ONCE MORE ON THE TRACK
When Gerald was turned out of the farm, it was too late to catch a train
to New York. He slept in a roadside shed.
Early next morning he was in the city, and he had made up his mind to go
to police headquarters, and tell sufficient of his story to justify a
stoppage of the notes.
He passed a money changer's on the other side of the way, and looked at
the shop.
As he did so, he saw something which turned him rigid.
Emerging from the money changer's was his close companion of the voyage.
It was not so much that which came as a shock to him as the change in
the fellow's appearance.
The humpbacked man was no longer humpbacked. The club-footed man was no
longer club-footed.
The toothless gums were now filled with teeth, and where there had been
a long drawn face, there was now a round one.
The glasses off, revealed eyes, sharp, shrewd, keen, piercing eyes,
which even with the road between them, Gerald recognized in a
moment--Lawyer Loide's!
In that moment there flashed on him the knowledge of how he had been
robbed.
Loide boarded a passing car, and was carried away.
Gerald hesitated. Should he follow? No, he must first ascertain beyond a
doubt that the notes were in the man's possession.
He could follow the car in a hack, and catch it up if need be.
He dashed across the road, and entered the money changer's.
"You are the principal?"
"Yes. Vat can I do for you?"
"I am an English detective."
"So."
"I am shadowing a man who has just left you. Stolen notes, a thousand
pounds each. Has he cashed one with you?"
"No, no, mine frent. He not haf me so. I makes inquiries first."
Gerald pulled out his note-book.
"Was the note he presented one of these numbers?"
"Dat von."
The index finger of the banker's hand was at work.
"What name did he give you?"
"Loide."
"Richard Loide, lawyer, of Liverpool Street, London?"
"Dat vos so. Here vos his cart."
"Has he left the note with you?"
"I haf lock him in mine safe."
"What to do with it?"
"I am at his oxpense cabling to Englant. Dat is all rights, den I vos
pay him--but not now."
"What address has he given you here?"
"Oriental Hall, Seventh Avenue."
"You will not do anything with the note till you see me again? We shall
probably arrest him to-night, or in the morning."
"Dat vos so."
"Good-bye for the present."
"Goot-bye."
"Seventh Avenue, Oriental Hotel, drive like fury."
Such were Gerald's instructions to the hackman.
He knew he would get there before Loide. As a matter of fact, he passed
the car bearing that individual half way.
When he had paid his fare, the number of dollars he had left he could
have counted on his finger-tips.
It was a third-rate hotel. While waiting for the hotel clerk, he looked
through the visitors' or arrival book. Loide had signed his own name; it
stood out boldly, "Richard Loide, London, Eng."
"Is room No. 40 (the next one to Loide's) vacant?" he inquired.
"Yes."
"I'll book it."
He did so; signed a fictitious name in the visitors' book, received his
key, and went up in the elevator to his room.
He sat down and waited, waited till he heard the tenant of No. 41 come
along the passage, and pass through the room bearing that number.
Then Gerald flung off his coat, stepped into the passage, satisfied
himself that no soul was in sight, turned the handle of the door of No.
41, pushed it open, and sprang on its occupant--Loide.
The surprise party generally has the advantage--Gerald had.
Before Loide could utter a cry, or turn to gaze at his assailant, strong
fingers were gripping his throat and half choking him.
The lawyer was being garroted. Resistance ceased.
He became limp. Gerald was holding an unconscious man in his arm.
Gerald dropped his burden to the floor and sprang to the door, shot the
bolt, and then turned to the man on the carpet.
He felt his heart, it was beating--beating furiously. That was all
right.
Gerald knew his victim to be a murderer, but he did not want to become
one himself.
He went over the man. In the breast pocket, in an envelope, he found the
notes. He counted them--eighteen.
One glance at the man, one more feel of the heart, and he went into his
own chamber.
Getting into his coat, and putting on his hat, he went out of his room,
and, key in hand, was carried by the lift to the ground floor.
Leaving his key in the bureau, he walked away from the hotel, and
inquiring of a policeman where the office of the New York Central Bank
was, he made in its direction.
At the bank counter he filled a form paying in to the credit of George
Depew eighteen thousand pounds.
"Will you wire through to your Oakville branch, telling them to let Mr.
Depew know at once that this money has been paid to his account?"
"Certainly, sir. It shall be done immediately."
"Thank you. Give me the name of the most respectable lawyer near here,
will you?"
"Denison, Coomer & Wall--they rank highest around here."
"Thanks."
Gerald went to the lawyers. To the acting partner he said:
"I was recommended here by the New York Central Bank. I was commissioned
by Mr. George Depew, farmer, of Oakville, to go to England to collect
nineteen thousand pounds, money left him under a will. I got it, and
came over by the _Cascaria_. I was robbed on board. Eighteen thousand
pounds of the money I have recovered and paid into the New York Central
to Mr. Depew's credit; here is the bank's receipt."
"Yes--that is an order."
"One thousand pounds is missing--I traced it to Myer Wolff's--Exchange
Bureau on Broadway. I went in. He has the note.
"I told him not to part with the money for it. The man who left it with
him was the thief. He is a shrewd, clever thief; prompt measures must be
taken to prevent his getting that thousand pounds."
"Where's Depew?"
"At home in Oakville. I want you to fetch him here express."
"Why don't you fetch him yourself?"
"He thinks I am the thief. I only got hands on the eighteen thousand
pounds an hour ago. The whole lot was missing yesterday."
"He'll have to make a declaration and get bondsmen before that thousand
pounds can be successfully claimed."
"He can do that--most respectable man in the section."
"I'll write him now to come along, and send the letter through special.
How do the trains run? Can he get here to-night?"
"Dead easy. If you catch the next out with your letter, he can be back
here before half past four."
"Good. I'll tell him to be here at five o'clock. There'll be justices
around at that time. You'll come back?"
"I will--you'll want me?"
"To join in the declaration--that's so."
"Good. I'll be here."
"Till five o'clock then. Good-bye."
"Good-bye."