JAKE KLINKHAMMER'S POCKETBOOK--OLD SPICER SURPRISED.
"Ah! sergeant, you never were more welcome," cried Rouse. "Grab that
young whelp in the saloon, and then let's see who's hurt here."
"The boy's all right," returned the sergeant. "One of my men has him
fast; but who the deuce are you?"
Rouse explained.
"Ah! And this gentleman?"
"Is Old Spicer. You've heard of him?"
"Heard of him? I should say so! Are you hurt, sir?"
"Slightly; nothing to speak of, though. But our comrades, I fear, have
suffered."
"What! these two? Are these our men?"
"Yes."
"Who's this one?"
"Matt Quinn," answered Rouse.
"Well, poor fellow, he's as dead as a door-nail. And this?"
"Nat Skinner."
"He's badly hurt, but I reckon he'll come out all right in the end. Now
let's look at this pile of carrion," and he turned to where the dead
and wounded of the enemy were lying.
"Lord! gentlemen," he exclaimed, "you did mighty well for the time you
were at it. How many were there against you?"
"Twelve."
"Twelve? And seven of them are here--four dead, and the rest badly
wounded. Who's this one?"
"A Jew," said Rouse.
"A Jew, eh?"
"Yes," explained Old Spicer, "a noted rascal, Jake Klinkhammer by name."
"Oho! he's saved your state a trial. Do you know any of the rest?"
"Not one. The two greatest villains have got away."
"Who are they?"
"Barney Hawks, and Bill Bunce, the proprietor of this place."
"That's a pity. How did they manage it? Where did they go to?"
"Haven't the slightest idea. It seemed as though they vanished through
that wall yonder."
"Probably they did. Bring an ax, Finch."
An ax was brought, and used with such reckless effect, that soon an
opening into a passage leading into a building fronting on another
street, was discovered.
"They're off for this time, sure," said the sergeant, when he had
examined the passage; "but we'll take possession of this place, and if
Bunce ever ventures back, we'll nab him anyhow."
"Well," exclaimed Old Spicer, suddenly, "as Hawks has got away from
us, there are one or two others who must be looked after without an
instant's delay and so we must be going."
"One moment!" exclaimed Rouse, "haven't you forgot something?"
"What?"
"The Jew--he ought to have something about his clothes."
"Ah, yes. Sergeant, help us search the Jew's body: there ought to be a
big pile of money on him."
They searched the body, and a trifle over $6000 was found.
"There must be more than that," said Old Spicer. "He had a very large
sum of money before that $6000 was paid to him--I am sure of it."
"How much?"
"About $15,000, I should say."
"How'd he come by it?"
"If my suspicions are correct, he and Hawks were engaged, just before
they left our city, in one of the boldest robberies, and in one of the
most cowardly double murders ever perpetrated in this country."
"What! do you mean the Marsden affair?"
"I do."
"Great Jupiter! and so this is one of the villains?"
"Yes; from a private dispatch put into my hands only a little while
ago, I am sure of it."
"What can he have done with his share of the plunder, then? There don't
seem to be any of it about him."
"Hold up a moment!" exclaimed Rouse, suddenly thrusting his hand into
an inside vest-pocket of the dead man, "let's see what we've got here,"
and he drew forth a pocket-book.
He opened it, and found within a few hundred dollars in gold and
bank-notes, and a bill of exchange for fifteen thousand dollars.
"By Jove!" exclaimed Rouse, "this sharp fellow, while he was on his
roundabout way to Hudson Street this morning, stopped at a brother
Jew's in Bond Street; and he must have managed in the few minutes he
was there to exchange his money for this bit of paper."
"That's it," nodded Old Spicer.
"Well," said the sergeant, "who shall take charge of his effects?"
"I wish you would, sergeant," returned Spicer, "and hand them over to
the inspector for safe-keeping, for we have really got warm work before
us."
"All right," and after a few friendly words, Old Spicer and Rouse went
out.
"Now, then," said the former, in some perplexity, when they had reached
the sidewalk, "the question is, where to go to first?"
"I'll answer that," replied Rouse, quickly. "I'm for getting on to the
track of Barney Hawks again. Go you to Killett, and with him hunt down
Chamberlain."
"That will be best, I think," and so the two detectives parted.
Old Spicer hastened to the point where he had left Killett. He did not
find him there, but he found one of his men, who informed him that he
was to conduct him to his friend.
The old detective intimated that he was ready to start, and the two set
out at once.
Old Spicer was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he did not think
to ask his conductor where he was taking him, and so he was greatly
surprised when he once more found himself before the hotel where he had
listened to the conversation between Emory E. Bissell and Barney and
Jake.
"What!" he exclaimed, "is Killett here?"
"Yes," was the reply.
"What is he doing here?"
"We followed Chamberlain to this hotel; we heard him ask for E. E.
Bissell, and on his being informed that the gentleman was out, heard
him say that he would go up to his room and wait for him there. We saw
him enter room No. 24, and heard him lock the door. Then one of us
remained here to watch, while the other went back to report to Killett."
"But Quackenbush--where's Quackenbush?"
"Here I am, sir," answered that detective, suddenly coming up.
"You were left here to watch Bissell?"
"Yes, sir."
"You haven't lost sight of him?"
"Hardly for a moment."
"He left the hotel soon after his visitors went away?"
"Yes, sir."
"You followed him?"
"Yes, sir."
"Where did he go to?"
"To several places of no great importance, and finally he fetched round
to the hotel again."
"How long ago was that?"
"Just now; he has just gone up to his room."
Old Spicer turned to the other detective.
"Where is Killett?" he asked.
"In room 36," was the reply.
"Ah! he saw that was his best chance to learn what was passing in 24. I
wonder how he happened to tumble to that racket."
"I suspect the landlord put him up to it."
"No doubt. I had forgotten I told him what I wanted of the key. I
think I'll go up to 36 at once. And you gentlemen be on hand in the
neighborhood of 24, in case we may want you."
"All right, sir," and the three detectives ascended the first flight of
stairs in company.
At the landing Quackenbush and the other detective left Old Spicer
and placed themselves in the vicinity of Bissell's room. The old man
ascended to the third floor, and, hastening to No. 36, knocked on the
door.
"Who's there?" came in a low whisper from the other side.
"It's me, Adam--Old Spicer."
"Thank goodness!" and the door was hastily opened and the old detective
admitted.
"I'm mighty glad you've come," whispered Killett, "you're just in
time. Chamberlain has been waiting in the room under this ever since
I've been here; but the man he came to see was out and has only just
returned."
"I am fortunate, then," said Old Spicer.
"Yes, jump up on the table and mount one of the chairs."
Old Spicer did so, while Killett took possession of the other chair.
In another moment they were listening at the ventilator.