JIM TAYLOR IS ARRESTED.
Old Spicer had hardly left the building when he was joined by Killett.
"Thank fortune you are here!" he exclaimed in a tone of relief. "There
are three places that must be shadowed instantly.
"What places are they?" asked his friend.
"The house I have just left, where Cora Bell makes it her home, the
boarding-house No. 305 West Twelfth Street, and the building at the
corner of Hudson and Morton streets."
"What is the last?"
"The place where Chamberlain lodges."
"Good! Slip into this saloon, and I will see to the matter at once."
Old Spicer went into the place designated, and Killett hurried down the
street.
In a few moments he returned, and after giving Old Spicer an account of
what had passed between Taylor and the two burglars, he listened to the
other's account of his interview with Cora.
"Ah!" he exclaimed, when the old man had finished, "there's just one
thing for us to do to make this the neatest and most perfect job ever
handled by detectives."
"Yes," nodded Old Spicer, "just one thing."
"And that is to discover Chamberlain's unknown friend."
"Exactly."
"It can be done."
"Of course."
"And we'll do it."
"To be sure we will."
"We must manage to drive Chamberlain to him, I suppose?"
"Perhaps he will go without driving."
"Right! the moment he is out of funds he will go to him for more."
"That's it."
"We ought to have Stark and Rouse looking after him."
"Where are they now?"
"They are busy with Taylor and those precious worthies, Hawks and
Klinkhammer. By the way, when had we better gather them in?"
"The moment they have led us to the scoundrel who hired them to murder
poor Charley Way."
"They have made an appointment with him to meet them in the city
to-day, eh?"
"Yes."
"Well, then, we won't have long to wait."
"I hope not. Do your men know where to look for you, Adam?"
"Yes; and, by Jove! here comes one of them now."
"That's so; and it's Stark himself."
"Right. Well, Silas, what is it?"
"I have a suggestion to make, sir."
"Out with it, then."
"I would recommend taking Taylor before he can see Chamberlain. They'll
give us trouble if they get together."
"You're right. And so far as I can see, there's no reason why Taylor
shouldn't be arrested at once."
"It must be managed quietly, then," suggested Old Spicer. "It mustn't
be known that he's taken."
"Correct, old friend, I see the point. Is he still in the saloon,
Silas?"
"Yes, sir; but getting ready to leave."
"Well, send a policeman in uniform in there, and have him tell Taylor
that he is wanted at the excise commissioners' office."
"All right sir; and what then?"
"Why, follow and arrest him; say somewhere in the vicinity of Bond
Street and Broadway."
"Very good, sir."
"Who's looking after the other scoundrels?"
"Quackenbush and Crowley."
"That's all right. And so, when Taylor is safe under lock and key, I
wish you'd be on the lookout for Chamberlain," and Killett explained
the situation.
"Oho! he has a secret friend, eh?" exclaimed Stark, when he had
finished. "I should like nothing better than to hunt down that man."
"Why so?" asked Old Spicer, curiously.
"Because I believe it will turn out that he, whoever he is, has
encouraged this crime."
"Very likely," returned Spicer, in a musing tone.
"Well," exclaimed Killett, abruptly, "we shall see by and by, and now
be off with you, my good friend," and Stark hurried away.
He soon fell in with a policeman.
"How are you, Tompkins?" he cried, slapping the officer on the back.
"Fine day."
"Hallo!" returned the man in blue, looking round. "What the deuce----
Oh, is it you, Stark?"
"Yes, it's me, old boy, and I have a little job for you."
"What is it?"
"Walk along with me and I'll tell you."
The policeman fell into step with the detective, and after a moment,
said:
"Well, drive ahead."
"Know Jimmie Taylor's place, down Hudson Street?" asked Stark.
"Know it? Well, I should say so!"
"All right; he's in there now. I want you to go in and just say to him
that he's wanted up at the excise commissioners' office right away;
and then, in as unconcerned a manner as possible, come out."
"I understand. But, I say, Stark, what's the row?"
"Nobody knows that yet, but you'll hear, I fancy, before you're much
older."
"All right. Here we are, and I'll do your little job for you," and
Tompkins entered the saloon.
Taylor was in earnest conversation with his barkeeper.
He looked up on hearing footsteps, and when he saw the policeman, he
started.
Tompkins appeared not to notice this, but walking up to where he was
standing, said, carelessly:
"What's the matter, Jemmie? What's the hitch between you and the folks
at the excise office?"
"Didn't know there was any," was the quick reply. "I run this saloon on
the square; and so far as I know, there's no chance for any one to find
fault."
"You're all right, for anything I've ever seen to the contrary, but
something's up and you're wanted at the excise office at once."
"At once, eh?"
"Yes, they want to question you, I suppose, and if you'll take my
advice, you'll get around there with the least possible delay."
"I'll go this very minute. Jerry, give Mr. Tompkins whatever he calls
for," and snatching up his hat, which was lying on the bar, Taylor left
the saloon.
"What is it to be, sir?" asked Jerry, when they were alone.
"Whisky straight, if you please," was the prompt reply, "and, Jerry,
I'll just step inside this door to drink it," and pushing open the door
which led to the little stall-like rooms, he waited for Jerry to bring
him his whisky there.
Mr. Tompkins was a cautious policeman, you see. He was careful--indeed,
most anxious, not to bring reproach on the excellent body of men to
which he belonged.
Jerry soon made his appearance with a liberal dose of "poison," which
Tompkins swallowed as if he loved it, and then, with a cheerful
good-day, he went out.
Neither Taylor nor Stark was in sight. The first, on emerging from the
saloon, had hurried down the street. The other had let him get some
distance ahead and then had followed him.
They kept on in this way until they had reached the vicinity of Bond
Street and Broadway, when quickening his pace, Stark came up with
Taylor, and slapping him on the back, said in a matter-of-fact tone:
"Mr. Taylor, I should be pleased with the favor of your company for a
short distance."
"Who the devil are you?" exclaimed Taylor, turning upon him with a
start.
"I am an officer of the law and you are my prisoner," was the stern
reply.
"I don't know about that."
"_I_ do. And let me tell you, Jimmie, it will be best for you to go
along with me quietly, understand?"
"Where are you going to take me to?"
"The central office."
"What for?"
"Mr. Byrnes is anxious to have a good look at you."
"He won't get much out of me."
"That's all right. Every man has a right to keep his mouth shut and his
tongue still if he can."
"Well, I can."
"It's nice to have a good opinion of one's self, Jimmie. And now step
off a little faster, if you please."
Taylor apparently had given up all thoughts of resisting, and walked
on by the detective's side without another word.
On arriving at the central office he was locked up, and a letter
purporting to be signed by him, was sent to his saloon, informing Jerry
that he had suddenly been called out of town on business and would not
be back that night.
All this having been accomplished, Stark hastened back to the place
where Old Spicer and Killett had established their headquarters, and
reported.
He then went out to make the rounds between the three points at which
it was suspected Chamberlain would be most likely to show up, namely,
Cora Bell's rooms, his own boarding-place, and his lodging-house.
Shortly after he had gone out Crowley made his appearance, and a single
glance at his face convinced both Killett and Old Spicer that something
of importance had happened.
"Ah, sir, you're welcome," said Old Spicer; "take a seat at the table
here."
"Thank you, sir," and stepping forward, the new-comer sat down.