While the conversation we have recorded was in progress the man led
our hero upstairs and Ike beheld a strong room, a place where it was
evident prisoners had been confined. There was a regular steel chair in
the room. The boy took in the situation at a glance. Once in that steel
wire chair and he was a goner. Indeed, it was one of the most ingenious
contrivances he had ever beheld, and only a lad of his wide experience
would have discerned its use, and with the rapidity with which thought
can act he went over all the possibilities.
He had ceased to offer resistance and the man said:
“Come, sonny, I am going to let you sit down in that nice chair.”
“Are you, sir?”
“Yes, I am.”
The man seized the lad by the arms, but the next instant he began to
writhe and twist, and finally fell to the floor, evidently paralyzed
and helpless. Ike was a powerful fellow for his age. He raised the
man and placed him in the chair, and his natural genius for invention
discovered to him at a glance how the chair was operated, and in less
time than we can tell the man was secured in the chair. So skillful was
the contrivance that a casque settled upon his head, closed and held
his jaws together better than any gag ever invented, and there he sat
powerless and speechless.
Then Ike spoke. He had but an instant to stay and he talked like a
streak.
“Good day, my friend, we will meet again. Send home the cat when you
find him.”
Ike did not descend to the floor from which he had been led up, but
ascended the scuttle well and passed out to the roof. He thought he
could take his chance better that way rather than risk a second capture.
He had little difficulty in reaching the roof and closing the covering
after him. He started to navigate across the house tops, looking for a
convenient place for a descent to the street.
In the meantime the men continued their talk. One of them asked:
“Do you think the ‘cops’ are on our track?”
“I did not think so until I captured that detective ‘kid.’”
“You think he is a detective kid?”
“Yes.”
“You’re off,” said one of the men.
“Am I?”
“Yes.”
“You feel sure?”
“Yes, that is as innocent a lad as ever lived. If he had been a
detective kid do you suppose he would have admitted all he overheard?”
“That is just where his smart work comes in. He has evidently fooled
you.”
“No, you have fooled yourself, old man. I’ll stake my life he is no
detective ‘kid.’”
The man who was stating the objections was the owner of the house, the
one who had been acting as chairman during the “confab” to which our
hero had been a listener.
“I’ll bet you a hundred it turns out he is one of the best in the
business.”
“Will you be able to prove it?”
“Yes, I will.”
“Then I will take the bet.”
“All right, wait until Barney comes down and learn what he has to say.”
The men continued their talk for some time, but Barney did not return,
and finally the man who had been addressed as captain said:
“One of you go upstairs and learn what the matter is.”
One of the men left the room and after a minute a yell was heard.
All the men rushed to the hallway, and the captain ran up the stairs
followed by the man whom we have indicated as being the master of the
house, and who had made the bet with the captain. The man at the head
of the stairs met the rushing party and exclaimed:
“There’s been the devil to pay.”
“How’s that?”
“Come and see.”
The men entered the room and there sat their “pal” in the chair,
muzzled by the casque and tightly enfolded in the wire contrivance. The
captain ran forward, touched the springs and when the man was released
demanded:
“What in thunder has happened?”
All the man could ejaculate was:
“That boy!”
“What of him?”
“He is a fiend.”
“A fiend?” repeated the captain in a perplexed tone.
“Yes.”
“Explain.”
The man told his story. He said:
“I brought him up here. He was as quiet and meek as Moses, and when I
seized hold of him to put him in the chair all power suddenly left me.
I became as weak as a sick cat. I fell helplessly to the floor. He then
lifted me up, placed me in the chair, worked the machinery and there I
was, speechless and helpless, and with a grin upon his face--a demoniac
grin--he walked off or vanished in thin air, I do not know which.”
“You’re a fool,” said the captain. “You have been outwitted by a smart
kid, a detective’s apprentice, that’s all.”
The men descended to the lower room and held a long “confab,” and the
captain finally said:
“We are in luck.”
“How?”
“In discovering that lad. He heard the whole business. We know now that
the cops were on our track. Had the ‘kid’ got away we would have gone
on with the job and every man would have been captured. Yes, we are in
great luck.”
Our hero in the meantime managed to gain the street, and he proceeded
direct to the house into which Burlein had gone. He lay around
expecting the men to show up, but they did not appear. But the young
man did come forth from the house and Ike fell to his trail. The lad
followed until he saw the young man seek to enter a house, when our
hero approached and called out:
“Don’t go in, I want to talk to you.”
“Who are you?” demanded Burlein.
“I am Ike.”
“Oh, the boy I saw to-day?”
“Yes.”
“What do you want?”
“I must talk to you.”
“All right, talk away.”
“You are in peril.”
The young man laughed and said:
“So you are not satisfied; you want to make another ten out of me. You
are a little fraud, I fear.”
“You think I am a fraud?”
“Well, yes.”
“That’s all right, then I’ve nothing to say. Good-night.”
“Hold on; you have been dogging me.”
“I’ve been laying around to protect you, that’s all.”
“You’ve been ‘laying around’ to protect me?”
“Yes.”
“Come, tell me all about it.”
“No, I am a fraud. I’ve nothing to say now, but some day you will
apologize and then I will tell you all.”
“Tell me now.”
“No; good-night.”
Without another word Ike skipped away. He went direct to his home and
to bed. He was tired and did not attempt to think or plan that night,
but on the following morning he was out bright and early. He had quite
a good deal of business on hand.
Ike proceeded to the hotel where the two men lodged whom he had twice
dogged. He saw nothing of them until late in the afternoon, then they
came forth. He fell to their trail and saw them meet Fellman, with whom
they held a long consultation. He tried to get near enough to overhear
what was said, but no opportunity offered. When the men separated he
fell to the banker’s trail and saw him go to his hotel. The lad lay
around. After having secured a quick meal he lay around the hotel for a
long time until he saw Fellman come forth. It was about eight o’clock
in the evening. He followed the man and saw him enter a house quite
a distance up town. He hung around for a couple of hours but the man
did not reappear and Ike concluded to postpone an investigation of the
house to some future time, and he proceeded down to the house where he
knew Burlein was a constant visitor, or at least so he had concluded.
In fact the lad had worked up a complete theory as to the whole
situation and was determined to be on hand when anything occurred. He
saw Burlein go to the house and a little later the two men put in an
appearance, and he saw several other singular occurrences which led him
to conclude that the scoundrels had determined to put their scheme,
whatever it was, in execution that very night, and he muttered:
“I reckon Burlein will not think I am a fraud when this whole affair is
over.”
The charge of being a fraud rankled in the young man’s mind. He felt it
unjust, and again he muttered:
“I will make him eat his words before morning, you bet.”
Ike lay around until midnight and saw young Burlein come from the
house and walk up the street. The men had disappeared and the boy did
not know their exact position, so he followed some distance behind,
when suddenly a most startling incident occurred. Burlein had reached
the corner. He appeared to be walking along in deep thought. He had
passed the corner and was stepping from the curb to the crosswalk when
suddenly two men leaped forward and ran at him from behind. Ike ran
forward giving a shout, but his warning call came too late. The young
man had received a blow on the head which felled him to the ground.
Ike drew his pistol. He raised it to fire at one of the two men, when
suddenly everything swam round in his head and as quickly everything
became a blank. How long Ike remained unconscious he never knew
exactly, but some time later he concluded that he must have been out of
his senses fully an hour. When he returned to consciousness he was in a
dark apartment. He made an effort to move and could not, nor could he
discern an object a foot from his face. He lay still--it was his only
way. He determined to go slow, very slow, and consider and if possible
recall. He was, as the incident we are about to relate will prove, an
extraordinary fellow. He first strove to line back his thoughts and
if possible recall all that had happened. He was certain something
had occurred--something very extraordinary. He picked up his line of
thought just where the extraordinary incident must have occurred. He
recalled how he had seen Burlein knocked down. He recalled how he had
attempted to draw his pistol, and then all recollection ceased up to
the moment he found himself in the dark apartment, and chained to the
floor, as he discovered.
Ike was perfectly cool. His brightest and keenest wit had returned to
him, and he muttered:
“I see it all. Just as I was getting ready to shoot I received a crack
on the head. But where am I now?”
He felt around and discovered that he was chained by his ankles--his
hands were free.
“Good enough,” he muttered. “If I haven’t been stripped I’ll find
something.” He felt in his pocket and found a match, and ejaculated:
“Here we are, sure enough.”
He managed to scratch the match and as it blazed up he gazed round, and
then an exclamation of consternation fell from his lips as he cried out:
“I thought so. I am in the ‘brig’ of some sort of vessel and I am out
at sea. I have been kidnaped.” Then he smiled as he repeated, “Yes,
_kid_naped, for I am only a kid, after all.”
Continuing his soliloquy the boy muttered:
“What do they mean to do with me? Do they mean to drown me? Well, well,
it’s hard luck, but it does look as though I were ‘a goner’ for sure,
and I will go down to the bottom of the sea with the knowledge that I
did not play my cards well or I never would have been in this box.”
As intimated Ike formed a pretty correct idea as to all that had
happened, and he was indeed in a bad box; but he did not despair.
He possessed a wonderful talent, a gift that had been carefully
cultivated, and he had a great field to work--the prevailing
superstition of people generally, and especially of sea-going men.
Sailors are proverbially superstitious and superstition prepares one
to become terrorized to a greater degree than any other sentiment. Men
who would kill a fellow man in cold blood tremble if compelled to go
through a cemetery at night. Men who would lead a charge in a battle
would fall to the ground paralyzed with terror were their imagination
to present to them after dark a vivid apparition of a dead soldier. Ike
was well aware of these facts, and he determined to use his knowledge
in order, if possible, to save his life and effect his escape. He knew
he had fallen to the facts of a great scheme and possibly a tragedy.
The men who were actors in the crime knew that he was a witness against
them, and the question arose, did they intend merely to get him out of
the way or did they intend to murder him or drown him in cold blood?
He knew that it was after midnight when the incident had occurred
which led to his being a prisoner on that boat. He was quite a sailor
himself, and as he lit a second match and glanced around, he concluded
he was a prisoner on a medium-sized schooner or sloop. How long he
had been there he had no means of knowing, as he had been unconscious
and had regained his consciousness in total darkness. He concluded,
however, that the possibilities were it was not yet daylight. He
learned that the schooner was sailing over the waters, as he was down
in the hold. He knew from the motion that they were under way and
possibly far out to sea.
He lay and waited and fully an hour passed, when the hatch over his
prison was raised and he became aware that a man was peering down upon
him, and he knew it was daylight. He had decided upon his course; it
might cost him a meal or two, but it was a part of his plan to lay low
and watch his chance.
He heard a man on deck ask:
“Is he awake?”
“He ain’t moving, captain.”
“I hope he is dead and then all we will have to do is throw his body
over for the fishes.”
This dialogue was certainly a very consoling and comforting one for a
lad to listen to who was chained to the upper side of the keel of a
boat at sea.
“I don’t think he is dead, captain.”
“I hardly know what to do.”
“I’ll tell you.”
“Well?”
“We can take it for granted that he is dead, and toss him over.”
“No, I won’t do that, but something may happen. We will get rid of him.
I feel very uncomfortable at having him on board anyhow.”
“It’s big money if he goes over, captain.”
“Oh, yes, that’s all right. He’ll never step foot on land again, but
the question is, how can we dispose of him?”
“Throw him over.”
“He may be able to swim.”
“We can weight him.”
“No, he is a human being. That would be drowning him as we would a dog.”
“What’s the odds?”
“I’ve got your voice down, Mister Man,” was the mental conclusion of
our little hero, and he muttered:
“Some day I will get even with you if we ever meet again. I’ll remember
you.”
“I’ll tell you what you can do, cap.”
“Do so.”
“Let him lie where he is.”
“Well?”
“He will die. We will forget all about him, find him dead and toss him
over.”
“I’ve been thinking of that.”
Ike thought that if he were consulted and had his choice he would
rather be drowned like a dog--much rather--than cruelly starved to
death in that dark ship’s hold.
The hatch was replaced and our hero was alone, and he commenced to
consider. He studied by feeling the chains which bound him, and he
soon assured himself that he could get free at any time he saw fit.
At the same time he decided that he must be very careful and not take
advantage of his privilege too rashly.
“I will lay low until night,” he said.
It was a cold prospect for the poor lad to think of--lying there all
day hungry and wounded, for his head did ache a little, owing to a blow
he had received. He had discovered also that he had bled freely. The
stain had not been washed off, and had dried on him, and he knew he
presented a horrible sight.
“It may aid me,” he muttered, as he realized the fact, “to come the
ghost act on ’em.”
As the hours passed the lad became very hungry and thirsty, and so
intense became his thirst he was almost inclined to cry out and ask for
water, although the act might hasten his end. But as it turned out he
was not altogether deserted by the fates.
It is an old saying that it is better to be born lucky than rich,
and it would seem that some men and boys exemplify the old saw. Ike
appeared to be one of these, for just at the moment when he thought he
could stand the craving for a drink no longer a thin ray of light shot
down into the darkness, and the next instant something struck against
his head. He reached up and grasped a bottle, and attached to the
bottle was a piece of bread.
“I have a friend at court,” was the lad’s declaration, as he realized
that some one had taken pity on him and had lowered the bottle and
sandwich surreptitiously.
Ike was a hopeful little fellow and he muttered:
“This means something--it means that it is not ‘all up’ with me after
all. I am going to get out of this scrape, and then, by ginger, some
one will wish they had been wiped out in a cyclone.”
Our hero ate and drank, and crawling away from his stake as far as he
could he hid the bottle with the remark:
“I do not know just when I may have a visitor. I’ll be on my guard and
not get my friend into trouble.”
Having satisfied his hunger the boy went to sleep, and slept very
peacefully. He was waiting for night, and when he awoke he thought
that night must be just closing in if not actually shadowed down upon
the earth and the sea. He lay for a long time and finally concluded he
would investigate. He had little difficulty in freeing himself, and he
crept up the steps to the hatch cover and was able to move it just a
little. He peeped out and saw it was night--a dark, rainy night--and
after peeping awhile he gently moved the hatch aside and crawled on
deck. All his movements were as cautious as a Pawnee Indian scout’s.
He did not restore the hatch cover, but just lay on his back and took
observations.
He learned that his conclusions had been correct. He was on a schooner,
and, as he discerned, a rickety old affair at that. A little while he
lay and considered. He could see the man at the wheel, and there was
not another person on deck--not even a lookout. The night was calm and
a light rain was falling, but there was no fog. The lights were all set
and it was evident the ship’s crew believed there was no danger, and
thus violated one of the first laws of navigation. Well, those laws are
often violated, and in thousands of cases the violators have paid the
penalty with their lives, while many possibly may have escaped and thus
their violations never became known.
As Ike lay on the damp deck he thought over his plan and revised it.
He managed to secure a few articles lying around. These he slowly and
patiently dragged over to the hatch and managed to lower them one at a
time. Then he descended carefully, removed his clothing, and rigged up
a perfect dummy of himself. He had the knack of doing so. He adjusted
the chain to his dummy, which he put in a sleeping attitude, and then
he laughed and muttered:
“It may not work, but I guess it will. Anyhow it is my best card at
present.”
Having arranged his dummy the lad stole on deck and then crawled aft
to the cabin, and he did so without being seen. He was in his shirt
and drawers only, and presented quite a ghostly appearance. He walked
half down the companion way and glanced into the cabin. The captain lay
asleep in a berth and the mate lay on the floor of the cabin--at least
the man whom our hero took for the mate, and the fellow for whom he had
laid away a little revenge memory.
It was quite a risky position for the boy. If the night had been an
absolutely clear one he would have had a chance to learn how far they
were off shore, and then he might have decided to take a chance to
steal the yawl and row or paddle ashore. But owing to the rain he could
not see to the shore, and determined to work another scheme. He crawled
around to the side of the cabin projection near the poop window and
fortunately found a roll of canvas.
“This is fine,” he muttered, and in a little time he was hidden under
the canvas and then soliloquized:
“Here we are, and here goes.”
The mate lay on the floor and the captain in his berth, and suddenly
the mate started up. He looked around wildly a moment, and then rising
to his feet approached the berth where the captain lay, and shook him.
“What in thunder is the matter?” demanded the captain springing to a
sitting position.
“Were you dreaming, captain?”
“Dreaming? No, what’s the matter with you? I was sleeping like an
infant.”
“You were groaning hard, captain.”
“Let me alone, you fool. I weren’t dreaming or groaning.”
“Yes, you did groan.”
“Go off, and keep quiet.”
The captain settled back and was soon fast asleep. The mate listened
a moment and then spread himself on the floor again and he had just
closed his eyes when up he leaped again and ran to the captain and
shook him again.
“There, captain, you did groan that time.”
“Say, man, you’ve got ’em.”
“No, I ain’t got ’em, but I tell you that you groaned like a dying man.”
“You have been dreaming yourself.”
“I’ll be hanged if I have.”
“Well, let me alone and don’t wake me again, do you hear? or I’ll hit
you.”
The captain settled back again to sleep and the mate after waiting some
little time also stretched upon the floor once more. He closed his eyes
and after listening for fully five minutes was about to drop off into a
sleep when he heard a cry for help. He leaped to his feet and despite
the captain’s admonition shook him again. The captain was real angry.
“Hang you, man!” he said; “I’ll knock you down.”
“Captain, something is the matter with you. The moment you close your
eyes you cry for help.”
“It’s you, not me; _you_ are dreaming.”
“But I don’t go to sleep.”
“You don’t?”
“No.”
“And you hear me call for help?”
“Yes, I do.”
“What is the matter with you?”
“I am in earnest.”
“This is no joke?”
“No.”
“Then you’ve got ’em.”
“I swear I am as clear as a bell.”
“And you hear me call?”
“I do.”
“You swear to it?”
“I do.”
“You’re up to something.”
“Captain, on my life I am telling the truth.”
“We will see.”
The captain lay down and the mate after awhile lay down also, when
suddenly, as it appeared, the mate called for help. The captain leaped
from his berth and sprang beside the mate but the latter was wide awake.
“There, captain, you did it again.”
The captain laughed, and said: “It’s just as I told you--it was you who
groaned and called.”
“I’ll swear I didn’t. I have not been asleep.”
“You haven’t?”
“No.”
“Neither have I, and I just lay low and watched.”
“So did I.”
“Is this a game you are working?”
“I swear I am not.”
“Let’s try again. We’ll both watch.”
“All right.”
The captain got in his berth and the mate stretched on the floor, and
fully five minutes passed. Finally the captain demanded:
“Well, old man, have you been asleep?”
“No.”
“Then you didn’t hear it?”
“No.”
“Neither did I, so you see you’ve been fooled or you’ve been dreaming
yourself.”
The captain was just settling back for an undisturbed snooze when
suddenly he leaped from his berth, his face pale and his eyes starting.
The mate also leaped to his feet and demanded:
“What is it, captain?”
For a moment the captain could not speak. He was trembling like an
aspen leaf.
“Tell me, captain, what’s the matter.”
“Did you hear anything?”
“No.”
“I did.”
“What did you hear?”
“A groan.”
“Where?”
“In the bed there, close to my ear.”
“Aha, captain, you fell asleep.”
“I’ll swear I was not asleep.”
“And you heard a groan?”
“I did, and I won’t get in that berth again.”
“I will, captain. I tell you you’ve been dreaming. It was your own
voice you heard.”
“You think so?”
“Yes.”
“And you were wide awake?”
“I was.”
“You are sure?”
“I am.”
“I’ll sleep on the floor--you sleep in the berth.”
“All right.”
The mate got in the berth, but in less than a second he leaped forth
with a yell, and the captain, who had stretched upon the floor, sprang
to his feet.
“Well, mate?”
“Captain, I heard it.”
“What did you hear?”
“A voice.”
“You heard a voice?”
“I’ll swear I did.”
“And what did the voice say?”
“I didn’t stop to hear.”
“I’ll try it; you watch beside me.”
“All right, captain, I’ll stand right here.”
The captain lay down in the berth and the mate stood at his side, but
nothing was heard.
“We’ve both been fooled,” said the captain. “Lie down, it’s all right.”
The mate stepped away, but he had not got more than two feet distant
when once more the captain leaped from the berth.
The two men gazed into each other’s faces and finally the captain asked:
“Is it a judgment on us?”
“What for?”
“Receiving that boy on board. Mebbe the boy is dead and is haunting us.”
“Nonsense.”
“I want you to take a lantern and go see.”
Ike had leaped to his feet and he ran along the rail and got down into
the brig in no time. He covered himself up under his dummy and waited,
and a few moments later the hatch was slid away.
“Say, who is up there?” demanded Ike.
The man appeared delighted.
“Help there!” called Ike.
“It’s all right,” said the mate. “What do you want?”
“I want something to eat.”
“You shall have it as soon as the cook is stirring about.”
“All right, don’t forget me.”
“I won’t.”
The mate slid back the cover and returned to the cabin.
“Well?” demanded the captain.
“The boy is all right--lively as a cricket.”
“He is?”
“Yes; he is calling for something to eat and hang it, I don’t blame
him. Probably he don’t know how long he’s been there. If he did he’d
be starved to death sure. Here’s a case, captain, where ignorance is
bliss.”
“But how about the voice?”
“There is where you’ve got me.”
“I’ve heard the schooner was haunted. It is said that years ago the
captain, mate, and a sailor were murdered on this boat. I never could
prove it true because her name was changed.”
“Do you know that her name was changed?”
“Yes, that’s true.”
“You know that?”
“I do.”
“Then the other story may be true.”
“I’ve owned her for three years.”
“And you’ve never had any luck in her?”
“Neither any one else who ever owned her. I thought I might make her pay
when others had failed. I’ll give it up and sell her as quick as I can.”
“Say, captain,” said the mate in a husky voice, “mebbe this is the boat
in which Hicks the pirate murdered the captain.”
“Hang it, that’s what I was thinking.”
“Well, we are not much better.”
“How so?”
“We’ve got that boy on board and----”
At that moment a voice was heard. Captain and mate stood and glared and
trembled, and as both stood there on the center of the cabin floor, a
voice came from the berth. It was clear, firm and distinct and there
was no mistaking.
“Put about,” the voice proclaimed. “I was once captain of this boat. I
was murdered on board her. I don’t want another murder committed, and
if any harm comes to the boy you have on board both you men will hang.
There were witnesses, there will be witnesses. Get him ashore as quick
as you can.”
The two men stood and gazed as though indeed they were listening to the
voice of one who had passed beyond and was talking back from the land
of mystery.
“Heed my words,” spoke the mysterious voice in conclusion, and then all
was still.
“Captain,” after a long time spoke the mate, “we are in luck.”
“How so?”
“We have been warned.”
“You bet.”
“What shall we do?”
“We’ll land the lad.”
“When?”
“This very night.”
“How can we?”
“We are not more than two miles off the Long Island shore; you know
we’ve been hovering around here.”
“Say, captain, you will lose your money.”
“Can’t help it; don’t propose to have dead men haunting me for all the
money in the world.”
“Let’s take chances.”
“How?”
“Run down off Fire Island light, put the lad in a yawl and send him
adrift. He may reach shore, he may not. If he does you are clear of
the dead men; if he don’t it ain’t your fault. But I’ve one thing to
say.”
“All right, speak right out.”
“I’d chance the dead men, I would.”
The words had hardly left the mate’s lips when right at his ear there
sounded a yell that almost froze the blood in his veins. He stood and
trembled like a Macbeth gazing upon the apparition of a Banquo.
“Ah!” ejaculated the captain, “you don’t mind being haunted by dead
men, eh?”
“Hush!” pleaded the mate.
“This boat is haunted, that’s sure. There’s no luck in her and I shall
sell her as quick as I can, and I shall get rid of that boy, money or
no money. And besides I’ve got an idea; yes, I have. Those fellows
might ‘bilk’ me if anything did happen to the lad, and they might haunt
me and blackmail me. It’s all bad business. I never intended that any
real harm should come to the lad anyhow. You were the devil who urged
me on, and----”
At this instant again there sounded a yell in the ear of the mate and
he shouted:
“Get the boy ashore. I’ll row him ashore; yes, I will.”
Ike got back to his place, cast aside his dummy and got into his
clothes. And he wasn’t a minute too soon, either. Before the hatch
cover was removed and the captain started to come down the lad leaped
to his feet, seized the chain from which he had released himself, and
ran back to one corner saying:
“Don’t come near me.” And he raised the chain threateningly.
The captain held his lantern aloft and said:
“Don’t fear, lad, I mean you no harm. I’ve done you a kindness.”
“You have, eh?”
“I have.”
“How? By starving me almost to death?”
“I ordered them to feed you.”
“You did?”
“I did.”
“Well, they didn’t obey you.”
“I see you are free.”
“I am.”
“Who freed you?”
“I freed myself and I intended to jump overboard.”
“It’s lucky you didn’t.”
“I don’t know that.”
“You are all right.”
“I am?”
“Yes, I mean to land you.”
“You mean to land me?”
“I do.”
“When?”
“I am heading in toward shore now. You will be all right.”
“Why did you bring me aboard here?”
“We found you lying in the street. We did not know what to do with you,
and brought you aboard.”
“Then why didn’t you treat me well?”
“Because we feared we might be pursued by the rascals who knocked you
down.”
It was a weak explanation the captain made, but our hero did not see
that he could gain anything by disputing or arguing, and he said:
“I am hungry.”
“You shall have something to eat right away. I’ve laid off my course so
as to put you ashore as soon as it was safe.”
Ike did not deem it necessary to dispute this latter statement but said:
“Feed me, please.”
The captain led him up to the deck, took him back to the cabin and did
offer him some food, saying:
“It will be all right when you get ashore. And say, lad, I don’t want
you ever to say anything about your being on my boat. I swear I did all
to save your life; yes, I did.”
Ike was not disposed to dispute anything that the captain said. All he
desired was to get ashore. He believed a great mystery had opened up in
New York which he could solve, and he was anxious to get to the city as
quickly as he could.
A couple of hours passed. It was just a little before dawn when
the captain hauled to off the Fire Island lighthouse. He had given
directions to his men where to meet him. Ike was standing on the deck
when a lad came stealing up close to him, who whispered:
“I gave you the water and bread. Don’t ever tell on me or they will
kill me.”
“What is your name?”
“Jim Banta.”
“Do you belong to this schooner?”
“Yes, but, I am going to get off her as quick as I can.”
“You did me a good turn.”
“I know it.”
“Some day you may come to New York.”
“I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
“We may meet again.”
“I hope so, and then I’ll tell you something.”
“And I may tell you something,” said Ike.
Our hero had taken in the lad’s face and he was assured that he would
recognize him should they ever meet again.
The yawl had been hauled alongside and our hero got in and was followed
by the captain of the schooner, who commanded his men to “lay to”
awhile.
“Boy, remember,” said the captain, “I was your friend.”
“All right, captain, mebbe you are proving it now.”
“I did intend to take you down east, but I changed my mind. I would
have done so in your own interest.”
“It’s all right, captain, as far as it goes.”
There were a number of boats flying around here and there on the water,
and the captain said:
“Mebbe I can get you on one of those boats. They have pleasure
fisherman on board, out after bluefish. There will be no fish to-day,
and they will run in early, and you will be all right. But remember you
are not to say anything about me.”
“That’s all right, captain, you need have no fear.”
“I wish I could do more for you, but I believe I have saved your life,
and if we ever meet again I will tell you all about it.”
Ike was thinking of but one thing--the possibilities attending the
attack on young Burlein a few moments preceding the moment when he
received the blow which knocked him insensible.
In the meantime the captain had kept on talking and pulling his boat,
and Ike noticed quite a large catboat bearing down upon them, and soon
she came within hailing distance. When the captain called to them the
men on the fishing boat, a merry party, brought their boat to and the
captain pulled alongside and said:
“I’ve a lad here I picked up off shore. Will you gentlemen take him
aboard and land him?”
The men were in a jolly mood and bid Ike “come aboard.” The lad was
glad to do so, and waved the captain an adieu as the latter, without
stopping to make any further explanations, pulled away in his yawl.
The party on the fishing boat had caught one big fish, and they were,
as intimated, in a very jolly mood. They asked Ike a few questions,
accepted whatever he had to say, and went on with their fun.
Our hero had plenty to eat and could have had plenty to drink if he had
so desired. It was well on toward noon when the men determined to head
for the inlet and go ashore. It had been decided that they would catch
no more fish that day.
Most of the forenoon they had bowled along under a good stiff breeze,
but suddenly the wind all died out and they lay in a dead calm, and as
is usual they commenced all manner of sport. Ike thought he had seen
about every gambling game that had ever been played, but he learned a
new one that day, and a very amusing one. The party were all gentlemen
out for an excursion, and they were in for fun, and our hero determined
before that boat reached shore he would give them lots of fun. Our hero
was a practical joker. He just enjoyed the possession of his wonderful
gifts and he never missed an opportunity to play a trick--not malignant
ones but just simple little jokes. As stated he was an expert handler
of cards and well up in all manner of games, and therefore he greatly
enjoyed the one organized by the fishing party. There were a great
number of flies buzzing in the cabin and the men all took a lump of
sugar, laid their several pieces on the table before them. Then each
man laid a penny by his lump, and the man who owned the sugar on which
the first fly lit took the pot. The game was called by the men “hop fly
loo.”
They had considerable sport over this little game, but at length got
tired, and still the calm held on. They lolled around on the boat and
before them lay the solitary bluefish--a big fellow, their only reward
for the expense they had been to for the day.
As intimated, a dead calm prevailed and the men were listless, and,
like a lot of boys, hardly knew what to do, when one of them asked:
“If that big bluefish could talk, I wonder what he would say?”
One of the men answered:
“He would say, a healthy stomach had got him in more trouble than a
fish who had the dyspepsia too bad to eat.”
The men all laughed in the most hearty manner. The conceit was a good
one, and another of the party put in:
“If he could speak he would say: ‘I tried to hook your bait, and, alas!
you hooked me.’”
A third chipped in.
“He’d say: ‘Better an empty stomach than a treacherous meal.’” And so
the jokes went on, one saying:
“He’d say: ‘I wish I’d been too full for utterance, and then I’d have
let your bait go by.’”
Each joke received the laughter it deserved, and finally the man who
had offered the first suggestion projected his query again with the
remark:
“It would be a big thing to hear that fish express his thoughts.”
At that instant there sounded a strange flapping like the sound of a
bird in its flight.
The men all looked around. There was no bird in sight. They looked in
each other’s faces, for indeed it was a most wonderful incident. All
had heard it, and even while they looked there came the cry of “quack,
quack,” of a wild duck, and the “quack, quack, quack,” sounded right
over their heads. They strained their eyes--there was no duck in sight;
indeed, it was not the season for ducks. They were all sportsmen, and
they knew that, and yet the flapping of wings was plainly heard, and
the “quack, quack,” of the duck, as plainly as a tame duck’s quack on
the edge of a farm pond.
“Eh, boys, what does it mean? Who shot the last duck?”
“Who did?” the inquiry went round.
“And why?” asked one.
“Because we are haunted by the ghost of a duck, sure.”
The men were all attention. They had all looked at and watched each
other to see who, if any of them had imitated the flapping, and who
it was who was doing the quack, quack, business. Not one of the party
could be accused. They were all sitting face to face, and in their
midst sat Ike. Not a lip moved, and the quack, quack, continued. It was
impossible that any one of the party could have worked the trick and
not have been betrayed.
“Say, boys,” said one of the men, “this is rather odd, whatever you may
say.”
“Mebbe there is a duck in the cabin.”
The captain of the boat, who was very pale and looked quite serious,
said:
“There is no duck on this boat, and I don’t like it. I wish you
gentlemen would stop your joking. Captain Brown heard a duck quack just
before that blow when he and all on board were drowned.”
The party thought the captain was working something on them, and they
commenced to joke worse than ever, and it was still a dead calm.
“We are going to have a big blow,” said the captain. “I wish we were in
the inlet.”
“Oh, come off, cap.”
At this moment the quack, quack, was heard again.
All the men began to feel a little uncomfortable. They were intelligent
men, but the circumstance was certainly very odd, and it was still more
startling when a voice from over the top of the mast appeared to call
down and say:
“Ask the bluefish what he has to say.”
The party looked in each other’ faces. In dead earnest, of course, all
hands believed some trick was being worked on them, and yet it was
certainly a very weird trick--and it did not seem possible that it
could be worked. One of the party said, however:
“Let’s obey orders; we’ll ask the bluefish what he has to say.”
“Who’ll ask him?”
“I will,” said the gentleman.
“Go ahead.”
“All right, watch each other,” and looking at the bluefish he asked:
“Old father blue, what have you to say?”
The whole scene was intended as a joke, but there was a surprised crowd
in that boat when, in a strangely weird voice, the answer seemingly
came from the fish:
“If I’d had my breakfast earlier you’d never have caught me.”
Of course it was a joke, of course somebody was working it with a
marvelous skill, but who was doing it? The gentlemen had all known
each other for many years and none of them knew that any one of them
possessed the wonderful talent of ventriloquism, and in fact they did
not believe that such a marvelous gift was possessed by any one not the
best of magicians. Still there was the fish, and still there did appear
to come from him the startling response to the question.
“Try him again,” said one.
“You try him.”
“What’s your game, fish?” asked the man.
The answer appeared to come:
“You fellows snatched me from the sea for food, but my relatives will
_dine on you all before this time to-morrow_.”
Oh, it was a trick--yes, all a trick, but just marvelous enough to make
the men feel very uncomfortable, the circumstance was so weird and
strange. In fact, one of the party, a very nervous man, fainted, and
when he was brought round the oldest gentleman present and the one who
appeared to be most respected said:
“Come, this has gone far enough. Whoever is working this wonderful
trick had better explain it.”
The gentleman spoke in dead earnest, but not one of the party
volunteered to admit his responsibility, and the gentleman pleaded:
“It is criminal to carry this any further.”
There came no acknowledgment and all the men began to look pretty
serious, and to add to the gloom the captain, pointing to a cloud
coming in from the sea, said in apprehensive tones:
“It’s just as I feared. We are bound to have a terrible storm. Now if
any one has been working a trick let him own it up, or, by George,
we’re all goners, that’s all.”
There came the bark of a dog and immediately afterward the terrible
moan of an animal, the same as tradition declares is heard just before
a death--a howl which in rural districts to-day is heard with a
shudder, and looked upon as a death knell.
After the first strange voice our hero had gone into the cabin and had
lain down on a cushion in full view of the party and had seemingly gone
to sleep. Several times the men had looked at him, but that sleeping
boy could not be the fiend who was working on their terrors, for there
he slept and was breathing as regularly as an infant lying on its
mother’s bosom.
“Who is that boy?” demanded the captain.
“Yes, who is he?” asked the captain’s assistant.
“Wake him up,” said one of the party.
The captain’s mate did arouse Ike, who rose and rubbed his eyes so
naturally that every one decided at once that no matter whether it were
trick or reality the lad knew nothing about it; and yet it was the most
remarkable occurrence that any of them had ever encountered in all
their lives.
The captain said:
“It’s that boy.” He made the declaration despite the fact that Ike had
been aroused, and awoke so naturally, and the captain repeated:
“It’s that boy or the devil, or it’s the devil or that boy.”
“What do you mean?”
The captain was glaring wildly as he said:
“That boy is the devil. We had no right to take him on board. Throw him
over. He won’t drown.”
There came a voice saying:
“Throw him over and you will have the hurricane of your life, and none
of you will ever reach shore.”
The voice was heard and there stood the lad in their midst, as innocent
looking as a babe. One matter all hands considered settled--the boy had
nothing to do with the mysterious occurrences.
They were still questioning Ike when one of the men discovered a blood
stain on his clothes.
The captain of the schooner had scrubbed off the lad’s clothes, but one
stain escaped his attention, and the gentleman who found the mark said:
“Hello, lad, you’ve been bleeding.”
“Yes.”
“The captain said he picked you up.”
“I know he did.”
“Tell us about it.”
“The captain lied, that’s all.”
“Tell us about it.”
“Not a word. It’s no time for me to talk.”
The cloud which had been rising in the west meantime began to increase
and spread, and the sound of distant thunder was heard. The captain of
the yacht looked pale and troubled as he said:
“It’s going to be a regular cyclone. I wish we were in the inlet.”
All the party began to betray signs of uneasiness, when there came a
little ripple over the sea. The captain did not dare run with full
sail, but he took in several reefs and shortened his jib sail, and the
boat moved away like a thing of life toward the inlet.
Ike had been to sea a great deal and had met with considerable
experience and he said:
“Captain, you’re wrong.”
“How so?”
“You will just get in the inlet when the storm strikes us, and we will
be blown on to a bar, and then it’s all up--it’s sink or swim.”
“What would you have me do?”
“Reef her down to a pigeon wing and let her run before the wind. It’s
your only chance.”
One of the party, who had also had some experience, said:
“The lad is right.”
The captain answered:
“I reckon I know my business.”
Ike stood a moment and then asked:
“Gentlemen, have you hired this boat?”
The answer came, “Yes.”
“Then take my advice; take command of her or this man will run you to
certain death. He’s lost his head.”
The party was composed of a number of intelligent and resolute men and
one of them said:
“Here, captain, face her about.”
“I won’t do it.”
There was no time to lose. Ike suddenly leaped forward, and without a
word of warning dealt the captain a blow over the head with a death
club used for knocking big fish on the head. The captain rolled over to
the bottom of the boat and Ike seized the helm and brought the craft
around. He then asked one of the men to hold the helm while he hauled
in the jib, and asked the others to reef the sail down to a pigeon
wing. All hands obeyed and they were just in time, for a minute later
the squall struck them and away flew the little yacht over the foaming
waves.
Our hero had resumed the helm, and he held her steady to the wind.
The captain had sought to regain his feet, but the men held him down
and bid him lie still, and away they sped over the waters.
It proved to be only a summer tempest, and in half an hour the blow was
over, and under a steady breeze Ike put her about and made a run for
the inlet.
But little had been said during the excitement. The captain was
released and sullenly took his helm, when one of the party said:
“Cap, the boy saved our lives by his prompt action.”
“I’ll take care of the boy,” growled the captain.
“See here, cap, it’s all right. We will pay you for the rap you
received.”
The men made up a purse of twenty dollars over and above the hire of
the boat, and got the captain to agree to say nothing about it.
At the time Ike took his prompt action two other boats were making for
the inlet. They were just ahead of the boat our hero was on, and when
our party reached shore they learned the sad intelligence that both
boats had run into the inlet, had been caught, blown over and that
seven men and a boy were drowned. Had the boat on which Ike was gone on
she too would have gone over, and probably a few more would have been
added to the death list.
The men all appreciated the fact and also that they owed their
salvation to Ike’s extraordinary and prompt action. And the result was
they made up a purse of fifty dollars and presented it to him, and each
man gave his card to our hero with an invitation to call on them.
It was after dark when the party went ashore and all hurried to a
train for New York. Ike went with them and a little before midnight he
appeared at his home.
Mrs. Pell, despite his warning that he might unexpectedly be away for
days at a time, was greatly worried and rejoiced when he showed up. She
had been waiting for him as she had done on the two preceding nights.
Ike did not see fit to make a full explanation. He merely said he was
full of business and on to a big thing.
After reporting as stated he stole forth. He desired to see a
newspaper. He knew that something had occurred and he desired to get on
to it if he could.
He found a saloon open and secured a paper, and the first item that met
his eyes was the startling announcement:
A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE. A PROMINENT BANKER MISSING.
“Aha! just as I thought,” muttered the lad, and he carefully read the
article through. There were interviews and speculations as usual,
and also several very dark and peculiar suggestions, and they all
emanated from Mr. Fellman, the partner of the missing man. There were
suggestions of suicide, escape to Canada, and indeed several very
startling theories; and the lad muttered:
“It is just as I thought. I had this thing down pretty well. The
chances are Burlein is dead--murdered in cold blood--his body in the
river; and all might have been prevented had he only heeded my warning.
But we shall see. To-morrow the papers will have more to announce, and
I--well I won’t say anything at present, _but I’ll act_.”
On the day following the incidents recorded Ike was out bright and
early. He secured a morning paper and the whole thing was out. Burlein
was a thief. An examination of the firm’s books had revealed the fact
that he had speculated on private account with the firm’s money. He
had sought to hide his losses by falsification of the books and had
committed downright forgery.
Great sympathy was expressed for his victim, Fellman, and offers of aid
and indulgence on the part of creditors were made on every side.
Ike read the account with great eagerness, and when he had digested
the account he began to revolve matters in his mind, and he said:
“The first thing I will do is see the young lady.”
It had been stated in the paper that Burlein had been engaged to marry
a young heiress, and one of the most beautiful ladies in New York. It
was also hinted that her father was a heavy loser and a victim of the
young man’s forgeries.
Ike had fifty dollars. He went to work and provided himself with the
necessary articles for a perfect disguise. He got himself up as a
respectable old lady. His genius in the way of disguise was simply
immense. He went around to the house where he knew the young lady
resided. He had little difficulty in learning her father’s name. It was
common enough--simply Alexander Smith.
Ike went up the stoop of the house, rang the bell and stated that he
desired to see Miss Smith.
The maid who attended on the door retired, but in a few moments
returned and stated that Miss Smith was ill and could not see any one
that day.
Our hero had prepared himself, and he handed the girl a note, telling
her to deliver it. The note read as follows:
“It’s all false. I am a friend of Burlein. I can explain much to you.
I must see you.
“A FRIEND OF ALFRED BURLEIN.”
A few moments later and the maid returned, stating that Miss Smith
would see the lady.
Our hero was shown into the rear library and after some time a very
handsome and stately looking young lady, who had evidently been weeping
and who was in great distress, appeared. She said:
“I received your note.”
“And I am glad you granted me an interview.”
Ike’s disguise, as stated, was perfect, and besides he acted his role
to perfection.
“What have you to say?” came the question.
“I have this to say: Burlein is innocent of all the charges made
against him.”
“Who are you?”
“It does not matter. What I tell you is the truth.”
“You say he is innocent?”
“Yes.”
“Can you prove his innocence?”
“I can.”
“Why not do so at once, and stop these terrible stories that are going
around about him?”
“We must go slow, miss.”
“What do you mean?”
“A mere declaration of his innocence is not enough. We must be prepared
to prove his innocence and establish the guilt of his enemy.”
“His enemy did you say?”
“I did.”
“He has an enemy?”
“He has.”
“Who is his enemy?”
“The man who has started these charges.”
“His partner makes the charges.”
“His partner is a villain.”
The young lady started and gazed aghast and declared:
“Is it possible?”
“It is true.”
“I fear you are mistaken. I do not know what object his partner would
have in defaming him.”
“Do you wish his innocence established?”
“I do.”
“If he is alive we can fully establish his innocence.”
“If he is alive?”
“Yes.”
“If he is innocent he must be alive. He would not make away with
himself if he is innocent.”
“No, but he has an enemy.”
“What do you mean?”
“He may have been foully dealt with.”
“You are using strange language, madam.”
“I am, but I know exactly what I say and what I mean.”
“Why did you come here? You had a purpose in coming here.”
“I did.”
“What is your purpose?”
“Merely to tell you under all circumstances to hold fast your faith in
Alfred Burlein.”
“I wish you would tell me who you are, and your special interest in the
young man?”
“Some day you will know who I am. He was my friend, I am his friend,
and I tell you he is innocent. I tell you further his partner is a
villain.”
“What object could he have in defaming the missing man?”
“Can you not discern?”
“I cannot.”
“I will tell you.”
“Do so.”
“He is the thief, the forger, _and he desires to cover his own guilt_.”
The young lady looked amazed and our hero added:
“I wonder that you could for one moment believe these terrible stories.”
“I did not believe them, but----”
“Go on, miss.”
“The proofs----”
“What proofs?”
“The proofs of his guilt.”
“Who has seen them?”
“My father.”
“They were shown to your father by Fellman?”
“Yes.”
“They are false.”
“My father says they are absolute.”
“Your father has been misled.”
“I hope what you say is true.”
“I am telling you the truth. I will establish the innocence of Alfred
Burlein.”
“What can I do to aid you?”
“Nothing.”
“You do not need my aid?”
“I do not.”
“You can call upon me.”
“No, I do not need your aid. All I ask is that you save yourself much
distress and maintain your faith in the missing man.”
“You suggest it is possible he has been foully dealt with.”
“Yes.”
“Have you grounds for your belief?”
“I have one proof.”
“Will you talk with my father? Oh, please do.”
“Not now; but you can ask your father to withhold his judgment for the
present. Tell him you still have faith in the young man, and I promise
you that if he is alive your faith will be verified.”
Ike would not reveal any further to the young lady. He merely
reiterated his statement that he had called to restore her peace of
mind. He left the house and determined to work Fellman for awhile,
and proceeded down town. He imagined his man would go to his meal in
company with another. Ike got himself up in a new disguise and went
down and hung around the man’s office, and, as he had anticipated, in
due time Fellman appeared in company with another man, and proceeded
to a fashionable down-town lunch-room.
Ike had a special purpose in following the man. He desired to learn if
young Burlein was dead, and he proposed to adopt a very novel plan for
obtaining his information.
Fellman entered the dining-room and immediately a number of men came
forward to speak to him. Great sympathy was expressed and Fellman acted
the rôle of the injured party to perfection.
The banker took a seat at a table. Our hero had followed in and
secured a seat several tables distant. He had worked up in the rôle
of an old gentleman. He did it well, and he was a perfect imitation
or counterfeit. Possibly no living person could have excelled or even
equaled him in his skill in this direction.
A little time passed and quite a number of men gathered around
Fellman’s table, and a great many questions were asked and finally
there came the question:
“Do you really believe your late partner is dead?”
No one appeared to notice who had asked the question but Fellman
quickly replied:
“Yes, he is dead. I have no doubt of his death.”
There came a smile to Ike’s face--a smile of delight. He was a cute
reasoner, and he made up his mind at once that young Burlein was not
dead. Had the young man been dead Fellman he knew would have answered:
“No, he is not dead. He is only pretending to have committed suicide.”
And when he answered that he had no doubt of Burlein’s death, our hero
concluded that the original scheme had been carried out, and at once
there came the question:
“Do you own a house out on Long Island?”
Fellman’s face assumed a ghastly hue. He looked around and finally
demanded:
“Who asked that question?”
No one fathered the question, and Fellman appeared greatly perplexed.
An instant later, however, the question was repeated:
“Do you own a house on Long Island?”
All the party looked round to see who had asked the question, and
Fellman, in a tone seemingly of anger, but really of alarm, again
demanded:
“Who asked that question?”
There was a dead silence.
“I’d like to know,” demanded Fellman, “who asked that question.”
A voice said, “No matter who asked the question. Answer it.”
Fellman leaped to his feet and pleaded:
“Gentlemen, will you tell me who asked that question?”
No one appeared willing or able to tell him. But the voice once more
put in:
“Have you a house down on Long Island?”
Fellman looked over to some of the other tables. No one appeared to
have put the question, but the voice again said:
“Oh, you villain, you know very well the young man is not dead. Yes,
you do.”
Fellman appeared like one confronted by an apparition. The perspiration
stood out on his face, and he said:
“The scoundrel who says that is a liar.”
The gentlemen who had gathered around one by one dropped away. They
appeared to think that a row was imminent, especially when the voice
repeated.
“It’s a nice job you’ve put up.”
It is hard to describe the effect of the strange voice on Fellman.
He did not suspect any supernatural agency, nor did he suspect
ventriloquism. He merely suspected that some person in the crowd was
shouting off the questions, and he believed that whoever it was the
party was representing the real sentiments of some people who had thus
expressed themselves concerning the mystery. He was a cunning man.
He did not propose to remain around and be “guyed” and he left the
lunch-room without even stopping to say good-day to his friend.
Meantime our hero had gathered up all he needed to know. He was assured
that Burlein still lived and was beyond question an inmate of that
mysterious country house.
Ike considered a long time, and finally decided upon his course of
action. He knew he could trace the affair down and might possibly
succeed in freeing young Burlein from confinement, but he knew the
full advantage of evidence. He calculated that Fellman had laid his
plans well and was well fortified for the carrying out of his scheme.
Ike had often heard of a well-known detective and he had evidence that
the officer was a square man. The boy knew that a fair reward would be
paid. Indeed Fellman had offered a reward of five thousand dollars for
his partner alive, or conclusive evidence of his death.
Ike proceeded down to headquarters. He visited the detective quarters
and asked for the man of whom he had heard. He was answered in an
indifferent manner that the officer was out of town.
“When will he be in town?”
“I don’t know.”
The party who made the answers was a clerk. Another man came from a
private office and asked:
“Did you inquire for Murray?”
“I did.”
“You wish to see him personally?”
“I do.”
“He will be here in about an hour.”
“Can I wait here?”
“Yes.”
Ike sat down and not more than fifteen minutes passed when a very
plain-looking man, but who possessed a clear gray eye and who was
very quiet in his manner, entered the office. The clerk spoke to the
newcomer and pointed to Ike. The lad was a little on his ear. He had
not fancied the indifferent manner in which the clerk had announced him.
“Do you wish to see me?” demanded the plain-looking man, stepping over
to where our hero was seated.
“Are you Detective Murray?”
“My name is Murray.”
“Well, mebbe you are the man I want to see. I don’t know, it depends
how smart you are.”
“I am not very smart,” said the officer with a smile. “All I know I’ve
learned by hard work.”
“Then you are pretty smart,” said Ike, “since you admit that there are
some people who know something and that you don’t know it all, like
that young man there.”
“What is your business?” demanded the detective in a rather sharp tone.
“Come with me and I will tell you all about it,” said Ike.
The detective meditated a moment. He was a busy man usually, and he had
no time to listen to long romances.
“If you have anything to say speak out, lad. I am very busy.”
“Come with me and I will let you on to the job of your life.”
Murray looked the youth over, and being necessarily a keen reader of
faces he concluded our hero was a very bright youngster, as he put it.
Ike had spoken in a low tone, and after an interval the detective said:
“Come into the office with me.”
“No, not there.”
“Why not?”
“Don’t waste time, sir; time is money.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Go with me.”
“Where?”
“Anywhere away from sharp ears.”
“Come along.”
The detective went with our hero down to the street and said:
“Now talk up.”
“No.”
“What now?”
“We must sit down. I’ve got a long story to tell you.”
“See here, lad, if you fool me I’ll cuff you.”
“All right; I’ll chance the cuffing.”
The detective led the way to a hotel reading-room, both sat down and
the officer asked:
“Does this suit you?”
“Yes.”
“Then go ahead.”
“You know about the disappearance of young Alfred Burlein?”
“Yes.”
The officer was all attention at once.
“What do you think of it, sir?”
“Did you lead me around here to ask me that question?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve a mind to cuff you.”
“No, you will not cuff me.”
“You deserve a cuffing.”
“If you will answer my question you will change your mind.”
“I will?”
“Yes.”
“What have you to say?”
“Answer my question.”
“Make your question definite.”
“Do you believe he is dead?”
“I do.”
“Well, he is not dead.”
“Oh, he only skipped, eh?”
The officer was getting down to business.
“No, he didn’t skip.”
“He didn’t?”
“No.”
“Then where is he?”
“_He was kidnaped._”
The officer laughed.
“Don’t laugh too soon. I am not saying things for fun.”
“Do you know what you are talking about?”
“I do.”
“And you say he was abducted?”
“Yes.”
“By whom?”
“His partner.”
“Are you giving me a theory?”
“No.”
“What then?”
“I know what I am talking about.”
“Then talk plain.”
Ike started in and told his story. The detective listened attentively
and when the narrative was concluded he said:
“You are a romancer.”
“You think so?”
“Yes.”
“I can prove my words.”
“Do so.”
“I know what you doubt.”
“You do?”
“I do.”
“Well?”
At that moment the detective made a slash at a fly, but there was no
fly there, and Ike asked:
“What are you doing? Are you trying to cuff me?”
“No, I am brushing away that fly.”
“Have you got ’em?” demanded Ike, assuming a very serious tone.
“Got what?”
“You know.”
The fly buzzed again and the detective, who was thinking intensely and
deeply absorbed, unconsciously made a second dash at the fly.
“You have got ’em,” said Ike.
“Got what?”
“Oh, you know. You think there are flies in the room. Yes, you’ve
got ’em. If you will find a fly in this room I’ll give you a hundred
dollars.”
The detective stared and the next instant a little dog barked at the
officer’s feet, but there was no dog there. Then a rattlesnake rattled
right under his hand. The officer knew well the sound of a rattler, but
he was on to that last, and he said:
“Boy, you are a wonder.”
“You believe me now?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Good enough; every word I have told you is the truth; and now I’ve got
a plan.”
“Name it.”
“I gave Fellman a scare.”
“Well?”
“He will go to his house down on Long Island. He will want to make sure
that his man is there.”
“You are a wonderfully keen lad.”
“I’ve got this business down fine, and now are you prepared to leave
town?”
“Yes.”
“We will go down town and lay for Fellman. He will leave on the
afternoon train for Long Island, I’ll bet a big apple.”
“I will meet you in half an hour,” said Murray.
“All right, sir.”