

“Why couldn’t he fool ’em, Dave?” I asked.

“Can’t you tell a tough when you see one?”

“I rather think I can.”

“Then so can we tell a gentleman. I’m a tough myself, and I know.”

He was right, but be overstated the case in calling himself a tough.

Dave Doyle had been born among them and brought up among them, but he

never was a tough himself, but a thoroughly honest fellow from the word

go.

When I intimated that he was not the man for the sewer-gang job, on

account of his relationship with the leader, he resolved to show me

that he was the man, and he did.

Dave succeeded without an effort where Sam, with all his efforts,

failed, and came within an ace of losing his life.

Therefore, I say, every one to his place.

But Sam Kean made a splendid detective. I used him as my society man

for years, until he went off at last on his own hook.

So also with Dave. He remained my man for the work in the slums and a

better one I never had.

* * * * *

Now then, boys, has all this taught you how to become a detective?

I’m afraid not.

I’m afraid that after all you feel disappointed that I have not laid

down some cast-iron rule which will throw you into the high tide of

success in our business like the touch of Aladdin’s lamp.

Let me say to the disappointed ones confidentially give up the idea of

ever becoming a detective.

It will be just as well, in fact, a great deal better.

If you can’t see the force of all my remarks, if you can’t learn the

lessons contained in the cases cited, believe the old man when he tells

that your genius runs in other channels, and you will do better to

leave the detective business severely alone.

As for the rest of you--you who have read this little book and enjoyed

it, I mean--there is at least reason to believe that you might make

successful detectives if you have a mind to persevere.

But is the game worth the candle?

Think what a detective’s life means.

Hard work, exposed to cold, hunger, thirst, great danger, and every

privation. I’ve been through all of these things, and just so sure as

you embark in the business you’ll find yourselves there too.

Another thing which I haven’t mentioned that shouldn’t be forgotten.

It is the social position which the detective occupies--always has and

always will.

By nine men out of ten he is looked upon as a spy, and regarded with

dislike and distrust.

A detective can have but few friends; many have none.

Men may flatter him and praise his shrewdness, but they will ever shun

him and keep him at arm’s length.

I have grown rich at the business--very rich--but let me say right here

that I am one in a thousand.

Most of our detectives work hard and suffer much, and in the end die

poor and despised.

If you don’t believe me hunt up some detective and ask him; he’ll tell

you the same thing.

Still if you must be a detective start right and be honest, and you

will always be able to respect yourself, no matter what others may

think.

[Illustration: THE END.]

* * * * *

ARE YOU READING

“Work AND Win”

IT CONTAINS

The Great Fred Fearnot Stories

ISSUED EVERY FRIDAY

32 PAGES PRICE 5 CENTS

HANDSOME COLORED COVERS

Each number details the interesting, humorous and startling adventures

of two bright, independent boys. They see everything in life, enjoy

plenty fun and do all the good they can. Don’t miss these stories.

THEY ARE FINE

Read the Following Titles:

No.

294 Fred Fearnot’s Wall Street Game; or, Fighting the Bucket Shops.

295 Fred Fearnot’s Society Circus; or, The Fun That Built a

School-House.

296 Fred Fearnot’s Wonderful Courage; or, The Mistake of the Train

Robber.

297 Fred Fearnot’s Friend from India, and the Wonderful Things He Did.

298 Fred Fearnot and the Poor Widow; or, Making a Mean Man Do Right.

299 Fred Fearnot’s Cowboys; or, Tackling the Ranch Raiders.

300 Fred Fearnot and the Money Lenders; or, Breaking Up a Swindling

Gang.

301 Fred Fearnot’s Gun Club; or, Shooting for a Diamond Cup.

302 Fred Fearnot and the Braggart; or, Having Fun with an Egotist.

303 Fred Fearnot’s Fire Brigade; or, Beating the Insurance Frauds.

304 Fred Fearnot’s Temperance Lectures; or, Fighting Rum and Ruin.

305 Fred Fearnot and the “Cattle Queen”; or, A Desperate Woman’s Game.

306 Fred Fearnot and the Boomers; or, The Game that Failed.

_For sale by all newsdealers or sent to any address on receipt of

price, 5 cents per copy, in money or postage stamps_

FRANK TOUSEY, Publisher, 24 Union Square, N. Y.

* * * * *

USEFUL AND INSTRUCTIVE BOOKS.

HOW TO KEEP AND MANAGE PETS--Giving complete information as to the

manner and method of raising, keeping, taming, breeding, and managing

all kinds of pets; also giving full instructions for making cages,

etc. Fully explained by 28 illustrations, making it the most complete

book of the kind ever published. Price 10 cents. Address Frank Tousey,

publisher, New York.

HOW TO DO ELECTRICAL TRICKS--Containing a large collection of

instructive and highly amusing electrical tricks, together with

illustrations. By A. Anderson. Price 10 cents. For sale by all

newsdealers, or sent, post-paid, upon receipt of the price. Address

Frank Tousey, Publisher, New York.

HOW TO WRITE LETTERS--A wonderful little book, telling you how to write

to your sweetheart, your father, mother, sister, brother, employer;

and, in fact everybody and anybody you wish to write to. Every young

man and every young lady in the land should have this book. It is for

sale by all newsdealers. Price 10 cents, or sent from this office on

receipt of price. Address Frank Tousey, publisher, New York.

HOW TO DO PUZZLES--Containing over 300 interesting puzzles and

conundrums with key to same. A complete book. Fully illustrated. By

A. Anderson. Price 10 cents. For sale by all newsdealers, or sent,

post-paid, upon receipt of the price. Address Frank Tousey, Publisher,

New York.

HOW TO DO 40 TRICKS WITH CARDS--Containing deceptive Card Tricks

as performed by leading conjurers and magicians. Arranged for home

amusement. Fully illustrated. Price 10 cents. Address Frank Tousey,

publisher, New York.

HOW TO MAKE A MAGIC LANTERN--Containing a description of the lantern,

together with its history and invention. Also full directions for its

use and for painting slides. Handsomely illustrated, by John Allen.

Price 10 cents. For sale by all newsdealers in the United States and

Canada, or will be sent to your address, post-paid, on receipt of

price. Address Frank Tousey, publisher, New York.

HOW TO BECOME AN ACTOR--Containing complete instructions how to make up

for various characters on the stage; together with the duties of the

Stage Manager, Prompter, Scenic Artist and Property Man. By a prominent

Stage Manager. Price 10 cents. Address Frank Tousey, publisher, N. Y.

* * * * *

GET A COPY OF

“Secret Service”

CONTAINING

_Exciting stories of Old and Young King Brady, Detectives_

By A NEW YORK DETECTIVE

Price 5 Cents

Issued Weekly Colored Covers

32 Pages

Read how these famous detectives work up dangerous cases and run the

criminals down. Every story is a rare treat and contains the most

startling adventures, deep mysteries and interesting scenes.