THE ARDENT SLEUTH.
Irving Hamilton Tod, man of means and colt reporter for the New York
_Morning News_, realized, after his painful interview with the warden at
the Newport jail, that for the second time in almost as many days he had
been outwitted.
The warden at the jail had never heard of a detective by the name of
Jarge. Where, then, had this black-eyed sleuth disappeared to, and what
had been his object in lying? Had he taken Klein back to New York?
With a dozen other questions hammering at his brain, Tod walked slowly
back to the hotel. Passing the telegraph office recalled to his mind the
hopeful message he had sent to Reed, the city editor. It was like salt
to an open wound.
“Reed will hand me another laugh,” he muttered dismally. “Fate’s against
me, sure.”
He dragged himself through the hotel lobby; then, catching sight of a
swinging door and hearing the tinkle of glasses, he determined to do a
very unusual thing.
“I’ll take a good, stiff drink before I eat,” he said to himself, with
an air of martyrdom.
He pushed his way into the bar and gulped down a high ball. His lagging
and depressed spirits seemed started on the upward climb. He encouraged
them by repeating his order. Just as he finished tipping up the second
glass a hand fell upon his shoulder.
“Hello,” he said, whirling, “who are you?”
A flushed and grinning face was lifted to his own.
“I remember you,” the intruder stated very clearly, blinking his eyes.
“Your friends left you at the dock last night, didn’t they?”
“By Jove!” exclaimed Tod, as the truth dawned upon him. “You’re the
cabby who——” He stopped, and his heart began to pound swiftly. What luck
this was!
“What are you drinking?” he asked, motioning to the alert barkeeper.
When the drinks were before them, Tod resumed his talk. “Where did you
take my friends last night, cabby?”
The cabby grinned, tossed off his drink, and wiped his lips with the
back of his hand.
“Take ’em? Well, at first they wanted the police station—then they
wanted the railroad station. So I took ’em there!”
“To the railroad station?”
“Just that. I’m thinkin’ it was funny—but it ain’t my place to ask
questions. Just so long as I gets my fare, what’s the odds!” He paused
and bestowed a longing glance upon the bottle in front of him.
“Fill it up again,” Tod said quickly.
“Thanks, I’ll just do that.” The glass was filled and pressed to his
lips.
“Did you notice what train my friends took?” Tod inquired.
“They didn’t both take the same train,” was the unexpected answer. “I—I
was hangin’ around waitin’ for a fare, so I watched.” The cabby chuckled
to himself. “No, sir, they didn’t! One of ’em takes the four o’clock for
Fall River and the other gets on the express for Boston.”
“Good Lord!” burst from Tod. Then, after an effort to control his voice,
he asked: “Which one took the express for Boston?”
The cabby’s head was rolling unsteadily from side to side. “Which—which
one? Now jus’ let me see.” He weighed the question for a moment.
“One of the men wore a badge. You saw it, didn’t you?” broke from the
expectant Tod.
“Sure, I saw it,” returned the cabby, wagging a forefinger in the air.
“And he—and he was the fellow what took the—the Fall River train.”
“The man with the badge took the Fall River train?”
“Sure.”
“Then the other man went to Boston?”
“Sure.”
This final announcement sent Tod’s heart galloping. His wide, blue eyes,
once so clouded, brightened like an April sky after a shower. “Thanks!
Have a couple more on me!” he said, tossed a bill on the bar, and darted
out through the swinging doors into the lobby.
In another minute he had paid his bill at the desk and was hurrying down
the street toward the railroad station. The clerk had informed him that
a train left for Boston in five minutes.
“Everything isn’t lost, after all,” he told himself exultantly. “What a
fool I was to be discouraged so soon! Klein’s in Boston, and I’ll get
him before the week is out!”
And so enthusiastic did he become over the glowing prospects ahead of
him, that he completely forgot that he had neither bathed nor shaved nor
had his breakfast.