AN APPEAL TO BIAL KEENE.
“There is the house, Frank,” declared Wiley. “I am dead sure of it. I
saw them shanghai Abe. I saw them chuck him into the cab. I was too late
to render assistance, but like a bloodhound on the trail I followed that
cab.”
Frank Merriwell and Wiley were standing in the dark shadow of a building
almost directly across the street from the house into which the
hunchback lad had been taken. Having completed his business in St.
Joseph sooner than he thought he could, Merry returned to his hotel in
Kansas City and found Wiley almost tearing his hair in despair.
Overjoyed by Frank’s appearance, the sailor lost no time in telling how
he had dined with Abe in the restaurant, had left the boy outside to
return for his pipe, and, on again leaving the restaurant, had seen the
unfortunate lad bundled into the cab and carried off. Fleet of foot as a
deer, Wiley had followed the cab, but had found no opportunity to rescue
the captured boy. Nevertheless, he had spotted the house into which Abe
was taken, had obtained its number, and the name of the street, and was
contemplating the advisability of appealing to the police when Frank
showed up.
Merry commanded the sailor to take him to the house.
“Unless he was taken out as soon as they brought him here,” asserted
Wiley, “he is still there.”
“An obvious fact, if you have made no error. Cap’n, I am afraid I will
never be able to trust you again. Whenever I do you fail me. I warned
you to look out for Abe.”
“Crush not my sensitive spirits with incrimination,” entreated the
marine marvel. “Why should I have anticipated trouble for Abe at such a
time? Your enemies seemed beaten to a white froth, and before you I
fancied there was nothing but peace and salubrity.”
“Whenever I crush one enemy,” muttered Frank, “it seems that another
rises to take his place.”
“You are certain this is a plot of your enemies?”
“What else can it be? Why should any one kidnap that boy unless they did
it to injure me in some manner?”
“Ask me a question upon which I can expatiate astutely. This one is too
much for me, Frank. What are you going to do?”
“I am going to find Abe.”
“How? How are you going to get into that house? If you demand admission
it will be refused.”
“I can appeal to the police.”
“Yes, but——”
“But first I shall see Bial Keene.”
“Who is Bial Keene?”
“One of the cleverest private detectives in the country. I have employed
him before, and I know his ability.”
“Then it’s up to you, Frank, to put your mud hooks onto him at once, and
get him into the game. Time is valuable. Some gazaboo once observed that
time is money, but I notice that I have a great deal more time than
money.”
“Wiley,” said Merry, “I want you to stay right here and shadow this
house. Don’t take your eyes off it for a moment. I am going to find Bial
Keene, if possible.”
“Yours to command. I will stick to that house like glue. Depend on me
for that, Frank.”
“If you see anything that leads you to believe Abe is being removed from
the house, follow him.”
“Ay, ay, sir. When it comes to that little trick, Wind-jammer Wiley is
the boy!”
Having left Wiley there, Merry hastened to the nearest point where a cab
could be found, and was soon being carried toward the office of Scott &
Keene, Kansas City’s two famous private detectives.
His one fear was that Bial Keene would not be at his office and could
not be found. He knew Keene’s house address, yet it was possible the man
would be engaged in some piece of work, so that he would be neither at
the office nor the house. Having reached the office building, Merry
instructed the cab driver to wait. As it was after hours, the place
seemed almost deserted. The watchman was on hand, however, and promptly
stopped Frank.
“I must see Mr. Keene,” explained Frank.
“Mr. Keene is probably at home.”
“Are you certain?”
“It makes no difference. You can’t see him here at this hour.”
“Not if I have an appointment with him?”
“He has said nothing to me about an appointment with any one.”
“See here, watchman, don’t you remember me? I am Frank Merriwell. It was
not many months ago that I was here, and upon that occasion a man fell
down the elevator shaft and was killed. I think you should recall the
affair.”
“I do,” confessed the watchman.
“Then you know that Mr. Keene was in my employ at that time. I must see
him again on a most important affair. Here, watchman, is something for
you. I shall consider it a favor if you permit me to proceed to Mr.
Keene’s office.”
As Merry spoke he pressed some money into the Watchman’s hand. The man
seemed to hesitate, but finally said:
“It’s against orders, but I will chance it. I may get into trouble.”
“You will not,” assured Frank.
The watchman escorted Merry up several flights of Stairs and finally
paused before the door of the detective’s rooms. There he gave a
peculiar knock, with the result that the outer door was finally opened.
The man who opened it was neither Scott nor Keene, but the watchman knew
him, and said:
“Jones, here is a gentleman to see Mr. Keene on important business. It’s
all right, I am sure.”
“I don’t know about that,” returned Jones. “If he wishes to see Mr.
Keene he can do so in the morning.”
“My business cannot wait until morning,” declared Merry. “I must find
him to-night.”
“What’s your name?”
“Merriwell.”
“Frank Merriwell?”
“That’s right.”
“If you will wait a moment right where you are I will see about the
matter. I am not certain Mr. Keene is in his private office, but I can
telephone him if he is not. Excuse me.”
The door was closed, leaving Merry outside with the watchman, who
whispered:
“Keene is in there. He will see you, all right.”
This proved to be true, for, a few moments later, the door was again
thrown open and Jones invited Merry to enter.
“Mr. Keene was studying over a very perplexing matter, sir,” he said, in
explanation, “and I was doubtful if he would care to be interrupted; but
immediately on hearing your name he told me to bring you in. He is in
his private office.”
The door of this private office was opened and Frank entered. A tall,
dark-eyed, clean-shaven, keen-faced man arose from before a desk and
held out his hand.
“Mr. Merriwell,” he said, “I am glad to see you again. It is something
of a surprise, as that little Alaskan business you wished looked after
has fallen through.”
“Yes,” said Frank, “there is no necessity for following it up. Milton
Sukes is dead and will trouble me no further; but I have other enemies
who are giving me trouble.”
“Not this man, Macklyn Morgan? Why, I understand that he lost a leg
recently, and it hardly seems that he will be very energetic and
troublesome to you in the future.”
“How did you know that he lost a leg?”
Keene smiled the least bit.
“I have been keeping track of you, Merriwell, and know all about your
desperate fight to hold your mines. I thought you might need my services
again, and for that reason I decided to keep fully informed of all that
transpired.”
“Well, Keene, I do need you and need you bad. I hope the matter on which
you are engaged this evening may be put aside for a short time, at
least, as it is of the greatest importance that you give me assistance
without delay.”
“I will do anything I can, Merriwell. I think this affair may rest until
to-morrow. It was by a bare chance that you found me here at this hour.
I wished to be alone to study over a case which I had on hand, which is
decidedly bothersome, and so I chose to come here when everything was
quiet. Sit down, sir, and tell me what you desire.”
In a short time Merriwell had related the facts of the affair,
explaining in a few words how on a former occasion his enemies had tried
to strike at him through the hunchback boy, and how he had followed the
trail of Abe’s kidnappers to Camp Nowhar, at last succeeding in rescuing
the little cripple.
Keene frowned and tapped his desk with his knuckles as he sat in silence
after hearing of this. When a few moments had passed he observed:
“It seems rather singular that your enemies should try the same trick
over. Besides that, it is a weak method of striking at you. I can see
how Sukes did it in order to divert your attention at the time when you
were exerting yourself to ruin his illegal business. But is there any
reason now why any one should wish to bother you to prevent you from
accomplishing any purpose you have in mind?”
“I know of no reason, Keene.”
“Merriwell, there is a mystery behind this that you have not penetrated.
I don’t know why I think so, but in some cases I depend on intuition. In
this case intuition tells me that this second kidnapping of the
hunchback means something entirely different than the first affair. What
it means I am not now prepared to say. You say the house to which the
boy was taken is on Euclid Avenue?”
“Yes, sir.”
“This fellow, Wiley, in whose charge the boy was left, has told you so?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Is Wiley reliable? Can you trust him in everything?”
“He is a strange character, Mr. Keene; but I believe he would not
deceive me. In fact, I am positive he would not. I even became convinced
by his own actions that he was false to me, yet in the end he proved
himself true as steel, and he saved my life. I am satisfied he spoke the
truth when he told me how Abe was captured, and how he followed the
kidnappers to that house. I have left him there to watch the house. On
you I must depend for aid in rescuing the boy.”
“You shall have it,” declared Bial Keene, as he rose to his feet. “We
will lose no time.”
He flung open the door to the outer room and called:
“Jones!”
“Yes, sir,” was the answer, as the man outside appeared.
“Jones, go to police headquarters and tell them that I need six of their
best men in plain clothes. Tell them the department shall have the
entire credit of an important piece of work, if those six men are sent
without delay to the corner of Euclid Avenue and Tenth Street. Not a
moment must be lost. Accompany the officers to the same corner. That’s
all.”
“Yes, sir.”
Instantly Jones wheeled and hastened from the office.
“Are you armed, Mr. Merriwell?” asked Keene quietly.
“I am not. I do not habitually carry a weapon.”
The detective opened a drawer and picked out a business-like revolver.
“Slip this into your pocket,” he directed. “You may need it.”
Frank took the pistol, and Keene then armed himself with two revolvers,
after which he slipped on his topcoat and clapped on his head a hat with
a wide, slouching brim.
“Come, Mr. Merriwell,” he said. “We’re off to see what we can do.”