FLY CROOKS IN TRAFTON.
My train, which left the city early in the afternoon, would arrive in
Trafton at midnight. Foreseeing a long and, in my then state of mind,
tedious ride, I had armed myself with a well-filled cigar case, and
several copies of the latest editions of the city papers, and we had not
been long on the wing before I turned my steps toward the smoking car,
biting off the end of a weed as I went.
A group of four, evidently countrymen, were just beginning a game of
cards. I took a seat opposite them and idly watched their progress,
while I enjoyed my cigar.
Presently a gentleman from the front, seemingly attracted by their
hilarity, arose and sauntered down the aisle, taking up his station
behind the players, and quietly overlooking the game.
He did not glance at me, as he passed, but, from my lounging position,
I could watch his face and study it at my leisure. At the first glance
it struck me as being familiar; I had seen the man before, but where?
Slowly, as I looked, the familiarity resolved itself into identity, and
then I watched him with growing interest, and some wonder.
Seven months ago, while working upon a criminal case, I had made the
acquaintance of this gentleman at a thieves' tavern, down in the slums.
I was, of course, safely disguised at the time, and in an assumed
character; hence I had no fear of being recognized now.
"Dimber[A] Joe" had been doing Government service, in consequence of his
connection with a garroting escapade, and had but just been released
from "durance vile." His hair was then somewhat shorter than was
becoming; his face was unshaven, and his general appearance that of a
seedy, hard-up rascal. The person before me wore his hair a little
longer than the ordinary cut; his face was clean shaven, his linen
immaculate, and his dress a well-made business suit, such as a merchant
or banker abroad might wear. But it was Dimber Joe.
[A] Handsome.
Evidently fortune had dropped a few, at least, of her favors at Dimber
Joe's feet, but it was quite safe to conjecture that some one was so
much the worse off for his present prosperity.
What new mischief was on foot? for it was hardly likely that Dimber Joe,
late the associate of river thieves, was now undertaking an honest
journey.
I resolved to watch him closely while our way was the same, and to give
my Chief an account of our meeting, together with a description of Joe's
"get up," at the first opportunity.
Accordingly, I remained in the smoking car during the entire journey,
but no suspicious or peculiar movement, on the part of Dimber Joe,
rewarded my vigilance, until the brakeman called Trafton, and we pulled
into that station.
Then Dimber Joe arose, stretched himself, flung a linen duster across
his arm, and, swinging in his hand a small valise, quitted the car,
stepped down upon the shadowy platform just ahead of me; and, while I
was looking about for Carnes, vanished in the darkness.
[Illustration: "Then Dimber Joe arose, stretched himself, flung a linen
duster across his arm, and, swinging in his hand a small valise, quitted
the car."--page 196.]
"Well, Carnes," I said, when we were once more alone in our room at the
hotel, "what has happened? Have you seen anything that looks like a
detective?"
"Niver a wan," he replied. "I've kept an open eye on every train from
both ways, but the only arrival in this city, worth making mintion of,
has been--who d'ye think?"
"Myself, I suppose."
"No, sir! Not a bit of it. It's a cove that means no good to Trafton,
you may depend. It's Blake Simpson, and he's rooming in this very
house."
"Blake Simpson! are you _sure_?"
"Av coorse I'm sure! Did ye ever know me to miss a face? I never saw
the fellow before he came here, but I've made the acquaintance of his
phiz in the rogue's gallery. He came yesterday; he wears good togs, and
is playing the gentleman; you know he is not half a bad looking fellow,
and his manner is above suspicion. He is figuring as a patent-right man,
but he'll figure as something else before we see the last of him in
Trafton, depend upon it."
Blake Simpson was known, at least by name, to every man on the force. He
was a mixture of burglar, street robber, and panel-worker; and was a
most dangerous character.
"Carnes," I said, slowly, "I am afraid some new misfortune menaces
Trafton, if, as you say, Blake Simpson is already here, for Dimber Joe
came down on the train to-night, and is in Trafton."
Carnes uttered a long, low whistle.
"Blake and Dimber Joe!" he said. "A fine pair, sure enough; and in what
shape does the Dimber come?"
"He comes well-dressed, and looking like a respectable member of
society."
"Well," with a prodigious yawn, "we got here first, and we will try and
sleep with one eye open while they stay in Trafton. What did you learn
about the Brookhouse investigation, Bathurst?"
I told him the result of our search among the city detectives, and
finished by saying:
"Probably the new debutants will be strangers, and will not interfere
with our movements. I wish I knew whether Bethel will eventually decide
to employ a detective. I don't think he is the man to let such a matter
drop."
"He won't take it up for the present, I fancy. Dr. Barnard is
dangerously ill; was taken yesterday, very suddenly. They depend
entirely upon Bethel; he is in constant attendance. I heard Porter say
that the old gentleman's case was a desperate one, and that a change for
the worse might be expected at any moment."
I was sorry to hear such news of the jovial old doctor. His was a life
worth something to the community; but I was not sorry to learn that an
immediate interview with Dr. Bethel could be staved off, without
exciting wonder or suspicion in his mind; for, since my visit to the
city, I had reconsidered my intention to confide in the doctor, and
resolved to keep my own counsel, at least for the present.
Previous to my visit to the city, we had decided that it was time to
explore the south road, and also that it was desirable to "get the
measure" of Jim Long at the earliest opportunity.
We settled upon the best method by which to accomplish the former, and
undertake the latter, object. And then Carnes, who had been very alert
and active during my absence, and who was now very sleepy, flung himself
upon his bed to pass the few hours that remained of darkness in slumber.
I had not yet opened up to him the subject of the Groveland operations,
thinking it as well to defer the telling until I had received reports
from Wyman and Earle.
We had now upon our hands a superabundance of raw material from which
to work out some star cases. But, just now, the Groveland affair seemed
crowding itself to the front, while the Trafton scourges, and the
villainous grave-robbers, seemed to grow more and more mysterious,
intangible, and past finding out.
The presence of Blake Simpson and Dimber Joe gave me some uneasiness;
but, guessing that their stay in Trafton would be short, I resolved not
to bring myself into prominence by notifying the authorities of the
presence of two such dangerous characters, but rather to trust them to
Carnes' watchfulness while I passed a day, or more if need be, in
exploring the south road.
As I settled my head upon my pillow after a long meditation, I
remembered that to-morrow would be Sunday, and that Tuesday was the day
fixed for Miss Manvers' garden party.