THE LODGING-HOUSE BATTLE.
"What aire ye goin' ter do with ther blamed thing, now yer got it?"
asked Bud, as they sped across the Eads Bridge into St. Louis.
"I haven't made up my mind yet. It certainly doesn't belong in this
town, and if we use it here we will have to get a local license."
"Jumpin' sand hills, yer not goin' ter run it yere?"
"Why not?"
"Whoever owns it is li'ble ter come erlong some day, an--"
"Then I'll give it to him, if he can prove it is his, but I don't think
it will ever be claimed."
"How's that?"
"Because the owner is a thief, and if he finds it is in the hands of an
officer he will let it go rather than face an investigation. Besides, I
need it."
"Ted Strong, aire yer goin' dotty over them derned smell wagons, too?"
"No, I can't say that I am, but if I lived in a town like this, and
could afford it, you bet I'd have one."
"But where aire yer goin' ter keep it? We shore can't take it up ter our
room."
"Not exactly," laughed Ted. "You forget that we have friends in this
man's town."
"Not a whole heap."
"What's the matter with Don Dorrington?"
"By ginger, that's so. Ther young feller what was with us down in Mexico
when we found ther jewels and things under ther president's palace."
"Yes, and we're heading right for his house now."
"What fer? Goin' ter try ter git him inter trouble, too?"
Ted piloted the machine through the thronged downtown streets, and
coming at last to Pine Street Boulevard, he let her out, and went
skimming over the smooth pavement until he came to Newstead Avenue, and
was ringing the bell of Don Dorrington's flat before the astonished Bud
could recover his breath from the swift ride.
Dorrington himself came to the door, having looked through the window
and seen Ted arrive.
"Well, by all that's glorious," exclaimed Don, as he grasped Ted by the
hand. "Where are you from, and why? Hello, Bud, you old rascal! Get out
of that car and come in. Where did you get the bubble?"
Ted and Bud entered the house and were taken into Don's workroom, where
he was soon put in possession of the facts concerning the motor car,
although Ted said nothing about the real object of his visit lo St.
Louis.
"Well, what can I do for you?" asked Don.
"Have you a place where I can store this car for a while?" asked Ted.
"I sure have," said Don. "You can run it right into the basement from
the back yard. When these flats were built it was intended that the
basement be used as a garage, but so far none of the tenants have shown
a disposition to get rich enough to buy one. No one will be able to get
the machine out of there,"
"That's the only thing I fear," said Ted. "It's a cinch that the owner,
if he is a thief who has escaped with a pot of money, as I strongly
suspect, will have his pals try to get it back. And I don't want them to
get it until I have used it to try to trace them."
"I'll bet a cooky ther feller with ther checked suit wuz after ther
machine himself," said Bud. "When we eloped with it he came holler in'
after us ter bring it back, but we gave him the glazed look an' left him
fannin' ther air in our wake."
The boys rolled the motor car into the basement, which was securely
locked. Then Ted and Bud returned to town on a street car.
As they got closer to the downtown section, they could hear the shouts
of the newsboys announcing an "extra" newspaper in all the varieties of
pronunciation of that word as it issues from the mouths of city
"newsies."
"Wonder what the 'extra' is all about?" said Ted.
"Oh, same old thing, I reckon," said Bud. "'All erbout ther turribul
disaster.' An' when yer buys a paper yer see in big letters at ther top,
'Man Kills,' and down below it, 'Mother-in-law!' But in little type
between them yer read ther follerin', to wit, 'Cat to spite.' I've been
stung by them things before."
"I'm going to buy one, anyway," laughed Ted. "I don't mind being stung
for a cent."
He beckoned to a newsboy, bought a paper, and opened it.
"What's this?" he almost shouted.
Great black letters sprawled across the top of the page.
"Express Messenger Found Dead," was the first line, and below it was the
confirmation of Ted's belief that a great robbery had taken place. It
was "Forty Thousand Dollars Taken from the Safe."
"There's the owner of the abandoned automobile, the fellow who boarded
the train with the heavy grip," said Ted to Bud, who was staring over
his shoulder.
The article following the startling headlines told the circumstances of
the robbery.
The train that entered the Union Station at six o'clock that morning had
been robbed in some mysterious manner between a junction a short
distance out of St. Louis, where the express messenger had been seen
alive by a fellow messenger in another car. When the car was opened in
the station, after being switched to the express track, the messenger
was found lying on the floor of the car with a bullet through his head.
The safe had been blown open and its contents rifled.
The express company had kept silent about the murder and robbery until
late in the day, when the body of the messenger was found by a reporter
in an undertaker's establishment.
As for the other details, a policeman at the Union Station said that he
had noticed a man come out of the waiting room carrying a grip that
seemed more than ordinarily heavy. A red motor car was waiting outside
the station, and the man got into it and drove away at a fast pace. The
policeman had not noticed the number on the car.
How the robber and murderer got into the express car was a mystery, as
the car was locked when it was switched into the express track, and
there were no marks of a violent entry on the outside of the car.
"What aire yer goin' ter do erbout it?" asked Bud. "Aire yer goin' ter
turn over ther motor car an' give yer infermation ter ther police?"
"Not on your life," answered Ted. "At least, not yet. I'm going to work
on it a bit myself first."
"But won't Mr. Truax tip it off?"
"I'll warn him not to."
"But how erbout ther feller in ther check suit what wuz so kind an'
attentive ter us?"
"He's hiding out, now that the robbery has become public. I'm not afraid
of him."
"What's ther first move?"
"Locate and identify the car."
Ted called Mr. Truax up on the telephone. The commission merchant had
read about the express robbery, and had connected the man in the red car
with it, but promised to say nothing about it until Ted had had an
opportunity to unravel the mystery.
Ted lay awake a long time that night thinking the matter over, and in
the morning awoke with a plan in his mind.
"Well, hev yer determined what ter do erbout ther red car?" asked Bud at
the breakfast table. "I'm shore gittin' sore at myself fer a loafer,
sittin' eround here doin' nothin' but eat an' look at ther things in
ther stores what I can't buy."
"I've got a scheme that I'm going to try," answered Ted.
"What is it?"
"I'm going to run that car all over this town until I get some of the
train-robbing syndicate anxious about it and to following it. Then I'm
going to get on to their place of doing business and their methods."
"Wish yer luck," was Bud's cheerless comment.
Bud had been out wandering restlessly around the streets all morning,
and Ted was writing letters. When he got through he thought about the
missing trunk, and concluded that he would go to the Union Station to
see if it had been received.
The words of warning in the note not to go on the street alone were
clear in his memory; but this he took to mean at night, for in a crowded
street in the daytime he could see no danger.
After he had waited an hour or more for Bud, and the yellow-haired
cow-puncher had not returned, Ted decided to delay no longer, and
started off at a brisk walk for the station, which was six or seven
blocks distant.
His hotel being on Pine Street, he chose that for his route.
He had walked three blocks when he stopped to watch a man who was
slightly in advance of him.
It was the fellow he had seen in the checked suit.
He had just come out of a saloon.
In the middle of the block he stopped to talk with another man, who
looked as if he worked on the railroad, and Ted loitered in a doorway
until the two separated, and the man in the checked suit continued on
his way.
A block farther on Ted observed two men standing on the corner talking.
A policeman stood on the opposite corner.
The two men on the corner Ted knew instantly for "plain-clothes men," as
the headquarters detectives are called.
He was well aware that the police by this time were on the alert to find
the express robber and murderer, and knew that every available man on
the city detective force was on the watch, like a cat at a rat hole.
To capture the train robber meant a reward and promotion.
Ted stood on the corner opposite the detectives and watched proceedings.
When the man in the checked suit had gone about ten paces beyond the
detectives, one of them started after him, and the other signaled the
policeman in uniform to cross over.
The detective called to the man in the check suit to halt, but instead
of obeying he started to run.
But he had not gone more than ten feet when he was seized by the
detective, and was dragged back to the corner.
"Take him to the box, Casey," said the detective, turning his prisoner
over to the policeman.
At that moment the two detectives were joined by a third, and they
entered into an earnest conversation, drawn closely together and looking
over their shoulders occasionally in the direction of the house into
which the man in the checked suit was about to enter when arrested.
"I have stumbled right into it," said Ted to himself. "The check-suit
man is the spy for the train robbers, and their headquarters are in that
house. The detectives are going to raid it, and I'm in on it. This
certainly is lucky."
He was glad now that he had not waited for Bud.
The three detectives moved slowly down the street, The policeman stood
on the corner holding his man, waiting for the patrol wagon.
The scene was vividly impressed on Ted's mind, for it had happened so
quickly, so easily, so quietly, and not at all like his own strenuous
times when he had gone after desperadoes in his capacity of deputy
marshal.
The detectives did not notice that they were being followed by a youth,
and it is doubtful if they would have paid any attention to him if they
had.
The foot of the first detective was on the lower step of the stairway
leading to the door of the suspected house when suddenly a shrill
whistle cut the air from the direction of the corner, and Ted turned to
see the policeman strike the man in the check suit a blow with his club.
"Curse him, he's tipped us off," said the detective. "Come on, we've got
to rush them now."
Quickly the three sprang up the steps, threw the door open, and entered
a long hall.
"Back room," said one.
Ted was following them as closely as he could without being noticed and
warned away.
He saw a big, fine-looking policeman entering by a back door.
"That's it," said one of the detectives, motioning to a door.
The policeman walked boldly to the door and threw it open.
As he did so a shot rang out, and the policeman staggered back and
fell, a crimson stain covering his face.
He was dead before he struck the floor.
Without a word, the three detectives ran to the door, and within a
moment or two at least fifteen shots were fired within the room.
They were so many and so close together that it sounded like a single
crash. Then there was silence for a few moments, followed by a few
desultory shots which seemed to pop viciously after the crash that had
gone before.
It all happened so suddenly that Ted had hardly time to think, and stood
rooted to the spot until he was aroused by the cry of "Help!" in a
feeble voice, and, drawing his revolver, he sprang into the room.
As he did so, a shot rang out, and a ball sped close to his head.
The room was so dense with suffocating powder smoke that he could not
see across it, but he had seen the dull-red flash from the muzzle of a
revolver and shot in that direction.
"I'm done," he heard, followed by a deep groan.
"Get me out of here," said a man, trying to struggle to his feet, and
Ted hurried to his side. It was one of the detectives, and Ted helped
him to his feet and supported him to the hall.
"Let me down. I've got mine. Go in and help Dunnigan," said the wounded
man. There was a spot, red and ever widening, on his breast.
Ted laid him on the floor and reëntered the room. Another shot came in
his direction, and missed, although he could feel the wind of it as it
passed close to his head, and he returned it with two shots, and there
was silence.
The smoke had by this time cleared away somewhat, and Ted saw five men
lying prone in the room.
One of the detectives lay on his face across the bed, and Ted tried to
raise him up, but he was a dead weight. Ted finally got him turned over
on his back, and then he saw that the detective was dead.
Kneeling on the floor with his head in his arms, which were thrown
across a chair, was the third detective. He was breathing hard, and
every time he moved the blood gushed from his mouth. He had been shot
through the stomach.
But on the other side of the bed lay three men, apparently all of them
dead.
While he was observing this there was a commotion in the hall, and a
policeman rushed in, followed by a large man who wore an authoritative
air.
"Oh, this is too bad; this is too bad," he kept repeating, as he went
from man to man. It was Chief of Detectives Desmond. Turning to the
policeman, he said:
"They've killed the boys, but the boys got the whole gang except two,
'Checkers' out there, and a man in the red automobile."