MR. RIDER RECEIVES ANOTHER SET-BACK.
Jake Walton, as the supposed miner gave his name, was thoroughly searched
by Detective Rider, after reaching the station-house, but nothing
suspicious was found upon him except a revolver. He had considerable
money, but nothing to indicate that he had ever been concerned in any
robbery, or to confirm the belief that he was other than he pretended to
be.
He submitted to being searched with the utmost indifference, but
drawlingly remarked during the operation, he "supposed they'd take
bail--he wasn't used to bein' shut up, and it would come pretty tough
on him."
"Of course the magistrate will accept suitable bail," said Rider, not
imagining that the prisoner could find any one to go security for him to
the large sum likely to be asked.
The miner requested that a lawyer might be sent to him at once, after
which he coolly sat down, drew out a morning paper, and began to read.
Later in the day a legal gentleman presented himself in his cell, and
there followed a long consultation between the two, and toward evening
the lawyer, after consulting with a police justice, called at the
Southern Hotel and inquired for a lady by the name of Mrs. J.M. Walton.
Yes, there was such a person stopping there, the clerk informed him,
whereupon the lawyer sent up his card to her with the request that she
would grant him a private interview.
The messenger returned in about fifteen minutes, saying the lady would
receive him in her private parlor. Upon being conducted thither, he
found a handsome elderly woman awaiting him, and immediately explained
his business, relating the circumstances of the arrest of Jake Walton,
and concluded by telling her that he had been employed as counsel for
the young man, who had sent him to her to arrange for bail.
Mrs. Walton appeared to be greatly disturbed by these disagreeable
tidings. She said she had come there expecting to meet her son, who had
just returned from Australia, and it was very trying to be told that
he had been arrested for theft. Then she inquired what amount would be
required for security.
The counsel named the sum fixed by the police justice, whereupon Mrs.
Walton appeared to be considerably agitated for a moment.
"I am an entire stranger in the city," she remarked, recovering herself
somewhat. "I know no one to whom I could appeal to become bound for so
large a sum. What can I do?"
"Have you plenty of means at your disposal, madame?" her companion
inquired.
"Yes, I could give bail to almost any reasonable amount, only being a
stranger here, I fear it would not be accepted from me," the lady
returned, with a look of anxiety.
"No; but I think I can suggest a way out of that difficulty," said the
lawyer, with a crafty smile.
"Then do so," said Mrs. Walton, quickly; "I am willing to pay handsomely
to secure the release of my son from his uncomfortable position."
"Very well. Then if you can command the sum named you can deposit it in
one of the city banks and I will attend to all other formalities for you.
Of course, the money will be returned to you after the trial of your
son."
"Could such arrangements be made?" Mrs. Walton eagerly inquired.
"Certainly. All that is required is sufficient security to insure the
young man's appearance at his trial, and then he will be released."
"Then I can arrange it," the woman said, apparently greatly relieved;
and after discussing ways and means a while longer, the lawyer took his
leave.
A few hours served to arrange matters satisfactorily to all parties. The
sum required was deposited in one of the city banks, and the cashier was
empowered to pay it over to the city treasurer, if Jake Walton failed
to appear at the time named to answer to the charge of complicity in the
Palmer diamond robbery. He was then released, the lawyer was handsomely
remunerated for his efficient services, and Mrs. Walton and her son
returned to the Southern Hotel.
It was on their way thither that they entered the car in which Mona was
also returning to the hotel, and when she made the discovery that the
woman had on the very dress which the charming Mrs. Vanderbeck had worn
on the day of the Palmer robbery.
We know what followed--how she immediately sent on to Ray for the scrap
of cloth, and how, later, she found that it exactly fitted the rent in
the dress.
We know, also, how, immediately following this discovery, she sought the
headquarters of the detective force, where she opportunely encountered
Mr. Rider, and related to him the discoveries which she had made.
Mrs. Walton had not appeared personally in connection with the
formalities regarding the release of her son.
Everything had been conducted by the shrewd lawyer, so Detective Rider
had not met her at all; but he felt confident, when Mona described her,
together with her dress, that she was not the mother of Jake Walton
at all, but one of the "gang" who had so successfully robbed different
parties during the last two or three years.
The moment the young girl disappeared from the office, after her
interview with him, the detective executed a number of antics which
would have done credit to a practiced athlete.
"The girl is a cute little body," he muttered, with a chuckle, as he sat
down to rest a moment, and plan his course of action, "and it is lucky
for me that she happened to be in St. Louis just at this time and
stopping at that very hotel. I wonder," he added, with a frown, "that I
didn't think that the woman who gave bail, might be one of the gang. By
Jove!" with a sudden start, "I believe that money, which she deposited
in the bank as security, is only a blind after all, and _they both intend
to skip_! What a wretched blunder it was to accept bail anyway! But I'll
cage both birds this time, only what I do must be done quickly. They must
have done a smashing big business in diamonds," he went on, musingly;
"and there are evidently two women and one man associated. This Mrs.
Walton is doubtless the old one who tricked Doctor Wesselhoff, and that
red-headed Mrs. Vanderbeck, I am still confident, is none other than the
Widow Bently, who did Justin Cutler and Mrs. Vander_heck_ out of their
money. I'd just like to get hold of all three! Tom Rider, if you only
could, it would be a feather in your cap such as doesn't often wave
over the head of an ordinary detective, not to mention the good round
sum that would swell your pocket-book! But half a loaf is better than
no bread, and so here goes! I'll arrest them both, and shall object to
anybody going bail for them."
Highly elated over the prospect before him, the man brushed his neat suit
until there wasn't an atom of dust upon it, polished his boots until he
could see his own face reflected in them, rearranged his necktie in the
last new style, then ran lightly down stairs, and hastened, with quick,
elastic tread, toward the Southern Hotel, where he expected to accomplish
such great results.
* * * * *
"Where have you been, Ruth?" exclaimed Mrs. Montague, in an irritated
tone, as Mona entered that lady's parlor upon her return from the
detective's office. "I wish you wouldn't go out without consulting
me. I've been waiting here for a long time for you to mend these gloves."
"I am very sorry," Mona returned, flushing, "but after you went out
to drive I assisted the chambermaid, who was nearly crazy with the
toothache, to put some of the rooms in order; then, as you had not
returned, I went out for a little walk."
"Well, I don't mind about the walk, but I didn't bring you with me to do
chamber-work in every hotel we stop at," sharply retorted the much
annoyed lady. "You can go at the gloves right away," she added; "then
I shall want you to help me pack, for we are to leave on the first boat
to-morrow morning. And," she concluded, thus explaining to Mona her
unusual irritability, "we've got to make the trip alone, after all, for
my friend is worse this morning, and so the whole family have given it
up."
"I am sorry that you are to be disappointed. I should suppose you would
wish to give it up yourself. I am afraid you will not enjoy it at all,"
Mona replied, wondering why she did not at once return to New York
instead of keeping on.
"Of course, I shall not enjoy it," snapped the woman, but bestowing a
searching glance upon her companion, "and I would not go on, only Louis
was to join us at New Orleans, and it is too late now to change his
plans."
Mona's face fell at this unexpected and disagreeable intelligence.
The last thing she desired was Louis Hamblin's companionship, and she
would have been only too glad to return at once to New York.
"Could you not telegraph to him?" she suggested.
"No; for I suppose he has already left New York," Mrs. Montague curtly
replied.
Mona was quite unhappy over the prospect before her; then it suddenly
occurred to her that perhaps Detective Rider would need her as a witness,
if he should arrest the Waltons, and in that case she would be compelled
to return to New York.
Still she felt very uncomfortable even with this hope to encourage her,
and but for the discovery of that morning, she would have regretted
having consented to accompany Mrs. Montague upon her trip.
She sat down to mend the gloves, with what composure she could assume,
although her nerves were in a very unsettled state, for she was
continually looking for a summons from Mr. Rider.
When they were finished she helped about the packing of Mrs. Montague's
wardrobe, and then repaired to her chamber, to get her own in readiness
to leave; but still no word from the detective, and she thought it very
strange.
It might have been an hour after Mona's return to the hotel, when that
official sauntered into the office, where he picked up a paper and looked
it over for a few minutes. Then he went to the counter, pulled the
register before him, and began to glance up and down its pages.
He finally found the names he was searching for, then turning to the
clerk, he requested that a boy might take a note from him to Mrs. J.M.
Walton's room.
"Mrs. Walton?" repeated the clerk, with some surprise.
"Yes; I have a little matter of business with her," said Mr. Rider, who
intended to make his arrest very quietly.
"I am sorry you did not come earlier, then," regretfully responded the
clerk, "for Mrs. Walton and her son left the hotel about two hours ago,"
The detective's heart sank with a sudden shock.
Gone! his birds flown when he had them so nearly captured!
"Are you sure?" he sharply demanded, while in spite of his long and
severe training, he turned very white, and his under lip twitched
nervously.
"Certainly, or I should not have so stated," returned the clerk, with
some dignity. "When young Mr. Walton settled his bill, he ordered a
carriage to be in waiting at eleven o'clock, and both he and his
mother left the house at that time. I regret your disappointment,
sir, in missing them."
This was almost more than Mr. Rider could bear; but he could not doubt
the man's word, and he feared the thieves had escaped him again. They
must have left while Mona was telling him her story at the detective
headquarters.
They had been very sharp. Finding themselves in a bad box, they had
planned their movements with great cunning. He believed that Mrs. Walton
had deposited the amount required for bail in the bank, with the
deliberate intention of forfeiting it, rather than have her accomplice
brought to trial; doubtless he was too useful to her to run any risk of
his being found guilty, and imprisoned for a term of years, and thus
put an end to their successful career.
The detective berated himself soundly again for not objecting to the
acceptance of bail at all, but it was too late now to remedy the matter.
Regrets were useless, and he must bestir himself, strike a fresh trail,
if possible, and hope for better results.
He wondered why they had not skipped immediately after Jake Walton's
release, but finally concluded that they had remained in the city for a
day or two to disarm suspicion.
"Where did they go?" he inquired, as soon as he could command his voice
to speak calmly.
"To the Grand Union Station. I believe they were going North, for I heard
the young man say something about purchasing tickets, at reduced rates,
for Chicago," the clerk replied.
"Had they baggage with them?" Mr. Rider questioned.
"Yes, a trunk and a good-sized grip," said the man.
The detective thought a moment.
Then he called for writing materials, hastily wrote a few lines, which he
sealed, and directed to "Miss Richards."
"There is a young lady by that name stopping here, I believe," he
remarked, as he laid the envelope before the clerk.
"Yes; she is with a Mrs. Montague."
"That is the lady," said the detective. "Will you see that this letter is
given into her own hands, and _privately_? It is a matter of importance."
"Yes, sir, I will myself attend to the matter," responded the obliging
clerk.
Mr. Rider deposited a piece of silver upon the envelope, touched his hat,
and walked briskly from the hotel.
He jumped into a carriage that was waiting before the door.
"To the Grand Union Station," he ordered. "Be quick about it, and you
shall have double fare."
The man was quick about it, but the train for Chicago had been gone some
time.
Mr. Rider had of course expected this, but he at once sought an interview
with the ticket agent, and made earnest inquiries regarding those who had
purchased tickets for Chicago that morning; but he could learn of no
persons answering to the description of the miner and his supposed
mother.
If he could have obtained any intelligence regarding them, he had
intended to telegraph ahead, and order their arrest when they should
arrive at the end of their journey. But of course it would be of no use
to put this plan into execution now, as he doubted very much their having
gone to Chicago at all.
He was very much disheartened, and retraced his steps to his hotel, with
a sickening sense of total defeat.
"Tom Rider," he muttered, fiercely, as he packed his own grip to take the
first train back to New York, "you might as well give up the business and
take up some trade; you've been hoodwinked by these clever thieves often
enough."
But there was a very dogged, resolute expression on his plain face,
nevertheless, as he turned it northward, which betrayed that he did not
mean to give up his search quite yet.
That afternoon when Mona went down to dinner, the clerk of the hotel
waylaid her and quietly slipped an envelope into her hand.
"Thank you," she said, in a low tone, and hastily concealed it in her
pocket.
When she was alone again she broke it open and read, with almost as much
disappointment as the detective himself had experienced, when he found
that his birds had flown, these words:
"Gone! They gave us the slip about eleven o'clock. Save the scrap of
cloth--it may be needed later. R."
"Oh, dear!" sighed Mona, regretfully; "and the Palmer robbery is still as
much of a mystery as ever."