PATSY GARVAN’S PROBLEM.
There were very good reasons why Patsy Garvan had not returned to report
the result of his inquiries concerning Sadie Badger and her doings in
the flat she had been occupying since the round-up of the Badger gang
and the supposed drowning of Gaston Goulard.
Arriving in the locality soon after one o’clock, Patsy readily located
the house at the door of which Nick had left his partner in crime close
upon four o’clock that morning, and he at once began a brief inspection
of it from the opposite side of the street.
It was the third house in a long brick block in a fairly desirable
locality. All three of its flats evidently were occupied. The roller
shades at the two windows of that on the ground floor were closely
drawn, however, and there was no sign of life from within.
"She probably is making up lost sleep, if there," thought Patsy, after
sauntering by the house and noticing its negative aspect. "There don’t
seem to be much doing for me, unless I can get next to some one who has
become acquainted with her, or had enough interest in her to watch her.
It won’t do to risk asking questions of the other tenants, as they might
put her wise. Sadie Badger wouldn’t be slow to suspect that she might
have slipped a cog. Let her alone for that. Gee! I’ll take a chance with
this fellow."
Patsy had arrived at the open door of a provision store on a corner not
more than fifty yards from the opposite house. There was a display of
vegetables in boxes outside. Seated on a barrel just within the door was
a young man in a butcher’s frock, whose round, ruddy face favorably
impressed the detective. He was alone in the store, evidently a clerk,
and he then was absorbed in a noon edition of a sensational newspaper.
As he stepped into the store, Patsy saw the headlines of the article the
clerk was reading, and he paused near him and said agreeably:
"Reading about the robbery?"
It was that in which Nick Carter had taken part the previous night, and
Patsy already had seen the article.
"Yes, I was," replied the clerk, looking up. "Have you read about it?"
"Sure."
"Kind of a curious job, wasn’t it? The crook didn’t get away with much."
"There may have been a reason."
"Most likely."
"I happen to know there was," added Patsy, smiling.
"You do?" questioned the clerk, with a look of surprise. "How does that
happen?"
"You’ll not give me away?"
"Not on your life, as sure as my name is Frank Steel."
"You look frank, all right, and your last name certainly rings true,"
laughed Patsy, displaying the badge under the lap of his vest. "That’s
how I know. I’m in the business."
"A detective?" Steel asked, with increasing interest.
"That’s what," nodded Patsy. "I’m in the employ of the king-pin of all
detectives."
"Not Nick Carter?"
"That calls the turn, Frank."
"Gracious!" Steel exclaimed, extending his hand. "I’m glad to know you.
I wish I had your job."
"Ah, it’s not a soft one," said Patsy significantly.
"I guess that’s right," laughed the other. "I have always wanted to meet
Nick Carter. I never happened to see him."
"I’ll take you round to the office some day and introduce you," said
Patsy, bent upon winning his hearer’s confidence.
"On the level?"
"Surest thing you know."
"By gracious, I’d like that."
"And I infer that you would be glad to do Nick Carter a service, if
possible, wouldn’t you?"
"You bet I would," Steel declared, with immediate enthusiasm. "I’d be
more than glad. You show me the way. I’ll do the rest, Mr.----”
"My name is Garvan."
"I have heard of you, too. You must be Patsy Garvan."
"Right you are," laughed Patsy.
"Shake again. I am mighty glad to know you."
Patsy laughed agreeably, and he now felt sure he could safely trust the
other. He glanced toward the rear of the store to be sure they were
alone.
An open door near the office led into a side street. Near the door stood
a motor cycle, with a pair of leather gloves and gaiters lying on the
seat, while a leather jacket hung on a peg in the near wall.
"Do you own that machine?" inquired Patsy.
"Yes, sure," Steel nodded. "I use it sometimes to deliver hurry-up
orders. It comes in handy."
"No doubt," Patsy allowed. "In regard to doing Nick Carter a service,
Frank, there is something you can do for me."
"Good enough! You have only to name it, Mr. Garvan."
"This is strictly confidential, mind you."
"That goes without saying."
"And you must not afterward betray any interest in the house and person
I shall mention."
"Trust me, Garvan. I’ll be as dumb as an oyster."
"That’s dumb enough," said Patsy approvingly. "Do you know who occupies
the first flat in that third house opposite, the one with the curtains
drawn down?"
"Yes," Steel quickly nodded. "She trades here in a small way. Her name
is Bolton."
"Bolton, eh? That comes pretty near being Badger," thought Patsy; then,
aloud: "Do you know anything about her?"
"Only that she appears a bit fly and flashy. I don’t think much is known
about her round here. She has been living there only a month."
"Have you seen her coming and going?"
"Yes, often."
"Alone, or with others?" questioned Patsy.
"Nearly always alone," Steel informed him. "But I have seen two persons
going there to see her. I’m not dead sure that one of them does not live
there, or remain there overnight. He may be a relative."
"Describe him."
"He’s a young, smooth-faced chap about eighteen years old. He always
wears knickerbockers and a golf cap. I don’t see him very often, but I
know he is there occasionally."
"I understand," nodded Patsy.
So he did, indeed. He had not the slightest doubt that the person
described was Sadie Badger herself, masquerading in the same attire in
which Nick had encountered her, and presumably with knavery of some kind
in view. That she was thus living a double life, committing her crimes
in the disguise of an innocent-looking young man, Patsy was equally
confident.
"I don’t know the young fellow’s name," Steel added, after a moment.
"I’ve not seen him for several days."
"Who is the other person you have seen going there?"
"An elderly man, Mr. Garvan."
"Describe him."
"Well, I should say he’s about forty, or a little older, perhaps," said
the clerk. "He’s a man of medium build, quite dark complexion, and he
wears a brown, pointed beard. He nearly always shows up about dusk, and
I’ve seen him leaving late in the evening. That’s all I know about him."
Patsy’s face had taken on a more serious expression.
"Gee whiz! that description tallies perfectly with the make-up of Gaston
Goulard, worn when he held up the chief last night," he was saying to
himself. "Can it be that he has become friendly with Sadie Badger since
that job a month ago? In that case, by Jove, they may have been in
league in that robbery last night, for all the chief did not think so.
It’s mighty strange, if not, that Goulard showed up at just that time
and forced the chief under the steps of the very crib this woman was
cracking."
The coincidence was so remarkable, in fact, if such it really was, that
Patsy began to fear that Nick’s subterfuge might in some way miscarry.
He turned to the clerk and asked more earnestly:
"Have you recently seen this man going there?"
"Well, no, not very recently," Steel replied.
"Can you recall the last time?"
"About a week ago, I think."
"Does he always call alone?"
"I never have seen him with any one."
"Have you ever seen other persons going there?" questioned Patsy.
"No, never," Steel said earnestly. "She don’t appear to have any female
visitors. Nor any other men, in fact, than the two I have mentioned. If
she does, they must call after dark, or when I am out, or--oh, by
gracious, that’s odd. A taxicab is stopping there. That old chap may be
calling to see her."
The taxicab had passed the store while Steel was speaking, and it then
had swerved quickly to the curbing in front of Sadie Badger’s flat.
Patsy also had noticed it, and had caught sight of its two passengers.
One was a woman. She was reclining on the cushions in the corner nearest
the store. Only her shoulder and part of her head were visible to Patsy
through the taxicab window, but he could see that she was closely
veiled, while her attitude and the position of her head in the angle
formed by the cushioned corner denoted that she was dozing, if not sound
asleep.
What most astonished Patsy Garvan was the woman’s companion, however,
whom he saw quite distinctly when the taxicab passed the store.
"Great guns!" he mentally exclaimed, though his face did not betray his
amazement. "That’s Goulard’s former partner, Mr. Henry Mantell, as sure
as I’ve got eyes in my head. What’s the meaning of this? What business
can he have with such a woman as Sadie Badger? He certainly is stopping
there to see her."
Patsy had no doubt of his identity, did not for a moment distrust his
slightly bowed figure, his gray hair and beard, his gold-bowed
spectacles and distinguished, aristocratic aspect and attire, observed
when the man alighted from the taxicab and hurried into the house, upon
finding the door of the lower hall was unlocked.
"Gee whiz! this beats me to a standstill," thought Patsy, with
increasing perplexity. "I’ll be hanged if I can fathom it."
"What are you thinking about?" Steel asked curiously. "Is there
something wrong?"
"I’m not sure," replied Patsy. "You keep out of sight, please, and let
me do the watching. I’ll make it right with you later."
"It’s all right, now, Garvan," said the clerk, moving quickly to the
rear of the store.
Patsy continued to gaze stealthily from the store window.
Several minutes passed and brought no change in the situation.
The curtains at the windows of the ground-floor flat had not been
raised. Nothing denoted that the visitor had been admitted.
The veiled woman in the corner of the taxicab had not stirred.
The chauffeur remained as motionless on his seat as a figure of bronze.
Patsy, more deeply puzzled, fell to watching the woman, or the small
part of her figure which he could see through the taxicab window. She
continued motionless, as absolutely motionless as if the hand of death
had been laid upon her. The veil that covered her mouth and nostrils,
even, did not indicate by the slightest movement that she was breathing.
"Great guns!" thought Patsy, quite nonplused. "She must be in a trance,
or sleeping like a log. I’ll be hanged if I don’t have a closer look at
her."
Turning to Steel, in the rear of the store, he cried quietly:
"I’ll be back here in a couple of minutes."
Steel merely nodded in reply.
Patsy left the store and sauntered across the avenue, then walked more
briskly toward the waiting taxicab, apparently having no interest in it,
and whistling a popular song while he passed.
He took a furtive look at the chauffeur, nevertheless, who was a
muscular, red-featured man of about thirty, and who appeared too stiff
and staid to bestow even a glance at him.
Through the closed door of the taxicab, Patsy then shot a sharper look
at the motionless woman. It did not prove more profitable than his more
distant scrutiny. He could not see the face beneath the veil. He saw
only that she was well dressed and appeared to be young, but he could
not detect the slightest movement of her lax, apparently slumbering
figure.
"By Jove, I’m going deeper into this," he muttered, walking on more
rapidly. "There must be something doing that the chief doesn’t even
dream of, or Goulard’s former partner would not be spending all this
time with Sadie Badger. It’s a hundred to one that he’s not here to see
any one else. I’ll sink a pipe till I strike clear water, by gracious,
if I sink it through to China."
Crossing the avenue at some distance back of the taxicab, Patsy did not
venture returning to the provision store in view of the chauffeur, but
turned a near corner and then ran at top speed around the block,
bringing him into the side street mentioned and to the door near the
rear of the store.
He had been absent so short a time that the clerk stared with surprise
when he entered.
"How in thunder did you reach this door so quickly, Garvan?" he asked.
"I saw you across the avenue and heading uptown only a couple of minutes
ago."
"I chased myself around the block," replied Patsy, smiling a bit grimly.
"Do you suspect something wrong?"
"So strongly, Steel, that I want you to do me another favor. Yes, by
Jove, I’m dead sure of it, now."
Patsy had stepped toward the front of the store and glanced again at the
suspected flat. He could see two persons looking out through the parted
lace draperies.
One was Sadie Badger, clad in a loose dressing gown, with her hair in
disorder, as if she had hurriedly arisen from bed.
The other was the man who had entered less than ten minutes before. He
was pointing toward the motionless woman in the taxicab, and Sadie
Badger was laughing and nodding significantly.
All this convinced Patsy that there was something wrong, indeed; but
what it was, being ignorant of what Frank Mantell was informing Nick at
the very moment, he could not then conjecture.
"What favor, Garvan?" asked the clerk, when Patsy quickly returned to
the rear of the store.
"Lend me your motor cycle."
"For what?"
"To follow that taxi," said Patsy. "I’m dead sure there is something
doing. I cannot imagine what, but I’m determined to find out. You saw
the old gentleman who entered that house. I know him quite well. He’s a
very wealthy man, and it looks to me like a cinch that he’s in wrong in
some way."
"That settles it," Steel quickly declared. "Go ahead, Garvan, and take
the wheel. You’re welcome to it."
"May I borrow this leather jacket and the gaiters, also?"
"Certainly. I have a leather cap in the office. Do you want that?"
"Sure thing," nodded Patsy. "I’ll get after these people in disguise.
Your garments will help to perfect it, and I’ll leave mine here till I
return with the wheel."
"Good enough. I’ll look after them."
It took Patsy only a few moments to make the change of garments, and he
then found that he had no time to spare. He heard the bang of the
taxicab door, and saw that the supposed old gentleman had returned to
his seat.
The veiled woman had not stirred.
The taxicab sped up the avenue.
Patsy Garvan, in leather cap, jacket, and gaiters, and with his features
quickly and deftly disguised, pushed the motor cycle out through the
side door.
"So long, Steel!" he said warmly. "I’ll make this right with you later.
You can gamble on that."
"You’re welcome, Garvan, and good luck to you," was the hearty reply.
In another moment Patsy was rounding the corner and starting in hot
pursuit of the distant taxicab. As he passed the house he shot one swift
glance at the window of Sadie Badger’s flat.
The roller shade had been drawn down.