MIKE QUICK GIVEN A SHOCK.
Frank Hare was wrong in the opinion that Blair would not seek an
interview with Quick. The morning after his escape from the young
detective, Bull went around to Mike’s dive. The bartender was quite
well acquainted with his visitor.
“Where is Mike?”
The bartender laughed.
“The boss has gone down South on a hunting trip,” he replied.
“You don’t sa-ay!”
“Yes; been gone over a week now.”
“Then it is strange I should be talking with him yesterday.”
“I’m only giving you what he told me when he went away.”
“Young fellow, you are entirely too fresh--see?” remarked Bull. “You
have not been employed in this place a week.”
In fact, it was the fellow’s first day in Quick’s employ, he having
been engaged the night before to take the place of the bartender who
had on one occasion knocked Burt out.
The newcomer, Jim Elford, was an ex-sneak-thief.
“Sa-ay, Bull, you can’t see the boss--understand?”
“Why can’t I see him?”
“Just because I say you can’t.”
“Are you the boss here?”
“Just now I am.”
“Is Quick in the house?”
“Sonny,” remarked Jim, who was many years younger than the man he
addressed, “you can’t get any information from me.”
“What have I done to you?”
“Nothing, and I’ll take care you don’t do anything to me.”
Bull felt like dragging the fellow from behind the bar and mauling
him.
“I know,” he said, “that Mike wants to see me, Elford.”
“I’ve got nothing to do with that.”
Quick was up-stairs. He had left instructions with the bartender
to deny that he was at home. Jim seemed bent upon carrying out his
employer’s instructions to the very letter.
“Well,” said Blair, “give me some of your whisky.”
Elford put out a bottle and glass, and his visitor drank.
“I’ll bet,” he said, “Mike Quick will rue not seeing me.”
“Can’t you leave any message you have with me?”
“No.”
“Afraid to trust me?”
“What I have to say is meant for Quick’s especial ear,” said Bull,
“and as I can’t see him I suppose I had better sneak.”
Blair moved toward the door. Jim called him back.
“Stop here a moment,” said the bartender, “and see that no one runs
off with the place.”
Elford then went out by a rear door.
He was absent only a few moments.
When he returned he said: “You’ll find Mike in the room above the
store.”
“Now, Freshy,” sneered Bull, “you see I knew what I was talking
about.”
Blair found the dive-keeper in the room indicated by Elford.
Quick seemed in the best possible humor, and a smile wreathed his
dissipated-looking features. He had been reading an account of the
finding of Murphy’s body in a morning paper.
No mention was made of the fact that the “fence” was alive when
found. Mike now felt sure that his victim was found dead. The case
would, he believed, go down in the annals of New York history as
a mystery. But no. The man who now called to see him knew who the
murderer was.
Quick set his teeth hard when this occurred to him.
“Well?” said Mike, when Blair appeared, “this visit is unexpected.”
“It is well I got to see you at all.”
“How is that?”
“That chap, Elford, denied that you were in,” said Bull.
“He was only carrying out my instructions; you can’t blame him.”
“Mike,” said Blair, “my reason in coming here was to prove I am your
friend.”
“I’ve never doubted it.”
“You must clear out of here!”
“Must I?”
“Yes; the detectives are onto you,” answered Bull.
Quick started.
“What do you mean?”
“Just what I say. They know who stabbed Monte Murphy.”
“Who told you this?”
“One of them.”
“Come, now, Bull,” said Mike, with a forced smile, “I ain’t going to
believe that.”
“It is Bible truth.”
“Have you friendly relations with the police?” remarked Quick.
“This fellow played me for a sucker, and came mighty near ramming me
into jail.”
“Who is he?”
“Frank Hare.”
“I don’t know him.”
“He knows you.”
“Is he one of McClusky’s fly coppers?” asked Mike.
“No; he works for Burt Cromwell.”
At the mention of that name the dive-keeper became very pale.
“Do you mean to say Burt knows about that Elizabeth Street business?”
“Yes; he found Murphy just before the latter died.”
“And Murphy spoke to him?”
“Yes.”
Now Quick trembled like an aspen. Never in his wicked life had his
position been so fraught with danger to himself.
“You say Hare tried to arrest you?”
Bull told of his escape.
“Now,” said Quick, “what did he wish to arrest you for?”
“Stealing that watch I spoke to you about,” replied Blair.
Bull did not wish his companion to know the real reason of his visit
to the “fence.”
“Do you know Enoch Cook?”
“Yes.”
“Have you seen him lately?”
“I met him as I was coming here,” replied Bull.
It may be stated, in passing, that Enoch had shadowed Blair to the
dive, and then hurried to Burt’s office to tell what he had done.
“I’d like to see Cook.”
“Perhaps I can answer as well.”
“No; you haven’t got the brains of Enoch,” remarked Quick. “I’d like
to have him advise me what to do.”
“Do you know where he hangs out?”
“He has been hanging out here up until a few days ago.”
“You don’t know where I would be likely to find him then?”
“No,” replied Mike. “Now, Bull, suppose you are arrested for stealing
this watch?”
“I guess,” replied Blair, laughing nervously, “I will have to go up
the river.”
“That ain’t what I’m getting at. I’m afraid you may be tempted to
‘peach’ on me.”
Bull looked horrified. How could any one take him for an informer?
The idea was ridiculous. At least he told his companion that it was
preposterous.
“Well,” remarked Quick, evidently distrustful of Blair, “I’d like to
feel sure you would be true to me.”
“I will be, I swear it.”
Bull raised a hand and his eyes to the ceiling. Before his visitor
had entered the room, Quick believed that Monte Murphy had not seen
any one but Blair before dying. Well it was for the latter that he
told of the old “fence” being found alive by the detective.
When Bull was announced, Mike thought that if he put his victim out
of the way it would never be known who killed Murphy. He had about
made up his mind to kill Blair. Now he could gain nothing by doing
so, as he quite readily recognized.
“Bull,” said Quick, “I am going to leave the city. Suppose you come
with me.”
“Where do you intend to go?”
“I have not figured on any place in particular.”
“How is Boston?”
“No good; Chicago is better.”
“Have you any money?”
“A few thousand.”
“I’m your man. When will you start?” asked Bull.
“I’ll meet you at the Pennsylvania Depot, in Jersey City, at eight
to-night.”
“It is a bargain. Now I will be going.”
After the departure of his visitor, Quick paced the room nervously.
His conscience did not trouble him. His mind was perturbed simply
because his crime had been discovered. And what had he gained by
killing the old “fence”?
Nothing. The man who had just left gained that of which Quick had
gone in search. Could Mike have known that Blair had the green
diamond, he would not have allowed him to depart so readily.
Bull had not the remotest idea of keeping his appointment with the
dive-keeper. But he did intend to leave New York on his own hook.
Blair believed that, to save himself, Tony Riley would tell the
police all he knew about the robbery. Bull made up his mind not to
visit any of his usual haunts.
Quick was startled by hearing what seemed to be a row down-stairs.
“Jimmy don’t seem to be able to keep them roosters from fighting,” he
remarked. “It would be different if I was behind the bar.”
Suddenly everything became quiet and Mike dropped into an armchair.
At that very moment the door of the room was thrown open.
Burt Cromwell stood upon the threshold.