CHAPTER II. DYBALL'S CLUB.
CHAPTER III. AN UNHEEDED WARNING--FRANK MANSFIELD FINDS HIMSELF IN A BAD FIX.
CHAPTER IV. THE STRANGE DISAPPEARANCE BENEATH THE CHURCH-YARD WALL.
CHAPTER V. BATS IN THE WALL.
CHAPTER VI. WHAT HAPPENED AT THE CATHERINE MARKET.
CHAPTER VII. A STILL GREATER CRIME UNEARTHED.
CHAPTER VIII. THE SECRET OF THE IRON DOOR.
CHAPTER IX. IN WHICH FRANK MANSFIELD MAKES AN IMPORTANT DISCOVERY.
CHAPTER X. IN THE CHAMBER OF DEATH.
CHAPTER XI. AN UNEXPECTED ALLY.
CHAPTER XII. WHAT WAS SEEN BY THE CHURCH-YARD WALL.
CHAPTER XIII. IN CAGNEY'S SANCTUM.
CHAPTER XIV. AN INTRUDER IN THE HOME OF THE BATS.
CHAPTER XV. CALEB HOOK MAKES HIMSELF AT HOME.
CHAPTER XVI. THE THREE OAKS.
CHAPTER XVII. AN ADVERTISEMENT.
CHAPTER XVIII. THE GHOST OF THREE OAKS APPEARS AGAIN.
CHAPTER XIX. MR. CALLISTER'S CLERK.
CHAPTER XX. JERRY BUCK PLAYS THE PART OF A DETECTIVE AGAIN.
CHAPTER XXI. FRANK VISITS COTTAGE PLACE.
CHAPTER XXII. AN UNTIMELY OCCURRENCE--CALEB HOOK DISCOVERED.
CHAPTER XXIII. A DETECTIVE IN A BAD FIX.
CHAPTER XXIV. TREASURE HUNTING.
CHAPTER XXV. THE MYSTERY OF TRINITY CHURCH-YARD EXPLAINED AT LAST.
CHAPTER XXVI. ELIJAH CALLISTER ADDS STILL ANOTHER CRIME TO THE LIST.
CHAPTER XXVII. THE JONAH.
CHAPTER XXVIII. A FRUSTRATED CRIME--THE END.
CHAPTER I.
A REJECTED PROPOSAL.
"No, Frank, most decidedly not. I must say that I am more than
surprised that you should have had the audacity to even think for an
instant that such a thing could be."
"But we love each other most sincerely, Mr. Callister, and you know
as well as I do that there was a time when, with your approval, I was
allowed to consider Edna as my future wife."
"That may be, young man, that may be--I will even go so far as to
admit that such was the case. But circumstances alter cases, and I am
inclined to think that I could do somewhat better than to bestow the
hand of my only daughter upon a bank clerk at a beggarly salary of
twelve hundred a year."
"I am assistant cashier of Webster National Bank, and my salary is
quite enough for a young couple to get along on with economy; besides,
I have prospects of promotion----"
"Had, you mean. A year ago such was the case, Frank Mansfield. From
what I have recently heard of your career, your drinking, gambling and
nightly carousals, I am inclined to doubt if your prospects amount to
much now."
It was Mr. Elijah Callister, the rich Wall street stock operator, who
spoke these words, the person to whom they were addressed being Frank
Mansfield, a handsome youth of twenty-one.
The scene was Mr. Callister's office on Broad street, in one of the
nine-story buildings just below Wall, and the time the close of the
short winter's day, December 22, 1884.
Now, in thus demanding the hand of Miss Edna Callister, Frank Mansfield
was by no means as presumptuous as at first glance might seem.
But little less than five years previous to the date just mentioned,
the father of this young man had been a wealthy and honored merchant,
and the stock operator's most intimate friend.
Their business interests to a great extent in common, their elegant
residences on Fifth avenue side by side, and their children--in each
case the only child the friends possessed--had been taught to look
forward to the day when they should marry with their parent's full
consent.
To-day all was different, and Edgar Mansfield lay in a dishonored
grave, his wife, driven mad by the reverses of fortune and the loss of
a kind and loving husband, had disappeared from the circle of friends
in which she had long figured as a leading spirit, while Frank had been
thrown to shift for himself upon the cold charity of an unsympathizing
world.
All this happened in the spring of 1879, which, all will be seen, was
five years before our story begins.
Meanwhile, Elijah Callister had flourished, even as his friend
Mansfield had slipped and fallen.
While Frank, who had obtained a position in the Webster National Bank,
had been working hard to advance himself, with occasional slips and
frequent lapses into dissipation and folly--always bitterly repented of
when committed and it was too late--the father of Edna Callister had
steadily increased in influence and wealth.
He was honored among business men, a pillar in the church, and high
in social circles, and yet he had turned his back completely upon the
son of his old-time friend, having even gone so far as to forbid him
entrance to his home.
That the course he had pursued had not prevented the love which had
existed from childhood between the youthful pair from developing as
time went on, is evident from the conversation in which we now find
the highly respectable Mr. Callister and the son of his former friend
engaged.
"I am hardly as bad a fellow as you would make me out, Mr. Callister,"
answered Frank, flushing to the eyes at the stock speculator's last
remark. "I have been a little wild and imprudent, I'll admit, but I've
made up my mind to reform, and with Edna for my wife----"
"Stop!"
Mr. Callister had brought his fist down upon the desk with a bang.
"My daughter shall marry no pauper, Mr. Mansfield!" he exclaimed, with
emphasis. "Come to me with proof that you are possessed of at least ten
thousand dollars of your own, and I will listen to you--not before. At
the present time I doubt if you can produce ten thousand cents."
"And this is final?"
The face of Frank Mansfield was very pale as he spoke.
"It is. Reform your habits of life, go to work and advance yourself,
make money somehow, anyhow, so that you make it, and then, if Edna has
not previously found some one more worthy of her, as I have no doubt
she will, I will give your proposal the consideration it deserves. Now
I must bid you good-night."
Without a word the young man turned upon his heel and passed out of the
office.
Listening for a moment to his retreating footsteps as they died away
through the corridor, Mr. Elijah Callister arose, drew on his overcoat,
adjusted his shiny beaver at the proper angle upon his head, and taking
up his walking stick, prepared to start for his palatial home with a
general air of respectable business solidity standing forth from every
portion of his portly presence from the crown of his hat to the soles
of his well-polished shoes.
"That settles him for the day," he muttered, as he cast his eye about
the office to see that everything was as it should be for the night;
"by to-morrow, unless I greatly mistake, the young gentleman will have
most effectually settled himself. I have nothing against Frank, nothing
in the world, but of late he has become altogether too inquisitive, and
there is nothing for it but to remove him from my path."
"Though I don't doubt in the least," he added, meditatively, as he
locked the office door behind him, "that when she hears what has
happened, she will kick up a deuce of a row."
And the respectable Mr. Callister, the last man in the world who among
the brethren of the Tenth Baptist Church on Murray Hill, in which he
was a bright and shining light, would have been suspected of such a
thing, stepped into the elevator, passed out of the nine-story building
into Broad street, and, slipping around the corner into a little alley,
hurriedly descended the steps of a basement groggery, and walking up to
the bar, called for as stiff a glass of brandy as any old toper in the
land.
"Has Billy Cutts, the detective, been in here this evening, Joe?" he
asked of the white-aproned bartender, as he set down the brandy glass
which he had drained to the last drop.
"No, he hasn't, Mr. Callister," was the man's reply. "I haven't seen
Billy in more'n a---- By gracious! talk of angels, and they are right
on top of you! Here's Billy Cutts comin' now."
As he spoke a young man, comfortably dressed in a dark overcoat and
ordinary business suit, entered the saloon.
He was to all appearance not over twenty-two or twenty-three years of
age, but his face bore indelibly stamped upon it a knowledge of the
crooked ways of the great city not usually looked for in a man of his
years.
He shook hands with the stock operator upon his entrance, with a
familiar, easy-going air, both withdrawing at once to a table in a
remote corner of the saloon, upon which, by the order of the elder man,
the bartender placed a bottle and glasses between them.
"Well, Billy, is it all fixed?" said Mr. Callister, pouring out a stiff
glass of liquor for his companion and another for himself.
"All O. K.," was the reply. "The old man an' his pals got the plans all
right, an' will be on hand, you can bet. I saw Detective Hook not an
hour ago and gave him the tip. He swallowed the bait whole, the shallow
fool, and now all that remains is to get the feller to consent, an'
that I consider about fixed."
"How did you do it?"
"Oh, through the help of a couple friends of his an' tools of mine.
They've been workin' on him for the best part of a week, an' have
pretty well brought him round. I want them in the thing, too, don't yer
see, to give the racket a natural air."
"Of course neither of them suspect the truth?"
"What d'ye take me for, boss? I guess I know what I'm about as a
general thing. When I tell you a thing is fixed, it's fixed; you can
bet yer life on that every time."
"I hope so, and I believe so," replied the other, in a fierce whisper.
"That boy Frank Mansfield is in my way, Billy. He must and shall be
removed from my path. Your scheme is a good one, and I believe it will
work; if I read of his arrest in the morning papers you can count on
five thousand dollars any time you have a mind to call round to my
office and get it."
Mr. Callister arose abruptly as he spoke, and buttoned up his overcoat
as though to depart.
"You'll see me to-morrow mornin', then, fer sure," replied Cutts,
likewise rising. "So you'd better be ready with the cash."
"I will, Billy, never fear. How's your father, by the way?"
"Oh, the old man's all right, but confoundedly nervous till this little
spec is over."
"Well, give him my regards when you see him, and I shall expect to see
you with your work accomplished at my office to-morrow by noon."
And the respectable Mr. Callister with a face so smiling that, as the
saying goes, butter would not have melted in his mouth, shook hands
with Detective Cutts and moved off in the direction of the nearest
station on the elevated road.