When Mr. Jacobs threatened to obtain that all-powerful friend of the
prisoner, a writ of _habeas corpus_, Detective Blount, although then
without the evidence necessary to hold Hall for trial, did not feel very
much concerned. He felt certain his telegrams would procure enough
evidence to warrant the prisoner's commitment for trial, but he had a
very close shave for it, and the immediate evidence came through an
unexpected and almost unknown party--Miss Fleming.
His reply came from Dublin--nothing was known there and O'Brien had not
reported for forty-eight hours. He was engaged in another matter.
Next came Carden's reply for both Martin and himself: "Martin too ill.
Doctor forbids talking of the matter. O'Brien not here."
Blount looked angry and disappointed--and then came Miss Fleming, just
fifteen minutes before he was to go to Court--and with her a big
good-looking country squire, who was only too happy to escort her to
Dover.
Miss Fleming immediately proceeded to business, and with a directness
that excited Blount's admiration. After making sure he was the right
party, she laid two letters before him.
"Those," she said, "contain the information, I think, that you asked
for. They are from Mr. Martin, and say that he is about to fight with
that horrid Hall. At the end of each is a short note from a Mr. O'Brien,
saying Mr. Martin was seriously hurt. The letters were sent to Mr.
Stafford and--Mr. Carden, and they are with Mr. Martin now."
After examining the letters Blount asked:
"Miss Fleming, would you object to being a witness against Hall, if it
becomes necessary?"
She hesitated a little but finally said if it would help her friends in
any way she "would try."
It was not necessary, however; for the prosecuting attorney, armed with
the letters and telegrams and a witness ready to identify him, had no
difficulty in having Hall committed for trial--without bail, owing to
Carden's alarming telegram.
Having Hall, now, where he could lay his hand on him when required,
Blount accompanied Miss Fleming and Mr. Gerard, her escort, as far as
Manchester, and then hurried on to London. No matter how the trial for
duelling turned out--and he shrewdly suspected Martin would refuse to
appear in it--there was a great deal to be done before it came on.
The first news he received in London was regarding the stolen draft
presented at Baring's. Being detailed specially for Martin's matter,
this was given as news and not as bearing on his case, as was the
additional fact that no trace could be found of the owner, who was now
supposed to have been murdered.
Blount in a professional way asked who was the thief and the amount of
the draft.
The reply rather startled him. The thief was well known to him as a
friend of Jaggers, and the amount of the draft twelve thousand pounds.
Then Blount did some very brilliant thinking, which resulted in his
calling on the man who had presented the draft.
"Hello, Sanders! Got you again, have they! I say! What did Jaggers do
with the rest of the stuff?" Mr. Blount asked, carelessly.
"How do I know? Blast----" Mr. Sanders stopped suddenly. He had steadily
refused to talk so far, but his week's imprisonment had not improved an
unusually bad temper, and it had got the better of him.
Mr. Blount could be a perfect Job's comforter when occasion required, as
is proved by the following:
"Well--you've put your foot in it this time, I'm afraid. I've been away
for a week or two--only got back to-day and heard of this. They have you
straight enough on the draft, but that's nothing--only a few years. The
other is 'life,' or worse.
"Why, don't you know they've got it down for murder now? Oh! you are in
for it I'm afraid, as soon as Jaggers gives up. They haven't found the
body yet, but, of course, that's pretty near certain to come to light.
It's only a matter of time."
Sanders was no fool--at any rate not fool enough to engage in any affair
involving murder, and in spite of himself became interested.
"What are you talking about?" he demanded.
"About the finding of the body of the man you took the draft from. The
draft itself, of course, amounts to only a few years, but the
other----Here! I've got to see a _friend_ of mine almost as bad off as
yourself. Take this paper--it will tell you as much as I can!" and Mr.
Blount hurried away to the end of the corridor, and then sat down and
talked to the turnkey for half an hour.
Sanders was an educated man and came of good family. Drink had been the
primary cause of this and his previous troubles, but he had never been
involved in anything even approaching murder, and when Blount had gone
he seized the paper and read a long story of the crime supposed to be
connected with his possession of the draft. News had not been too
plentiful, and the editor had given full scope to the reporter's
imagination. The police were close on the heels of the missing murderer,
so the paper asserted, and he or the one in custody, it was expected,
would divulge the story of the crime.
Sanders read the story eagerly and looked considerably worried by it,
Blount's little story fitted in so nicely.
Suddenly Blount appeared at the door of the cell.
"Well, through with the paper, Sanders?" he asked, and as it was handed
back: "You were a most infernal fool to put your hand into anything with
blood in it. Such fellows as Jaggers and 'The Knifer' (Sanders started)
take chances of that kind right along, and are bound to come to the rope
in the end--but they are little better than brutes, while you are a man
of education. But I must be off! May see you again in a day or
two--Good-bye."
And having left Sanders with plenty of food for reflection, Blount left
the prison in high glee.
"I'll get that thousand pounds yet," he muttered as he passed out, "and
by the merest fluke, too. And 'The Knifer' is in it, eh! Well, well! To
think of playing it on an intelligent chap like Sanders--but they are
all fools, every one of them."
Thus communing with himself, Blount walked rapidly in the direction of
"Blind Jim's;" but once in the neighborhood, proceeded at a leisurely
gait to that den. As those who frequented the place were all night owls
of the worst type, there were but few present when Blount entered, and
Jaggers was not among them.
The last time Blount visited Jaggers, the latter became a person of
importance because of his intimacy with him, and it occurred to Blount
that he could perhaps get something out of "Blind Jim" on the strength
of this apparent intimacy.
There were no love lost between the proprietor and the
police--especially that portion of it represented in the person of
Blount--but he bowed obsequiously as the latter approached.
"I want to meet Jaggers again--where is he?" said Blount, after
declining an offer of "something," and ignoring an inquiry as to his
health.
As may be supposed "Blind Jim" knew of Jaggers' last bit of business,
and hesitated a moment before answering that he did not know.
Jaggers had become very drunk after Blount had gone away the last time
the latter called, and had told the proprietor of the den that he had
put Blount up to a big thing. Remembrance of this made Jim add that
Jaggers had been there the previous night for the first time in a couple
of weeks, and was very drunk when he left.
"When you see him again, say I want to see him about that matter. He
will know what I mean--I think I will take some beer."
This chimed in exactly with Jaggers' story, and induced "Jim" to say:
"Suppose I make it a quart o' bitter, Mr. Blount, an take it over to
'Nell'--you know her? She 'n Jaggers went out together last night."
Blount assented to the proposition, but a ten minutes conversation with
'Nell' proved conclusively that she knew nothing about Jaggers, except
that he appeared to have plenty of money, and was living with "The
Knifer," "down Blackwall way."
This was something, however, and Blount left "Blind Jim's" fairly well
satisfied. He had not expected to find Jaggers there, and was rather
gratified that he had not. It proved that Jaggers was in
hiding--otherwise why abandon his old haunts?
That night every officer in London and the outlying districts had an
accurate description of Jaggers and "The Knifer," with orders to arrest
them.